At What Price?

Chapter 1:

Welcome Home?

"Well boy, it's good to have you home." The booming voice came from Harry's left.

Harry just about gave himself whiplash as he turned to look at his uncle in wide mouthed amazement. He had been staring out the window watching with mounting depression the road leading to the Dursley's. The Dursley's were never glad to have him home, and summers at 4 Privet Drive tended to be full of hard work, insulting remarks, and devoid of laughter.

Vernon plunged on without noticing anything amiss; "A letter arrived from Mrs. Figg day before yesterday. She's been teaching at a boarding school for orphans and wayward teens in Scotland this past year. She is returning home on Monday and has asked that you come over and assist her in straightening up and settling back in. It looks like this summer you're going to have real work to do, not the mucking about you do at our house every summer. You will of course be expected to help your Aunt Petunia around the house while Dudley is learning the finer points of business in a respectable internship." Vernon puffed his already large, rotund frame up with pride.

Harry was caught somewhere between laughing and exasperation. For years Mrs. Figg had been a friend of the Dursley's and would watch Harry while the Dursley's would go on holiday. Harry and Dudley had both referred to her as "The Cat Lady" for years because she kept a great number of cats in her house and her clothes all smelled of them. Harry liked her well enough, she allowed him to watch TV, although not too much. When he stayed with her for longer periods she had him read what she called classics of literature, books such as The Crystal Cave, The Hobbit, and MacBeth. Harry hadn't realized until his fifth year that her whole purpose had been to get him to believe in magic. However, over the past two years he had come to know Mrs. Figg as Professor Figg, a top notch Defence against the Dark Arts instructor who taught at Hogwarts, the school Harry attended.

"Did she say what she wanted me to do?" Harry questioned his uncle tentatively, expecting derisive remarks and accusations of laziness; he wasn't disappointed.

"You'll do whatever she asks you to do, and if you use your smart mouth on her, like you do on your aunt, I am quite sure she will apply the proper reprimand. I will personally encourage her to use whatever force is necessary to make you behave in a proper manner. I have no doubt she will put you through your paces, she has experience in dealing with your kind." Vernon sneered as he turned back to his driving, which was spectacularly bad. The car tyres squealed as Vernon made yet another sharp turn into a small street.

Harry sighed and turned to look out the car window, watching the houses go by as he headed back for another miserable summer at 4 Privet Drive. However, if what his uncle said was true, he would be spending a great deal of time with one of his favourite professors. He dared a small smile to himself; it looked as though there wasn't going to be the usual need for threats of magic and his "convicted" Godfather to get by this summer.

The thought of his Godfather, Sirius Black, brought another smile to his face. Peter Pettigrew had confessed all about his betrayal of Lily and James Potter. As a result all charges against Sirius Black had been dropped. Harry decided not to mention this fact to the Dursley's. Harry's smile widened as he thought of his last conversation with Sirius before returning home. Sirius had offered to let Harry come stay with him next summer while he underwent Auror training provided he got enough N.E.W.T.S. His last week at school his only consolation had been that this was his last summer at 4 Privet Drive, the last time he would ever come here at all, Merlin willing.

Harry's silent reverie was broken when Uncle Vernon pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. When he got out of the car Harry noticed the trend in Dudley's expansion had somehow been reversed, not drastically, but enough to notice. He looked more and more like a miniature Uncle Vernon every time Harry saw him.

"Harry, heard you're gonna be errand boy for the cat woman this summer, better be careful not to take your birdie-buddy along with you." Dudley chortled at his own joke causing his large body to take on the rippling effect of jelly as he rattled the birdcage in the open trunk.

Harry moved over to Dudley and moved his face close to his cousin's ear. With a conspiratorial whisper he replied, "Keep it up Santa Claus, you'd be surprised what my little 'birdie-buddy' can do to you while you're sleeping." As if on cue, Hedwig nipped the porky flesh of Dudley's fingers.

"Yow!" Dudley snatched away his finger and stuck it in his mouth. He gave Harry a dirty look but the effect was lost with him sucking on his finger. Harry hauled the cage and his trunk out of the back of the car and set them on the ground. He began dragging the trunk into the house with one hand, carrying Hedwig's cage in the other hand.

"Boy! Put that trunk in the cupboard under the stairs, I won't have any of your funny stuff this summer. Not that you'll have time for it anyway."

Standing up, Harry faced his uncle with a determined look. "Uncle Vernon, I have a great deal of homework I have to do this summer, and with helping Mrs. Figg I am going to have even less time to do it. I need to have my books in my room." Harry crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping against hope that perhaps, this summer, he could keep his books in his room.

