Chapter Text
Life at the Weasleys was never boring as Harry soon came to realize. It was so different from the Dursleys or even Remus’s flat. The Dursleys liked everything neat and orderly,—Remus’s flat didn’t have many personal effects besides the few bits and pieces Harry put on the walls—but the Weasleys’ house was full of the strange and unexpected. Harry had thought it was another prank when he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it shouted, “Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!” Though he quickly found that almost all of the mirrors harped on appearances if they weren’t up to their standards. There was also a ghoul in the attic that howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were too quiet, and Sirius and Remus raised their eyebrows at the small explosions from Fred and George’s bedroom which were considered perfectly normal. The Weasleys had to explain all the things that weren’t pranks so as not to miscount the points.
Harry had been spending more time at the Weasleys as the summer came to a close. Neville and Hermione couldn’t come over as much so Ginny became the referee for the prank wars. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to ignore the prank wars completely, but the players collectively made sure never to place any traps where Mrs. Weasley would set them off. Apparently Remus and Sirius had already gotten enough shouting at when they were younger, so they weren’t very keen on getting yelled at for dying her clothes orange or causing her shoes to dance whether someone was wearing them or not. Mr. Weasley, however, seemed much more interested in Harry and Hermione’s life with muggles. He didn’t even notice that George had accidentally turned his Father’s hair electric blue instead of his target, Harry. Mr. Weasley happily asked Harry questions about all sorts of ordinary muggle things while Sirius sniggered and put Mr. Weasleys hair right again.
“Fascinating!” He would say as Harry talked him through using a telephone. “Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found to get along without magic.”
“Wait until he tells you about the cinema!” Sirius whispered conspiratorially.
Harry rolled his eyes at his Godfather as Mr. Weasley immediately asked him all about movies and muggle entertainment. In the last few weeks of summer, Mrs. Weasley insisted that she make dinner for Harry’s little group of three and Remus and Sirius knew better than to argue with Molly Weasley. Remus baked her chocolate cookies and brownies in thanks, and no one could understand how Remus could make chocolate baked goods better than anyone else could.
Harry asked Sirius and Remus if he could sleep at The Burrow for a few nights. He made sure to tell them that it wasn’t because they were boring or anything, but Harry had never really had many sleepovers and Ron wanted to show Harry how to play wizard trivia.
Apparently if you got a question wrong, it would zap you and the question would be given to the next player. If no one knew it, they would all receive a shock. Remus smiled, telling Harry to have fun. Sirius told Harry that he and Remus would be there at a second’s notice if he needed them and Harry smiled, telling them that he’d only be gone for a few days and he’d have Ada with him. Harry pretended he didn’t notice Remus whispering to Sirius that he would be alright and Sirius sniffing slightly. Harry waved goodbye from the door and watched his guardians apparate away.
The next morning, he and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mrs. and Mr. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Pretending he hadn’t noticed this, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him.
“Do they have crickets?”
“No, Ada,” Harry laughed at the snake perched on his shoulders.
“Unfortunate.”
“You’ve just eaten, Ada.”
“And?”
As he ate, Harry thought about the pranks that he and Neville had been making. Each side had gained a lot of points as they neared the last week of the prank wars. There was a tense air in the house as they awaited the last prank that would finally end the war. Neville had managed to set a lot of pranks on himself, but they all had fun, trying to get more points. Harry had set quite a few on himself at the start. He blamed it on Neville distracting him, though it wasn’t really Neville’s fault. Harry thought about the time that Neville had managed to set their trap off and somehow it only hit harry…
“Did you invite Malfoy to your birthday?” Neville asked him as Harry tried to set a trip wire outside the twin’s room.
“No, Neville. I told you I didn’t,” Harry replied, tying the string and carefully setting a cream pie above the door.
“I told you that he likes you Harry. I told you. He looked so happy when he was playing quidditch with us, don’t you think?” Neville asked, excitedly.
“Ah does the yellow one like you, Harry?”
“Shut up, Ada.”
“Rude. I’m only parroting information.”
“How do you even know what a parrot is? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
Neville was waiting patiently as Harry spoke with his snake.
“Does she agree?”
“She does not agree with you, but the yellow one does smell nice.”
“He pushed you off your broom and hogged the Nimbus,” Harry told Neville, ignoring Ada and rolling his eyes.
“But he smiled at you, Harry,” Neville pointed out.
“That’s cos I had grabbed the twin’s joke broom and was getting thrown off,” Harry huffed, having to use a step stool to reach the top of the door frame.
“He still smiled,” Neville responded, crossing his arms. “Really, Harry. I don’t know how you don’t see—”
“You might not want to stand so close to the wire, mate.”
