Realizations

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Chapter 22 - Childcare 101: Does This Thing Come With Instructions?

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Harry looked up from the list he was reading, and smiled at the splashes and squeals and good-natured squabbling drifting down from the upstairs bathroom. Currently, he was seated on the sofa in the Wright's living room, waiting for the "all clear" so he could go up and have a practical lesson in the fine art of diapering. The boy shook his head fondly, as he continued to read. At first glance, babysitting had seemed fairly simple, but he was quickly finding out that there was much more to it than he thought.

It all started yesterday when the Wrights had stopped by the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had expected to sit down and sort out a few last minute details, but Janet had surprised him. She and Tom had obviously put their heads together at some point, so instead of tying up a few loose ends, Harry had essentially been presented with an itenerary.

The teen rolled his eyes at the memory. His plans, it seemed, were entirely too simplistic. He'd expected to walk to Janet's, stay a while, and walk back to the Leaky Cauldron. Their version of events was a bit more detailed. First, Janet would be picking him up and taking them all out to eat, before returning to the townhouse. Once there, she'd bathe the girls and get them ready for bed before handing them over to his care, and departing for the airport. Instead of returning to the Leaky Cauldron when she returned, Harry had been informed that he would be staying overnight, and furthermore, since the next day was typically Harry's "day off," Tom told him he didn't have to hurry back.

Caught between amusement and exasperation, he had cocked an eyebrow at the two of them and dryly asked if any input was needed from him. Janet had looked a little taken aback, but Tom theatrically slapped himself on the forehead and quickly stepped in before Harry could say anything further.

"This is my fault, Sparky," he declared, seemingly abashed. "Janet was fretting about how to get you safely home if you didn't want to spend the night at her house. She doesn't know how long she'll be gone, and she wasn't sure when your guardians should come by to collect you."

Oh. Struck speechless, Harry simply blinked in surprise. It had never occurred to him that Janet would worry about how he would be getting "home." He'd assumed he'd be expected to make his own way back, just as he'd expected to walk to her place from the Leaky Cauldron. Looking at the agenda in his hands, Harry was suddenly grateful for the lengths Tom must have gone to in order to insure Janet was comfortable with the babysitting arrangements without revealing anything Harry didn’t want people to know.

"Now we're all aware of the fact that you can look after yourself, and if Janet's husband was expected earlier in the day this wouldn't be such an issue," Tom continued smoothly, as though refuting an argument Harry had voiced. "If you'll recall, we discussed the possibility of you walking back to the Leaky Cauldron and spending the rest of the night here, but considering the late hour, it just makes more sense for you to stay put at the Wrights' and walk back in the morning. I was supposed to have told you, but it completely slipped my mind," he finished apologetically.

Harry had been forced to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Considering they’d never had any such discussion, his respect for Tom’s storytelling abilities grew tenfold.

"Tom said the late hour was a cause of concern, and your guardians asked if I was still willing to keep you overnight. I thought you knew, Jimmy," Janet added earnestly, reaching out a hand. "We didn't mean to hurt your feelings or leave you out. Forgive?"

As soon as he'd realized how Tom had been trying to keep Janet from finding out awkward facts Harry had been pacified. Tom's story was actually pretty accurate, come to think of it. Had he procured this job while staying with the Dursleys, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia almost certainly would have wanted him to stay overnight. The fact that they would have been more concerned about their own rest than his safety didn't need to be brought up.

Still, he'd played the part of "disgruntled teenager," rolling his eyes dramatically, and sighing "O-kay," in his best "put-upon" voice before relenting and clasping Janet's hand with a grin.

Frowning a bit, Harry raked his free hand through his hair, and blew out an aggravated breath. He couldn't deny that the "plan" made a good deal of sense, and skirted around some sensitive issues, but it still felt wrong to mislead his new friend this way. Trying to ignore his nagging conscience, the boy re-focused on his paper. He knew Janet found the way he rather stringently avoided discussing his "family" odd. She hadn't forced the issue, though, and for that he had been grateful. The fact was, she was very easy to talk to and entirely too quick on the uptake. If he slipped up and revealed the truth, he wasn't sure she would keep his secret. In fact, it seemed much more likely that she--in all intended kindness--would turn him over to the authorities.

Frustrated at the circular problem, Harry shook his head then chuckled when Becky's indignant "My duckie! My duckie!" brought him back to the present. He was being stupid. Janet liked him and all, but she probably wouldn't involve herself in his affairs. She had her own family to worry about, and anyway it had been a nice evening so far. There was no sense in borrowing trouble.

Relaxing a bit, Harry continued to replay the evening's events in his head. Dinner had been quick and casual. After a short discussion, (where he'd been allowed to vote!) they'd stopped at one of the hamburger restaurants located between Janet's house and the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had enjoyed himself immensely. He hadn't been out for Muggle fast food since Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley on his eleventh birthday. Besides which, with very few exceptions, he'd had nothing but "pub grub" at the Leaky Cauldron since the beginning of the summer holidays. It shamed him, and made him feel like the most spoiled, selfish prat on the planet, but after three solid weeks Harry found himself craving a little variety. Tom's food was good, and better by far than what he was used to dealing with in the summer, but he was grateful for the change of scene nonetheless.

The return to the Wrights' townhouse had also been a pleasant surprise. The first time he'd been over, Janet had been pleasant and hospitable, but hadn't exactly gone out of her way for him. Of course the fact that she'd been trying to unpack as many boxes as possible at the time might have had something to do with it. Whatever the reason, this visit was slightly different.

As Janet showed him around, making sure he remembered the lay of the house and pointing out where things like first aid supplies were kept, Harry couldn't help noticing that she'd taken some time to prepare for his arrival. It wasn't anything flashy or overt, but little signs of welcome were present nonetheless; from the cozy-looking bedding stacked on one end of the couch to the newly-purchased package of his favorite biscuits sitting on the kitchen table.

Harry laid his paper aside with a bemused half-smile. Janet knew he had no previous experience, and was a little nervous about being left alone as "the big person on the scene." She'd lightened his mood and calmed him significantly when she'd presented him with the colorful pre-printed form he'd just finished reading. It was a witty little paper entitled "The Babysitter's Crib Sheet," that had spaces for parents to list contact numbers, routine and emergency instructions, and any additional information they cared to share.

"Cute, huh? I found those a couple of years ago, and all my sitters have liked them," she had said, grinning at his reaction when he read the title. "Take a look at that while I bathe the girls and see if you have any questions." She'd started to leave, then paused and faced him with an embarrassed grin. "Sorry if I got a little carried away," she said, nodding at the paper which was filled from top to bottom, front and back with her neat handwriting. "I wasn't sure what you needed to know, so I figured too much was better than not enough," she said with a shrug. "Just take what you need and leave the rest."

