Mother Knows Best

Chapter 3

Disturbed Dreams

After sleeping through most of the afternoon, Harry wasn't remotely tired that night. He was still up reading an old book of Percy's he'd found long after everyone else in the house was sound asleep. It was a very worn book called The Amazing Art of Apparition, that looked like it had been through all five of the older Weasley sons, and had been bought second-hand to begin with. Knowing the Weasleys, that was probably exactly what had happened. The book was full of pictures of apparition accidents, and though faded, the images were still very disturbing. There were lots of people sticking out of walls and ceilings and such with horrified expressions on their faces; they reminded Harry of the drawings in Moste Potente Potions. Harry drifted off to sleep with visions of horrible apparition accidents swimming through his mind. Perhaps that's why he had the dream he did...

Harry was at home, but not Number Four Privet Drive, or The Burrow, or Hogwarts. This home reminded Harry of Twelve Grimmauld Place; full of ominous-looking magical items. But it wasn't there, either. Suddenly, Harry sensed a presence somewhere nearby. Harry wasn't expecting anyone, so he pulled out his wand, and went looking for the intruder. He sensed he was getting close to the intruder, so Harry called out "Who's there? Come out!" There was only rasping breathing in response, and a dull thud. Harry had seen movement to his left, and he thought he could make out the outline of a figure on the floor. "Lumos." Harry lit up the end of his wand and approached the figure. The person on the floor was still gasping for air, and didn't seem to be able to even sit anymore. They slowly turned their head, but even this seemed to cause them pain, and they struggled to complete the motion. As the light from the tip of Harry's wand finally reached whoever it was, Harry gasped in horror.

Below him lay the ruined form of a woman. She looked up at Harry with a desperate yet hopeless expression with dull yellow eyes. The mouth that was gasping for air sported two long, sharp fangs. Harry wasn't sure if she had any skin on her, as her whole body was dark and charred with only a few intermittent patches of red. Her clothes were the merest of rags, and their original form was unrecognisable. More horror stuck, Harry suddenly realised who this woman was. "Oh my GOD!" Barely thinking, he smashed the glass front to the cabinet next to him, took one of the broken shards, and slashed his wrist. He lifted up the woman's head, "Drink," he ordered. The woman made weak signs of protest. "No, no arguing! This is not the time for your high moral ground, now DRINK!" He forced his fresh wound into her mouth. She sat there passively for a bit, but then some instinct seemed to take over, and she sucked violently at the cut, ripping at it with her fangs to widen it. "Just don't kill me," he said, only half-joking; he knew all too well how dangerous this woman could be. He carefully recited a spell he'd only just created a few months ago, then sat down to wait. Harry cradled the woman protectively, memories overcoming him; all the times this woman had cradled him, when he'd been sick, or sad, or lonely. Childhood memories of tender care, even when it made the other children at the orphanage jealous.

Finally, the others he'd summoned with his spell arrived. He already knew what he wanted done, and ignored the looks of disgust and horror on their faces. "Bartley; come here and relieve me." He ordered a big, beefy man. Bartley approached very slowly and hesitantly.

"Surely my Lord, you don't want me to feed...that," Bartley said laughingly.

Harry scowled. "That's exactly what I want you to do, now come here!" he snapped. Bartley inched closer. Harry paused as a dizziness overcame him. "My god, she's taken so much already," Bartley came closer to see if he could assist Harry, and Harry took advantage of the moment by reaching down, grabbing another shard of glass, and slicing Bartley's wrist with it. Bartley let out of yelp of pain and shock, and the woman's eyes were instantly on Bartley. Harry grabbed Bartley's wrist and forced it down to the woman's mouth. The woman dropped Harry's wrist and grabbed Bartley's. "There, that should hold her." Bartley was struggling, trying to break free. "Just let her feed, she's so weak it will be an hour at least before you're even dizzy!" Harry scolded him. Bartley stopped struggling, but still wore a look of terror and disgust.

Harry turned to the others. "The rest of you, go into town. I want you to fetch me Muggle criminals; preferably ones who like to attack women...those are her favourite."

