Realizations

---

Chapter 24 - Conversations

---

Saturday, July 22, 1995

"Hermione! You have an owl!"

"Thanks, Mum!" Hermione responded, marking her place, and setting her book aside. She paused just long enough to grab her little bag of owl treats out of her trunk, then hurried downstairs. Who could have sent it? she wondered, as she turned into the kitchen. Her mum and dad knew Hedwig and Pig, so it probably wasn't from Ron or Harry, and it was a bit early yet for Hogwarts letters. Hermione frowned a bit, considering. Perhaps Ron had borrowed Errol or Hermes again.

"Here he is, dear," Greg Granger said from behind his newspaper, gesturing towards a larger-than-average bird who looked like he was built for power and speed. "From Hogwarts, isn't he?"

Hermione looked again, and noticed the school seal that the owl was wearing. Ah. Apparently it was her school letter, after all. Perhaps they were being sent early this year.

"Thank you," she said, offering some owl treats. Her mum or dad, she noticed, had already provided some water.

The owl hooted appreciatively, then held out his leg. He seemed to be in a hurry, but did not immediately depart when she untied her letter. Hermione wondered about this for a second, then nodded and quickly opened the envelope. He must have been instructed to wait for a response.

Dear Miss Granger,

I have a question for you concerning Mr. Harry Potter. Do not be alarmed, he is not in trouble, I am merely requesting some information. Since you and Mr. Ronald Weasley are his closest friends, you seemed to be the logical ones to ask.

In your opinion, how is Mr. Potter doing? Some questions have come up as to how well he is coping with recent events. Mr. Potter assures me that he is not suffering any undue stress, but I find myself desiring a second opinion. He sometimes has a tendency to downplay his own troubles.

I have instructed Hercules to wait for your reply. If you would kindly respond immediately to this post, it would be very much appreciated. Thank you, and enjoy the rest of your holiday.

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hermione read and re-read the letter, frowning a bit. It certainly wasn't what she had been expecting.

She wondered why the headmaster was asking her, when he said he'd just spoken to Harry. Didn't that imply that he'd seen Harry in person? Well, no, she allowed, reading the sentence again. He said "Mr. Potter assures me." Harry could have done that in a letter, I suppose. Still, the whole thing sounded a bit...odd. If Professor Dumbledore was so worried about Harry, why didn't he just go check on him?

"Bad news princess?"

"Not exactly," the girl said, turning to face her mother. "It's from my headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. He wants to know how I think Harry's doing." She shrugged and bit her lip thoughtfully. Perhaps the headmaster simply didn't have the time to schedule a visit--or Harry's muggle relatives refused to allow it.

She mentally flipped through what she remembered of Harry's recent correspondence, then went on. "He sounds all right in his letters, but that's not always a good indicator."

"What about when he rang you up a couple of days ago?" her father asked. "How did he sound then?"

"A little preoccupied," Hermione admitted. "He wanted to know if I'd ever done any child-minding." Her parents laughed, and she scrunched her face at them before smiling good-naturedly. "Evidently one of his customers wanted to hire him to watch over her children for the evening," she elaborated, shrugging again. "She wanted to pay him, and he had no idea how much to charge."

"Hmm. Or what to do, I'd wager," her mother added, with a knowing smile.

Giggling, Hermione recalled how Harry had rung her up Thursday evening after supper. He'd made her swear she wouldn't mention a word to Ron, then proceeded to confidently ask her about one of the things she knew absolutely nothing about. When she'd admitted as much to him, he'd been flatteringly amazed.

"What do you mean you have no idea?" he'd demanded in a comically indignant way.

"I never claimed to know everything," she'd responded primly, trying her best to keep from laughing. She could almost hear him raising his eyebrow over the phone.

"Could have fooled me," he'd muttered, sounding ridiculously sulky. He'd paused a minute, then almost whined, "You don't know anything about child-minding, Hermione? Nothing at all?"

That time, Hermione did laugh. Harry had sounded just like Ron did when she wouldn't share her homework answers. "Harry, like you, I spend most of the year at Hogwarts, and I'm an only child," she'd reminded him, logically ticking off points. "I'm home approximately two months in the summer, a lot of that time is spent traveling with my parents, and there are no small children in my neighborhood. Exactly when do you think I've had the time or the opportunity to learn about childcare?"

"I don't know, Muggle studies?" Harry suggested hopefully. There was a pause, during which she imagined he had shrugged, or maybe run his fingers through his hair before he continued. "Sorry, that was stupid. I shouldn't have troubled you."

"No trouble, Harry. You can ring anytime you like. I'm sorry I wasn't able to be of more help..."

They had spoken a bit more before saying goodbye, catching up on each others' news and comparing progress on homework assignments. She'd thanked him for the shirt he'd sent, and told him that she and her parents had opted to stay in England this summer. She didn't feel up to a big adventure, so they were planning to visit some local sights around London that they hadn't been to in years.

Harry had seemed pleased she'd liked her gift, and claimed he was keeping busy and doing fine. He also promised to ask Dumbledore if it might be permissible for him to accompany them on some of their outings. He was supposed to ring again in a few days after contacting the professor, and presumably approaching his employer about some time off.

