Harry Potter and the Unicorn Guild

Chapter 4: What Every Young Wizard Should Know

They played four games of Exploding Snap before the attic trapdoor opened and Bill climbed up. "How's Hermione?" Harry asked instantly, dropping his cards.

"She's okay," Bill replied. He was carrying a small paper bag with him, which he set down next to Harry's chair. "After she stopped crying, Dumbledore talked to her for a while, and that seemed to help. She's already Flooed home, though."

"She went home? But she didn't even say goodbye!" Harry protested.

"Don't worry, Harry - she said she'd Floo in tomorrow to talk to you, if you like; just send her an owl and you can arrange it." Bill's glance shifted to the others. "Luna, Neville, I'm afraid it's time for you to go - it's nearly five o'clock. Ron, Ginny - why don't you go down with them; I want to talk to Harry."

Ron gave Bill a strange look but acquiesced at the severe glance his brother gave him. Harry, despite his confusion, couldn't help but be amused - Bill could look a heck of a lot like Mr. Weasley at times.

Neville and Luna wished Harry a very happy birthday and then descended down the trapdoor, followed by Ron and Ginny. "I still don't understand why Hermione was so upset," Harry said, sinking back into a comfortable chair as Bill pulled up a chair and sat opposite him.

"Harry, you have to understand that Hermione's growing up," Bill said seriously. "She's becoming a young woman, and sometimes girls get - well, rather emotional during this time in their lives."

Harry blushed in spite of himself. "I… I suppose so," he muttered, squirming, again realizing how much Hermione had changed physically over the last year. Gone was the skinny little girl with the buckteeth and bushy hair - in her place was a lovely young woman with a pretty smile and quite a good figure. Harry felt stupid for not having noticed those changes before.

"Moreover," Bill continued, "you're one of her dearest friends, and I'm sure it hurt her to see - in person - how much the Dursleys mistreat you. Sometimes things don't seem real until you've had a firsthand view."

Harry nodded, thinking of how Hogwarts hadn't seemed like a real place until he'd actually arrived at the castle. "You said she talked with Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Bill confirmed. "He explained about the ancient magic that safeguards you as long as you live with your aunt, and, once Hermione realized you were there for a good reason, she was able to accept it."

"Good," Harry said, relieved that he was spared the job of explaining Dumbledore's security measures.

"There's something else I wanted to speak to you about, Harry," Bill said, clearing his throat. Harry noticed he seemed slightly uncomfortable - he was fidgeting in his chair and fingering his earring nervously. "You know, ever since you first visited the Burrow, Mum and Dad have considered you a member of the family. And I have to say that since I met you, and given how much the rest of the family talks about you, I think of you as another little brother."

Harry flushed, oddly touched and embarrassed at the same time. "Thanks," he said awkwardly.

"Well, er… Sirius had planned to talk with you this summer, but since he… can't, I told Dad I would - one brother to another." Bill reached for the brown paper bag next to Harry's chair. He drew a thin book from the bag and handed it to Harry.

Harry took the book and glanced at it. The words What Every Young Witch and Wizard Should Know by Justin Case were emblazoned on the cover, which also featured a young witch and wizard alternately blushing and trying to hide their faces behind their wands.

"You see, the parents of Muggleborns usually receive an owl from Hogwarts at the end of fourth year, giving them a letter and this book. However…" Bill glanced out the attic window in the direction of 4 Privet Drive, "we suspected your uncle probably wouldn't make any kind of effort to speak with you, which is why the Dursleys didn't get the customary letter. Sirius didn't get a chance to speak with you before you left Grimmauld place last summer, and he'd planned to do so this summer."

"Talk to me about what?" Harry asked hesitantly, afraid that he already knew the answer.

"Well…you're growing up too, Harry, and we know your uncle can't be counted on to explain… certain things to you. Now, as you can imagine," Bill said, a self-conscious half-smile on his face, "sex works about the same in the Wizarding world as in the Muggle world. Contraception, however, is a bit different. Am I correct in assuming that your uncle hasn't talked to you at all?"