"Her? How can you even tell that's a woman?" the young man who had asked the question had long blond hair and cold, steely grey eyes. He had been watching the scene with mild curiosity.

"Never you mind that, Malfoy, just get me those criminals. I want them alive but incapacitated. Make use of that Imperitus curse you're so good at. Bring me at least three, but six would be better, I don't know how hungry she is." Harry shot a worried look at the woman, careful the others wouldn't see he was concerned. "Now go! If you don't bring back those Muggles, I'll feed you to her!" The rest of Harry's followers scurried out. Once they were gone, Harry looked back down at the woman. He thought for a moment. "We'd better get her into another room," he informed Bartley, "this spot has full southern exposure. Wingardium Leviosa," Harry magically lifted her. "Don't let go," he ordered Bartley, "in here," he indicated a small bedroom off to the side. Once inside, Harry pulled the covers off the bed and carefully lowered the woman down onto it. He then covered her gingerly with the top sheet, but she was still preoccupied with feeding, and gave no indication of even being aware that she had been moved. Harry conjured up a chair for Bartley to sit on, which Bartley accepted gratefully. Harry then proceeded to seal up the windows, blocking out what little light the stars provided. Bartley had fainted, though Harry was sure it was out of fear rather than blood loss, and Harry propped him in the chair magically. Next, he conjured up a chair from himself, and hunkered down to wait. "Don't worry," he said, carefully patting the woman's leg, "they'll be back with more victims soon; you're going to be fine," Harry knew he was saying it to convince himself more than anyone else.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Harry awoke suddenly.

"Harry?" it was Ginny. "Breakfast is ready, wake up!" Harry mumbled in reply.

Harry came downstairs to find a nervous-looking but optimistic Weasley family sitting around the table. "Ok," said Ginny as Harry took his seat, "we all know the rules, right?"

"Right." Everyone assented.

There was silence for a bit as Mrs. Weasley served breakfast to everyone. Then Ron spoke up, "Harry, have you given any thought to who you want to invite to your party yet?"

Harry felt a stab of grief; his very first birthday party, and Sirius wasn't going to be there. No, mustn't think like that, Harry scolded himself. "Well, Hermione, obviously. How about Hagrid, can we fit him in?" Harry directed the question at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Harry was being very literal; Hagrid was nine feet tall, five feet wide, and he had trouble fitting himself in anywhere.

"Oh, don't worry dear, we'll manage." Mrs. Weasley assured him.

"What about the DA?" Ron asked

"Oh, that's more complicated," Harry admitted. "I... I'm not sure I want to see Cho, or that she wants to see me, for that matter."

"I don't especially want to see Michael Corner, either." Ginny interjected.

"That idiot friend of hers is definitely out," Ron grumbled, "I hope she has a permanent scar from Hermione's jinx; she deserves to have SNEAK written across her face for all time!"

"Agreed," Harry nodded, "well, for not inviting them, I mean. But I definitely want to invite Neville and Luna; they were a big help..." Harry trailed off, he was getting into dangerous territory. Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood had been a big help at the ministry, but they hadn't been able to prevent Sirius' death.

"Ok," said Ron, "How about Dean and Seamus?" obviously trying to steer the conversation back into a less volatile subject.

"Yeah, sure." Harry agreed.

"Mind if we invite Lee?" Fred asked. Lee Jordan was Fred and George's best friend at Hogwarts, and he was also the official announcer for Quiddich matches.

"Sure," Harry said, then he was struck with an idea. "Why don't you invite some of your friends, too, Ginny?"

"As long as you don't mind having a pack of giggling, gossiping fifth-years at your party," Ginny warned.

"I'll live," Harry said with mock despair.

"Er, I hope I don't have to remind you, we don't want to invite anyone who isn't, well, completely trustworthy." Mr. Weasley suddenly spoke up; he gave Harry a serious look. "I don't think it would be terribly wise if we let on you're not at the Dursleys."

"I'd trust the DA with my life," Harry assured him, "in truth, I already have."

"I'll be careful, too," Ginny assured her father.

"Why don't you make up a list of people you're going to invite after breakfast, Harry? I need to know how many people I'm going to be feeding, anyhow."

