Realizations

Chapter 12 - What We Have Here Is A Failure To Communicate...

Saturday, July 15, 1995

Albus Dumbledore had a certain reputation for omniscience in the British magical community, and the world at large. Even before his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald, he had been well known for his magical strength, keen intellect, and meticulous attention to detail. There was just some intangible something about him that inspired confidence. Perhaps it was the way he always seemed to know what went on around him, or the way he could usually zero in on the cause of a problem. Perhaps it was his customary good humor and unflappable attitude. Perhaps it was his half-moon glasses and appreciation of chamber music and tenpin bowling. Whatever it was, it had earned him a great deal of fame and respect. People tended to breathe sighs of relief and feel an almost childish sense of confidence that everything would be all right when Albus Dumbledore took things in hand.

Albus was flattered by the trust in him, but privately considered it a bit excessive. He freely admitted that he was far from perfect or infallible, but the truth remained that he was an exceptional wizard. Most of the time the magical community's trust was well placed. Most of the time, he could be counted on to make the right decision, choose the proper course of action, and discover any errors that had been made.

Most of the time.

Probably a good 90 - 95% of the time.

But not always.

Formidable as he was, Albus Dumbledore was not immune to the occasional slip-up or oversight.

Unfortunately, people tend to react poorly, and be irrationally unforgiving when their heroes dare to show that they are indeed human.

The Hogwarts Headmaster surveyed his glaring guests with carefully masked unease. "So, what can I help you with?" he asked pleasantly, hoping to dispel some of the tension. By the looks of things, he might soon have a small riot on his hands.

Silence stretched out in response to his query, until Arabella broke it. Rising from her chair, she put the parchment she was holding down on Albus' desk. It was a status sheet, Albus noted. Harry Potter, Status: Unknown. Unknown??!

"Harry's aunt and uncle have left Privet Drive," she stiffly announced, when Dumbledore's startled blue eyes sought hers. Ignoring the shocked gasps from Sirius, Remus, and Arthur, she continued, "I called Grunnings Drills, his uncle's place of employment. They said Vernon accepted a position in Australia!" How could you have allowed this to happen! her body language shouted. Why didn't you know?!

Sirius opened his mouth to protest Harry's removal from Britain, but Arthur beat him to it, startling everyone with his vehemence. "No, Albus, that is absolutely unacceptable! Harry must come to the Burrow immediately, and legal action must be taken to remove him from those muggles' care!" Rising to stand next to Arabella, he gestured to the "garden gate" he had brought with him. "Summer of '92, that foul excuse of an uncle barricaded him in his room! These bars were fitted over his window, and they underfed him as well!"

Albus' face darkened like a thundercloud, as the suspicions he'd had about Harry a few days ago came rushing back. Damn! He'd allowed himself to be distracted by the boy's news about his scar connection, and he hadn't pursued the matter as he'd intended. "Why are you just now telling me this?" he demanded, amazed that Arthur Weasley would keep something this important to himself.

Arthur sighed heavily, and ran a weary hand down his face. "Because I just found out myself," he said, his voice thick with anger and self-reproach. "I feel like an idiot!" he snarled, causing Sirius and Remus to exchange nervous looks. Weasley was usually rather calm and mild-mannered. What on earth had set him off?

"Perhaps you should back up, and start at the beginning," Dumbledore suggested gently, gesturing for Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Figg to return to their seats while the others nodded their agreement.

"Very well," Arthur said, dropping back into his seat between Remus and Arabella. He paused a moment to gather his thoughts, then began.

"I suppose the natural starting point is September first, 1991. Molly and Ginny had seen the boys off on the Hogwarts Express. They also met Harry Potter, and directed him to Platform 9 ¾. I wasn't able to accompany them the train station that year, but I heard all about it when I got home that evening," Arthur said, smiling indulgently as he remembered his daughter's sparkling brown eyes and bright smile. Mum told him how to get onto the platform, Dad, but I wished him luck!