Hermione considered the letter again. From the sound of it, Harry probably hadn't written to the headmaster yet, or perhaps their owls had crossed. Yes, she thought, feeling a little better now that a reasonable explanation presented itself. Once Professor Dumbledore knew Harry wanted to get out and about, he probably wouldn't be so worried. She thought a bit, composing a rough draft in her head, before something occurred to her, and she turned to face her mother.

"Actually, Mum, you're the only one who's seen Harry recently," Hermione said. "How was he when you went shopping?"

Helen thought a bit, then shrugged. "He seemed fine. A little nervous at first, but he relaxed quickly enough. I think he was afraid we wouldn't get on, or some such nonsense."

"What did you do?" Hermione pressed.

"He met me at the surgery, then we went to the mall. I told you that days ago."

"Yes," her daughter agreed, "but what did you do exactly once you arrived?"

Helen sat at the kitchen table, thinking back. "He made an appointment to get his eyes checked, we had lunch, I did some of my shopping while he had his examination, I helped him pick out some new glasses frames, then we visited several shops." She paused and shook her head ruefully, before smiling up at her daughter again. "He needed everything, poor lamb. Clothes, shoes, toiletries...I wasn't sure we'd be able to carry it all!"

Hermione nodded, thoughtfully. That wasn't at all surprising. Heaven knew Harry could do with some decent Muggle clothes! She'd been amazed the first time she met him. Anyone who didn't know better would think it was Harry's family who sometimes had trouble making ends meet, not Ron's. The Weasleys might not have an excess of riches, but Mrs. Weasley always made sure everyone had what they needed and that they looked smart when they went out. She was about to let the subject drop when something occurred to her. "Harry bought new glasses?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. His prescription had changed a bit, and frankly his old frames were atrocious. He also purchased some contact lenses," Helen supplied as an afterthought, grinning at her daughter's amazement. "Seemed to think they'd help his Quidditch game."

Hermione blew out a little breath and rolled her eyes. Trust Harry to base a decision like buying contact lenses on something as silly as that! "So was that all, then?"

"I believe so--no, just a moment! We also stopped by the barber shop."

"The barber shop?" Hermione parroted incredulously, regarding her mother with a new respect. Harry seemed to have an aversion to those places.

"Yes," Helen said, smiling at the memory. "It was quite an improvement I must say," she began, then her eyes widened in horror and she covered her mouth with her fingertips.

"What is it dear?" Greg asked frowning a little.

Helen glanced guiltily up at Hermione and sighed. "He asked me not to mention that. I think he wanted to surprise you, dearest. Please, do act surprised the next time you see him."

"Of course, Mum," Hermione assured. She wondered a bit about her mother's comment, then dismissed it. Privately, she allowed that even a small change for the better could be considered "quite an improvement" when applied to Harry's unruly mop.

Hercules seemed to be getting impatient, so Hermione hurried off to fetch some writing supplies, then sat down at the table.

Dear Professor Dumbledore:

I haven't seen Harry since the end of term, but we have been exchanging letters, and he has rung me on the telephone a few times.

So far, he seems all right. I don't know if he's told you, but he has a summer job. The first time he phoned, he was wanting advice on where he should go to purchase some clothes. I was on an outing with my dad, but Mum was here. She needed to do some shopping herself, so she escorted him to the mall.

Hermione blinked at what she'd just written, then frowned up at her mother. "Mum, if Harry needed new clothes for his job down in Surrey, why did he come all the way to London to go shopping?"

"He said he needed to go by Gringott's to exchange some money," Helen shrugged, after thinking a bit. "Since he had to go to Diagon Alley anyway, he decided to take care of his shopping here in the city."

"He went to Gringott's?" Hermione echoed incredulously. When Harry had mentioned getting a job, she'd assumed it had been at the insistence of his aunt and uncle. Further, she had assumed (a bit too optimistically, it seemed) that the Dursleys had purchased, or at least provided the money for Harry to purchase his new clothing.

Knowing what she did of the Dursleys, however, she was fairly certain that they didn't have an account at Gringott's.

That meant... That meant Harry had purchased everything on his own!

"Well...yes," Helen said, slightly taken aback by the fierce indignation creeping into her daughter's eyes. "As far as I'm aware, Gringott's doesn't have branches in the outlying areas, and Harry needed the clothes immediately. He was scheduled to begin working in the next day or so and really couldn't wait."

She stopped and shrugged helplessly. "He said his aunt and uncle weren't available to escort him to the shops, so I just guessed they didn't have time to do the banking either."

Hermione pursed her lips, shuffling this new information into her mental deck then dealing and examining the cards again. Harry had evidently told her mother enough to allay any concerns she might have had about him coming to London unescorted, but she doubted he had told her everything. Harry was funny that way sometimes.

Something was up, but what?

Suspicious, she regarded the letter from Hogwarts. Was this the "real" reason Professor Dumbledore was writing to her?

"Hermione, is something wrong?"

Hermione jumped guiltily, then reluctantly faced her parents. They were watching her seriously, concerned looks on their faces.

"I... I'm not sure," she admitted honestly. "Something just seems...off. With Harry, I mean. It could be nothing but..." she trailed off making a helpless little gesture. On one hand there wasn't enough evidence to justify panicking, and she certainly didn't want to be accused of jumping to conclusions. On the other hand, this was Harry they were discussing, and trouble seemed to follow him where ever he went. She glanced at the letter in her hand again, frowning indecisively.