"I'll look into finding a discrete way of sending off invitations at work." Mr. Weasley announced. "By the way, Harry, try to avoid sending owls, we're not completely sure how secure owl post is yet."

"I thought as much; I've already told Hedwig to keep going back to Privet Drive as if I were still there," he assured Mr. Weasley.

"Good boy. Well, we're off." Mr. Weasley and Bill got up to head off to work. Mrs. Weasley kissed them goodbye.

Harry yawned and stretched. "Did you sleep well last night, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Yeah. I just wish I could've finished that dream I was having." It was an idle comment, but the whole family froze.

"Oh, what about?" Mrs. Weasley continued conversationally, but all eyes were fixed on Harry.

"I was in this house, it was my house in the dream, but I've never seen it before. I...sensed that someone was in the house with me, so I went looking for them."

"Did you find them?" Ron asked.

"Oh yeah, it was this woman, a vampire. She was in horrible shape; burnt from head to toe. I barely recognised her."

Mr. Weasley had sunk into a chair, both he and Bill seemed to have completely forgotten about work. "But, you did recognise her?" Mr. Weasley was trying to look unconcerned.

"Yeah. In the dream, anyway. I've never actually seen her before, and I don't actually know who she is, but in the dream, she was sort of like my mother, I think she'd taken care of me when I was little. Yes...I think I dreamt about her once before, but I was little then."

Mr. Weasley seemed perplexed. "And then what happened?"

"I cut my wrist without thinking, and made her drink; she didn't want to." It was clear from the expressions on the Weasleys faces that they did not like the way this dream was going at all. Harry stopped. "Well, I got someone else to help...and stuff...and then I woke up." Harry decided not to tell the Weasleys that he had ordered for victims to be brought and fed to the vampire.

The Weasleys exchanged worried looks. Mr. Weasley had completely forgotten that he was getting late for work. He took off his horn-rimmed glasses and began cleaning them agitatedly. "Er, Harry, do you think it's possible you're been seeing what L-Lord V-" Mr. Weasley made a concentrated effort, but managed to get out "Voldemort," he looked around as if expecting to see Lord Voldemort himself come out and curse him. The rest of the Weasleys made a great effort to suppress their collective wince at the name. Mr. Weasley took a breath to screw his courage, and continued, "erm, has been doing again?"

The idea struck Harry. He hadn't had any more dreams about what Voldemort was doing lately; it seemed that he didn't want Harry to know about it, now that Voldemort knew he and Harry shared a telepathic link. But then he realised something, "I think he was dreaming, too." Mr. Weasley arched his eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure this was a memory; Mr. Malfoy looked about twenty."

Mr. Weasley humphed at the name; Harry knew quite well that Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy were far from being friends. The first time Harry had seen them meet, Mr. Weasley had socked Mr. Malfoy in the mouth. "That must have been thirty years ago," Mr. Weasley said, more to himself than anyone else. "It was another ten years before You-know-who started making trouble."

"Dad," Ginny scolded.

"Oh, quite right, Ginny. Sorry, force of habit. Anyway, this means Lucius is way into that lot. He may even be second-in-command. I hope he rots in Azkaban!"

"You mean, they...haven't escaped?" Harry asked, he was referring to the Death Eaters who were captured in the Ministry of Magic in June.

"What? Oh, no. Of course, the Dementors are gone. But we have at least two aurors on guard duty on each maximum security cell at all times." Mr. Weasley sighed. "They're certainly being kept on their toes these days. The Ministry is scared to death, of course, they're having the aurors investigate every crackpot old hag's tale of Death Eater sightings. It's rare to see an auror in the Ministry these days, and there's talk of fast-tracking the auror training. Dumbledore wrote to the ministry to warn them of the dangers of sending inexperienced aurors out into the field under such dangerous circumstances. It doesn't help that almost no aurors that faced..." Mr. Weasley screwed up his face in effort once again, "Voldemort are left." Mr. Weasley sighed. "Harry, I think you should write to Dumbledore and tell him you're having dreams again. And try to remember your occlumency training."

