Harry Potter and the Fifth Year from Hell

Chapter 3: Another Weasley

"We'll be needing a new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher . . . Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?"

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Ch. 18

* * *

As before, Mrs. Figg took charge. She took Harry by the wrist and pointed to Sirius.

"You! In the other room, and don't stir. No - actually you'd better get out of here now before the Magical Law Enforcement team gets here - and stay away, you idiot." Sirius cringed a little, moving toward the door to the parlour.

"Arabella, I'm really sorry. I didn't think about getting you in trouble, I was just - " If he'd been a dog at the moment, he would have been flattened his ears and waved his tail a little in apology.

"Shush! Go!" Mrs. Figg let go of Harry and shooed Sirius through the door, closing it after him. She cocked her head at the conversation still audible from the parlour, took her wand from an umbrella stand by the wall, and performed a Silencing Charm. Instantly the noise from the room ceased. She put back the wand and smoothed her hair.

Uncle Vernon banged on the door again, and rang the door chime.

"Coming, coming," Mrs. Figg sang, with much more quaver in her voice than usual. "Who is it?"

"VERNON DURSLEY," yelled Uncle Vernon. "I'M LOOKING FOR MY NEPHEW - oh!" He broke off abruptly and lowered his pounding fist as Mrs. Figg opened the door and looked at him through her bifocals. Harry, peeping cautiously over Mrs. Figg's shoulder, saw that his face was purple with suppressed anger.

"Oh, yes, Vernon," fluttered Mrs. Figg in her little-old-lady voice. "Here he is - your nephew I mean - I was just sending him home. So generous of you to let me borrow him. He's been helping me to move some boxes up to my attic - my china figurines, you know. I have to put away the spring ones and put out the summer ones, and I'm afraid they're just a little heavy for me - and your young Harry, so kind and strong." She conducted Harry out the front door as she spoke, and Uncle Vernon took his upper arm in a painfully firm grip.

"I've fed him tea, and I do hope I haven't kept him too long. He did say he had to get back, but -" Uncle Vernon broke into her rambling monologue with very false politeness.

"Not at all, not at all, but I'd better take him home now." Uncle Vernon glared at Harry with his small eyes narrowed to slits. "His aunt is worrying."

"Oh yes, of course. Goodbye, Harry, and thank you so much for all your help."

"Errr, it was nothing," stammered Harry. "Thank you for the tea and, um, everything." He tried with a direct look to convey his thanks for the surprise party. He could feel from the tightening grasp on his arm that Uncle Vernon's patience was about to run out, so he shut his mouth and allowed himself to be led away. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mrs. Figg watching from her doorway as they walked away.

"You're going to regret this, boy!" They were barely out of earshot when Uncle Vernon began the tongue-lashing. "Selfish… disobedient… the nerve… a note like that for your aunt to find… not asking permission… dinner not even started… ungrateful brat…" Harry let the hateful phrases roll over him as he stared at the ground and thought about the events of the past two hours.

It seemed so wrong to just leave, without saying anything to Hermione and her parents, without trying to make plans for what to do next. Clearly, Arabella Figg wanted to maintain her Muggle identity in front of the Dursleys. Harry reflected wearily that an hour ago, he'd been almost perfectly happy. Now… Will we still be learning to Apparate? Will I be allowed to go to the Weasleys now that the Death Eaters are attacking my friends? Harry winced inwardly. He had no right to put Ron and Hermione in further danger - and all the Weasleys, and Remus Lupin. He should stay away from them. And Sirius! If he keeps coming around me, they're sure to catch him sooner or later. Harry's reflections were oddly harmonious with Vernon Dursley's harangue:

"Selfish! Thoughtless! Inconsiderate! More trouble than you're worth! Always causing problems! Why can't you be like everyone else?" Harry found himself actually nodding in agreement as Uncle Vernon dragged him through the front door and to the foot of the staircase. Aunt Petunia stared at them coldly as they passed and Dudley looked up from the television for a second as Uncle Vernon pushed Harry up the steps before him and thrust him into his room. He slammed the door, and turned the lock with a loud click.