"Well, it's still early enough, why don't you go ring him up?" her father suggested kindly. "As you say it could be nothing, but unless I miss my guess, you'll just fret until you know for sure." He peered at her over the top of his newspaper and gave her a knowing smirk. "This will save time."

Hermione blinked, then smiled Of course! she thought happily. Harry had given her the Dursleys' telephone number after their second year at Hogwarts. She had never used it before because Ron had written her after calling himself and warned her that it made Harry's muggle relatives cross. He'd reckoned he'd gotten Harry into trouble. Not wanting to cause any more problems for her dark-haired friend, Hermione had regretfully filed the slip of parchment away.

She'd found out later that Ron hadn't really understood telephones, and thought he needed to shout to be heard...

Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling and shaking her head at the image. Harry's uncle might not be on her list of favorite people, but she supposed she really couldn't blame him for being cross about that.

"I need to check something before I send Professor Dumbledore his reply. Won't be a moment," she told the not-so-patiently waiting owl, before running back to her room.

It took a bit of searching, but she finally found the scrap of parchment Harry had given her between the pages of her Potions text. Hermione giggled as she removed the paper, wondering what Harry would think if he knew. Given his history with Professor Snape, it was probably better not to mention it.

She paused a moment working through what she was going to say, then screwed up her courage and walked to the upstairs line. She was surprised a few seconds later when she found herself listening to a standard "This Number Is Not In Service" recording.

Hermione frowned. Had she misdialed? She tried again with the same result.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Hermione re-filed Harry's number (in her Charms text this time) and went back downstairs.

Her parents seemed surprised to see her back so soon. She and Harry had chatted a good half hour or more the last time they'd been on the phone.

"No one home, princess?" her mother asked.

"The number isn't in service," Hermione huffed with a little frown. "They must be having trouble with the line. I'll have to try again in the morning."

She regarded Hercules, then decided to just send him on with what she knew. If she thought of something else, she could always go to the Owl Post Office on Diagon Alley.

With that plan in mind, she retrieved her half-finished letter.

To answer your question, sir, Harry seems to be coping fairly well. His letters have been normal, and he sounded all right on the phone. I haven't seen him in person, but as I mentioned previously, my mum has. I asked her opinion, and she said she didn't spot anything unusual.

Your owl seems anxious to be on his way, so I will close here. If anything comes up, or we hear from Harry I will send another owl.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

Nodding at the letter, she tied it to Hercules' leg, and sent him on his way. The great owl hooted his thanks, then was gone in a few powerful wing beats.

Hermione was just about to close the kitchen window, when another bird flew through. This time, though, she could identify the sender readily. She and her parents watched in amusement as Ron's little owl, Pigwidgeon, flew over to her, struggling mightily under the weight of the letter he had clamped firmly in his talons.

"Popular tonight, aren't we?" Helen grinned, earning a harassed look from her daughter. She and Greg watched fondly while Hermione caught the little owl and relieved him of his burden before exiting the kitchen and heading for the lounge. Hermione paused long enough to refill the water dish and set out more treats, then tore open Ron's letter.

Hermione!

You'll never guess what that stupid git has done! I can't believe it myself!

Hermione raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes as she read. Someone had managed to get Ron in quite a state! Usually he at least said "Hello, how are you?" before starting with his news.

I just got back from Hogwarts. the letter continued. Professor Dumbledore called a big meeting tonight. You know how Harry's been writing to us, saying he's working, and everything is fine? Well get this! His uncle was transferred with his job! His relatives have moved to Australia!

Hermione blinked in shock. Harry's muggle relatives were in Australia? Horrified, she began to scan the letter more quickly. Ron was understandably agitated and his letter jumped around a bit, but she got his message nonetheless.

Professor Dumbledore sent someone to find them and fetch Harry back, but he wasn't there! The only reason Mum left Harry behind at King's Cross was he thought he'd spotted his uncle! We reckon Harry must have made a mistake--we just can't figure out why he didn't owl someone immediately!

Ron went on, describing the meeting at the castle--at least the portion he'd been present for. From what he said, it had evidently continued after he'd been chivvied back to the Burrow. Then he went into a very creative and detailed rant about the damage he planned to inflict on Harry's tender body the next time he saw him. Hermione skimmed that part. Amusing though it was, it didn't really add anything to her list of facts. He ended by asking her if she could meet him at the Leaky Cauldron the next day to try and sort things out.

Aghast, Hermione re-folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. Feeling a bit sick, she swallowed, and sat down at the table again.

If Harry's Muggle relatives had moved out of the country, and Harry was still in Britain...

...or he talked like he was still in Britain, anyway...

...what did that mean?

Had Harry refused to accompany them?

Had they simply left him behind?

Was that why he was working?

That would explain why Harry's phone number isn't in service, the girl thought, absently tapping the letter on the table. His aunt and uncle would have had it disconnected before they left. So where is he calling from, then? Hotel? Flat? Public phone? She twisted her mouth to one side, considering. A public phone seemed most likely, but she made a mental note to check the number the next time Harry called.

She reached for another sheet of paper, and automatically scribbled a short note of acceptance to Ron, working on the problem all the while.