Neville jumped, tripping over the wire as Harry got hit with the pie. Fred laughed as he had come down the stairs to see Harry and Neville trying to set a trap for him. Harry sighed, but took his finger and licked the cream. Neville made an odd sound and Harry looked up to see Ada had settled on Neville.
“How did you get there?”
“I didn’t wan’t to get hit by pie.”
“Yes, but how did you move so quickly?”
“Like this.”
The weight of Ada settled on Harry’s shoulders in the next second. Interesting.
“Cover the funny one in this sweet stuff, I don’t like it.”
“What a shame,” Harry sighed to Neville. “I thought you liked lemon pie. I’m feeling a bit disappointed that you didn’t get to try some, Fred. How about a hug?”
Harry chased after Fred, covered in pie as Neville accidentally tripped over the wire again. They ran down the stairs laughing only to find George covered in lemon cream pie and calmly eating out of the pie tin that must’ve been holding the pie covering his face. The boys stopped and stared at each other before George shrugged and went back to scooping the rest of the pie from the tin.
“Orion got me—couldn’t let it go to waste!” he said. “I already told ‘The Great Referee Hermione’ about the points, but it seems…”—George looked at Harry’s lemon covered face—“that the score’s about even now. Mum said she’s making more pie with Remus. I think she’s trying to figure out how he makes his brownies.”
“She’ll never figure it out,” said Fred. “He must be doing some kind of wandless andwordless magic because those brownies taste better than anything.”
“Well, let’s find Hermione, then,” Neville said. “Hey, George, did Hermione tell you what the sc—”
“What’s the score, then, Ginny?” Fred asked, breaking Harry from his memory as the rest of the boys came down for breakfast.
Ginny muttered something that no one could understand. Fred made to ask again, but he was interrupted when Percy entered the room, fully dressed, with his shiny Prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.
“77-76. The invisibility powder on Remus and Orion’s cloaks put you in the lead,” Percy said brusquely, glancing at his brothers and grabbing his breakfast, eating quickly.
Harry hadn’t known that Percy was keeping track of the prank wars. The rest of the table stared for a moment before returning to their own plates. Mr. Weasley cleared his throat to break the surprised silence in the room.
“Letters from school,” he said, passing Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. “Dumbledore already knows you’re here, Harry—doesn’t miss a trick, that man. You two’ve got them too,” he added to George and Fred.
For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry was relieved that he hadn’t been expelled even though Sirius and Remus had reassured him that he’d be fine. The letter told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King’s Cross station in September first. There was also a list of the new books he’d need for the coming year.
SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart
Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry’s.
“You’ve been told to get all Lockhart’s books, too!” he said. “The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan—bet it’s a witch.”
At this point, Fred caught his Mother’s eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.
“That lot won’t come cheap,” said George, with a quick look at his parents, “Lockhart’s books are really expensive.”
“Well, we’ll manage,” said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. “I expect we’ll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny’s things secondhand.”
“Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?” Harry asked Ginny.
She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately no one saw this except Harry, because just then Percy jumped in surprise as something landed in his lap. He pulled up a molting, grey feather duster—at least, that was what Harry thought it was, until he saw that it was breathing.
“That looks delicious.”
“You can’t eat it.”
“Why not? I already can’t eat that ugly rat.”
“That’s Scabbers, Ron’s rat.”
“So?”
“Errol!” said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. “Finally—he’s got Hermione’s answer. I wrote to her saying you were staying over for a bit.”
He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron laid him on the draining board instead, muttering, “Pathetic.” Then he ripped open Hermione’s letter and read it out loud:
“‘Dear Ron, and Harry if you’re there,
“‘Ginny has been keeping me up to date on the prank wars. I heard Orion got back at Ginny for bedazzling his motorbike? Though, Remus said that Orion hasn’t taken off the jewels. The score is 75-73, right? I’m sure the score is higher by now’—She’s right about that,” Ron laughed. “‘You’ve all been setting them off so quickly I’m surprised Ginny can keep up with it. I can’t believe you boys are winning! Sorry, Ron, but Harry’s team has got people who can perform actual magic.
“‘I’m very busy with schoolwork, of course’—How can she be?” Ron said in horror. “We’re on vacation!—‘and we’re going to London next Wednesday to buy our schoolbooks. Neville said he’d go then as well. Why don’t we meet in Diagon Alley?
“‘Let me know what’s happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.’”
“Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too,” said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. “What’re you all up to today?”
Harry, Ron, Fred, Ginny, and George were planning to go up the hill to a small paddock the Weasleys owned. Mrs. Weasley told Fred and George to watch their sister or they’ll be in loads trouble; Ginny didn’t appreciate the babying. The paddock was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, meaning that they could practice Quidditch there, as long as they didn’t fly too high. They couldn’t use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village, instead they threw apples for one another to catch.