"Arthur, the time!" Mrs. Weasley gasped, pointing at the magical clock. The hands marked for Mr. Weasley and Bill were both pointing to 'you're late.'

"Oh dear. Remember what I said, Harry," said Mr. Weasley as he rushed out the door close on Bill's heels. Harry heard a crack! as they disapparated.

Chapter 4

Grassleaf

Harry obligingly wrote the letter to Professor Dumbledore right after he finished breakfast. He decided to wait until Mr. Weasley returned and give the letter to him. Harry certainly wasn't going to send a letter saying he could see inside Vodlemort's head by owl! Harry spent the rest of the day outside with Ron, Ginny, Fred and George. He let them all take turns flying on his Firebolt, much to their excitement.

"We thought about getting ourselves new brooms, but there really didn't seem to be much point," said Fred.

"We're not playing Quidditch anymore, and we don't have any other use for brooms now we can apparate," explained George. "Of course, that doesn't stop us from getting other people new brooms for say, their birthday," George winked at Ginny.

"Oh, will you?" Ginny squeaked. "Because if you're just teasing, I'll hex the both of you, magical underage restriction or not!"

"We're dead serious." Fred assured Ginny, putting on a mock-serious face. "Besides, I want to see the look on Malfoy's face when he sees not one but two Weasleys shouldering a Nimbus Two-thousand-and-three... EACH!"

Ginny let out a screech of delight and hopped on the spot, evidently trying to decide whether she wanted to hug Fred of George more. She eventually managed to get them both at the same time, and from the looks on their faces, was giving them the sort of bone-crushing hug she'd inherited from her mother.

Ron, however, had gone very red, even for Ron. "I...already have a broom..." he stammered.

"We understand," said George, waving dismissedly, "but we thought it would be rude not to offer." Ron had been chosen as a prefect last summer, and had been given a Cleansweep as a reward (it seemed to be a bit of a tradition in the Weasley household; Percy had gotten an owl when he was made prefect). Ron had requested a broom, to try out for the position of Keeper on Gryffindor's Quidditch team. He'd made it, and had actually made several impressive saves in Gryffindor's final match against Slytherin last year, though Harry hadn't been there to see any of them.

"You're going to be a shoe-in chaser!" Fred told Ginny. Ginny blushed.

Harry sat down in the grass and watched the Weasleys continue to practice at Quidditch, still taking turns on Harry's Firebolt.

"Um, excuse me," said a small, very hoarse voice near Harry.

The voice startled Harry, and he looked around for its source. "Who's there?" he asked, unable to find the speaker.

"Down here," the voice answered, and Harry heard the grass a bit to his left rustle. Harry looked for the source of the sound, and finally made out a small snake. It was about two feet long, had a black body, and alternating greenish-yellow and black stripes that ran the length of its body. If the snake hadn't been moving, Harry would probably never have even spotted it.

Harry hesitated, the last time he'd talked to a snake; half of the students at Hogwarts had accused him of being Slytherin's heir. Voldemort was in fact Salazar Slytherin's heir, and Harry had gained his parselmouth abilities along with his telepathic link with Voldemort the night Voldemort had tried to kill Harry. Voldemort had used his parselmouth abilities to get a Basilisk hidden under Hogwarts to terrorize the students there who were of Muggle heritage. Harry also knew that Voldemort had a large, venomous pet snake named Nagini, and Harry suspected that that was the snake that had attacked Mr. Weasley last December while he had been on guard duty. Mr. Weasley had been guarding a prophecy concerning Voldemort and Harry that had been kept in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry. Fortunately, the orb that contained the prophecy was destroyed, and Harry doubted that Voldemort would ever find out about the prophecy therein. In light of all that, Harry wasn't sure he should be talking to snakes. But the poor little snake looked so sad and frightened that Harry couldn't help feeling sorry for it. The snake saw that it had Harry's attention, and continued, albeit a bit hesitantly.

"Do you...have you ever seen another one like me?" the snake asked.

"Sure, I've seen snakes before. I once freed a python at the zoo by accident."