Slowly, Hermione turned her head and glanced at the letter she had just answered. Professor Dumbledore said he wanted to know how Harry was doing.

According to Ron's letter, Harry had gone missing. He was corresponding like everything was normal, but no one could find him.

Did the headmaster really mean he wanted to know where Harry was?

Blinking again, Hermione stopped writing and massaged her temples. That made no sense! Even if Harry was trying to hide, there were loads of tracking and locator charms available. She and Harry and Ron had found many while trying to help Harry prepare for the Third Task! Wouldn't Professor Dumbledore use one of those instead of fishing around for clues with vague letters?

She wondered if it hadn't occurred to Dumbledore to use such a charm and rejected the notion almost at once. Harry might have been able to fool the headmaster--as he had fooled Ron and herself--into believing that everything was okay, but now that Dumbledore was aware of the situation, she couldn't believe he had overlooked something so obvious.

Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Hermione considered Ron's letter again. He seemed very put out that Harry hadn't contacted them--orders from Professor Dumbledore or no--but there was something else...

Harry had been exempt from finals this last year, so he had done a lot of studying on his own while she and Ron reviewed their class notes and took their exams.

How much does Harry know, anyway? she wondered consideringly. Has he figured out a way to block tracking magic? There must be some defense against it, else Sirius would have been re-captured long ago.

On first glance, the idea seemed quite absurd, but again, this was Harry. When he chose to apply himself, or a subject caught his interest, he could actually be quite brilliant. In fact, the only time she'd ever failed to earn the highest score in class was third year Defense Against the Dark Arts. She'd been nudged out of first place by a certain Mr. Potter.

After making sure her parents didn't mind her making a trip to Diagon Alley, she sent Pig off with her reply to Ron, then she went to her room and re-read all of Harry's letters. She even pulled out some of his old ones, and compared them against his more recent correspondence. By the time she finally joined her parents in the lounge, she had become convinced of two things: Harry had been left behind by his relatives, and Harry was hiding in Muggle London.

---

Sunday, July 23, 1995

My arm itches...

Harry Potter twitched reflexively, then lay very still as his awakening brain processed this new information.

Something was moving very slowly and deliberately up his arm.

Spider? he wondered groggily, resisting the urge to twitch again. He'd learned long ago that it was best to stay still when spiders ran across his body. If he jerked suddenly and frightened them, they were far more likely to bite.

As his sleep-fuddled mind became a little more aware, Harry noted that he was stretched out on his side on something very warm and soft. His arm, besides itching, felt slightly cooler than the rest of him.

Hmm. Must be on top of the blanket instead of underneath it, he noted absently.

And whatever was tickling him didn't seem to be a spider after all.

The light touch was about right, but there were no scuttling legs. In fact, it felt more like...hair.

Oh. Right. Must be Patches then, Harry thought with another little flinch as his arm was abandoned, in favor of his ear. That stupid cat just loved to jump onto his bed and tickle him with her whiskers and tail. He made a little sound of protest as the itchy feeling moved very slowly from the top of his ear down to the lobe. It vanished for a second, then it was back, settling lightly on the corner of his jaw, and heading for his chin.

He clumsily waved a hand to shoo her away, and was rewarded with mischievous giggles.

??? thought Harry. When did Patches learn to laugh? While he was working on that, the thing came back, brushing maddeningly across his mouth then attacking his nose.

Making another annoyed noise, Harry swiped at his tormentor again, then raked his teeth across his lips and scrubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

More giggles filled his ears. They sounded awfully familiar.

Finally cottoning on to who it must be, Harry opened one eye, and gave Kitty and Becky a mildly reproving glare. Katrina was bending over him, holding a lock of her long brown hair and grinning impishly. Ah. Mystery solved. Rebecca was watching her sister's antics and smiling brightly. Every now and then she would laugh delightedly into her hands.

Harry rubbed a hand over his face, then sat up and scratched his arm. "You could've just given me a shake, you know," he reproved, frowning a bit and blinking a few times.

Kitty shrugged, smiling unrepentantly. "This was more fun."

"Oh, really." Harry arched an eyebrow, devilment creeping into his own expression. "What if I'd have sneezed?" he asked, his tone strongly implying "snot" or "cooties."

He got just the reaction he was looking for. Kitty, who had been threatening to tickle him again, snatched her hair back with a horrified squeak.

Harry grinned then blinked, trying to determine why his eyes felt so horrible. Bleagh! He blinked again, then realized he could see. Ah. He must have fallen asleep in his contacts. Harry winced a little, making a mental note not to do that again. They felt uncomfortably dry, and practically welded to his eyeballs. He blinked again and rubbed his eyes gingerly. Why hadn't he removed them, for Heaven's sake?

Oh, right. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He'd been planning to wait up for Janet, then make his way back to the Leaky Cauldron when she returned.

So much for that idea.

Before he'd started entertaining the notion of leaving when the Wrights returned, he'd planned on being up and dressed the next morning before the family rose.

Since the girls had obviously awakened first, falling asleep with his contacts in might have been for the best, even if it was a little uncomfortable at the moment. He wasn't sure how he would have explained suddenly having green eyes. More "magic," he supposed.