"Boy, don't you start arguing with me." The sidelong look that Vernon gave Harry was suspicious. "If you have that much homework then take it to your room. I'd better not see you outside your room unless you're doing something for your aunt or it's tea time."

Harry snapped to attention and brought his flattened hand to his brow, "Aye aye, sir." Harry snapped his hand back down again. Vernon glared at Harry, trying to figure out if he was being ridiculed. He turned and stalked into the living room where the TV blared loudly. "Hanging out with the Weasleys is going to get me in some serious trouble one of these days, Harry muttered to himself. A mischievous grin spread across his face, "that reminds me...Dudley, brought you some candy," he tossed Dudley a Sugar Quill and dangled a bag of candy in front of his cousin's face before dropping it back into his trunk.

"HARRREEEEEYYYY!" Harry winced as the piercing sound of his aunt's voice rattled his eardrums. Aunt Petunia's voice could quite possibly cause rocks to weep tears of blood in pain, Harry thought to himself.

"Coming Aunt Petunia," Harry left his trunk at the base of the stairs and went out to the kitchen. Harry noticed immediately that something drastic had happened to his aunt's head. Her hair was auburn now and had gotten distinctly curly. He began to wonder if she had taken a liking to Mrs. Weasley following last summer's meeting. Thinking about the fireplace incident and the Canary Creams he decided probably not. "Yes, what do you want?" Harry had decided that since he wouldn't be here much over the summer he would try and make the best of it.

"After you get your things settled, which you should have already done by now." Her tone was condescending and her gaze imperious, "I need you to get the front garden weeded, we have quite a bit to do before Sunday night when Mrs. Figg comes over." Harry tried unsuccessfully to suppress the sigh of frustration that escaped him. "Don't you start sighing around me, your uncle made a special trip and left work early to come get you from King's Cross Station. Now get moving young man and stop being a lazy prat." She returned to chopping vegetables and watching the neighbours through the kitchen window.

"Oh well," Harry thought to himself as he walked into the living room and lugged his trunk up to his room. "Last summer, last summer," Harry chanted quietly to himself, willing himself not to burst. He still remembered quite well the effect last time when he had become furious. The Dursleys still hadn't forgiven him for blowing up Vernon's sister.

The next few days passed quickly and Harry worked literally from sun up to sun down. The garden, edging the lawn, the hedges, painting the bench, mowing... the list was endless. The one advantage was that Dudley was now gone with his father during the day so it was just he and Petunia. As long as he didn't bother her, she forgot he was even there; it was a fairly convenient arrangement.

Sunday morning dawned and Harry rose with the sun as usual, but it wasn't the sun that woke him, rather it was the incessant tapping at his window. Harry looked around groggily but Hedwig was still in her cage on his desk. Looking towards the window Harry saw a strange owl perched on the ledge. Harry crawled out of bed and opened the window. He waved his hand to indicate that the bird could come in but the bird just sat regally on the window ledge extending his leg for Harry to retrieve the letter attached to it. The owl flew away before Harry had even had a chance to tear open the letter. He read:

Harry,

Mom wants to know what you have planned for your birthday, I think she is going to invite you out to the Burrow, owl me and let me know if you can come. I borrowed Percy's owl for this; he probably won't stick around after you get the letter. By the way, dad hooked Hermione up to the Floo network, should I have him hook your place up too?

Ron

"I should've guessed," Harry thought to himself as he grinned, "that owl acts just like Percy." Harry reached into the drawer of his desk and withdrew a ballpoint pen rather than going and digging out his quill and inkpots. He began scrawling a return note.

Harry woke Hedwig with a light tap on her cage. "Hedwig, can you take this to Ron for me? Thanks."

Hedwig nipped his finger affectionately and took the letter, eager to be flying again. Harry rose and, after a couple of minute's deliberation, crawled back into bed. It was Sunday, and that was always a good day to sleep in. He began to drift off to sleep, thinking of birthdays at the Burrow.

"HAARREEEEYY!" The last moment of peace he would know for several hours was shattered by his aunt's bloodcurdling yell.

-----------------

It was late afternoon and Harry was answering yet another of his aunt's summons. "Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry noticed that Dudley was busy switching brandies with his father as he came through the door. All he really wanted was a shower and to go lay down, but Professor Figg was coming over and he looked forward to spending the evening visiting with her.

"Harry, it's 5:30, Mrs. Figg will be here in thirty minutes, go shower and get ready, wear something respectable to dinner." Harry suppressed an urge to retort that he didn't have anything nice, because they never bought him any such thing. However, he decided that his school uniform, sans cloak and jumper would work well enough and not attract any undue attention.