"Ginny was so excited she forgot to be sad that all her brothers were off at school. Molly was a little preoccupied, though," Arthur continued, ignoring Snape's indelicate snort. "When I asked, she shrugged and said it was probably nothing, but now that she'd had a chance to think about it there were several things about Harry she found odd. He was unaccompanied, he hadn't been told how to get onto the platform, and his appearance wasn't what one might expect. She was especially surprised by his taped glasses, and worn, baggy clothes." Arthur said, ticking off the points on his fingers.

"We talked it over and decided Harry's muggle family must be hurting financially. It didn't completely explain things, but it was the only solution we could think of, and something we could certainly sympathize with. Even Ron noticed. He mentioned in a letter that Harry never got mail from home, and asked Molly if she would please include something for him when she sent the annual Christmas parcel. We found that odd, but thought perhaps the muggles were having difficulty or didn't want to learn how to utilize owl post. We always had some explanation." Arthur paused here, face flushing angrily. "I found out last summer when I went to fetch Harry, that those muggles are very comfortable. I'd even say well off."

As she listened to Arthur's tale, a horrible suspicion was beginning to form in Arabella's mind. Since she babysat Harry quite often while he was growing up, she'd made it a point to get him some small treat for the holidays. Petunia generally left Harry with her at least once as the holiday neared, which suited Belle just fine. It gave her the opportunity to give the boy his present without having to get one for his brat of a cousin. Her gifts were never large or extravagant: some cookies or sweets (Harry especially fancied Mars Bars), a small box of crayons, a picture book, or some inexpensive plastic toy. They were nothing, really, but Harry always acted like she'd presented him with the world on a plate. He generally reciprocated with a drawing or craft he made at school.

She hadn't given him anything for the last few years, because she was supposed to be posing as a muggle, and as such wouldn't know of Hogwarts. Dear God, were her pitiful offerings the only Christmas presents the boy had? No, that couldn't be right. She wouldn't let it be right! "Are you saying he didn't get anything from the Dursleys?" she asked weakly.

"They sent him a bit of muggle money first year," Arthur supplied grimly. "50p, I believe. Ronald was fascinated by it, so Harry let him have it. I remember because Ron showed it to me when he returned to the Burrow for the summer holidays."

Mrs. Figg was looking a little pale, so Arthur gave her a reassuring smile. "He receives gifts from his friends, and Molly always makes it a point to include him when she sends the Christmas package to our lot. It's not much, but he always writes her a nice note, and makes sure to thank her again when she meets the train at the end of term."

"Yes," Belle said faintly, "he was always very appreciative of the little gifts I gave him as well."

Arthur nodded, then frowned a little as he got back on track. "The summer before Ron and Harry's second year, Ron asked Molly for permission to invite Harry over for a visit, and she agreed almost immediately. She hadn't been impressed with Vernon Dursley at all when she'd seen him at Kings Cross.

"Ron wrote to Harry several times, but he never responded." Arthur paused as though working through something, then shrugged. "I didn't think much of it at the time. Maybe something had come up. Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe he was slow about answering his mail. They were only twelve after all, and at the time I thought Harry must have a wonderful home life. Even if they didn't have material wealth, I was certain his family must love him very dearly.

"Then one morning in early August, I came home from an absolutely exhausting night at work, and found an extra person in my household. Ron and the twins had gotten worried about Harry, so they crept out of bed and fetched him from Surrey using a muggle car I was tinkering with. I found these in my shed this afternoon," Arthur said, indicating the bars with a look of extreme distaste. He raked a hand through his thinning red hair then proceeded to tell how his sons had rescued Harry after discovering him barricaded in his room. When he finished, even Snape looked faintly shocked.

"So how exactly did the bars come into your possession, Arthur?" Albus asked curiously.

"Ron said they left in a bit of a hurry, so they just brought them along. Evidently they woke Harry's family, and his uncle was none too pleased. The boys didn't want Molly to know they'd been out of course, so they stashed the bars in my shed when they got back to the Burrow." Arthur stopped a minute, and flushed slightly. "I have a fair amount of clutter in my shed, so this wasn't difficult. The boys were planning to tell Molly that Harry had 'shown up in the night,' but she was too quick for them. She'd noticed they were gone, and was waiting for them when they got back."

"Was she indeed?" Dumbledore asked, smiling in spite of himself at the mental image. Molly Weasley could be quite intimidating when she chose.