"No, he hasn't said a word," Harry said, horrified at the very thought of Uncle Vernon attempted to speak with him about something like this. The very thought made him feel ill. "But I, er… I know I good bit already," he said lamely, feeling his face and ears burn with embarrassment.

"I'm sure you do," Bill said tactfully, not mentioning that the muted whispers of the boys in Harry's dormitory and overheard conversations in the boys' lavatory might not be the best sources of information. "But we just want to make sure that you have all the facts, and that you know you can come to me, Dad, or Remus Lupin if you have any questions about… well, about anything."

"I… er, I…" Harry stammered, blushing furiously. He couldn't imagine talking to Mr. Weasley about his love life, not if he wanted Mrs. Weasley to know it all too - and the thought of his best friend's mum knowing details about his intimate life was too horrifying to contemplate. As for Lupin, it would be like he was telling personal stuff to a teacher, even if Lupin wasn't his teacher anymore. Bill… well, Bill maybe, he was a pretty cool guy, but how did he know Bill wouldn't gossip with Ron or, even worse, Mrs. Weasley about what Harry told him?

Bill smiled as though he was listening to the thoughts running rampant in Harry's mind. "Now, I can't speak for Dad or Lupin, but I can assure you that anything you tell me will be held in the strictest confidence. Brother to brother." His smile widened. "Just ask Percy how well I can keep a secret."

"P-Percy?" Harry asked, startled.

"During your entire second year, he bombarded me with owls asking for advice about his relationship with Penelope. He figured I was the only safe one in the family since I'd been a Head Boy and I was hundreds of kilometres away from everyone else - namely Fred and George." Bill winked, his brown eyes twinkling impishly. "You're the first one I've told… though since Percy still isn't on speaking terms with anyone in the family, I doubt he'd care."

"Wait…" Harry saw the chance to change the subject and jumped on it. "You mean Percy is still being a git?"

Bill's smile faded and was replaced with an embittered scowl. "Unfortunately, yes, as far as we can tell. Mum and Dad both sent him owls soon after the initial Daily Prophet article about You-Know-Who's return was published, but he hasn't replied, nor does he acknowledge Dad at work. I saw him at Gringotts once, but he ignored me."

"But how can he still act this way?" Harry cried, anger welling up inside of him as he remembered Mrs. Weasley's tears the preceding Christmas, when Percy had sent his Weasley jumper back unopened. "Your Mum and Dad - they've been proven right! I've been proven right - so has Dumbledore! How can he still think that we're delusional?"

Bill shook his head sadly. "I don't know, Harry. He said some pretty horrible things to Dad and he probably has too much pride to back down, even when he was proven wrong. We may never know." His voice dropped slightly. "It's upsetting Mum something awful… she's worried that Percy may even be misled into joining You-Know-Who's ranks, after having been under Fudge's influence for an entire year."

"Percy? A Death Eater?" Harry said, astounded. "Surely you don't think that he would… he's not that stupid, is he? And Fudge isn't in league with Voldemort…" (Bill flinched, but Harry ignored him) "…right?"

"He's not, but this Muggleborn bigotry of his…" Bill looked worried. "If he's passed that on to Percy, it's a small leap from pureblood racism to becoming a Death Eater - look at Sirius' brother. Everyone knew the Blacks were bigoted when it came to Muggleborns, but no one ever expected… especially once Voldemort started killing…" Bill trailed off, his handsome face grave. "I don't know. I'd like to think that Percy would never… but… I just don't know."

"What a git," Harry muttered.

A sad smile touched Bill's face. "I just hope he sees the error of his ways soon." He rose from his chair and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Well, as I said… read the book, Harry, and if you have any questions, you know who to ask, all right?"

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, relieved that this somewhat awkward conversation was over. He stuffed the book into his pocket and followed Bill down the attic ladder and into the living room, where he found that, other than Bill, only Mrs. Figg and Dumbledore remained.

"Did you have a good birthday, Harry?" Mrs. Figg asked, smiling warmly.

"Yes, it was brilliant," Harry said gratefully. "Thanks a lot, Mrs. Figg."