She'd obviously been afraid he might be insulted, but Harry could have kissed her. He had loads of questions that he wanted to ask, but every time he'd tried, the words all seemed to get hopelessly muddled. He didn't even know how to properly phrase some of them. Her paper had addressed a lot of his concerns--well, enough that he thought he could get through the evening anyway. Even better, the instructions were clear and detailed without talking down to him or being patronizing. A definite plus.

A fresh round of giggles and splashes could be heard upstairs now. Harry glanced up at the ceiling and grinned again. The duck issue had evidently been resolved, and by the sound of it, a good time was being had by all.

Well, okay, almost all, Harry amended with a smirk, when Janet squawked in surprise, and told her daughters to kindly keep the water inside the tub. The scene upstairs was a far cry from what he remembered bathtime being like when he was small.

Aunt Petunia had always avoided touching him as much as possible, so bathing him had always been a chore she especially detested. She'd been rough out of pure resentment, and it was a wonder she hadn't drowned him in the process. In all honesty, it was hard to say who had been more relieved when he'd finally been deemed "old enough" to bathe himself unsupervised.

Huffing impatiently, the boy forcibly shoved the thought out of his head. He paused and regarded the stairs again when he caught some new sounds: draining water, followed a couple of minutes later by the whir of a hair dryer. Shouldn't be much longer now, the boy thought glancing reflexively at the clock.

Searching for a new distraction, he rose from the couch and wandered aimlessly around. Janet had certainly been busy since the last time he'd been over. There were still a few random boxes stacked off the the side, but on the whole it looked like the downstairs was mostly in order. This is a nice place, Harry thought, absently reading random titles from the Wrights' media collection, and looking at the decorative items on display. I wouldn't mind having a place like this someday...

Surprised by his own subconscious admission, Harry cocked his head thoughtfully to one side, trying to determine what struck his fancy so. Before now he'd only known what he didn't like, specifically the stuffy formality and unrelenting perfection his aunt had always favored. Her rooms, while aesthetically pleasing, had a "showplace" atmosphere that tacitly demanded propriety and decorum. Everything had to be "just so" at all times.

Maybe it's because magic is okay here, or fantasy at least, Harry mused, peering through the glass door of Janet's curio cabinet, and grinning at the rather varied collection inside. His Muggle relatives probably wouldn't find fault with the Russian nesting dolls, sea shells, and "normal" knick knacks, but Aunt Petunia would have sniffed disdainfully at the old and "much loved" stuffed bear that sat proudly on the top shelf, and Janet's assortment of dragon and unicorn figurines probably would have driven Dudley from the room at a run.

No, Harry decided. That wasn't quite right. Janet could have had a bunch of rocks in her cabinet and it wouldn't have mattered. It was the general feel of their home rather than the possessions in it. There was a cozy, welcoming quality to the room, that was completely unlike the prim little lounge he'd known on Privet Drive. Janet's living room, while attractive and tastefully put together, was meant to be used, not merely admired.

In a weird sort of way, it actually kind of reminded him of the Burrow. Janet Wright and Molly Weasley both favored comfortable, overstuffed furniture, and there was a certain quirky eclectiveness to both houses that he found endearing. Janet place was just...calmer. The Burrow, while no less friendly and inviting, had a frenetic, always-on-the-go quality that was lacking here. And face it, Kitty and Becky had their moments, but they were no match for the Weasley siblings.

Speaking of whom...

More giggles and scampering footsteps overhead made Harry glance at the ceiling again, then he stopped short and rolled his eyes in disgust. Waiting was definitely not his strong suite. Come on, Potter, get a grip! he silently chided himself, impatient with his own jittery quailing.

"Hey! Ready?"

Even though he had been expecting it, Harry jumped like he'd been shot at Janet's cheerful summons. When he jerked around to face her, he saw she was standing on the top step, looking shocked and properly ashamed of herself. "Jeez, Spark, I thought you heard us. I didn't mean--" she began, but he waved it off.

"I did hear you," he admitted, mounting the stairs and trotting up to meet her. He opened his mouth to explain, then closed it and smiled sheepishly when words failed him. "Don't mind me, I'm just being stupid," he said instead.

Janet didn't reply, just reached over and patted him between the shoulder blades, amusement and a touch of sympathy in her dark eyes. "It's really nice to know you care," she stated finally. "I think you'll do just fine. I'm just a phone call away if you have questions, and if things really go weird on you, Tom said you could go back to the Leaky Cauldron and he'd put the three of you in a room for the night."

That's true, Harry thought, nodding and offering her a lopsided smile. I also have Silas' mirror, and Dr. Granger's number if I need them. It was a weird feeling, really. He hoped he wouldn't need to use it of course, but he had more potential "help" at his fingertips for this one small job than he'd ever had for anything else he'd ever attempted.

"Thanks," he said aloud.

"No problem, but if you do leave, make sure to leave a note," Jan said, guiding him over to one of the bedroom doors. Knocking with her other hand, she called, "Hey, are you all decent in there?"

---

Minerva McGonagall hurried toward the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, enchanted quill in hand, and a slightly confused frown upon her face. Albus hadn't been terribly forthcoming when he'd contacted her by Floo just now, but she'd learned to decipher his subtle mannerisms over the years.

He didn't say as much, but something was up.

Something he didn't feel comfortable discussing over the Floo Network.

Minerva shook her head distractedly. That was never a good sign.

"Ice mice," she said, upon reaching the gargoyle statue that guarded Dumbledore's domain. As she went up the spiral staircase and knocked on the door, she wondered again what calamity had arisen, and why on earth he wanted her to bring her registration quill of all things!

No one responded to her summons, which Minerva found odd. Albus normally seemed to get a great deal of enjoyment out of trying to unnerve his visitors. He'd call them in--by name--even before they'd had a chance to knock! McGonagall frowned, wondering if the Headmaster had stepped out for a moment, but no, she could hear the murmur of voices coming from inside. When she rapped again, and still no one answered, the Transfiguration professor cautiously pushed the door open, and found herself in a veritable beehive of activity.

Dumbledore was standing by the fireplace talking to one of the Hogwarts House Elves and an Order member that Minerva recognized as Kingsley Shackelbolt. Shackelbolt was an Auror, and conveniently enough, he was assigned to the case of the fugitive Sirius Black.

Professor Snape was sitting off to one side, scowling at several pieces of parchment.

Remus Lupin was writing what appeared to be an outline on a large blackboard while Sirius Back dictated.

Oddly enough, Arabella Figg, Molly Weasley, and Mr. Ronald Weasley were sitting around a table with three small Pensieves before them. Arabella and Molly were dropping silvery strands of thought into theirs, while Authur Weasley gently coached his youngest son through the procedure so he could do the same.

While Minerva was taking all this in with a growing feeling of unease, the fireplace blazed, and Filius Flitwick, the Hogwarts Charms professor, came tumbling out. He glanced around at the people inside, looking as bewildered as she felt, before spotting her and hurrying over.

"Minerva!" he said by way of greeting, then gestured at the room at large. "What's going on?"