Stretching, he regarded the two girls in front of him. They were both looking entirely too pleased with themselves, secrets sparkling in their eyes, and conspiratorial smiles on their faces.

Hmm. This must be that "Up To Something" expression Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always claimed he had.

Funny, he didn't seem to recall ever smiling like that in their presence. In fact, he couldn't remember smiling much at all.

"All right," he finally said, crossing his arms on his chest. "What are you two on about?"

---

Arthur Weasley chuckled to himself as he walked through the mostly-deserted halls of the Ministry of Magic. It had been a busy morning.

He'd been sent over to the Grangers' residence to follow up on the owl Professor Dumbledore received late last night from Hermione.

Arthur smiled, recalling the visit. Greg Granger had been very generous with his knowledge of Muggle appliances, and Helen and Hermione had been a veritable gold mine of information. They could now say with some certainty that Harry was still in Britain. London, in fact, if Hermione's suspicions were correct.

Eager to share the good news, he'd apparated to Arabella's house, as much to lay some of Sirius' fears to rest as to write Albus a note on the charmed parchment. Remus had broken into helpless laughter when Arthur revealed that the "service" Harry had been providing was, in fact, child-minding.

Sirius had looked comically amazed for a couple of seconds before adopting an "I-Knew-It-All-Along" attitude. "I can't believe you were so worried, Moony," he'd teased, eyes alight. "No faith. No faith at all."

"That doesn't even deserve the dignity of a response, Paddy," Remus chided, but he was smiling while he said it. "Now all you have to do is apologize to Harry."

"Aw, come on, Moony. Harry doesn't really have to know, does he?"

"Oh, I suppose not. Besides, think of all the wasted blackmail opportunities..."

Arthur smiled again, gratified that Lupin and Black had been able to get their friendship back on track after the Potter's Secret-Keeper fiasco and all the unpleasantness that ensued. As it turned out, neither man had really wanted to believe ill of the other. Their mutual mistake had been seriously underestimating Peter Pettigrew.

Weasley frowned slightly, remembering the late seventies/early eighties as he continued on his way. Several people, both in and out of the Order had known that Voldemort was targeting the Potters, although only a few knew exactly why.

Unfortunately, as James and Lily were forced to sever more and more ties before eventually going under the Fidelius Charm, the list of likely suspects grew shorter and shorter until only the Marauders were left. Since James Potter was the target, and neither Sirius nor Remus considered Peter Pettigrew to be a threat, they had been forced to consider each other.

Arthur sighed as he entered the lift, and pressed the button for Percy's floor. It had been a mistake. A stupid tragic mistake that'd had horrible repercussions for all involved. Fortunately, things seemed to be sorting themselves out, now. After all Sirius and Remus had gone through, it was nice to see them putting the past behind them and renewing the bonds they’d forged as children and young adults.

Feeling slightly better when he reached his floor, Arthur set out in Percy's general direction, only to be distracted by a light in Amos Diggory's office. Frowning, he ventured closer and peeked in. Sure enough, there was Amos, sitting at his desk, shuffling through some mundane-looking pieces of parchment.

Stifling another sigh, Arthur watched the other wizard, noting the change in him and shaking his head sadly. Amos had always been rather enthusiastic in everything he did. Loud and friendly, he was especially known for his devotion to his only son. He could be a right bore about it, really. As far as Amos Diggory was concerned, the Boy Who Lived himself didn't shine as brightly as his Cedric.

As he discretely regarded the grieving wizard, Arthur found himself wishing he'd been a little more patient in the past. He couldn't bear the thought of losing any of his children. Losing your only one like the Diggorys did must be agony.

Reaching out, he knocked gently on the doorframe. Diggory started a bit at the interruption. "Arthur! What on earth are you doing here?"

"I need to have a quick word with Percy. If he spends any more time here, I think we'll have to move his belongings," Weasley replied, then cringed reflexively when Amos' eyes grew distant for a moment before looking at him again.

"Ah yes, I saw him earlier," Amos said after a few seconds' pause. "Junior Assistant to the Minister...you must be proud."

"I am, thank you," Arthur replied politely. Percy's promotion had actually come as something of a surprise after the Crouch affair. Privately, he suspected Fudge had ulterior motives, and had hired Percy hoping to get insights on Dumbledore's plans. It was a well-established fact that Arthur was close to the Headmaster, after all. He'd never breathed a word to Percy of course, because it was possible he was being paranoid, but the doubt was still there all the same. Fortunately, the Minister's oh-so-transparent motives had been easily thwarted by not discussing Order business at the Burrow--something Arthur did anyway.

Amos nodded noncommittally, continuing to regard Arthur very seriously. The red-haired wizard was beginning to get nervous under his companion's intense scrutiny, when Diggory finally looked away and sighed. "I don't mean to tell you your business, Arthur, but surely you of all people know that the Potter boy is not the way the papers make him out to be."

That was probably the last thing Arthur was expecting Amos to say. He blinked in surprise, then croaked, "What?!"

"Madam Pomphrey and Professor Dumbledore allowed my wife and I to see him the morning after the Third Task," Diggory said, evidently misinterpreting the root of Arthur's dismay. "We were a sight, the lot of us. All three of us grieving and in shock. I couldn't even talk to him properly. He told us what happened, how he and Cedric had agreed to tie. Ced would have let him have it, you know. That was the kind of person he was."