"Pai...thon? Is that what you call me?" asked the snake.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "No, pythons are much bigger, and brown. I'm not sure what sort of snake you are."

The little snake seemed close to tears. "I'm so lost, nothing is familiar. I can't find my home, and all the prey and plants here are different. Nothing smells right."

"But how did you get lost?" Harry asked, wondering how far the average snake had to travel before it couldn't find its way home.

"My home has become very wet. Normally, the grasses near my home are dead at this time, because of the dryness. But the rain did not stop falling, and the water near my home rose, until my home was covered. I cannot hunt my prey beneath the water, so I went out to hunt elsewhere until the waters fell again. I found a place with much prey all close together in strangely-shaped pits with high, narrow sides. Jump as they might, my prey could not escape the pits."

"Jump? What do you eat?"

"I do not know what you call my prey, but as I said, they jump, and can stay underwater. They are also coloured like the plants to hide themselves."

"You mean frogs? There are plenty of frogs around here; I'm sure, just look for a pond."

"Yes, there is much prey, but it is different, it does not smell or taste like the prey near my home. In any case, I entered one of these strange pits, and ate until my belly was full. Then I rested for a bit, and when I awoke, I tried to go home. But the pits had moved, and I found myself inside a great cave, but it was alive! I could year it roar, and feel it move, oh it was horrible!

"The sun rose and set many times. The motions of the cave made me very ill, and I ceased to eat. Finally, I awoke to find the cave asleep, and its mouth open. I quickly fled from the pit and out of the cave. Outside the cave, the ground was hard and hot, and many great beasts with round hooves were roaring about. I fled again. I do not know how far the cave traveled, but it was now much too warm to be my home. I have been traveling away from the sun when it is up for even longer than I was in the cave. I have tried to find my way home, but though it is much cooler here, as I said, still nothing is familiar. The elders in the pit where I go when it is cold and white have told me that creatures such as yourself can tell those strange creatures with the round hooves what to do, but even the eldest of my kind in the pit has never described a place with the plants and prey I have seen." The snake sighed despairingly. "I must be very, very far from home."

It looked up at Harry. "Oh please, the other snakes, as you call them, they will not speak to me, and drive me from the places I would hunt. I knew, somehow, when I saw you that you would speak to me! Please, I beg you, help me! All I want is to go home." The little snake lowered its head, and Harry could swear it was now crying.

"Oh, all right." Harry gave in, the snake's entreaties made him awkward. "I'm sure I can find a book about snakes that will tell me where you're from." Harry got up and started to leave, but the snake followed him. "I'm going inside," he told the snake.

"I want to come with you. I've been so lonely," the snake said sadly.

Harry didn't know why he felt compelled to help the snake, but he did. "Oh, all right. Here," Harry offered his sleeve to the snake "you'd better hide, I don't know if the Weasleys like snakes, but there are three owls in that house, and I wouldn't want you getting eaten." The snake crawled into Harry's sleeve compliantly.

Harry excused himself from the ongoing Quidditch practise and smuggled the snake inside. Once inside his room, he quickly closed the door. Pigwidgeon had returned with Hermione's answer, and was zooming around the room excitedly. Harry managed to coax the tiny owl down, take the letter off its leg and get Pig (as Ron sometimes called him for short) to go see if he could send a letter for someone else, all while keeping the snake safely inside Harry's sleeve. Once the little owl was gone, Harry shut the window to make sure no more owls would be coming in unannounced, lowered his sleeve to the floor. "You can come out now, it's safe." The little snake slithered onto the floor and looked around the room with great interest. Meanwhile, Harry thought about how he could hide a snake safely and easily. He looked around, then spotted a large pile of books Percy had left behind. Harry stacked them so that there were several gaps with small openings throughout the pile. "Here," he said, "you can sun yourself on top there, and hide inside when you need to. The books are too heavy for an owl to move, and I'll tell Hedwig to let you alone as soon as she gets back." The pile of books also had several gentle slopes up to the top, making it easy for the snake to get up. "By the way, do you have a name?" Harry asked as the snake curled up in a patch of sunlight.

"I am called Grassleaf. And you?"

