Reading Time: 95 Minutes

Title: Fate’s River
Author: MeyariMcFarland
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Contemporary, Drama, Family, Fantasy, Kid!fic, Suspense, Urban Fantasy
Relationship(s): Gen
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence-Domestic, Violence-Against Children/Child Abuse. Politics. (domestic violence and child abuse are canon typical)
Author Note: I like to give each of my Harry Potter stories a little twist. This one came from watching the new Dune movies and asking myself “what if there was more going on with Harry’s near escapes? What if he had not only different gifts than everyone thought but also an ally?” The story grew from there. Also, I should note that I mean it on the aro-ace Harry in this story. He’s got no interest in such things at all.
Word Count: 96811
Summary: Shoved back into Privet Drive without a) medical care, b) any books to help him learn to protect himself or anyone else, and c) any chance to say what he thinks about all of this, Harry has a small realization. A little one. Just a tiny thing, really. No one trusts him. Which, you know, fine. Aunt Petunia always said that politics is the most important skill anyone could learn. All right, then. That’s just what Harry’s going to do.
Artist: Penumbria
Artist Appreciation: Thank you so much for the awesome art–I adore the portraits and you really caught what I was going for

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12. Bound by Vows Exceedingly Tight: Number Nine Kitchen

The rooftop path to Number Nine sparkled this time. Clean tiles, perfect new boards on the path, some amazing plants in pots that Harry absolutely wanted to look at when he had a free minute or two. He passed a spikey plant that he could’ve sworn was a pineapple, except that it had a massive stalk with dozens and dozens of bright blue buds coming off it.

Harry ran right across the rooftops, not bothering with being quiet since he knew that everyone who was in the Muggle houses were being “invited” to move to other places. The magical houses were already empty, anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal.

Dudley wasn’t in the library. He was in the shiny white kitchen with a huge sandwich with three different meats, lettuce, tomato and what looked like half the bottle of mustard. Someone, possibly Lacey, had charmed the tiles in the counter backdrop to warm blues and greens, so at least the room didn’t look like a hospital kitchen anymore.

Could do with some red and yellow and orange, but that could happen later. Maybe tea towels or different plates than the spanking white ones.

“Oh, hey, didn’t expect you back until tonight,” Dudley said as he held up his sandwich. “Want one?”

“Nah, Bill should be here any second and I was just going to dash in for a quick gut check anyway,” Harry said as he flopped into the chair opposite Dudley.

“On what?” Dudley asked around a big bite of his sandwich just as Lacey walked in with Bill on her heels.

“Hey Bill,” Harry said, waving at him and grinning at the way Bill started and stared. He turned back to Dudley. “Molly seems to want to marry me off to Ginny in the Old Style, which apparently means she’d be chattel in the marriage. Doesn’t pass the squint test, so I wanted to know if there’s something more there.”

“She what?” Bill snapped. “That–! I’ve told Mother to stop trying to sell Ginny off a dozen times!”

“I don’t think she listens to you,” Harry said with only the vaguest sort of apology in his understanding grimace. “She’s got all these ideas of how things should be, and she just gets mad when people don’t do what she wants.”

Bill rubbed his forehead like he’d just gotten a massive headache. “Fine. I’ll… see what I can do about it. There’s got to be some way to derail her.”

Dudley hummed thoughtfully as he devoured his sandwich like he’d skipped the last twenty or so meals. “Well, she’s definitely got something up her sleeve on the marriage side of things. I’m getting the hunch of contracts or something like it. And yeah, it’s easy enough to distract her. Just dangle the improperly executed wills in front of her.”

Lacey hummed thoughtfully as she put together a second sandwich which she slid in front of Harry with a stern enough look that Harry just sighed and set to work eating it. A third one appeared for Bill who stared down at it before frowning at Lacey.

“You’re all working too hard and not eating enough,” Lacey announced. “What else did you need to know, Harry?”

“Exceptions and newer provisions on the will law,” Harry said around a bite of the really amazing sandwich. “Ways to keep an expert Leligmens from tearing through my mind. Whether or not Dumbledore has Ron and Hermione working for him.”

“Yes,” Dudley said so immediately that Harry grimaced. “Sorry, but yeah. Absolutely yeah. They’re not getting anything really worth it for it, but they’re doing it.”

“Ugh,” Harry groaned. “Great. Also, ways to keep Molly from shoving Ginny at me, Ron at Hermione, and the twins from blowing Number Twelve up while I’m in it. Oh, and a place for Buckbeak to go that won’t put him in danger from the Ministry.”

Bill waggled a weak, shaking finger at Harry. “I… can probably deal with Buckbeak for you. My brother Charlie has a lot of contacts in beast care circles.”