McGonagall spread her hands helplessly. "I only just arrived, Filius, but I think we'll know shortly," she said, nodding in the headmaster's direction. Professor Dumbledore had finished his conversation and was heading in their direction. Shackelbolt and the house elf both nodded politely at them before taking their leave. Shackelbolt threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, and the house elf disappeared with a loud crack!

"Thank you for coming so quickly," Dumbledore greeted the two professors as he neared. He summoned an envelope from his desk, then turned all his attention to his deputy headmistress. "Minerva, would you be so kind as to address this to Mr. Harry Potter?" he requested, handing her the envelope.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but she complied without comment. Everyone on the teaching staff was accustomed to receiving rather odd and confusing instructions from the Hogwarts Headmaster from time to time. It was something of an inside joke amongst the faculty, and they'd often chatted about adding Can follow odd instructions without hesitation or complaint to the list of requirements for new professors. Stifling a sigh, Minerva accepted the envelope and laid it and her quill on a handy table. It was usually best to act first and ask questions later, so she drew her wand and did as he asked. Obediently, in response to her spell, the quill drifted over the envelope and wrote Mr. H. Potter

Then it stopped.

It hovered over the place where the address should be written for several seconds, before writing Unknown and skipping down to the next line. Flitwick and McGonagall exchanged confused glances, then looked to their employer for an explanation. They were slightly surprised to see Dumbledore watching the quill with what seemed to be undue anticipation. Even now, he was staring at the struggling quill intently, as though trying to will it into divulging useful information.

Thinking it best not to say anything just yet, Minerva returned her attention to the paper. The quill was writing again, but seemed to be fighting against some unknown force. Laboriously it scratched out England, then floated gently down to the tabletop looking quite exhausted.

Dumbledore, Minerva noted, seemed disappointed but not overly surprised by the quill's behavior. She exchanged another look with Filius, then ventured a question. "Albus, what is going on here?"

Sirius, meanwhile, had noticed the two newcomers and hurried over to investigate. "Anything?" he demanded tensely, making all three professors jump.

"I'm afraid it isn't much, Sirius, but we do have another small clue," Albus replied, recovering quickly and indicating the envelope.

Sirius glanced down where Albus was pointing. "Oh, brilliant!" he snorted derisively, when he spotted the envelope. "That certainly narrows it down!"

"Better that than 'The United Kingdom' or 'Europe.'" Dumbledore pointed out mildly.

"Or the planet Earth, yeah, yeah I know..." Sirius sighed, then visibly gathered himself, and quirked a half grin at the newcomers. "Professors," he greeted, before hurrying back in the direction he'd come.

Albus watched him leave, shaking his head in light exasperation before returning his attention to the two dumbstruck faculty members. "As you have probably deduced," he explained quietly, "a few things have come up with regard to Mr. Potter. I sent for Mr. Weasley by Floo, and I have owled Miss Granger. I am hoping they can provide some additional hints and clues. All we know at this point, is Mr. Potter is not with his Muggle relatives."

McGonagall glanced over to where Ronald Weasley sat with his parents then looked at the envelope and shook her head in confusion. "Albus, that quill should have been able to pinpoint his location in an instant!" she hissed in alarm.

"Yes, I know," Dumbledore acknowledged, looking honestly perplexed. "Somehow, Mr. Potter has become...untrackable. We have tried various location charms with no success," he reported, filling in recent events. "While it is possible that this may be young Harry's doing, the amount of energy needed to produce this type of defense is enormous. I don't know if any witch or wizard could accomplish it alone for an extended period of time. The phenomenon also seems to have started suddenly within the last few hours. A colleague of mine from the International Confederation of Wizards was able to successfully cast Point Me earlier today, but that same spell will not work for him now."

The Headmaster paused for a moment to let that sink in, before continuing. "That said, it seems much more likely that some sort of protective magic has been accidentally activated. I had hoped Minerva's registration quill would be proof against any such magic, but it appears things are not going to be that simple." He turned and met his Charms professor's bewildered stare. "That is where you come in, Filius. You were part of the Ministry Team that put additional protective measures in place after the Blood Charm was cast, and wards were set around Mr. Potter's Muggle home were you not?"

Flitwick blinked, then nodded slowly. "Yes, Albus, now that you mention it, but that was almost fourteen years ago!" he protested, after getting over his shock. "It's true I was part of the team, but I don't recall everything that was done," he admitted, thinking back to those wild and confusing days.

By the time the team had finished enchanting Harry Potter's folder, no one could swear that they knew every single spell that had been cast. He told his colleagues as much, then added, "They may not be complete, but I do have the notes I took, and I know of several good reference materials for identifying unknown Charms."

"Good. We will obviously have need of them," Dumbledore said, giving his Charms professor a small smile. If they were indeed dealing with protective magic, the spells surrounding Harry would have to be identified before they could be broken or circumvented. Fortunately for them, Filius Flitwick was almost without peer as a Charms Specialist. He, above anyone, had the best chance of figuring this mess out in a quick and expedient manner.

"Very well," Flitwick agreed, looking a little unsure. "I will need to go to my office, and the library to gather materials," he said apologetically.

"I can help, Filius," McGonagall offered, finally shaking off her dazed disbelief. "I can fetch the reference materials from the library if you like."

"Thank you, Minerva," Flitwick replied with a grateful smile. "That would be most helpful."

"Excellent," Albus said, clapping his hands together, and turning to survey the room. "I don't believe this is the best place to have this discussion--it's getting a little crowded. We'll allow time for everyone to finish what they're doing and move to the Charms classroom in...half an hour?"

"Albus! That's barely enough time to gather the materials!" Minerva protested.

Dumbledore held his hands up placatingly. "Time is of the essence, I am afraid. You are both good at reading and listening at once, and I will fill in any details you miss. Bring the materials with you, and we'll let the others begin."

---

"Pig Out! Pig Out! Pig Out!"

Harry raised a haughty eyebrow at the two chanting sisters as he shook two tiny, rubber pigs in one hand, then let them fly like he was rolling a pair of dice. "Come on, come on! " he encouraged, as they bounced on the table before coming to a halt. When they did, both the little pigs landed on their feet. "Hah! Double Trotter!" he crowed, adding twenty to his tally and scooping up the pigs again.

He and Kitty and Becky were playing a simple but strangely compelling game called Pass the Pigs. There wasn't a lot to it, really. One simply rolled two rubber pigs and gained--or lost--points depending on how they fell. The object of the game was to throw the pigs and score as many points as possible in one turn. According to the instructions, the first player to get 100 points was the winner.

It sounded simple, but Harry soon discovered it wasn't so easy. He'd rolled the infamous "Pig Out" and by doing so lost all his points more than once that evening. It hadn't really mattered, though. The Wrights liked to play a slightly modified version in which each player racked up as many points as they could before they rolled "Pig Out" or an "Oinker." Whoever had the highest tally before losing all points won that "hand".