"Nothing like a little house rivalry even if it is a few hundred miles to Hogwarts," he said to himself. Harry showered quickly and even attempted to run a comb through his hair, it worked for the most part but nothing was ever going to tame that mop except strong magic. He dressed and was downstairs waiting for Professor Figg at ten minutes before the hour.

Uncle Vernon inspected him carefully to be sure that there were no identifying patches or marks on his clothing that would give away where Harry was going to school. He overlooked the tie after Harry convinced him that many schools used scarlet and gold for standard colours, and Mrs. Figg would be unlikely to surmise the true purpose of the colours.

With a snort, Vernon conceded and lifted his now empty brandy glass. Vernon looked at the glass with a puzzled statement then went to pour himself another. Harry shot Dudley a questioning glance. Dudley gave Harry a bleary eyed salute. Just as Harry was about to say something, the doorbell rang at promptly 6:00.

Harry jumped for the door and opened it before anyone else was even close. Professor Figg was an old woman; there was no other way to put it. She looked to be in her late 70's or early 80's, but if she aged as well as Dumbledore had, Harry assumed she was probably much older. She stood straight, though she walked with a cane. Harry had seen in the previous year that the cane served a number of functions, including rapping the knuckles of sleeping students. Harry was shocked to see that he had been outdone; she wore her Ravenclaw house cloak. It was a black cloak with blue piping and upon the breast where the Hogwarts symbol would have been was an embroidered Raven. The ensemble was completed by a gold raven broach with the initials HG underneath it. Harry could only assume it stood for Head Girl.

"Congratulations to Gryffindor for winning the house cup, but we still beat you in Quidditch." Figg said this in a very low tone as she passed him coming in. Then in a louder voice she spoke, "Good evening Harry, Vernon, Dudley. Petunia it is marvellous to see you again, you are looking well." Harry took her cloak, amazed by the fact that she had anticipated him and beaten him soundly. He hung up her cloak and headed to the kitchen as Aunt Petunia announced that dinner was ready.

Harry enjoyed having company at the house for no other reason than because his aunt would pull out all the stops in the kitchen. She was no Mrs. Weasley to be sure, but her cooking wasn't bad and there would be plenty of it. Harry managed to get a seat next to Professor Figg. He wasn't sure this if was because Dudley didn't particularly care for her, or because he needed one whole side of the table to himself.

"Dudders, do be mindful of how much you eat, if you blow your diet today you'll get nothing but grapefruit for the next two days." Aunt Petunia waggled her finger at her son.

Harry did his best to cover the look of shock that crossed his face as Dudley was reprimanded by his mother, of all people. Harry covered it by engaging Professor Figg in conversation.

"Prof-, er Mrs. Figg, I have a question for you." Harry hoped that no one else at the table had noticed his slip. Looking down the table he saw that Uncle Vernon was indeed giving him a questioning glance.

"Actually Harry, calling me Professor is entirely accurate and perfectly acceptable. After all, it is what I do." Her dark blue eyes looked penetratingly at Harry, "and how is your own schooling going? Where is it you're going again?" Harry noticed her eyes were now playful and mischievous, though they also appeared to be appraising his handling of the situation. Uncle Vernon's warning glance at Harry promised volumes of pain and punishment if he rocked the boat now.

"School is going well, I've learned some very valuable skills this past year and hope to do well this coming year." Deciding that two could play this game, Harry turned it back on her, "What about the school where you are teaching? Do your students meet expectations?" Her eyes widened as though saying 'touché'.

"Well, I am teaching at a school in Scotland where I deal with a fair number of difficult students. They run the range from spoiled little rich kids to students there on scholarship with hardly a penny to their names. Some of my students are doing very well and have accomplished some very remarkable things in the community. Others get to feel my cane across their knuckles for sleeping in my class." As if to emphasize the last point she brought her hand down sharply on the table. "What about you Dudley, everything going well in school?"

"He's doing quite well, we have gotten a couple of letters this year regarding his outstanding performance." Harry could tell by the withering look that Professor Figg gave Vernon that she was displeased by his interruption. Hermione had made that same mistake once in Professor Figg's class, trying to help Neville she had supplied the answer and it had earned her a glare that Harry was sure could wilt flowers in springtime. Professor Figg turned again to Dudley, "So tell me Dudley," the emphasis she placed on his name was unmistakable, "what are you studying and what are you doing with your summer?" Dudley swallowed and wiped his mouth; apparently he was learning courtesy and table manners if nothing else, Harry thought to himself.