Mrs. Figg fussed with her hairnet, looking pleased. "Oh, don't mention it, dear; it makes a pleasant change, being a decent neighbour instead of the batty old woman who tortures you with pictures of her dead cats." Harry flushed guiltily; he wondered if he'd inadvertently insulted her in the past during the times he'd been forced to stay at her place after the Dursleys dumped him there.

"Now, you just arrange by owl when you and your friends want to have a visit," Mrs. Figg continued, "and they'll owl me with the time they'll Floo in. If that great git of an uncle of yours gives you any trouble, you just send Hedwig and I'll handle him." She finished her statement with an emphatic nod.

Harry choked back a laugh, wondering if she'd bonk Uncle Vernon over the head with a handbag full of cat food, like she had Mundungus Fletcher last summer. "Don't worry; I won't have any trouble from him. All I have to do is threaten to write Moody and he backs off."

"Good lad," Mrs. Figg said approvingly.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed. I'm sure Alastor will be gratified to know that his threats have reached Vernon Dursley. Now, I'm afraid I must be off. But before I go, Harry, there remains one last gift."

"Another one?" Harry said, feeling dazed - already he'd received more birthday presents than he ever had before.

"It's not quite a gift, however - merely something that should be returned to you." And with a smile, Dumbledore reached behind Mrs. Figg's doily-covered couch and pulled out a broomstick.

"My Firebolt!" Harry shouted, only half-aware that he'd yelled. He snatched his beloved broomstick out of Dumbledore's arms and examined it minutely, relieved that it still seemed to be in mint condition.

"It would have been returned to you at the close of last term, but Professors Flitwick and McGonagall and Madam Hooch wanted to make certain that Dolores Umbridge hadn't placed any curses or hexes upon it," Dumbledore explained. Harry noticed his soft blue eyes grow colder when Umbridge's name was mentioned. "As it was, they did discover a Hurling Hex, no doubt placed after Misters Fred and George Weasley absconded with their own brooms. Likely she wanted to ascertain that you could not fly your broom if you were able to somehow recover it."

Harry's hand tightened around his Firebolt's handle. "Stupid old cow," he muttered, to the amusement of both Bill and Mrs. Figg.

Dumbledore appeared oblivious to Harry's comment, but his eyes were once again twinkling with merriment. "Madam Hooch also insisted upon giving your broom a thorough tune-up and waxing, as it was in rather poor condition after spending some of last term in the dungeons."

"I'll have to thank her once I get back," Harry said, rubbing his hand on the Firebolt's gleaming handle. This broom was one of the few things he had left of Sirius, and he would have cursed Dolores Umbridge into next week if his broom had been given back to him in such poor condition.

"And since you shouldn't be seen walking around a Muggle neighborhood with a broomstick…" Dumbledore lifted a crocheted doily off the arm of Mrs. Figg's ratty sofa. "Portus," he murmured, touching the doily with his wand. It glowed blue for an instant, then Dumbledore held it out to him. "This will take you into the Dursleys' front hall."

Harry looked at Dumbledore in surprise. "Er - isn't that Portkey, um, unauthorized, sir?" he asked uncertainly, remembering Fudge's fury at the Ministry of Magic when Dumbledore had created an unauthorized Portkey to transport him, Harry, back to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore smiled. "Minister Fudge has granted me a great deal of discretion in regard to Portkeys." He continued, mildly, "In fact, he has decided that it's best to leave me to my own devices as far as my students are concerned."

Harry grinned. "I understand, sir." He reached out and touched the doily.

"All right, then," Dumbledore said. "Have a good summer, Harry; I'll be in touch. Three… two… one…"

Harry felt a jerk behind his navel, and in a moment Mrs. Figg's living room dissolved and the Dursleys' front hall materialized around him.

Thankfully, it was empty - Harry could just imagine the uproar if he appeared out of nowhere in front of the Dursleys. He stuffed the doily in his pocket and crept to the front door. He opened it quietly and shut it firmly. As expected, he heard Aunt Petunia's shrill voice. "So you're back, are you?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry called, suppressing a snicker at the thought of her face had she seen how he'd really arrived.

She bustled into the entryway, stopping short at the sight of his Firebolt. "What is that?" she gasped, eyeing it suspiciously.

"My broomstick," Harry answered calmly. "I left it at school last term. I saw my headmaster today and he returned it to me."