Arthur mentally settled in, content to let Amos speak about his beloved son if he wanted to, but Diggory surprised him by returning to the topic at hand almost immediately. "I could tell when he spoke of it that he regretted his decision, but I can't fault him for wanting to share with my boy," Diggory said softly, speaking again of Harry. "He even tried to give us his winnings."

Amos closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself, then went on. "He didn't speak a lot about how he managed to get back, although from the looks of him he went through something terrible. He just told us how Cedric...how Cedric had been hit with the Killing Curse..."

"Amos, please, don't do this to yourself," Arthur pleaded when Diggory stuttered to a stop and swallowed with some difficulty. "Harry's my youngest son's best friend. I know he's nothing like the papers say. Truthfully, he doesn't like being the center of attention. I think he finds his fame quite bewildering at times, especially since he grew up in the Muggle world."

"Yes, the more I think on it, the more I'm inclined to agree with you. I let the entire matter go to my head. Expected a fourteen-year-old boy to be adept at handling the press," Diggory admitted, shaking his head ruefully. "I was just trying to look out for my boy's interests. Ced tried to tell me that Harry didn't sign up on his own, and he didn't like all the attention, but I thought he was just being Ced. He almost never spoke ill of anyone. No, all I could see was how the paper praised Harry Potter for being the Hogwarts champion, while Ced was overlooked or thrust into the background." Amos shrugged sadly and was silent for a moment, then he brightened abruptly. "Speaking of Ced, my petition to the Minister to have a memorial service has been approved. We're going to schedule it near the end of summer. Most everyone should be back from holiday, and getting ready to return to school."

Arthur returned his smile. "That's good to hear, Amos," he enthused, privately fuming that it had been necessary at all. In the mad scramble to keep the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament as quiet as possible, Cedric's funeral had been neatly swept under the carpet with the rest of the more "disturbing" details by the Ministry political machine. Cedric had been laid to rest with only a few close family members in attendance, like he was a traitor or criminal, or else had no one to mourn him. That had gone down hard for everyone who knew him well, especially his father. He blinked and turned his attention back to Amos when he realized he was speaking again.

"...think he'd like to attend? Harry, I mean."

"I think he'd like to, but I'm not sure if he'll be able to, circumstances being what they are," Arthur replied, neatly skirting the Boy Who Lived's current "gone missing" and "uncontactable" status.

"I'll forward the request to Professor Dumbledore, then. I'd like to speak to him again, I think, now that a little time has passed. Perhaps I can say more than 'hello' without dissolving into mush." Amos paused, then met Arthur's gaze as something occurred to him. "Funny thing was, I thought I was going to get an opportunity when I ran an errand the other day. There's a boy working in Flourish & Blotts who bears a striking resemblance to him. Black hair, slim build..."

Arthur's interest was piqued at once, but he tried to keep undue eagerness out of his voice. "Really?" he inquired, as one might when keeping up their end of a polite conversation.

Diggory nodded. "It wasn't him, though," he said much to Weasley's disappointment. "The dark eyes were my first hint. He was also taller, and a bit more filled out. His voice was a little deeper too, and he doesn't wear glasses."

Amos paused again with a chuckle. "One of the other clerks noticed me looking at him, and stopped me before I could approach him. Evidently they get that a lot from people who haven't been on the Alley in a while. From what I could tell, it's become something of an inside joke among the staff."

Arthur nodded, filing this information away. They spoke a little more about office matters, and the successful warding of the Diggorys' home, before Arthur turned to leave. "I'll be off then," he said, then paused in the doorway. "I'm supposed to escort my son, Ron, to the Leaky Cauldron a little later. We were thinking of getting a bite. Would you and the Mrs. care to join us?" he asked. The Diggorys hadn't been out much since Cedric's funeral. Obviously he wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Not today, I'm afraid. We're heading over to my parents' for Sunday lunch, and I promised I wouldn't be long," Diggory said, tapping the parchment he was holding into a neat stack. "Another time?"

"At your convenience. Give everyone my best," Arthur said cheerily, waving as he exited Diggory's office and continued down the hall.

As he walked, Arthur wondered a bit about Amos' concern regarding his perception of Harry. Perhaps Percy had said something without thinking. A pro-Potter stance would certainly be unpopular in his current office, and his middle son was pleased with his new position. He had always been extremely conscious of what was and wasn't "proper" as well. Much more so than any of the other children. It was possible he was unwilling to rock the boat or fight office politics--Heaven knew those courses of action had cost Arthur over the years. Sympathy towards Muggles was the equivalent of career suicide in some offices. Still, he had managed and he liked to think he'd made some small difference along the way.

Finally reaching his son's office, Arthur knocked, then opened the door and poked his head in. "Perce?"

"Dad!" Percy said, looking up in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Two things," Arthur responded. "I'd like to know if you'd like to join Ron and me at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, and I have a question from Professor Dumbledore."

"Lunch sounds nice, but I can't today. Loads to do," Percy said, indicating his littered desk with one hand while continuing to write with the other. "About the other," he said, pausing uncomfortably, "you probably should make an appointment to see the Minister."

"I was hoping you might be able to help me out, Percy," Arthur pressed.