Grinning at his hecklers, Harry rolled the pigs again. They'd been at it longer than he'd expected, although the real "competition" was mainly between Kitty and himself. The older girl was a pretty fair sport, but she despaired over her baby sister's inability to play "right," and grumbled a bit about the way the toddler was accommodated.

Becky had a rather limited grasp of numbers, so she didn't really understand the scores. She liked to play with the little pigs and generally had to be coaxed into rolling them when her turn came. She also still had the unfortunate tendency to put small things in her mouth. Harry had quickly learned to keep a sharp eye on her whenever she had the game pieces in her possession.

They played a few more hands before Kitty called a halt. "Let's do something else now."

Becky seemed to be growing weary of the game as well, so Harry shrugged agreeably. "Okay," he said, gathering the game pieces and replacing them in their slim, black case. I might have to look into buying one of these for myself, he speculated, eyeing the case appraisingly. It was made of hard plastic and no larger than a Muggle checkbook. Harry hadn't purchased a lot of frivolities, since he was limited by the size of his trunk, but this tiny thing would probably be all right. Heck, if things got tight, he could always carry it in his shirt or jeans pocket.

A glance at the clock brought some of Janet's instructions to mind: When it starts getting late, try and interest them in a quiet activity, she had advised. It will be easier to get them down for the night if they've slowed down enough to realize they're tired!

Good point, Harry thought, then faced his small charges. "So, what do you want to do now?" he asked. "Shall I read you another story?" he offered.

"Can we pay wif Dollies?" Becky asked hopefully. "Peas?" she added, giving him her best and most adorable pleading look.

Aw, jeez! Harry groaned inwardly, holding his forehead. That was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do, but it was really hard to say no to that face. And she probably knows it, too! he thought uncharitably.

On the upside, if he did get dragooned into playing "dolly" again, he could write Ron a very interesting letter...

Dear Ron:

Today was quite educational. I undressed a beautiful blonde and I held a naked babe in my arms...

Harry wiped his hand down his face until he had his mouth covered and fought down the urge to giggle. Tempting as it was, he wasn't sure he could run fast enough to escape Ron once the redhead discovered that Harry had, in point of fact, lifted a freshly-bathed toddler onto a changing table, and changed a doll's clothes.

And the payback...

Harry winced a little at the teasing he was in for if Ron and his brothers found out what he'd really been up to! Hmmm. Maybe writing a prank letter isn't such a good idea...but it would be funny for a little while!

Fortunately, Kitty came to his rescue. "Sparky doesn't like dolls, Becky," she said authoritively. "Think of something else."

Now there's a tall order, Harry thought, watching in amusement as Becky crossed her arms and stuck her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. Playing with dolls might be the only thing they haven't done yet, come to think of it. Harry shook his head and smiled. They'd had a grand time coloring, reading, having tea parties, messing around with loads of toys, and playing Pass the Pigs .

Unfortunately, it was beginning to show. Harry glanced around and cringed. Janet's once-lovely living room was something of a disaster area now, because Kitty and Becky kept bringing things downstairs. "I know," he said brightly, trying to make it sound like great fun, "let's tidy up, then we can watch a video!"

"Tidy up!" Kitty protested, looking at the scattered items with distaste. "Do we have to?" she asked, making a big show out of stretching and yawning. "I'm tired!"

Ah, so that's the way you want to play. Harry looked down at the younger girl, and arched an eyebrow. Sorry, but you're not fooling me. I lived with the King of Manipulation most of my life, he thought, recalling how Dudley would try--and succeed--to get out of doing chores. Eyes glinting with mischief, Harry shrugged, and tried to act sympathetic before dropping his bombshell. "Of course not, Love. I can clean up, but if you're really that tired then you should go to bed straightaway. Go on now, both of you, and I'll see you in the morning."

Kitty blinked at him in surprise, not expecting this tactic, but Becky was having none of that. "NO!" she objected immediately. "No wanna go bed! Want moobie!" she urged, picking up a stuffed cat and tugging on her sister's hand.

As her majesty commands, Harry snickered to himself, then smirked knowingly when Kitty mumbled something about not being that tired, and bent to gather an armful of things. Gotcha! he thought, before moving to help. Unfortunately, they'd brought down more than he realized, and it was going to take multiple trips to get everything put away. "We need a container," he mused aloud. "We'd save ourselves some time if we had something to put all this in," he continued, looking around hopefully. Janet appeared to have broken down all the empty moving boxes, but surely there was something else...

"What about the laundry basket?" Kitty suggested.

Harry brightened. Good plan! "Perfect!" he said with a grin, enjoying the way she reacted to his praise. "Where is it? We can chuck everything in there, then I'll carry it upstairs for you."

Kitty nodded, growing more enthusiastic about the project. "I'll get it!" she said, then dashed out with Becky dogging her heels.

Harry grinned after them. Kitty, he could tell, got heartily sick of her baby sister tagging after her, but most of the time she was rather good about it. He was glancing around, trying to figure out if anything should be put in the basket first, when a loud crack made him jump. What was that?! he wondered angrily. It sounded familiar, like the sound of a gunshot, or a car backfiring, or...

No.

Oh, no.

Harry swallowed tightly, feeling as though someone had him by the throat. He hadn't expected to be found so soon, but someone had definitely arrived. He could feel them looking right between his shoulder blades. Heart thumping fearfully, Harry slowly turned, and found himself looking into bright green eyes the size of tennis balls that shone with blatant adoration.

Dobby the house elf stood before him, looking both pleased and relieved. "Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is glad to see that Harry Potter is not hurt!" he bubbled excitedly, then his ears drooped and his expression turned sorrowful. "Harry Potter is being very naughty--causing much worry at Hogwarts!"

What?! Harry blinked at the little elf. "But I just spoke to Professor Dumbledore--and Sirius--and a whole load of people just this evening!" he spluttered indignantly. "I told them I was fine! Besides, I can't leave! I'm babysitting!"

Now it was Dobby's turn to blink. "Dobby has not come to fetch Harry Potter. Dobby is running an errand for Master Dumbledore," he explained. "Dobby is just stopping by to check on Harry Potter since Master Dumbledore is worrying," the house elf explained. Harry was about to reply, but a loud thump in the kitchen startled them both.

"Becky! You...are...not...helping!"

Harry started at Kitty's exasperated shout, and her sister's indignant wail. Oh my God! They'll be back any second!

"Dobby, you've got to get out of here before they see you!" he hissed desperately, making little shooing motions with his hands.

Nodding his understanding, the house-elf snapped his fingers, and disappeared with another crack!

Harry heaved a great sigh of relief, then closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. I really could do without so many close calls in my life, he thought wryly, holding his head in his hands.

He stood there for a few seconds before it occurred to him that it had gotten awfully quiet. Harry frowned behind his hands. That was odd. Kitty and Becky generally took a little longer to settle down once they started shouting and crying. Removing his hands, he spotted them standing in the kitchen doorway, looking quite stunned. Harry raised an eyebrow at them, then put his hands on his hips. "Well, come on then," he prompted, nodding at the basket Kitty held. "The work's not going to get done on it's own."