"You'd better take that up to your room before Vernon gets home," Aunt Petunia warned distrustfully. "I won't tell him that your friends were here today, but I don't want any more of… your kind… in this house, do you hear?"

Harry shrugged. "All right." As she swept back into the kitchen, he turned and started up the stairs. Halfway up, he was blocked by Dudley. As his cousin's formidable bulk took up the entire stairwell, Harry couldn't go around him.

"What do you want?" Harry said rudely.

"Who was that girl?" Dudley asked. "The one you brought here today?"

"I brought three girls here today," Harry replied coolly. "Which one d'you mean?"

Dudley glared at him. "You know. The blonde."

"Her?" Harry said archly. "Oh, that was Luna Lovegood. She's a year younger than me… her dad owns a magazine called The Quibbler. She's one of the smartest witches at Hogwarts."

Dudley's eyes narrowed at this information. "And what's… Kibitz?" Harry gave him a puzzled glance, and Dudley tried again. "Er… Kidditch?"

"Oh - it's Quidditch," Harry corrected. "It's a wizarding sport. Played on broomsticks." He indicated his Firebolt. "Like this one."

"And you play, do you?" Dudley asked suspiciously.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Harry could help feeling puffed up with pride as he thought about the Gryffindor team. "My team has held the Quidditch Cup at school the last three years," he added, deliberately neglecting to mention that the Quidditch Cup wasn't held during his fourth year, or that he hadn't gotten a chance to play for the Cup during his fifth year due to Umbridge's Quidditch ban.

Dudley made an odd sound in his throat, and Harry smirked at his cousin's expression of distaste. "My dad played it, too." He smiled toothily at Dudley. "I have a book about it, if you want to learn more."

He made the offer partly in jest, expecting Dudley to be horrified and repulsed when confronted with anything from the wizarding world, as usual. To his astonishment, Dudley considered his words and said, "Okay. Go and get it, then."

Harry gaped at his cousin. "You… you want to borrow it? It's a wizarding book, you know - the pictures move."

"I know," Dudley said obstinately.

"And, er… it's not an easy read," Harry said, wondering if Dudley could read. He'd never seen him even try before.

"I'll make do," Dudley said, folding his stout arms across his chest.

"Well… all right, then," Harry said cautiously, wondering if this was a colossal practical joke. "Come on."

Dudley followed Harry into his bedroom, and waited at the door while Harry (who first took care to lean his Firebolt gently against the wall) unlocked his trunk and pulled out Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry hesitated before handing it over; it was one of his favourites… maybe Dudley knew that, somehow… "Just so you know, this book is jinxed," he lied. "If it's damaged, or stolen… well, it won't be pretty."

His cousin paled noticeably at this, but said, "Fine. I won't hurt it."

"Okay," Harry relented, handing it over. "Why do you want to read about Quidditch, anyway?"

To his great amusement, Dudley's porky face flushed red. "No reason," he mumbled, backing out into the hallway. "Just… want to know what all the fuss is about." He went into his own room and shut the door.

Harry shook his head. And he'd thought last summer had been weird, what with Aunt Petunia talking about Dementors and Azkaban. Now Dudley wanted to learn about Quidditch. What next, Uncle Vernon going shopping in Diagon Alley?

Not bloody likely, Harry thought with an inward snicker, flopping down on the bed. The small book in his pocket jabbed into his hip, and he pulled it out. Contrary to what he'd told Bill, he really didn't know all that much about… er… adult things. His main sources had been the muted whispers of Dean and Seamus in the dormitory at Hogwarts, and he didn't think they were as experienced as they claimed to be.

Harry stared at the book, suddenly feeling a well of bitterness bubble up inside his chest. He shouldn't have to learn these things from Bill… or from a book. It should be his dad, or Sirius. His family. (But not Uncle Vernon - Harry suppressed a shudder at the thought of what that conversation would be like.) Voldemort had robbed him of that right, just as he'd robbed Harry of so many other things. Not for the first time, Harry resolved to fulfill that damn prophecy if it was the last thing he did.

With a sigh, he opened the book and began to read.

~ end of Chapter 4