"No supper for you, tonight, you little ingrate! Or tomorrow, either. You'll stay in your room until I let you out," Uncle Vernon shouted through the door.

Harry sank wearily onto the bed and did not reply. Finally he heard his uncle's heavy steps retreating down the steps, and a low rumble as he answered Aunt Petunia's high-pitched piping voice. Harry sighed. Being locked in his room was nothing, now that he had the lock-opening pocketknife from Sirius. And he wasn't hungry anyway, after all the birthday cake.

Hedwig, perched in her open cage, gave a low mournful hoot. Harry went over to her and coaxed her out, stroking her soft white feathers. She pecked affectionately at his hand. Harry stared out the window at the slowly darkening sky. He would not cry. He was fifteen today, and fifteen-year-olds did not cry. So he wouldn't.

*

The next morning, Harry slept in. He'd stayed awake most of the night and had taken the opportunity to go downstairs for food and water for himself and Hedwig, to hide in his room just in case. He'd turned off his alarm clock - if he weren't allowed out of his room, at least he wouldn't have to cook breakfast for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

Harry was dreaming about the Hungarian Horntail, the dragon he'd faced for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. He was flying around her on his broom, trying to lure her away from Hermione and Ron, who were cowering among her eggs, looking pale and terrified. The dragon turned her hot yellow eyes away from Harry, back towards Harry's friends. Harry knew she would breathe fire on them. The dream-Harry shouted and waved his arms, desperate to bring the dragon's attention back to him. He succeeded. The Horntail turned her head back to him, opened her mouth, and - instead of fire, she released a tremendous bellowing roar -

Harry sat up suddenly, automatically groping for his glasses. The roar was coming from downstairs. It was Uncle Vernon. He was using much worse language than he usually did.

"HARRY! GET YOUR BLASTED BLOODY ARSE DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Harry got out of bed and went to the door, shrugging into his dressing gown.

"I can't," he yelled back irritably. "You've locked me in."

Uncle Vernon let out a wordless growl of rage, and pounded up the stairs. Harry heard the key turn, and his door was flung open. Harry resisted the urge to retreat, and looked from Uncle Vernon's purple forehead and bulging eyes to the pinched shocked mouth of Aunt Petunia just behind him.

"Yes?"

His moustache quivering with each panting breath, Uncle Vernon thrust a letter before Harry's eyes. It was written in green ink on thick parchment, with the Hogwarts seal at the top. Harry wondered briefly, deliriously, if he'd been named a prefect. He'd already gotten his back-to-school letter with the list of things to buy and the ticket for the Hogwarts Express. Hogwarts letters were usually sent directly to him, but this one seemed to have come to the Dursleys.

"READ THAT!" Uncle Vernon was still shouting. His hand was waving the letter about and Harry couldn't focus on it, so he took the letter from his uncle's hand and held it still. He read.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

As your nephew may have discussed with you, the Dark Lord has returned to full life and reinitiated his campaign of terrorism. We believe that he and his followers may be attacking the families of Muggle-born students, and there has been one distressing incident already. Fortunately, the family was not injured, but their house was destroyed by fire. Of course, your nephew, Harry Potter, is a wizard-born student, but there is reason to fear that he and his family may nevertheless be targeted.

Please do not become unduly alarmed. Measures have been taken to protect your home and family. You may wish to consider taking additional measures on your own. I encourage you to monitor wizarding news sources for further developments. Feel free to owl me if you have any questions.

On another matter, your nephew has been selected for special tutoring this summer. We ask that you deliver him to the Leaky Cauldron at Diagon Alley in London at 11:00 am this Saturday, August 5^th. Please ask Harry to write to me if this cannot be arranged. His tutoring sessions will last until school begins. I can assure you that your nephew will be as well protected as possible during this time.