"My name's Harry Potter." Harry hesitated a moment, "Tell me, are you a boy or a girl?" Harry continued, seeing as how the snake's name did not seem to hint at its gender.

"What do these things mean?"

"Er, well, girls, girls are female. They're the ones who have the children, or lay eggs. You know, bear young. And boys are male. They...don't -well, can't do those things."

"I cannot bear young."

"Ok, then "you're male." Harry soon discovered that Grassleaf's vocabulary was extremely simple, but he learned quickly.

Harry questioned Grassleaf about his trip again, and after explaining a few more terms to him, Harry was fairly certain what had happened: Grassleaf lived in some sort of swamp or marsh, but there had been an unseasonable amount of rain there this summer, and his home had been completely flooded. Grassleaf couldn't swim, so he had gone to higher ground to hunt for frogs. It seemed that Grassleaf had found some sort of delivery of live frogs, had crawled into a bin of them and had been shipped off along with the bin. On further inquiries, Harry was able to discern that Grassleaf was shipped on an aeroplane, but Grassleaf had a very vague concept of time, and couldn't tell Harry how long he had been on the plane. Unfortunately, this meant that Grassleaf could have been shipped from anywhere between Bristol and Burma. The little snake seemed to have been traveling for a very long time. He soon grew tired of Harry's questions and asked to be left alone so he could sleep. Harry rejoined Fred, George, Ron and Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley downstairs. Mrs. Weasley seemed to be lecturing Fred and George yet again.

"What's going on?" Harry asked Ron.

"Oh, Ginny told mum that Fred and George were going to buy her a new broom, and mum got mad."

"Why?"

"Mum's still not happy about them leaving school to set up that joke shop, and she won't let them buy anything; she says its dirty money."

Harry pulled Ron aside. "Look, if I show you something, will you promise not to get upset?" Harry asked him.

"That depends on what it is, I suppose," Ron answered.

"Look, its nothing dangerous, just promise!"

"All right..." Ron finally said hesitantly.

Harry ushered Ron upstairs to Percy's old room, and carefully opened the door. There was a flick of movement as Grassleaf quickly hid under the pile of books Harry had set up. Ron jumped at the sudden movement. "What was that?" he asked.

"Grassleaf." Harry explained. Then he called to Grassleaf, "it's all right, you can come out, there's someone I want you to meet." Harry was suddenly aware of how harsh he sounded when he spoke in parselmouth, as Ron looked very nervous. Grassleaf crawled out of one of the cracks in the book-pile slowly and carefully, he seemed to not want to make Ron jumpy. "This is my best friend, Ron Weasley," Harry explained.

Grassleaf bowed his head to Ron cordially. Ron smiled and mumbled something that sounded like "Hello," and dragged Harry out of the room. "Are - you - mad??!" Ron spluttered as soon as the door closed. "You're keeping a snake in your room?!!"

"He's lost," Harry began to explain.

"How can you be sure?" Ron asked, cutting him off. "That could be the deadliest snake in the world, for all you know, sent by You-Know-Who to kill you in your sleep!"

"If you'd just heard the way he talked, how upset he is. Ron, I'm sure he's just a little lost snake who wants to get home. Besides, I promised I'd find out where he comes from." Ron still looked extremely skeptical. "I'm starting to think I shouldn't've told you." Harry grumbled.

"No, it's good you told me, now if we find you dead tomorrow morning, we'll know how you got that way!"

"Ron, I really think you're over-reacting. Look, I told you because you're my best friend and I didn't want you to be upset when and if you found out later."

Ron sighed and looked at the floor, guilt-stricken. "At least let me give you Pig to watch you in your sleep," Ron said, seeming to acquiesce.

"If I have Pigwidgeon in my room all night, I don't think I'll get any sleep." Harry answered frankly. "Look, Hedwig will probably come back to visit me soon after dark; I'll tell her to watch over me tonight. Then tomorrow I'll go to the library and check every species of poisonous snake known to man, just to make sure," Harry offered. Ron seemed to be somewhat reassured. "Come on, let's go downstairs," Harry beckoned Ron down to the kitchen where they could hear an audible commotion going on.