"Oh, quite," Arthur said, with a rueful grin of his own. "She was livid of course. The boys tried to tell her that Harry and Hedwig were caged and half starved, but she wasn't having any of it. At the time, she assumed it was another wild tale the twins made up, and you can't really blame her. About half of what they say is rubbish. Anyway, after she scolded the lot of them, she took them in and started breakfast. The whole thing blew over and never came up again. To this day, Harry's never said a word about it--to anyone. Ron said he'd almost forgotten about the bars until we found them just now." The wizard fell silent when he finished his tale, and the silence wasn't broken immediately.

At length, a voice was heard. "So, that was why. Thank you, Arthur. I'd wondered."

Everyone turned to face Sirius Black. Arthur swallowed tightly, a little unnerved by the deadly calm look on the other man's face. "Wondered what, Sirius?" he asked hesitantly.

"Why Harry was so quick to accept my invitation to live with me," Sirius said tonelessly. "I'd wondered at the time, but I was so pleased, I didn't question it.

"I felt I needed to make the offer," he continued, "since James and Lily had appointed me as his guardian. I honestly expected him to refuse. I imagined he would rather stay in familiar surroundings, and the best I could hope for was the occasional visit. I was a virtual stranger to him, after all, and we didn't exactly meet under the best of circumstances."

"Harry still thought Sirius had betrayed his family," Remus supplied, when Arabella and Arthur looked a little confused. "Don't anger the lad if you can avoid it. He's got a rather impressive temper when properly inspired."

"And a wicked right hook," Sirius murmured, absently touching the side of his head. Abruptly he shook off his shock. Remus saw this, and put a restraining hand on his arm, but Black managed to keep a firm grip on himself. He looked from Arthur to Albus to Arabella with a dangerous glitter in his eyes. "Harry has admitted that he and his muggle family aren't exactly close, but from what you're saying..." he trailed off, then rounded on Dumbledore, eyes blazing. "Am I to understand that my godson grew up in an abusive household, and no one noticed? "

"So it would seem," Dumbledore said wearily. "Although I believe Harry received a warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office that summer. It's possible that his uncle overreacted to an isolated incident."

"No, that doesn't sound right," Sirius said, frowning as he tried to remember. "I saw Harry and his uncle summer before third year." He closed his eyes, thinking harder, then made an exasperated noise. "I was in my dog form at the time...it's difficult to recall."

Snape abruptly rose from his chair, and headed for the headmaster's fireplace. "Just a moment," he said, stepping into the flames with a speculative look on his face. Two minutes later, he returned with a small vial, which contained maybe a tablespoon of orange liquid. "Here," he said curtly, handing it to Black. "It’s the memory potion Voldemort wants. Let's see what his chances are of successfully dosing Pettigrew, shall we?" When the Animagus hesitated, he grew irritated. "It's perfectly safe, Black. I'm not daft enough to poison you in a room full of witnesses!"

Sirius glowered at him for a second, but complied when Dumbledore gave him a slight nod. "Cheers," he told Snape sarcastically, before draining the vial and grimacing at the taste. After a few seconds he could feel it taking effect. Belatedly he wished he'd asked what to expect.

"He will feel some disorientation at first," the potion master said calmly, meeting Remus' questioning gaze when Sirius closed his eyes and swayed slightly in his chair. "The potion stimulates the memory centers of the brain, making even vague remembrances more accessible. The initial rush of thought can be rather overwhelming--probably doubly so for Black seeing how its unfamiliar territory." He moved to stand in front of Sirius before anyone could respond. "Can you hear me, Black?" he asked. "Come on, man. Concentrate."

Sirius, for his part, watched with something like awe as the images of his life began to rise to the surface. Strangely, there were not very many recent memories. Instead he found himself remembering his early adulthood, his Hogwarts days, his childhood, and even a few vague impressions from his infancy.

Can you hear me, Black? Come on, man. Concentrate."

With effort, Sirius tried to focus on the voice speaking to him. It was a strange sensation, like swimming up from the bottom of a very deep pool. "I...I hear you," he mumbled.

"Excellent. Now, Black, I need you to concentrate on the first time you saw Potter."

"...James? We met on the Hogwarts Express."