Yours sincerely,

Professor M, McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry stared at the letter, his mind racing. It had never occurred to him that the Dursleys could be in danger, too. Could anyone believe that Harry cared for them like a real family? Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew, knew better, at least. He must have heard Harry speak of the Dursleys a hundred times when he was Ron's pet rat. Surely he would tell Voldemort that Harry hated and feared the Dursleys. On the other hand, if they tried to get to me here, who knows what would happen?

"WELL?" Uncle Vernon asked. "What is this nonsense? Who is this ‘Dark Lord'?" Uncle Vernon was shaking now, whether with anger or fear, Harry couldn't tell.

"It's true," Harry said, as levelly as he could. "She's talking about Voldemort, the dark wizard who killed my - my parents. He's come back alive again."

Aunt Petunia put her hand to her throat and pulled in her breath with a squeaky sound. She looked as if her knees would give way. Harry hastened to pull up his desk chair behind her and she fell into it with a thud.

"Lily and her husband were - killed, and their house was - totally destroyed. It was all in the letter we got with you." She looked into Harry's eyes and he nodded.

"Balderdash!" said Uncle Vernon explosively. "Who ‘comes back to life'? That's preposterous - impossible!" He gripped the back of the chair his wife was sitting in.

"It's true," said Harry. "I saw him. And yesterday, my friend Hermione Granger's house was burned down. She wasn't there."

Harry sat down on the side of his bed. Uncle Vernon made another effort. Pointing his finger in Harry's face, he roared at him.

"It's all YOUR fault, you ungrateful guttersnipe! THIS is what we get for taking you in and keeping you all these years! Weren't even going to TELL us, were you? This is what YOUR TYPE OF PEOPLE do!"

Harry stared back, stony-faced. Surprisingly, his aunt intervened.

"Vernon," she said, "let me talk to him." She leaned forward and looked earnestly at Harry. "This is just how they are, Harry. We tried to tell you before. We tried to keep you away from those people. They killed my sister. They're just - bad people. You have to admit, now - "

"It's not wizards," said Harry stubbornly. "It's just a few wizards - one, mostly. You can't judge all of us by Voldemort any more than you can judge all Muggles by Hitler, or something."

"Oh, Harry," Aunt Petunia said, shaking her head. "I knew long before I ever heard of this - this "Dark Lord." Those people are rough, and barbaric, and they have no respect for common decency. The one who killed Lily is just an extreme of what they're all like."

"No, we're not," said Harry. "Most of us are good." He glowered at her, thinking but not daring to say, Wizards don't lock little kids in cupboards, and starve them, and treat them like garbage.

Aunt Petunia tossed her head impatiently. "If you would just stay away from them and forget about all this, everything would be normal again. Like it was before you went to that school." Uncle Vernon grunted in agreement.

"No," said Harry firmly. "If I did that, Voldemort would win. Don't you see? There have to be good wizards and witches to stop the bad ones. Otherwise the bad ones would just take over the world. People like me are the only thing standing between people like you and - people like Voldemort." Harry thought angrily of Dumbledore, and Mrs. Figg, and Mr. Weasley. "You're being protected right now by my friends."

"AND WE WOULDN'T NEED PROTECTING IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU!" Uncle Vernon could no longer hold himself quiet. His hands reached out, twitching, as if he were longing to strangle Harry. Harry stood up.

"In a way, that's true," Harry said. "Otherwise, you would be just one of millions of Muggles. Because of me, you're in more danger. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner about Voldemort." Uncle Vernon opened his mouth but no words came out. Probably the first time he's ever heard me apologize, thought Harry. Probably the first time I've ever NEEDED to apologize to HIM.

"You'll be safer when I'm gone," Harry continued. "So you'd better take me up to London on Saturday. I'll make sure everybody knows how much I - umm, I'll do the best I can to make sure the dark wizards don't think they can hurt me through you."

Uncle Vernon stood for a moment glaring at Harry, chewing on one end of his moustache. He seemed to be thinking hard.