“Have you got all your gear on?” Ron asked Ginny, adjusting the straps of the pads.
“Yes, Ronald,” Ginny seethed. “How come I’m the only one who has to wear all this stuff?”
“You had better be careful, I don’t think Fred and George have forgotten when you pushed them into the mud last month,” Harry laughed, walking towards the siblings.
Ginny shifted nervously in the too big padding, trying to tighten it or disappear into it altogether.
“You want to try it?” Harry continued, handing her his Nimbus Two Thousand, much to everyone’s disgruntled surprise. “Ron said you’re a pretty good flyer.”
Ginny’s eyes widened as she took the broom and kicked off. She laughed as she flew through the air getting used to the slight movements needed for the broom. Her nervousness around Harry seemed to lessen when she got into the air. Harry smiled, he knew the feeling. They took turns riding Harry’s Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom; Ron’s old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies.
Five minutes later, they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he had said he was much too busy. Harry had only seen Percy at mealtimes, he didn’t even open the door when Harry came over anymore. Remus had rather liked the politeness towards others and the exasperation he held for his siblings.
“Wish I knew what he was up to,” said Fred, frowning as Harry asked about Percy. “He’s not himself. His exam results came a few days ago; twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all.”
“Ordinary Wizarding Levels,” George explained, seeing Harry’s puzzled look. “Bill got twelve, too. If we’re not careful, we’ll have another Head Boy in the family. I don’t think I could stand the shame.”
They played a few games, rotating the Nimbus. Since it was uneven, the team with the Nimbus would have less team members. Though, they quickly realized which were the best pairs compared to the worst. Ginny seemed to work well with any of her brothers, managing to dodge the apples meant to knock her off and catching them before they hit the ground. When she was paired with Harry, she accidentally hit him in the head with an apple and crashed into Ron. They all agreed that Ginny wouldn’t be paired with Harry again. Harry had used his potions to fix Ginny and Ron’s bruises from the crash and Fred and George were very interested in the fact that Harry knew how to make sixth year potions.
Harry caught the apples so quickly and easily that they all decided to see what they could throw before Harry missed one. They gave Harry the basket that had held the apples and started throwing them up one at a time as Harry raced after them. Soon they started throwing them two at a time and Harry was panting from the effort, but he caught every one. They all tried it and found that Ginny was the only one to come close to Harry’s score. Harry told her that she was an excellent player and her smile could have lit up England.
“Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year,” said George after a while. “Five sets of Lockhart’s books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything…”
Harry didn’t say anything. He felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London, was a small fortune that his parents had left him. Of course, it was only in the Wizarding world that he had money; you couldn’t exactly use Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts in Muggle shops.
—◊◊◊—
“What’d you do at the Weasleys?” Remus asked when they apparated back to his flat.
“We played quidditch,” said Harry excitedly. “The winds were perfect and we played this game where we saw how many apples we could throw from the ground and if the person in the air could catch them. I got the highest score.”
“Of course you did!” Sirius beamed. “You’re the best, Harry.”
“Ginny came close, actually,” Harry said. “I think she should try out for the team...Whatever house she gets into, I guess. Hermione, Ron, and Neville are all going to Diagon Alley to get our books next Wednesday. We agreed to meet at Flourish and Blott’s. Do you think that’s when we should end the prank wars?”
“I can’t believe they’re winning!” Sirius groaned. “Where did they even get the invisibility powder? Do they still sell it at Zonko’s? Brilliant stuff. What should we—”
“Sirius,” Harry started, “next Wednesday?”
“Oh! Yes, that’s fine,” he replied sheepishly. “Don’t worry, Harry, even if they win, I’ll still get you and Neville something. We all had fun, eh?”
“You don’t have to get me anything Sirius,” Harry smiled.
“Oh, why not? It’ll be a small present, I promise.”
Harry looked suspiciously at Sirius, but accepted that he probably wouldn’t be able to reject a gift from Sirius even if he tried.
“Well, it’s your last week with us before you go off to school,” Remus said. “What would you like to do?”
“I get to pick?” Harry asked. “Well…one time for Dudley’s birthday, aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon took him to a museum. He said it was boring, but he said there were mummies and paintings on the wall of caves. I’ve always wanted to see that. It sounded really cool.”
“You…they didn’t take you with them?” Sirius asked.
“Dudley didn’t want me there,” Harry shrugged. “It’s okay, though. I spent the day with Mrs. Figg. She’s not too bad once you get over the smell of cats. Do you think we could go to the museum?”