"I've been learning accounting and finance, and this summer I will be serving an apprenticeship at Grunnings with Dad. It keeps me quite busy and I am a great help to the head of Finance, so of course Harry is going to have to stay here and help Mother out more. I understand he is also to be assisting you this summer?" Harry was going to have to adjust his thinking about Dudley. Though piggish and a bully he may be, he was getting better at witty banter and deflecting conversations. Harry looked at Dudley with a look of curious inquisition; Dudley just looked at him triumphantly.

"Indeed he is, although I can cut back on what all I need him to do if you need him here Petunia." Again Vernon interrupted before his wife could answer, and Harry waited to see him wither away to nothing as Professor Figg settled her gaze upon him.

"Oh no, don't trouble yourself Mrs. Figg, we've had Harry do several of the larger projects he normally takes all summer to do. It will be mostly daily chores for the rest of the summer. Feel free to work him as hard as necessary. That's the problem with kids today, too much time spent dawdling, not enough work to keep them busy." Petunia was smirking at Harry as Vernon said this. It was obvious she anticipated that Harry would be worked to his bones this summer. She even wondered whether he might come crying back to them, begging for normal work.

Harry noticed the meaningful glance that Professor Figg passed to his way as she rolled her eyes. It was all Harry could do to keep from laughing. The chatting continued on through dinner with Harry paying very little attention as most of it centred on happenings in the Dursley household. Finally during a dessert of rum soaked raisin bread pudding, an interesting question was posed by Professor Figg.

"Petunia, how's your Mother doing? I haven't seen her for some few years now, though she always sends me the nicest Christmas cards." Harry's ears perked up at this, for he knew nothing of his grandparents on his mother's side, which he had always considered odd since his mum was Petunia's sister.

"She is doing well, as you know Dad passed on some years back. Her health is good and she steps out quite a bit, working for a couple of charities in her area." Harry was disappointed by the lack of specific information, but thought he might press the issue.

"Aunt Petunia, how come I never get to see my grandmother?" The question was a bit more direct than he had intended, but it seemed to serve the purpose and it was something he was generally curious about. The look his aunt gave him would have frozen birds in flight and he heard a little gasp escape Professor Figg. That, apparently, was the wrong question to ask, Harry decided in the vaults of his mind as the mood of the entire room changed. Uncle Vernon's face reminded Harry of clouds before a very violent storm.

Aunt Petunia slowly pushed her chair back from the table, her face an unreadable mask. In a voice like quietly rolling thunder she said simply, "Harry, come with me." It was not a question, it was not a request, it was a directive, and her voice indicated she would brook no argument.

Harry was decidedly uncomfortable, for it was his grandmother they were talking about, but yet no one wanted to talk about her. He had a right to know about his own family, didn't he? It was bad enough that she had been kept from him for nearly 16, maybe 17 years, but now when he asked about her everybody conspired to tell him nothing. Harry remained firmly rooted to the spot he was sitting in. He was about to raise his voice in objection when he felt a cool, wrinkled hand on his arm. "Harry, go with your aunt."

Professor Figg's voice was not condescending, nor accusatory, but rather Harry imagined that her voice sounded just like a grandmother's should, gentle and kind with a promise that everything would be all right. Harry stared at her hand for a moment, confused and apprehensive, his anger ebbing away in the face of Professor Figg's instruction. He rose from the table and followed his aunt up the stairs and into his bedroom. After he entered she closed the door.

"Sit down boy." She was not hysterical and shouting as Harry had expected, that was the norm when Petunia was upset with him. Harry had learned over many years to gauge her mood and how bad she would blow up when he got in trouble. He had used that knowledge to push the envelope as far as he could without getting in real trouble. He had the sinking feeling he might be in real trouble now, because he had never seen a reaction like this before. As he sat down on the bed he noticed that his aunt's eyes were wet and tinged with red, her voice quivered as she spoke in controlled even tones. "Your grandmother doesn't even know you exist. She doesn't want to know. Your mother was a... a ....a trollop. Running around scandalously with those four boys from that school she went to. No doubt she slept with all of them on a regular basis. My mother was horrified at what my sister was and wanted nothing to do with any of it. As such, she wants nothing to do with you. You have embarrassed me in front of a woman who has been a friend of MY family for all of my life. It will not happen again, you will march downstairs and bid Mrs. Figg a good evening. You will ask her when you should be at her house tomorrow. Then you will come back up here Mr. Harry James Potter!" She spat his name as though it were poison on her tongue. "You will not return to this house EVER after you leave in August. For 16 years I have raised you because you are my sister's child. I may have despised what she was, a witch and a trollop, but she was still my sister. After the way you have treated us for all these years, I will have nothing more to do with you or your wretched kind. Now do what I told you." Tears streamed down Petunia's face, Harry assumed they were tears of anger, but something deeper told him they weren't. He ignored the other voice; it was easier that way.