"No, James' son. Harry Potter."

"Oh, yes. Harry." Deep in the memory, Sirius smiled hugely and lifted his hands as if he was supporting an infant's head and bottom. "Cute little thing. Just born today. Smart, too. Already knows his Uncle Paddy."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and resisted the urge to swear, while his companions smiled at the sappy look on Sirius' face. He couldn't even accuse Black of being a moron on purpose. He'd forgotten how bloody precise the questions had to be when memory or truth potions were used. The intimidation methods he favored when interrogating students were far fresher in his mind. Oh, well. If he had to make a dunderheaded mistake, at least he was doing so in safe surroundings. Voldemort wouldn't be so tolerant.

Re-focusing on Black, he tried again. "You're still too far back. Think of the first time you saw Harry Potter after you'd escaped from Azkaban. It was in Surrey. You were in your dog form. You had found your way to his neighborhood."

Sirius frowned. "Yes. I wanted to check on him before going after Pettigrew. I knew approximately where Petunia used to live." As he was drawn deeper into the memory, Sirius' observations became choppier, and the canine influence became clearer. "It was dark. I knew I had to be close. I had started to pick up scents: cats, Arabella, and Harry! His scent had changed a little, but I recognized it right away." Sirius sounded slightly surprised when he said this.

"What happened when you found the house?"

"I hid in the shadows. Didn't want to be seen. Heard voices. A man's. Loud. Yelling. 'Come back in here! Come back and put her right!' A boy's. Harry's! Softer. Didn't catch it all. Something like 'She deserved it. Keep away.' The door opened. I could hear and see and smell them both. Anger. Fear. Stress. Blood."

"Blood?" Snape asked sharply, while the others steeled themselves for the worst.

"Yes. The man," Sirius said, much to everyone's surprise. "His leg was bleeding, trousers torn. Heard another dog and other voices inside. Frightened. Confused. Something had obviously happened. I think the dog panicked, and bit the man."

"What of Potter? Was he injured?"

"No. Alert. Furious. On guard, but not hurt. Had his wand pointed at his uncle, keeping him back. Said, 'I'm going, I've had enough,' and left, his wand in one hand, Hedwig's cage under his arm, and dragging his trunk behind him."

"That must have been when Harry blew up his aunt," Arthur supplied. "I never did get the full story behind that one."

Snape nodded, then turned back to Black. "What did you do next?"

"Followed Harry. He went further than I thought he could, all loaded down like that. Must have been the adrenaline. He finally stopped. Seemed more afraid than angry by then. I waited to see what he would do. I wondered if it would be wise to approach him, but he sensed me first. Lifted his wand to do Lumos and accidentally summoned the Knight Bus."

"Yes, that was when Harry ended up at the Leaky Cauldron for the last two weeks of summer," Arabella realized.

"That should be enough, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Is there an antidote?"

Nodding, the potions master retrieved another vial from his robe pocket, and wordlessly placed it into Sirius' hand.

"That doesn't sound like the Harry I know," Mr. Weasley ventured, as they waited for the antidote to take effect. "He's generally very pleasant and even-tempered. I don't think I've ever heard him raise his voice in anger."

"I have," Remus commented, "but you're right. It's not normal behavior. In fact, it's indicative of Harry being provoked to the extreme."

Albus steepled his fingers, and frowned thoughtfully. "Harry has spent a fair amount of time at your houses?" he asked, addressing Arthur and Arabella. At their affirmative nods he continued, "Have you ever observed any unusual wounds or behaviors?"

The witch and wizard he was addressing exchanged a shocked look, then slowly shook their heads. "No, quite the opposite," Arabella said softly. "He showed up occasionally with a stray scrape or bruise, but most of the time he was remarkably injury and illness free. Oh, wait," she said snapping her fingers, "He did have a broken arm once, when he was about three or four. Petunia said it was an accident. I remember, because I watched Dudley while she took Harry to have the cast removed," she elaborated, unconsciously wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"Ah, yes. Charming individual, that one," Arthur said, uncharacteristic sarcasm coloring his voice. "I made his acquaintance last summer," he said in response to Sirius' raised eyebrow. "The twins planted one of their joke candies for him to find. He ate it and things got completely out of hand. It was just a simple engorgement charm. I had him sorted out in no time once I was finally allowed near the boy. They were completely unreasonable, the lot of them. Harry should be awarded an Order of Merlin First Class for managing as well as he has. They weren't even going to say goodbye to him!"