"But..." Kitty glanced at him, but made no move to come closer. Her attention seemed riveted to something behind him. Becky, her eyes huge, unconsciously shifted closer to her older sister.

Concerned now, Harry frowned. "What is it?" he asked, starting to feel agitated himself. "What's wrong?" Instead of replying, Kitty pointed behind him. Sighing, Harry turned to look and felt his mouth drop open in shock. It seemed the well meaning little elf had left a "gift" for him before taking his leave.

The living room was completely spotless.

---

Back at Hogwarts, the impromptu meeting of the Order of the Phoenix had re-convened in the Charms classroom. The blackboard Remus had been writing on was brought along, and Remus, Sirius, Arabella, and Arthur were standing in front of Flitwick's desk, preparing to share what they'd learned.

"This is what we know," Remus Lupin stated, pointing to some items listed on the blackboard with his wand. "According to the Weasley family, Harry arrived at King's Cross Station with the rest of his peers on July first. His uncle was late arriving, and Molly needed to leave. She didn't feel comfortable leaving Harry alone, so she invited him to come home with her until things could be sorted out.

"As they were leaving, Harry spotted, or claimed to have spotted his uncle. He thanked the Weasleys for staying, declined Molly's offer to escort him over, and the two parties went their separate ways.

"There's a space of a few hours that can't be positively accounted for, but Harry did eventually arrive in Surrey," Lupin went on, tapping the board with his wand. "Arabella Figg noticed his hand on her locator clock was still pointing to "Traveling" before the Order meeting on July first. This was unusual, but he didn't appear to be in any danger, so she cast a monitoring charm, and came to the meeting. When Harry's status was still "Traveling," a few hours later, she became concerned. When Professor Dumbledore called a break, she and went home to investigate.

"While she was there, Harry's hand finally moved to number four Privet Drive. We estimate his time of arrival as approximately eleven o'clock in the evening--significantly later than usual. We took it for granted that he was simply late getting home for whatever reason, and didn't investigate further. Harry has been corresponding with several people on a regular basis. He mentioned getting a summer job, and seemed fine. We didn't suspect anything was amiss until July fifteenth.

Remus paused to take a sip of water, then continued. "Arabella, having only just returned from a mission, immediately went to check on Harry. When she arrived at the Dursley's residence, she found that the property was being offered for sale. She made a few inquiries, and discovered Harry's Uncle Vernon had been transferred to Australia.

Naturally, we thought that meant that Harry was in Australia as well. We contacted Albus immediately. He contacted a colleague of his, Nathaniel Baker, from the International Confederation of Wizards. Baker was asked to find Harry so that we could make arrangements to bring him back to Britain.

"Sirius, Arabella and I returned to her house in Surrey after leaving the Headmaster's office. Sirius changed into Padfoot, and caught Harry's scent. He also found a note that Harry had written to Mrs. Figg," Remus said, pointing farther down the board. "We do not know the purpose of the visit, but some time between the first and the fifteenth of July, Harry went to Wisteria Walk. The note itself didn't contain any useful information. It was undated, and seemed rushed. At first we thought he must have written it out while his relatives were waiting for him, but he may have simply been anxious to be on his way."

Sirius and Arabella came forward, and Remus moved off to the side. Sirius swept the room with his pale blue eyes, but for once there was no joking humor in his demeanor. "Remus has told you what we know," he stated. "Now Arabella and I will tell you what we think. These are things we jotted down as they occurred to us, so unlike the professor there, ours are not necessarily in perfect chronological order."

Nodding, Arabella took her cue. "We started at King's Cross, and spoke to several station employees who were on duty at the time Harry should have been there, and quite a few people remember seeing a boy who fit Harry's description. Those green eyes of his evidently stay with people," she said with a sad smile. She paused a moment to collect herself, and noticed she wasn't the only one reminiscing. Finally, she shook herself out of her reverie, and continued.

"From what we were able to gather, he waited quite a while. Several people recall approaching him, and asking if he needed help. "No one remembers seeing Harry leave, but I checked the schedules while I was there," the old witch continued. "There's a commuter train from King's Cross to Little Whinging that leaves around 9:00 p.m.," she said, pointing to another line on the blackboard. "Since we know Harry was on Privet Drive at approximately 11:00 p.m., it seems likely that he caught that train, and made his own way back to his uncle's house from Little Whinging Station."

"It was by accident that we discovered Harry had gone to Arabella's house," Sirius stated. "I changed into Padfoot, and found a fairly recent trail. Remus also thinks he may have picked up Harry's scent at the Leaky Cauldron, but he isn't sure. I followed it to the edge of the street where it suddenly stopped. Unless Harry's learned how to Apparate, we think he may have summoned the Knight Bus."

"Actually, we're fairly certain that's what happened. I make it a point to check the Knight Bus logs when I've been away," Arabella added. She paused a second, then shrugged matter-of-factly. "It's part of my monitoring of the the neighborhood for unauthorized witches and wizards. The Knight Bus staff are used to me dropping by, so no one looked at me twice when I showed up a few days ago. Their travel logs indicate they responded to a call on Wisteria Walk very late in the evening on July first. We do not have irrefutable evidence supporting our claim, but we believe Harry must have summoned the bus. I was at Hogwarts at the time, and Harry and I are the only witch and wizard who live in that neighborhood."

"Diagon Alley was one of the stops on the Knight Bus log after Wisteria Walk," Sirius added. "That may have been Harry's destination. To date, the Knight Bus has not returned to Wisteria Walk or Privet Drive." He stopped and heaved a great sigh. "After that, Harry simply disappears," he said waving his hand in a circle. "He isn't registered at the Leaky Cauldron, but we have reason to believe he's been there. He has also been corresponding regularly with several people--Ron, Hermione, Albus, Remus, and myself." He sighed again, and looked exasperated. "He hasn't asked for help, in fact, he hasn't even hinted that anything was wrong. We know from his letters that he is employed somewhere, but we don't know where."

"We spoke with Grunnings Drills, the estate agent that was hired to sell the property on Privet Drive, and some of the neighbors, but we didn't learn very much," Arabella stated, scrunching her nose in annoyance. "We do know from several sources that the Dursleys left in a hurry. They originally planned to stay through the summer, and leave closer to the beginning of the new school year, but something came up and they suddenly changed their plans. We know Vernon and Petunia left about the same time Harry was due back." She paused a moment, then continued with a troubled frown. "On a side note, the neighbors seem to think that Harry goes to a place called St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, and no one remembers seeing Harry at all. I think we can safely say that he didn't approach any of the neighbors for help on the night of July first."

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you Arabella, Remus, Sirius. Your initiative has saved us a great deal of time, though I wish you would have shared your suspicions earlier."