Sighing a little irritably, his son put down his quill and laced his fingers. "All right, Dad. What do you need?" he asked, finally meeting his father's gaze.

Arthur cast around a second trying to decide where to begin. "There's been some trouble regarding Harry," he finally stated, but before he could elaborate, Percy spoke again.

"There's always trouble regarding Harry," Percy sighed in a rather put-upon way. "What's he done this time?"

Arthur frowned slightly, not liking Percy's tone. With any of his other boys, the statement would have obviously been made in a joking manner. Percy, on the other hand, sounded dead serious.

"He hasn't done anything," Arthur said a little defensively. He wondered for the first time if seeking Percy's assistance had been such a bright idea, then dismissed the thought. Percy had always been more formal and serious than his siblings.

"Based on some information that has come to his attention, Professor Dumbledore has reason to believe Harry's Archive folder is malfunctioning," he explained.

Percy obviously hadn't been expecting that. "Why does Dumbledore think that?" he asked blankly.

"The evidence suggests his guardians have been negligent," Arthur continued cautiously. "His folder was supposed to alarm if anything unusual happened, and it hasn't," he said, after briefly explaining how the thing had been charmed.

"Maybe his folder hasn't alerted because nothing's wrong," Percy suggested, shrugging unconcernedly.

"That's the assumption people have been working under for the past several years. Actually I think the folder has been silent so long everyone had practically forgotten it. Unfortunately, Harry has been in very real danger during his time at Hogwarts if nothing else, and the thing has never made a sound."

"So what does this have to do with me?" Percy wanted to know. "If you're so worried, just go to the Census Library and Archive on Monday and have someone pull it for you."

"Harry's folder is sealed. We need approval from the Wizengamot and the Minister's Office to access it."

Percy looked scandalized. "Are you suggesting I go behind my superior's back to allow Dumbledore access to a restricted folder? No! Absolutely not! The headmaster can make an appointment and go through proper channels just like everyone else!"

"Well, normally he would, Perce, but this is a bit of an emergency."

"No, Dad. An emergency would be you and I both getting sacked for doing something so stupidly irresponsible!" Percy said, his voice rising angrily. "I'm not risking my position because Dumbledore plays favorites with Harry Potter!"

"What?" Arthur said weakly, unable to believe his ears. "Percy," he started to protest, but his son cut him off.

"Oh, come on, Dad! When I was Prefect, and then Head Boy he got away with murder!" Percy paused a second, then said a little snidely, "Maybe the charms on his folder are intelligent enough to differentiate between 'legitimately threatened' and 'in danger because of lack of judgment'."

"Percy! I know for a fact Harry's uncle barricaded him in his room summer before second year!"

"Oh, don't tell me you've suddenly decided to believe Fred and George's rubbish. Harry illegally levitated a pudding and dumped it on the head of his uncle's dinner guest!" Percy snapped. "He was probably sent to his room and had to go to bed without supper or something. You and Mum would have done the same or worse to any of us!"

"And how do you know that?" Arthur blurted in dismay.

"I've had lunch with Minster Fudge a few times," his son responded, unconsciously sitting a little straighter in his seat. "He's told me a few things, and explained what's really been going on since the Third Task."

Oh, I can't wait for this, Arthur thought dully, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.

Percy didn't seem to notice his father's discomfort. He puffed himself up importantly, and plunged in, declaring that Harry had been something of a loose cannon since he was re-introduced to the wizarding world, and it was time someone put a stop to it.

"He got by with a warning over the pudding incident, and he wasn't disciplined at all when he inflated his aunt the following summer. Of course everyone was preoccupied with Sirius Black, so it was an understandable oversight, but now the Minister feels he may have made an error in judgment and unintentionally encouraged Harry's rash behavior by not pressing charges."

What??! Arthur thought again, feeling like the world was unraveling in his hands while his son prattled on about how Harry told tall tales, and Harry loved to be the center of attention, and how the Ministry had been forced to step in after the Third Task to avert a nationwide panic.

"Percy! Harry saw You-Know-Who resurrected, and Cedric Diggory was murdered in cold blood by one of his Death Eaters!" he finally interrupted.

"Yes, well, Minister Fudge took statements from some the 'Death Eaters' Harry supposedly identified," Percy said, holding up both hands and making "quotes" signals with his index and middle fingers when he said 'Death Eaters.' "All of them had perfectly viable alibis. In fact, at least three of them were parents of Slytherin students that Harry is known to feud with."

"You believe Malfoy over Dumbledore?" Arthur nearly shouted, knowing immediately who at least one of these "impeccable" sources had to be.

"Dad, Dad, Dad," Percy sighed pityingly. "I don't know if Dumbledore truly believes Harry, or he thinks stirring up a panic would be a good distraction to cover some botched spell, but there's no doubt the man is finally slipping. Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident and nothing more. Besides, if You Know Who had returned, don't you think someone would have noticed by now?"

Arthur ground his teeth in frustration as any hopes he might have had for sharing the whole truth with his son dissipated like wisps of smoke. Still, he had to get his hands on that folder. "What if Dumbledore's right, Perce? What if the folder is malfunctioning and Harry's relatives are not taking proper care of him?" he asked, trying another route.