Arabella nodded noncommentally, then frowned as she concentrated. "I knew things weren't perfect for Harry," she said slowly. "Vernon and Petunia were always very partial to their own child. I noticed it the first time I observed them, but Harry had only just arrived. I'd hoped they just needed a little time to adjust."

"I called the ministry a few weeks later, and requested they send someone to check on Harry. I hadn't been as successful as I'd hoped in befriending Petunia. She seemed content to simply use me as a child-minding service from time to time. I tried the usual overtures: speaking to her when we met in public, invitations to tea..." Mrs. Figg shrugged, then continued.

"The ministry sent a junior staffer to check on Harry. He checked in with me when he entered the neighborhood, and stopped by after his visit. He seemed very impressed by the Dursleys' protectiveness. Evidently, they hid Harry, and chased him out of the house once he identified himself as a wizard."

Dumbledore frowned. "I may have that report," he interrupted, searching briefly in his desk, and pulling out a large folder stuffed with parchment. "Here," he announced after leafing briefly through the documents. "He talks about getting the assignment, checking in with Mrs. Figg, and heading over to Privet Drive," Albus summarized as he scanned the paper. When he got to the paragraph detailing the visit, he began to read aloud:

Harry Potter has been placed in a very neat, well-kept home. His aunt, Mrs. Petunia Dursley, seems to be a very loving mother. Her own son is a very robust boy, who seems to be thriving under her care.

I interacted only briefly with young Mr. Potter while his aunt prepared tea. He was quieter and shyer than the Dursley boy, but like his cousin, he was clean, and dressed in clothing appropriate for the weather. I could see no injuries or signs of excessive stress, and though he didn't speak, he smiled very sweetly when I addressed him. I did notice that he didn't interact a lot with his cousin, but this observation is based on a very short visit.

The visit went surprisingly well until I identified myself as a ministry wizard. She had not been warned that I was making this visit, of course. Furthermore, I had not stated my business outright, wanting the chance to observe the household in its normal state. The effect my identity had on his aunt was awe-inspiring. She snatched up Mr. Potter and stowed him in a cupboard under the stairs, snapped at her own son to keep back, then rounded on me.

I don't believe I've ever seen such fierce determination. She looked at me with something akin to hatred, ordered me out of her house, and demanded I stay away from her family. I tried to explain that this was just a routine check to insure Mr. Potter's welfare, but that just made her angrier. She referenced "my kind." I suppose she meant magical folk. I believe her words were, "It's you and the rest of your kind's fault that he is here! He shouldn't be here! He should be with his own kind!" By this I assume she was referring to Mr. Potter, and the unfortunate betrayal of his parents. She seemed most distressed about the failed plan to protect the Potters from You-Know-Who.

I tried to reassure her that she was very well protected, and I was not a dark wizard, while she escorted me to the door, but she wasn't having any of it. She informed me that she didn't want anything from me, and demanded that "my kind" stay away. She said, "Lily was daft enough to trust you, and look what happened to her! I'll not have you popping 'round and putting my family at risk!"

We had reached the door by then. She demanded I leave and never return. Naturally I left, not wanting to agitate her further. Mr. Potter seems to be in no immediate danger, and based on my interactions with his aunt, I feel I must recommend that interaction between the Ministry of Magic and the Dursley family be kept to a minimum. Any questions concerning this matter must be directed to Mrs. Arabella Figg. Security mandates that I be placed under a memory charm to erase Mr. Potter's location.

"Yes. That was what he told me." Arabella held her forehead when Albus finished reading. "They left him with me when the family went on outings--it seemed to agree with what I'd been told. I didn't approve, but I thought they were just overprotective of Harry. I still remember the glare Vernon gave me when I suggested they take Harry along once. I don't think he meant for me to hear, but he muttered something like, 'And risk getting blown up?' I thought they were still wary of being attacked, but couldn't reassure him, since I was supposed to be a muggle. They seemed almost phobic of magic. Petunia told me once how she had disposed of a book of fairy tales. I was afraid if I admitted I was a witch..." Arabella trailed off with a helpless shrug, then held her forehead as the truth came crashing down on her. "They've resented him! They've resented him all this time! I can't believe I was so blind!"