"Are you sure about that, boy?" Harry nodded. Uncle Vernon set his jaw.

"You'll be gone now, then. Get your things together. We leave for London in 20 minutes. Petunia, call my office and tell them I'll not be in until late afternoon." Aunt Petunia clasped her hands together anxiously, and looked questioningly at her husband. Uncle Vernon patted her clumsily on her arm.

"We have to think of Dudley, dear," he said virtuously. "We can't endanger him for the sake of this" - he jerked his head at Harry. Aunt Petunia's eyes widened, and she nodded quickly.

"Of course not." She turned and trotted down the stairs. Uncle Vernon crossed his arms and watched as Harry began hastily pulling clothing out of drawers.

*

Three hours later, Harry was standing on the pavement outside the Leaky Cauldron, Hedwig's cage in his hand, and his bulky trunk at his feet. Uncle Vernon had wanted to drop him off at King's Cross station, but Harry had convinced his uncle to take him to Charing Cross Road where the Leaky Cauldron was, instead. Uncle Vernon had barely allowed Harry time to drag his trunk and the cage from the back seat before roaring off. Harry only just managed to push the car door closed as the vehicle moved away.

Harry stood by his trunk as a crowd of Muggle pedestrians split to pass him, and then rejoined. Nobody gave him a second glance - a skinny, black-haired boy in round glasses and sloppy clothes, holding a large white owl in a cage. Harry took up one end of his trunk and pulled it through the stream of people, heading for the shadowy opening that was the half-hidden door of the wizarding pub. He smiled. Here he was at the Leaky Cauldron, with a fair number of Galleons in his moneybag, and plenty more in his vault in Gringotts Bank in Diagon Alley beyond the pub. Two years ago, he had spent a happy two weeks here. He had Hedwig with him to send letters to his friends, and it looked like the Apparating lessons were still on. Harry's grin threatened to split his face as he pushed through the door to see the ugly, but very welcome, face of Tom the innkeeper gaping at him in surprise.

"Well, if it ain't ‘Arry Potter!" said Tom, hastening forward and wiping his hands on his apron. "Haven't seen you in a couple of years. Come to stay again, have you?"

"Yes, please. Well, for a couple of nights, I think," Harry temporised, wondering if the Weasleys would want him immediately, once he had contacted them.

Tom took Hedwig's cage from Harry's hand and levitated Harry's trunk with a flick of his short wand. "Come on, then," he said, "number eleven is empty again. Let's get you settled in, and then you can come down for something to eat - I'm just starting the lunch service." They climbed the stairs.

The room was as cheerful and clean as Harry remembered it. Tom deposited Harry's trunk and the cage carefully on the floor and gave Harry a little nudge with his elbow. Harry was startled to notice that he was now several inches taller than the wizened innkeeper.

"Been blowin' up your aunts again, ‘Arry?" asked Tom, winking. "Hadn't ought to be doing that."

"Oh no," Harry said quickly. "It's just - I, umm, needed to get out of the house for a while."

"Stay as long as you like," Tom said cheerfully. "See you downstairs."

After Harry had washed his face and hands, and got Hedwig comfortably settled, he hesitated. He really ought to write to Mrs. Figg, and Professor Dumbledore, and Sirius, and the Weasleys, to tell them where he was. Oh, and Hermione, too. For an orphan, I sure do have a lot of people worrying about me. Harry's stomach growled loudly. He remembered that he'd had no breakfast, and made a compromise with himself. I'll write to Mrs. Figg, and then go down for lunch. Mrs. Figg could tell the others if she wished. Harry pulled out some parchment and quills, and wrote:

Dear Mrs. Figg,

I really want to thank you for the great birthday party. I'm sorry I had to leave so suddenly without the chance to thank you properly. The tea and cake and everything were wonderful, and it was very kind of you.

Also, thank you so much for the sealing wax and seal. I will use them all the time, and remember your kindness.