Harry found he could barely stand he was shaking with so much anger. He gripped the knob and pulled his bedroom door open but failed to notice the increase in heat of the door handle. He stalked down the stairs like a golem and marched into the kitchen. "Professor Figg, what time should I arrive tomorrow?"

"About 8:00, Harry. Would you be so kind as to get my cloak, I need to get home." She followed Harry into the living room and slipped her cloak on as he handed it to her. "A warming charm, how thoughtful Harry," she muttered quietly. Harry gave her a slightly confused look that she didn't see.

"Vernon, would it be possible for Harry to escort me home, it is not far but I would like some company." Vernon looked about to respond when Petunia's voice replied for him.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Figg, but I need Harry here for a few things, I will have Dudley escort you home. Thank you for coming over, and Harry will be there on time tomorrow." She came over and hugged the old woman but looked at Harry with murder in her large brown eyes.

"Take care Petunia, thank you for a lovely meal." Her voice betrayed no emotion. Harry stalked out of the room and up the stairs, when he pushed his door open the paint bubbled under his hand, though he took no notice. Harry went to his trunk and rummaged around. When he pulled out what he was looking for it's surface looked like rippling silver water. The feel of the fabric reminded him of the times he had wandered, hidden from sight, around the grounds of Hogwarts. His anger ebbed away as he ran his fingers over the cloak. He slipped the cloak on and hid himself from view. He went to the window and saw Professor Figg walking down the street; Uncle Vernon was walking back inside, there was no sign of Dudley.

Harry slipped across the room and turned off the light. Not hearing any sound beyond the door he opened it ever so slightly. He could hear Uncle Vernon and Petunia downstairs speaking in hushed tones. Dudley was watching TV as usual. Harry crept down the stairs and through the kitchen. Vernon opened the door to take the trash out and Harry slipped out behind him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest; one wrong move and the game would be up. He slipped past Vernon and jogged down the street hoping Professor Figg wouldn't decide to apparate home. He saw her up the street and ran.

"Hello Harry, come to walk me home? What a wonderful young gentleman you are." Her voice was conversational, as though she half expected him to be there. Harry removed the cloak, suddenly conscious of the fact that he was nothing more than legs and a disembodied head. "That's much better, it's very difficult to talk to you when you're just a head."

"How," Harry paused to catch his breath, "how did you know?" He was clutching his chest as he bent over.

"It was fairly obvious, you're a well mannered young man and you know your cousin isn't, although he has gotten better in the last year." She looked at Harry expectantly, he extended his arm and she looped her hand through it. "Harry, it is important that you return home as soon as possible. Do not give your aunt any more to worry about, and behave yourself. If you don't, you will not enjoy your time at my house nearly as much. Don't forget your wand either."

Harry couldn't quite keep up with the rapid pace of her instructions and was left sputtering rather than asking the question he wanted to ask. Taking a deep breath Harry plunged ahead with the question. "What do you know about my grandmother?" Had Professor Figg's hand not been resting on his arm, he might not have noticed the hitch in her step as he asked.

"Harry, I cannot answer that right now. Suffice to say that it is, complicated." Professor Figg's voice was resigned, laid over with a heavy emotion that sounded like guilt. "Petunia hides the truth, and I pretend to go along with it for her sake. Perhaps when you're older..." her voice trailed off. "Thank you for walking me home Harry, get a good night's sleep, you're going to need it. Don't forget your wand." With the last remark she turned and went inside, the door opening without her even touching it.

Harry turned and started down the walk to the street, slipping on the invisibility cloak. His mind was racing. He needed his wand tomorrow, what was that about? What kind of games were Mrs. Figg and his aunt playing at? What was the truth about his grandmother? More importantly, why couldn't he see her? As the questions gnawed away at his brain, the evening turned cool and it started to rain. Harry hardly noticed as he sat down on the bench in the backyard of 4 Privet Drive. His clothes were becoming slowly soaked with rain, and the smell of damp earth assaulted his nostrils. Still Harry sat there, unmoving, like a statue. His eyes were fixed upon number 4 Privet Drive. A place he couldn't call home, but a place that still held all the secrets of his family.