"A common Gryffindor failing," Snape said, but his voice lacked its usual acerbity. "Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs aren't as adept at picking up subtle clues, and reading between the lines as Ravenclaws and Slytherins are. They want to believe everyone has the best intentions at heart."

"What about you, Arthur?" the headmaster queried, after they had pondered Snape's words in silence for a bit. "Did you notice anything unusual when Harry stayed with you?"

"Well, Molly's always going on about how thin he is," the red head responded thoughtfully. "She might be a better one to ask, since she's spent more time around him. I've noticed he's quiet, patient, helpful, well mannered...if anything, he's too good. I was a little concerned when Ron started asking to invite him to stay. I thought he might be a handful--used to special treatment and lots of attention, but that just isn't the case. He seems to like to blend into the background. Most of the time you hardly know he's there. The only time he ever caused us concern was when he and Ron panicked, and took my old Anglia when they couldn't get through the barrier at Platform 9 ¾, and missed the Hogwarts Express."

"Very well. I think between Harry's status on the locator clock, his possession of the Order portkey, and what you all have just reported, it is safe to assume that his is in no current danger."

"Are you suggesting we leave Harry with the Dursleys?" Arabella demanded in shock.

"I am suggesting nothing of the sort," Albus responded testily. "I have a colleague from the International Confederation of Wizards who resides near Perth. I am sure he will be happy to help us track down Harry's wayward family, and check on him for us. However, it's..." Dumbledore counted briefly on his fingers, "...currently 2:00 a.m. in Perth at the moment. If we have reason to believe that Harry is in immediate physical danger, I will awaken him now. If not, I would rather place the call at a more civilized time. As a matter of fact, I just received a report from Harry. He mentioned his relatives had relocated." He located Harry's original letter, then picked up the report he'd just been sent, and handed them to Sirius.

The ex-convict grinned happily as he began reading, but was soon frowning worriedly. Remus, Arthur, Arabella and Severus moved where they could see as well, and read along.

"If I may, headmaster," Snape spoke up when they'd finished, "we might be able to use this situation to our advantage."

Five pairs of eyes turned to him. "How is that, Severus?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Potter's circumstances may not be ideal, but we are agreed that he should be all right for now. Correct?" When his companions nodded, Snape went on. "As I was coming to tell you before being swept up in this gaggle of Gryffindors, the memory potion is finished. I shall be delivering it a little later. If the reaction it got from Black is any indication, Voldemort should be able to extract whatever information he desires from Wormtail.

Snape turned to face Arthur Weasley. "You say that your sons went to Surrey to collect Potter summer of '92?"

"Yes."

"And at that time, Wormtail was still in your household under the guise of a pet rat?"

"Scabbers. Yes. He was Percy's pet, then Ron's."

"Voldemort is planning an attack against Potter. Even he realizes it," Snape sneered, jerking a thumb toward the parchment in Black's hands. He addressed Arthur again. "I realize you can't answer for certain, but is it reasonable to assume that your sons discussed their route in front of Wormtail?"

"Oh, most certainly. Ron almost always had Scabbers with him."

"So you think Wormtail knows Harry's address?" Remus said, stunned, "and Voldemort is going to use the potion to get it?"

"It's a distinct possibility. However, if the house is vacant, we could arrange a little sting operation," Snape suggested. "Between Potter and myself, Albus should know immediately if my suspicions are correct. Afterwards, we can work on determining when the attack will take place. We can charm the house, so no one will buy it, at least in the short term. The risk of casualties will be dramatically decreased if the Death Eaters are sent to attack an empty house."

"Yes, and if we're very lucky, a certain rat will be with them," Remus added, elbowing his rather put-out looking friend. "Buck up, Sirius. The plan has merit, and we may get a shot at Wormtail. If Harry's survived this long, he can last another few hours."

"All right then," Albus said, the very picture of grim determination, "Let's get to work."