I don't know if you happened to see me leave with my uncle this morning. The Dursleys got a letter from Professor McGonagall telling them about Voldemort and Hermione's house, and they thought it would be safer at their house if I weren't there. So I am here in the Leaky Cauldron.

I expect I will be going to the Weasleys' on Saturday as planned. Hope this hasn't caused you any problems or worry. I am fine.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

Harry folded this missive and carefully closed it with his new Gryffindor seal. With some reluctance, he woke up Hedwig, but she was perfectly willing to deliver the message. Harry watched her soar away over Muggle London, and then galloped down the stairs toward companionship and food.

A blast of noise from the lunchtime crowd met Harry as he entered the public room. Wizards and witches, as well as goblins, dwarfs, and trolls, were talking animatedly at tables and at the long bar, and feasting on Scotch eggs and meat pies washed down with bitters and stout. Glancing around as he walked toward the bar, Harry didn't see anyone his own age. But - off by the front window, was that a flash of Weasley red hair?

Craning his neck to see over two surly troll guards from Gringotts, Harry drew closer. Could it be Percy or Mr. Weasley? No. Harry's steps slowed as he neared the table. A Weasley, apparently, but no Weasley that Harry had ever met - she was a witch of about Bill's age or a little older, with her bright hair pulled back into a braid, laughing with two other women at her table.

"Mr. Potter! What in the world are you doing here?"

Harry jumped at the familiar Scottish voice. It was Professor McGonagall, sitting at the same table as the red-haired woman, staring at him aghast. Harry saw that the third witch with them was Professor Sinistra, the Hogwarts Astronomy teacher.

Professor McGonagall rose and strode toward Harry. Harry gulped, feeling irrationally guilty.

"Hello, Professor," he said to the Deputy Headmistress. "Umm, the Dursleys got your letter, and - " How do I put it? "Well, they didn't want me to be there anymore, so Uncle Vernon brought me here. I just got here."

McGonagall's mouth tightened, and her eyes narrowed behind her square glasses. "They what? Well! Harrumph." As usual, she refrained from criticizing his guardians, but the effort was obvious. She looked sternly at Harry. "Have you told anyone where you are?"

Harry was glad he'd decided to write to Mrs. Figg before coming down to lunch.

"Yes, ma'am. I just sent an owl to Mrs. Figg."

"Good." McGonagall gestured to the empty chair at her table. "Will you join us, Mr. Potter?"

Harry wasn't quite sure if this was an invitation, or a command. It sounded like a command, coming from McGonagall. Harry had no real wish to eat with his Head of House, but there was a shortage of empty seats, and he was curious about the redheaded woman. He nodded, and followed her back to the table.

"You know Professor Sinistra, of course," said McGonagall, draping her napkin gracefully in her lap.

"It's good to see you, Mr. Potter," said Sinistra. The astronomy professor was a tall, slender woman, with a strong accent of her native Libya. She was reserved with the students, and Harry did not know her well.

"Good to see you, Professor," said Harry, nodding at her.

"Anne," McGonagall continued, "this is Harry Potter, who will be one of your fifth-year students. He is in my House. Mr. Potter, this is Professor Weasley."

"A pleasure, Mr. Potter," said the new professor, looking him over as she shook his hand. As her shrewd eyes scrutinized every feature on his face, Harry was unable to tell whether she actually looked at his scar or not. He looked at her just as closely. Anne Weasley had a strong resemblance to Charlie Weasley, with bright blue eyes, wide cheekbones, a determined chin, and freckles so close together they appeared to be a tan.

"Nice to meet you, Professor," said Harry. "I'm very close friends with Ron Weasley." He let his voice make this statement a question, and she responded with a smile.

"Ron is my first cousin," she said. My father and his father were brothers."

"You'll be teaching four of that family," said McGonagall. "George and Frederick are seventh-years, and then there's Ronald in the fifth year, and Virginia in fourth year. No other Weasleys at Hogwarts at the moment."