"I'm sorry, Albus. I just couldn't believe that Harry could be running around without being recognized," Arthur said sadly. "I've seen how people spot him..." he said with a shrug, then turned to the dark haired man up front. "Sorry Sirius. I guess you had the right of it after all."

"Let's just find him, all right?" Black responded gruffly, though not unkindly. He frowned thoughtfully, then addressed the room again. "We're just guessing, but we think someone may be helping him. We also suspect he's using an alias, and since he hasn't been spotted, we presume he's found a way to disguise himself, and his scar as well."

"Indeed?" Albus raised an intrigued eyebrow and steepled his fingers in front of him.

"It stands to reason, Headmaster," Remus said a bit defensively.

"No, no, you are quite right," Dumbledore agreed. "I merely meant if young Harry figured out how to hide his scar, he has outsmarted some of the premier Charms specialists of the day--myself and Filius included," he explained, exchanging a rueful look with the little Charms professor.

"Oh, my yes," Flitwick said, looking up from the notes he was reading and putting his two Knuts in. "I've never seen such a stubbornly resistant mark. We tried Glamours, Concealers, and every Healing Charm we could think of..." he trailed off, then lowered his voice as though sharing something illicit. "We even tried the Mark Remover."

Snape looked up from his seat near the fire, interest piqued. "The Mark Remover failed?"

"Not exactly," Minerva supplied. "The product covered his scar as promised, but Mr. Potter was allergic to it."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, eyes lost in the past. "That was one of the main reasons we decided against trying to hide him with a wizarding family after Sirius was incarcerated. That and the strength of the Blood Protection, of course. We had no way of knowing Voldemort's Dark Forces would crumble so easily without him. Hiding Harry away behind the strongest protection we could come up with seemed like the best thing to do at the time."

The bit at the train station seems off," Arthur ventured, breaking the silence they’d fallen into as each recalled their own memories of those dark times. He shook his head sadly. "I still can't believe Harry would lie to Molly about his uncle!"

Molly and Ron, who had both been unusually quiet during Remus and Arabella's briefing, spoke up almost as one.

"He didn't, Arthur," Molly insisted.

"He saw someone, Dad!" Ron said earnestly. "I saw him too, just for a second..." He trailed off and shrugged. "He was a few meters away, but he certainly looked like Harry's uncle."

"But neither of you thought to verify the man's identity before leaving," Snape sneered condescendingly.

Ron flushed angrily, while his mother looked shamed. It was true they had accepted Harry's word without hesitation, but why? The station had been rather crowded, and the man certainly hadn't been nearby. Part of it, at least from his point of view, was his own desire to make things up to Harry. He still felt bad about accusing him of lying at the beginning of the year, but there was more to it than that.

Frowning deeply, Ron allowed his mind to wander, and found himself recalling first year. Specifically the end of the year, when he and Harry and Hermione had entered the Chamber of Keys, while trying to find the Sorcerer's Stone. A corner of his mouth tugged upward. What was it Hermione had said?

"These birds...they can't be here just for decoration..." *

Yes. That was right. At first, they'd all thought a flock of birds was with them in the chamber. They'd watched for a while, then his dark-haired friend had gotten that look he always got when something occurred to him. Ron smiled softly. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see it...

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys--look carefully. So that must mean..." he looked around the chamber while the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. "...yes--look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!" *

Slowly, Ron opened his eyes and raised his head, an expression of dawning comprehension on his face.

"--look carefully!"

"...yes--look! Broomsticks!"

Look...

That's it! Ron leapt to his feet and hurried down to his Pensieve, without bothering to wonder if he should have asked permission or if he was out of line. Arthur and Molly automatically started to call him back, but the teachers in the room, recognizing a student on the verge of discovery, motioned for them to remain silent.

Reaching the small bowl, Ron drew his wand and prodded the silvery mass inside. He'd never once doubted Harry's word on anything he saw because Harry was usually so sharp-sighted! Everyone in his family had noticed--even his mum. When telling tales of their Seeker's Quidditch exploits, the twins liked to joke that Harry could spot a gnat wiping it's feet on the next-door-neighbor's mat, and most of the time they weren't far off the mark. Unfortunately, Ron recollected with a barely suppressed grimace, Harry had been far from his best when the Hogwarts Express had pulled into King's Cross Station.

Trying to remember the instructions his father had given him, Ron searched through the memories he had placed in the Pensieve. "It didn't occur to anyone to question him because Harry's usually so good at spotting things," he explained distractedly as he worked. "But that day--that day at the station...here!" he said when he found the one he wanted, and brought it up for the others to see.

Ron, Fred, George, Ginny and Hermione were standing almost protectively around Harry at King's Cross Station. They were talking about going to Diagon Alley later in the summer. Harry smiled, and nodded, but seemed distracted. Every now and then, he would frown slightly, and scan the station, presumably looking for his uncle. This went on for a few seconds, then Harry got a mildly annoyed expression on his face. He blinked rapidly a few times then snatched his glasses off and rubbed his eyes impatiently.

"All right there, Harry?" the image of Ron asked, when Harry stopped rubbing his eyes and began to polish his glasses with his shirt-tail.

Harry smiled a bit. "Yeah, just tired," he assured.

Ron stopped the memory, then faced the others questioningly, unsure if they'd caught what he was trying to show them. If nothing else, Harry looked pale and tired. Tired enough to make a mistake, come to think of it, but Ron was more interested in his friend's behavior with regard to his glasses.

He needn't have worried. As each viewed the Pensieve, it became evident that the Order members got the message loud and clear. McGonagall and Dumbledore both unconsciously adjusted their own spectacles, before exchanging a significant look.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore stated at length. "That clears a few things up."

"Bollocks!" Sirius disagreed, scowling. "It doesn't explain anything! Say Harry did make a mistake. Go even farther and assume his uncle never showed up! Why would he bother going to Surrey at all? Surely it occurred to him that something was off! Why didn't he just send Hedwig to one of us?"

"I'm afraid that is my fault, Sirius," Albus sighed regretfully. "Harry has gotten impatient with his Muggle relatives and left the safety of his protective wards in the past. I wanted to avoid this if possible, so I told him his friends would be safer if he returned to his aunt and uncle at least initially. I also made him promise that he would contact them only in the most desperate of emergencies."

"I should jolly well think being stuck at a train station qualifies!" Arthur blurted almost accusingly.

"As do I, Arthur," Albus agreed. "Harry, on the other hand, does not appear to. He did not write to me until almost a week later, and then he only mentioned his newly employed status and his scar."

Ron frowned worriedly at that. "Has Harry's scar been bothering him, sir?"

Dumbledore paused, as if considering how much to say. "In a manner of speaking," he hedged. "Harry hasn't complained about his scar paining him, but Voldemort's rebirth appears to have affected it in a few unexpected ways."

Ron didn't look satisfied with the answer, but his headmaster didn't offer any additional information. Sighing, the redhead tried a different tack. "Have you contacted Hermione, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I owled Miss Granger just before I placed the firecall to the Burrow, and if I failed to mention it before, thank you for your assistance, Mr. Weasley. Your insights have been most helpful."