“Yes, Harry,” said Remus calmly, when it seemed like Sirius would burst into flames if he started talking. “We can go tomorrow. I think you should go to bed, it’s getting late.”
“Okay, Uncle Remus,” said Harry, walking towards his room. “Goodnight!”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
Once Harry closed his door, Remus cast a Muffliato and told Sirius to sit down.
“I will not sit down, Remus,” Sirius growled. “He has nightmares about them. They didn’t even have the decency to bring him out with the rest of them? What did they do to him?”
“Sit down, Sirius,” Remus commanded. “Please.”
Sirius sat on the chair parallel to the couch and ran his hands down his face.
“I don’t know everything,” Remus started, “but I know that it was bad. He was more or less a house elf to them, Sirius. He cooked and cleaned for them and they…”
“What did they do, Moony?” Sirius said in a deadly calm voice.
“They beat him when he misbehaved or asked a question they didn’t like. That’s why it took awhile for him to start asking us questions and why he has so many nightmares. It’s also the reason why he made those healing potions and why he takes them everywhere he goes. I don’t think he had any friends before Hogwarts, and…He lived in their cupboard under the stairs.”
Anger simmered in Sirius’ eyes as he took in Remus’ words. He was as still as a statue and Remus looked sadly at his best friend. This was why he hadn’t wanted to tell Sirius. He knew what it would remind him of and Remus knew he would be reliving the memories.
“They kept him in a coat closet?” Sirius growled. “Where do they live, Remus? Tell me.”
“No, Sirius,” Remus said firmly.
“Why not?” Sirius screamed. “They abused him Remus! He made potions so he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain that they caused him. He used to have nightmares every night, Remus. Every night! They deserve to be—to be locked up. They have muggle prisons, don’t they? They deserve dementors for that. They hurt him. He was just a child! Why haven’t you done something about it already?! I thought—I…Merlin, Remus. I thought that he was just jumpy. I thought…I thought they were just dreams, Remus. I thought I was seeing something that wasn’t there. We could’ve…We should’ve—”
“We couldn’t have done anything, Sirius,” Remus said sadly. “You were in Azkaban and no court would allow a werewolf to take in a child by themselves. We couldn’t. We can only help him now, Sirius…Well, I think we can have a few words with Dumbledore for allowing Harry to stay with those muggles. Do you think he knew?”
“I hope, for his sake, that he didn’t,” Sirius said softly. “Lucky, we’re due for a report on Harry’s health, then.”
“We’ll go the day after the museum,” Remus said.
—◊◊◊—
“I don’t see what’s so special,” Sirius complained. “The pictures don’t even move. I went to Egypt once and there were painting a bit like this, but they moved to show exactly what the wizards were doing in ancient Egypt.”
“That’s wizard history, Orion,” Harry laughed. “This is muggle history. They used to draw with berries and rocks.”
“Rocks?” Sirius asked.
“Yeah, there were certain rocks that gave off different colors. Isn’t that cool? You’re the one who said that I should be more excited about muggle things.”
“Well, yes,” Sirius relented. “I just thought you’d be more interested in…music or film. Not…history. I couldn’t even pay attention in Binns’ class. He’s not still teaching, is he?”
“Barry the Bard and Barty the Brave were wonderful examples to follow,” Harry wheezed, in a passable impression of Professor Binns droning voice.
Sirius laughed so hard that the security guards had to shush him.
“Why’ve we got to keep quiet?” Sirius whispered. “It’s not like the mummies are going to wake up. Well, not these mummies. Now, if we’d have gone to Egypt…”
“Orion, you can plan future trips to Egypt another time,” Remus said with an exasperated smile. “Harry wanted to see the Muggle museum. Do you like it Harry?”
“So cool,” Harry smiled.
“Harry,” Sirius started, deciding to change the conversation away from Muggle museums, “Remus and I have to go see Professor Dumbledore tomorrow.”
“Can I come?” Harry asked.
“No, Harry,” Remus said. “You’ll be with the Weasleys until Wednesday, where we’ll meet you in Diagon Alley. We have to talk to Professor Dumbledore and Sirius’ lawyer to discuss becoming your main guardians from now on.”
“Really?” Harry gasped. “I get to stay with you all the time?”
“If you’ll have us,” Sirius said softly.
Harry’s eyes stung and his heart clenched at the soft smile that Sirius gave him. Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair and pulled him into a hug.
“I will always protect you, Harry,” Sirius whispered, but Harry wasn’t sure that Sirius had meant for him to hear him.
Harry silently asked the universe to let him keep this feeling of safety and happiness. Logically, Harry knew that it wasn’t likely, but who knows? Maybe Harry could break the statistics. He hoped that he could, no matter how futile.