Professor Weasley winced at the mention of the twins, but she replied seriously. "Yes, we're mostly between generations at the moment. Uncle Arthur is the youngest of my father's brothers, and none of my cousins have children old enough to start school yet."

Harry plucked up his courage to ask, "Will you be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

Anne Weasley nodded and Professor McGonagall elaborated.

"Miss Weasley is currently with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She specializes in countering and removing hexes."

"Don't listen to her, Harry," said Miss Weasley. "I'm really just a beat cop." Harry laughed, but the other two professors looked puzzled at the Muggle expression. Harry had a thought.

"Uh, Miss Weasley?"

"Yes?"

"Is there any news about who burned down my friend's house? Hermione Granger, I mean." Anne Weasley frowned.

"We haven't solved it yet, if that's what you're asking. Magical Transportation notified us that three people had Apparated into a Special Protection Zone, and we sent a team, but they were stunned the moment they got there." She scowled and drummed her fingers on the table. "They did see that the assailants were hooded and masked. By the time my team got there for back up, the arsonists were already gone."

Miss McGonagall looked at Harry with grave sympathy. "I understand a photograph was sent to you. I know that Miss Granger is - very important to you."

Harry started to agree, and then noticed that Sinistra and Weasley were smiling slyly at each other. Wait just a minute! Did McGonagall think - did they all think that Hermione was his girlfriend? Harry couldn't help blushing, but he tried to correct this misinterpretation tactfully.

"Yeah - I'm afraid the Death Eaters might have believed that newspaper article, and they think she's my girlfriend. But anyway, she's one of my best friends and I'm really worried about her."

The three women raised their brows at one another and Harry had a sinking feeling he hadn't convinced them. He changed the subject.

"Could you - can you tell who Apparated to Hermione's house, and where they Apparated from?" he asked.

"Well, of course we can't tell whom," responded Anne Weasley. Harry nodded, though he hadn't known that. "But the first three people Apparated to the street outside Miss Granger's house from right here in Diagon Alley." Harry looked around the pub rather nervously as she continued. "Then, our team Apparated in from Headquarters, and then three people Disapparated back to Diagon Alley. The owl to you was sent from the Post Office here, by the way. Next, two people Apparated in from Arabella Figg's house. I understand they were Remus Lupin and Arabella Figg?" She raised her brows at Harry and he nodded quickly, glad to know that Mrs. Figg was covering for Sirius. "Then I and my team arrived."

"Mrs. Figg went back and forth a couple of times," Anne Weasley continued, "though I didn't see her." Harry nodded again.

"Do you have any other clues?" he asked. "Fingerprints or footprints or anything?"

"Nothing like that. There was no Dark Mark, but we presume that they were Death Eaters. I am wondering how they knew to owl you at Mrs. Figg's house, rather than your own." She looked at Harry searchingly.

Harry bit his lip. He had been wondering about that, too. He shrugged.

"I dunno," he said, looking around again anxiously. "Maybe they have some way of watching the Dursleys' house."

It was inconceivable to Harry that anyone at his birthday party might have tipped off the Death Eaters. Well, except for Mrs. Figg. He didn't really know her that well. But Dumbledore trusts her. Harry looked up from these very worrisome thoughts to see Professor McGonagall watching him closely.

"Don't worry too much, Harry," she said, very kindly for her. "Everything possible will be done."

Harry kept his eyes to his lunch while the three women discussed Miss Weasley's class schedule. He wondered whether the Magical Law Enforcement people were believers or unbelievers on the crucial matter of Voldemort's return, but he didn't have the nerve to interrupt and ask. After a few minutes, Professor Sinistra leaned away from the other two and smiled at him.

"I had a talk with Firenze the centaur the other day," she said quietly, "and he mentioned you."

"Uh, what did he say?" Harry was surprised to hear that a centaur had been talking to anyone except perhaps Hagrid. Although centaurs did seem to have a strong interest in astronomy, or rather astrology…

"Let me see if I can remember his exact words." Sinistra tapped her lip with one long finger. "Centaurs are so enigmatic - I find it very annoying. Yes, he said ‘The child of fire is the father of the storm.'"