Ron knew a dismissal when he heard one, but he tried to get permission to stay anyway. This was his best friend after all. He knew Harry's quirks better than anyone except maybe Hermione. Unfortunately the adults were having none of it. After being warned not to discuss Harry's current situation with anyone, his father had escorted Ron back to the Burrow in spite of his protests.

Sighing, Ron gave the fireplace one last glare before climbing up to his room. He had a couple of letters to write, and the first one was going to be addressed to the daft git he called his best friend.

---

In a certain London townhouse, three children aged almost three to almost fifteen stared at each other in a silence that was beginning to become oppressive.

Harry was aghast at the possible consequences of Dobby's actions. Any second now, he expected to receive a letter from Mafalda Hopkirk in the Improper Use of Magic Office, then soon after that Ministry Wizards from the Magic Reversal Squad would come swooping in. He would be expelled...Kitty and Becky would be Obliviated...they would snap his wand...

He'd worked himself into such a state he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt someone patting his arm. Blinking, he looked down and found himself looking into Kitty's soft brown eyes. Now that she'd gotten over her surprise, she seemed surprisingly calm. Calmer than he felt, at any rate. "Don't worry, it's okay," she assured him, unconsciously mimicking her mother. "Sometimes stuff like that happens when you wish really hard."

Frowning, a bit, Harry regarded her curiously. "What do you mean?" he finally asked guardedly.

Kitty and Becky looked at each other, then seemed to come to a decision. "We want to show you something, okay? Just don't freak out, and don't tell my mom."

Later, when Harry had a chance to think things over rationally, he couldn't believe he'd reacted the way he had. Everything seemed backward. He was supposed to be comforting them for crying out loud, not the other way 'round! The whole situation felt surreal--like it just couldn't be happening.

So he'd nodded.

Becky, who was nearby but hadn't been touching him, approached him and hugged one of his legs. "We play ball, 'Parky," she grinned, trying to make him do the same. "'Parky like ball?"

Harry quirked a half smile at that. "Yeah," he agreed. "'Parky like ball."

Kitty nodded then held out a hand. A few seconds later, she was holding what appeared to be a perfectly round ball of white light.

Harry was impressed in spite of himself. "When did you learn to do that?" he asked curiously. Kitty shrugged.

"A long time ago," she said. "I was just a little kid. My night light had burned out, and I woke up alone in the dark." She hesitated, looking like she thought he might tease her, but eventually, plowed ahead. "I was scared. I don't like the dark," she confessed quietly. "I wished really hard that my light was still working, and this is what happened."

Nodding, Harry glanced at the dark-haired toddler. "Can Becky do things like that as well?"

"Sort of. She can't make her own ball yet, but she can change mine. She likes to make it different colors," Kitty told him. "Mom was really surprised at how fast she learned her colors," she confided with an impish grin, offering the softly glowing sphere to her sister.

Becky seized the opportunity. This was evidently a favorite game of hers. "Boo!" she commanded, touching the white globe. Obediently it changed color, and before Harry's astonished eyes it turned blue. Giggling at his reaction, she pointed at the ball again. "Geen!" Harry smiled when the ball turned green, but Becky wasn't through with him yet. "See?" she asked, looking up at him seriously. Harry indicated that he did. "Good. Now 'Parky do," she said with a grin, eager to get him in the game.

Harry regarded her warily. "Sparky do what?"

Rebecca gave him a guileless look. "Do wed," she suggested.

"I really don't know if I can," Harry admitted. Becky shrugged but didn't let him off the hook.

"Ty," she invited.

"All right," he conceded, hesitantly reaching out to touch the ball. It felt very odd and made his fingers tingle. The thing held it's shape, but didn't have a solid form. It also shone like a light bulb, but didn't give off any noticeable heat. Both girls were looking at him expectantly, so he shrugged and decided to give it a go. Red, she wants, he mused distractedly. Red. He closed his eyes and thought about strawberries...quaffles...his quidditch robes... He knew something had happened when he heard the two laugh happily. He opened one eye cautiously, then grinned proudly when he spotted the now red ball.

"Sweet!" Kitty crowed, examining the now ruby-red sphere. "That is so cool!"

"So what do you think it is?" Harry asked curiously.

Both girls looked at him like he was simple-minded. "Magic," they replied, as though it should be obvious.

"Just like in the movies," Kitty grinned, then remembered something. "So," she said gesturing at the living room, "can we watch our video now?"

---

Albus waited until Arthur returned from seeing young Ronald home, then re-convened the meeting. "What have you discovered, Filius, Minerva?" he asked, addressing his Charms and Transfiguration professors. "Have you discovered why Harry is suddenly immune to tracking spells?"

Flitwick and McGonagall shared a grim look, before the little Charms professor responded. "I think so, Albus," he admitted, with a drawn-out reluctance that made Sirius want to strangle him. Glancing around, the Animagus was pleased to note that he wasn't the only impatient one. Molly, Arthur and Arabella were all on the edge of their seats, and Remus was gripping his desk so hard it creaked.

"And...?" Dumbledore finally prompted.

"By all appearances, a last-resort failsafe mechanism has been activated," Flitwick said, looking troubled. "But I’m not sure why. Mr. Potter's relatives are still alive..." He trailed off and shook his head, frowning.

"Sorry, Filius, but could you back up a bit?" Remus asked, earning grateful looks from Sirius and Arthur. "What failsafe are you talking about, and what do the Dursleys have to do with it?"

So Professor Flitwick launched into an edited version of the events of early November 1981. He told about the defensive magic that had been cast, and how the decision to use Harry's file to watch over him had been made.

"If he was in some sort of danger while under his relatives' guardianship, and required assistance, his folder was spelled to alarm," the Charms professor explained. "The failsafe mechanism was put into place as a last means of defense should Mr. Potter lose his guardians again. When we cast it, we believed it would only activate in the event of their deaths. Since his Muggle family is very much alive, we must consider other circumstances...for example if they disowned or abandoned him, or Mr. Potter refused to go with them..." He trailed off looking exceptionally grave.

"So the Protective Blood Charm that has kept him safe all these years has been broken?" Albus asked quietly. Flitwick nodded, and the old headmaster sighed heavily.

"But why? Why now?" Molly asked, looking grieved. "I still remember when he and Ron brought Ginny back to us...why not then?"

"Yes, and what about when he ran away from his aunt and uncle the summer before his third year?" Arthur put in.

"And just last month when he was portkeyed to that graveyard," Sirius added.

Flitwick nodded briskly, and raised his hands for silence. When they had settled down, he continued. "You're confusing Mr. Potter being in danger, and Mr. Potter having no guardians. The failsafe would not become active as long as he was under his Muggle relatives' guardianship, but his folder should have alerted us when he was in physical danger."