"Harry always seems to have everything he needs," Percy retorted, reddening slightly. "Look, I don't blame you for falling for the act," he admitted when his father's mouth fell open in shock. "He's very sincere, very convincing, but the sad fact is, he's been playing all of us for fools! He resents his Muggle relatives, probably because they keep him in line, and he takes advantage of your kindness! Personally, I don't see how can you stand there in good conscience and let Ron continue to associate with him! Ron has been injured and in danger of expulsion more that once because of his friendship with Harry!"

"Your sister is also alive today because of him!" Arthur snapped, then immediately regretted it when hurt flashed across his son's face.

"Oh, so Fred and George and I were wrong for following instructions and going back to the Common Room?" he asked tightly.

Arthur winced. That hadn't come out exactly right. "No, Percy. You couldn't have accessed the Chamber of Secrets even if you'd attempted it. None of us could. The password had to be spoken in Parseltongue! I'm merely grateful that someone was able to help her! When Professor McGonagall contacted us, she was already presumed dead!"

Percy subsided a bit at this. Looking up at his father again, he sighed grudgingly. "All right, Dad. It's been ages since anyone's checked on Harry in person, so I'll put a request in for someone to pay his relatives a visit. If they find signs of neglect, I suppose he'll become a ward of the Ministry until he can be placed with another family or he turns seventeen."

"Don't be ridiculous, Percy! Your mother and I will take him in. The warding on the house is done!" Arthur backpedaled. He wanted the folder, not an inquiry. Fudge was the last person he'd trust with Harry's guardianship. He was already tight with Malfoy. If word got back to You Know Who that Harry was no longer safely behind the blood protection of his relatives, young Potter would be in an obscene amount of danger. Besides which, their carefully orchestrated plan of capturing the dark wizards when they attacked Privet Drive would be completely blown.

"Dad, what's going on?" Percy asked, annoyance glittering in his eyes.

"I..." Arthur faltered. "I'm really not at liberty to say," he finished lamely.

"Look, Dad, no offense, but Dumbledore is skating on very thin ice right now, and if you're not careful he'll pull you in with him. He makes vague accusations without a shred of proof and expects everyone to snap to attention! And if that wasn't bad enough, he's teaching Harry to do the same! I need some evidence. 'Because Dumbledore said so' just isn't good enough!"

"Why on Earth do you think You Know Who would reveal himself?" Arthur hissed, his temper finally beginning to fray. "He isn't having to work at all! Fudge is doing everything for him! The Ministry is generously giving him time to regroup, plan and prepare, AND slandering the two wizards he considers his greatest threats."

Percy was momentarily taken aback by his normally mild-mannered father's vehemence, then his face reddened, and his own "Weasley" temper came to the fore. "You Know Who is dead, Dad! I can't believe you're expending all this energy chasing around after a fairy tale!" He paused and narrowed his eyes resentfully. "This sort of thing was why you've never been able to get ahead!"

"You Know Who was never dead, just banished--and what the bloody hell are you on about?"

"You've allowed things to drag down your career. You've always said what you thought, and done as you wished instead of trying to advance and better yourself. You've concerned yourself with Dumbledore and Muggles, and Harry bloody Potter instead of your own family!" Percy shouted, rising from his chair and slamming his fist down on his desk.

Arthur gaped, dumbfounded as his son's annoyance quickly became a towering fury. It was as if a dam had burst inside Percy, for once he got started he couldn't seem to stop. He raged at how hard he'd had to work to overcome Arthur's "eccentricities" since joining the Ministry, and how he was never the favored child no matter how hard he tried, and how his parents and the rest of the whole bloody family bent over backwards for the Boy Who Lived. He railed at always having to make do with shoddy second-hand school materials and accused Arthur and Molly of gross irresponsibility for having such a large family. When he finally vowed that he would play the game and attend required dinner parties, and do what he had to do to succeed so that any children he might have would always be well provided for, and have the best materials available, the long fuse of Arthur's temper finally burned to the end.

Beyond furious, Arthur eyed his son coldly, and before he could stop himself, he spoke the words he'd kept to himself until now, to wit: "You got this cushy job because Fudge a wanted connection to Dumbledore."

Percy stilled, anger and hurt and utter betrayal written all over his face. "No," he finally denied. "No! I've worked hard! I've done a good job! The minister picked me specifically! He said he thought I had potential!"

"No on goes directly from an entry-level job to the Minister's office--especially on the heels of a fiasco like the Crouch affair!" Arthur retorted. "But since I'm obviously wasting my breath and your precious time, I'll state my business and go." Arthur paused for a moment, gathering himself, then continued in a clipped tone, counting points off on his fingers. "First, there's no need to send a representative to the Dursleys. We know they have been mistreating Harry and evidence is being gathered as we speak. Second, Harry's folder needs to be looked after, so would you be good enough to schedule an appointment with the Minister for me or Professor Dumbledore? You may not care, but I will not tolerate Harry or any child being mistreated."

"Oh, so that's why you always let my brothers call me 'pompous' and 'arrogant' and 'conceited'?" Percy said resentfully, leafing through an appointment book. Finding an empty slot, he scribbled Dumbledore's name in, then filled out an appointment card and slid it across the desk to his father. "Now if there's nothing further..."

"No, Percy. Nothing at all," Arthur replied, quietly turning to leave.

---