"Oh," said Harry blankly. That was about as useful as ‘Mars is bright tonight.'

"Yes, I didn't understand it, either," said Sinistra, smiling ruefully. "Anyway, he seems to remember you fondly."

"As I do him," Harry said. "He saved my life once."

"Ah!" said Sinistra, nodding gravely. "That would explain it, then. He will consider himself bound to you."

*

Harry parted from the three professors with many promises to McGonagall that he would be careful and stay out of trouble. He spent the afternoon strolling through Diagon Alley, buying the books on his school list and some new robes, since his old ones were too short again. The place seemed unaffected by the news of Voldemort's return. The only difference Harry noted was that more people seemed to recognize him than before - probably due to the spate of newspaper articles the previous year - but they looked at him with more uneasiness than admiration - possibly also due to the articles. He ended at his favourite shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies. The Firebolt broom was still featured in the window. Harry looked at it complacently, thinking fondly of his own Firebolt locked securely in his trunk. Only a few more days, and he would be at the Weasleys' - able to ride his broom and play Quidditch again.

Harry sent off two letters that evening, one to Sirius and one to Ron. Then he got out the broomstick servicing kit that Hermione had given him and brought his Firebolt into perfect condition. He fell asleep with pleasant dreams of Quidditch, and no nightmares at all.

*

"OY, HARRY! OPEN THE DOOR!" For the second morning in a row, Harry was awakened by the sound of shouting. This time, it was the much more welcome voice of Ron Weasley.

"HARRY - WAKE UP! LET ME IN!" From the muffled thumps, Ron was kicking the door.

Harry scrambled out of bed, pulled on his glasses, and threw the door open. Ron came in with a wide grin, his arms full of animal cages - the wire cage containing his owl, Pigwidgeon, and a wicker basket containing Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. He squatted and set them carefully on the floor.

"Ron! What are you doing here?" asked Harry loudly, over the sound of Pigwidgeon's fluttering, Crookshanks's yowls, and Hedwig's indignant hoot. "Are you staying at the inn, too? Why do you have Hermione's cat?"

Ron rose and shook his head reproachfully. "I'm gonna have to tell Hermione," he chided. "You let me right in - I could have been anyone."

Harry grimaced and looked guiltily at Ron. "You won't really tell her, will you?"

"Nah." Ron laughed. "And to answer your questions - Keeping watch over you, yes, and she left him with us while she gets her parents moved out."

"Uh, what?" It was way too early in the morning for Harry to follow all this. Ron explained patiently.

"I'm here with my Mum because Ickle Harrykins is much too small and helpless to go about on his own. When I got your owl last night, Mum and Dad about went mental. So it's all arranged - Mum and I are going to stay here tonight and Fred, George, and Ginny will meet us here tomorrow with the Jordans, and Hermione is coming straight from the airport thing. Then we'll all go to the Burrow." Ron looked around the large room. "And I hope you'll let me stay in here with you, because otherwise" - he made a face - "I'll be bunking with my mother."

"Yeah, sure," said Harry, but Ron held up a hand.

"Finally, Crookshanks is here because Hermione popped into our fireplace for five minutes yesterday and left him with me, and she made me promise not to leave him alone because he was so traumatized by the fire." Ron rolled his eyes. "So I brought him."

"Great!" said Harry. He had been enjoying the freedom of being alone, but now he thought he'd enjoy companionship even more. He pulled on his clothes hastily, while Ron let Crookshanks out and tried to get Pig settled down.

"Harry, do you have any owl treats?" said Ron. Harry pointed to the box. "So, the Dursleys kicked you out, huh?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "They were afraid I might bring danger to their little Dudley." Ron snorted and kicked at Harry's dirty clothes, which were strewn all over the floor.

"Well, that's good, anyway," he said. "We need you for the Apparating lessons. Fred and George are going to do them with us."

Harry looked up in surprise. Ron waved a hand airily.