"Yes, it should have," Dumbledore interrupted thoughtfully as though recalling something. "Arabella," he said, turning to face the gray-haired witch, "you wrote to the Ministry regarding the flying automobile incident, did you not?" He waited for Mrs. Figg to nod, then prompted, "And what was their response?"

"Not much," Belle admitted, shuffling through a folder she had brought with her, and pulling out what appeared to be a Ministry form letter. "Initially, they wrote back, and said they had received my letter, and assured me the matter would be looked into." She paused for a second, looking through her folder again, then pulled another letter out. "A couple of weeks later, I got this letter from the Minister's office. They assured me that Harry's folder seemed to be in order, and speculated that it didn't alarm because he had left his uncle's house of his own free will."

"I see," Dumbledore said, frowning thoughtfully, and steepling his fingers in front of him. He glanced up at Flitwick. "Would you agree with their assessment, Filius?"

"Actually, no," Flitwick admitted. "Unless the charms were modified drastically, free will shouldn't have mattered. You are part of the Wizengamot, Albus, I know there was a request for modification early on. Were there others?"

Dumbledore didn't have to think long to answer that one. "No, Filius. There was only the one request, and as I recall, it was resolved before the Charms Specialist was even able to get to it."

The little Charms professor nodded, then paused to gather his thoughts, and went on. "The failsafe mechanism is conditional magic. The lock of hair we placed inside Mr. Potter's folder allows it to be "aware" of his physical state, or as aware as an inanimate object can be. If he had been or had become seriously ill or injured, for example, the failsafe would have activated immediately."

"So does that mean he's seriously ill or injured now?" Remus asked, half-rising in alarm and voicing the question Sirius couldn't bear to ask.

"Not necessarily," Filius cautioned. "There was a timing mechanism built in. Should Mr. Potter lose his guardians, the folder would assess his state. If he was essentially all right, it would alarm just like always, and the Ministry would have ten days to collect him and place him with another family."

"And if they didn't?" Sirius asked tensely, already suspecting the answer. It had been exactly three weeks since the end of term.

Flitwick sighed. This was where things got a little gray. "You must remember, when these charms were set, Mr. Potter was little more than an infant. He absolutely could not be without a guardian. We fully expected that the situation would be resolved immediately should it ever occur, and other precautions would not be necessary. However, since we were technically still at war, we planned for the worst, regardless. Unfortunately, this required many conditional qualifiers, and I'm afraid the folder's behavior might be slightly unpredictable once the ten-day mark passed.

"If a guardian had not been found at the end of two weeks, the folder was charmed to begin gathering information on possible candidates, to sort of help the Ministry along. If a guardian had not been assigned at the end of three weeks, this would be an indicator that the Ministry, for whatever reason, could not complete the task. The defensive magic would activate to hide him and whoever might helping him, regardless of his physical state, and it is very likely that the folder will begin the process of assigning a likely candidate itself."

Sirius' eyes widened in horror. Some brainless bits of parchment were going to arbitrarily assign his godson a guardian??? "How do we turn it off?" he demanded, finally finding his tongue.

"We cannot--at least not easily," Albus said, frowning in concentration. "I am on the Wizengamot, but even we need permission from the Minister's office before Harry's folder can be accessed. Unfortunately, Minister Fudge is in no mood to grant me favors."

Arthur suddenly brightened and snapped his fingers. "Percy!" he exclaimed. He got a few odd looks, so Arthur quickly explained. His middle son had gotten a job as an undersecretary in the Minister's office recently. They hadn't seen a lot of him lately because he'd been kept so busy, and he had all but stopped coming to the Burrow to assist with the warding. Still, Arthur was confident that Percy would help them. Harry was practically family after all.

Albus nodded, them turned to Flitwick again. "How do you predict the folder will proceed?"

Filius considered carefully before answering. "It will most likely compile a list of likely candidates from the people Mr. Potter sees regularly. There must be some sign of willingness from the foster family in question to Mr. Potter, and a sign of acceptance from him to them. I cannot, for example, gain guardianship by simply stating my willingness. I must offer it to Mr. Potter in person, and he must accept my offer. Now, exactly what constitutes offer and acceptance is determined by the folder, and I can say that it will most likely become less precise and choosy as time goes on."

The witches and wizards in the room sat in silence for a few minutes, before Dumbledore abruptly shook himself out of his reverie. "All right," he said, clapping his hands briskly. "We have some time, but not a lot of it. Does anyone have any ideas about where he may be staying?"

"It can't be anywhere fancy," Sirius speculated, after a moment's thought. "He told me in a recent letter than he's doing things like sweeping floors and stocking shelves. There's nothing wrong with it, but jobs like that aren't exactly on the upper end of the wage scale. Unless he's working full-time, he can't be earning much more than pocket money, and even then it's dodgy."

"True, Black, unless he's supplementing his income."

Sirius and the others turned to face the Hogwarts Potion Master who was studying the transcript from earlier. "What are you on about?" Sirius asked impatiently.

"I just find his choice of wording here interesting," Snape said, tapping the parchment thoughtfully. " Engorgio! " he commanded, waving his wand at the parchment. When the paper was large enough for everyone to see, he transfigured a stand, and fastened the transcript to it. "Here," he said, tapping the paper with his wand.

Now, if you'll excuse me, the lady who requested my services this evening should be by any moment now, and I really need to get going.

The silence was deafening for a full fifteen seconds, then everyone started to talk at once.

"How dare you!" Arthur and Sirius roared.

"Now really Severus, that was uncalled for," Remus scolded.

"Harry is a good lad," Arabella screeched.

"If his family has abandoned him, as they appear to have done, Potter may not have a lot of choice in the matter!" Snape bellowed back. "And since he's decided to follow instructions for the first time in his miserable life, his options are not exactly varied. Of course you may be right," he said smirking at Black. "There's probably not be a thriving market for scrawny, undergrown boys. Perhaps he's merely peddling Muggle recreational drugs, or engaging in petty theft."

"Enough, Severus!" Albus said sternly, before Sirius finished sputtering, and things got completely out of hand. "I'm sure we all hope that Harry would consider that an emergency, and would have contacted someone if he found himself in such straits. Unfortunately," he added with a grimace, "as distasteful as this scenario may be, until we find Harry, we cannot discount it."

"Albus!" Sirius protested. "You can't believe Harry would do anything like that!"

"No, Sirius, I do not. However, I also didn't believe Harry would ever feel he needed to hide from me, and until today, I believed he was with his Muggle family. I admit it isn't the best lead we have, but we cannot leave any stone unturned. This possibility will be checked out with all the others."

"Besides, Paddy, he's almost fifteen. Prongs started really noticing girls at fifteen," Remus instigated shamelessly, enjoying the horrified look in his friend's eyes. Sirius was entirely to easy to get a rise out of.

"Yes, well. I suggest we adjourn for the night," Albus said, removing a pocket watch from his robe and noting the time. "Everyone try and get some sleep, and we will begin our search in the morning."

---