"They're seventeen, so they're allowed. Most people wait until they finish Hogwarts and take the Ministry course while they wait for their NEWTS results. They don't let anyone into that one until they're done with school. But plenty of people get special tutoring the summer before their seventh year, if they turn seventeen in time." Ron grimaced slightly. "Rich people, mostly."

Harry nodded. The Weasleys were far from rich.

"Can't you learn it on your own?" he asked. Ron shook his head.

"Against the law," he said succinctly. "Got to have a Certified Trainer until you get your license."

Harry wondered how Remus Lupin had become certified as an Apparating Trainer. He knew that he hadn't had many jobs over the years. Most people weren't very enthusiastic about hiring a werewolf.

"Well," said Harry, tying his shoe and shoving his wand into his pocket, "how about let's go down for breakfast." Ron brightened.

"Sure," he said. "I had mine ages ago, but I'm up for second breakfast."

As they headed to the door, however, there was a tapping on the window. Harry recognized the barn owl who'd brought Mrs. Figg's invitation to him before.

"Hold up," he said to Ron, and took a message from the owl. He opened and read it as they walked.

Dear Harry,

Thank you so much for letting me know what happened. I did see you leave with Vernon, and I was concerned. I'm very glad to hear that you are safe, and beg you to stay that way.

Please don't thank me for the little gathering. It was no trouble and I enjoyed it immensely. It was so pleasant meeting your young friends. Mr. Weasley is charming, and your Miss Granger is a lovely girl. I could certainly tell how fond she is of you. I am sure you will know how to comfort her in her distress.

Take care of yourself, Harry, and rest assured that I will continue to keep watch over your tiresome relations.

Cordially,

Arabella Figg

Harry groaned, and crunched the parchment in his fist. Does everyone in the ruddy world think Hermione and I are a couple?

"Hey, what's she say?" asked Ron, making a grab for the letter. "Any news about who started the fire?" Harry snatched the parchment away, crunched it into a tight ball, and shoved it deep into his pocket. Ron did not need to see this.

"Um, no." Harry grinned. "She said you're charming, though, and Hermione's a lovely girl."

"True," said Ron judiciously. "Well, the part about me, anyway."

*

The public room was nearly empty at this hour of the morning, but Mrs. Weasley could be seen drinking coffee at the bar and talking to old Tom. Tom gave Harry a toothless smile.

"Ready for breakfast, then?" Mrs. Weasley turned around and hugged Harry tightly.

"You poor, poor dear," she said. Harry grimaced.

"It's okay, really," he said earnestly. "I'm much happier here than at the Dursleys'." Mrs. Weasley didn't look comforted, and Harry made haste to change the subject.

"You'll never guess who I met in here yesterday." He told them about the lunch with Anne Weasley.

"Annie teaching at Hogwarts?" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. "Well! I haven't heard one word about that."

"Annie's really cool," added Ron. She used to be in Magical Creatures, like Charlie, but she switched over to Law Enforcement a few years ago. She helped catch a Nundu once."

"Wow." Harry was honestly impressed. According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, these gigantic leopards were arguably the most dangerous beasts in existence.

"She's a dear girl," said Mrs. Weasley, "but she doesn't seem old enough to be a teacher."

"Mum!" objected Ron. "She must be about thirty. That's plenty old enough." Mrs. Weasley smiled.

"Well, it doesn't seem very old to me, dear, but I'm sure she'll do a fine job. Now, Harry, have you bought all your Hogwarts things?"

"Yes, I got them all yesterday."

"Maybe you can help Ron today. I have some errands to do. But you boys be careful."

Harry agreed. Ron insisted on feeding and checking on Crookshanks first, but then they had the whole day to wander about Diagon Alley. They bought Ron's books, and they each bought a present for Hermione, whose birthday was in September. They talked about Quidditch, and Harry brought Ron up to date on his cousin's information on the house fire. If anyone looked askance at him that day, Harry didn't notice it.