“Cool,” Harry said, beaming. “Buckbeak deserves better than what he’s getting.”

Lacey sat at the table, humming and tapping her nails on the pristine white tabletop much the same way Silverclaw did when he was thinking. Oddly, it made Bill still and get thoughtful, too. Maybe it was a thing that people got used to after working with Goblins? Tapping claws meant thinky time?

Who knew? It didn’t really matter, as much as Harry wanted to ask about it. Later. Once the other problems had been resolved.

“Keeping you and Hermione from being trapped in an unwanted marriage is actually rather simple,” Lacey said. “You’re Sirius’ heir. Ask him for the Heir’s ring. It should protect you from potions, compulsion spells and most hexes. As I understand it, it can also be charmed to portkey you away from deadly threats like someone using an unforgivable on you or mind rape like a forcible Leligmency attack.”

“I am so doing that,” Harry breathed, well aware that he looked like an overawed idiot. Dudley’s snickers made that obvious.

Lacey chuckled. “If Sirius takes Hermione as a protected member of the Black family, that will protect her, too. He gets to explain the benefits. Not me.”

“Totally fair,” Harry said as he bounced in his seat. “Bill, I’d really appreciate you thinking about potential matches for Hermione. Ron and her are fire and oil. She’s like a sister to me so that’s a no. And seriously, she deserves someone who respects her mind and likes her, not someone who’d try to change her.”

Dudley nodded about that as he wiped his mustard-covered fingers clean. “Feels important. You should try and sort that out quick-like. And you should get back over there quick-like, too.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, shoving the last too-big bite of his sandwich into his mouth.

He ignored the stern glare from Lacey for his lack of manners, and the amused chuckle from Bill who just shook his head. Given that he was the Twins’ brother and Ron’s brother, he had to have seen way worse way often.

“There are some amulets that would protect you completely from leligmency,” Bill offered. “The goblins can create them and charm them for you.”

“Perfect,” Dudley said, pointing at Lacey. “Get Anthony to create a set for me and Harry. And for you, Anthony, Bill, Sirius and Remus. Hell, get a dozen extras. There’s definitely gonna be a need for them, even if I don’t know who’ll need them yet.”

Harry nodded as his gut shouted that yes! Yes! That was Important To Do Right Away!

“I’ll contact Silverclaw immediately,” Lacey promised. “Quick update?”

“Please,” Harry asked as he wiped his face and hands clean.

Turned out, Number Twelve was the only building on the row that Harry and Dudley didn’t own, now. They’d gotten all the other houses. Most of the Muggle houses had been easy to empty out. There was something about living next to a fully hidden Magical house, especially one that shared adjoining walls, that unsettled Muggles.

Made sense of so much nonsense back on Privet Drive. Seriously. Just so much stuff made more sense. Though Harry was deeply curious why there weren’t more enclaves for Magical people so that there was less potential interaction between Magical wards and Muggle minds. Lacey had just sighed like it was a question she deeply did not want to debate for the millionth time, sort of like Aunt Petunia when “which is the best Rugby team?” came up in Uncle Vernon’s hearing.

Anyway.

Lacey had worked with the Goblins to offer the Muggle residents new flats in better neighborhoods that wouldn’t make them feel creeped out all the time.

The Muggle family in Number Eleven had resisted, but Anthony had gotten the husband a new job in Scotland, then Lacey had arranged for them to have professional movers come in at no charge to them. A bit of quick work from Silverclaw had offers for all three of their kids at much better schools and by tomorrow late, they would all be moved out.

The Wizengamot was still in a total kerfuffle with every single person there losing their minds over the potential for fines, jail terms and, potentially, executions. Dumbledore was so busy with all of that nonsense that he’d not made it back to Hogwarts since the news broke.

“How…?” Bill started to ask only to wince and rub his chest.

“Lots and lots of money,” Harry answered his unspoken question with a huge grin.

“Also with the leverage of the Evans Seer behind everything we’re doing,” Dudley agreed, also grinning though his grin was more like the one that he’d used to use just before Harry Hunting began.

Bill shivered and didn’t ask anything else as Lacey continued her brief on all the stuff going on behind the scenes. She was the one tracking which Wizengamot members were acting like panicky idiots, and which showed every sign of getting ready to burn the whole thing down to fix what had gone wrong.

Interestingly, Dumbledore was the one member of the Wizengamot who seemed determined to ensure that the issue of the wills was never, ever addressed in open court. Or on the Wizengamot floor. Or anywhere at all. His obstruction was rising to levels that made even Bill frown furiously, despite him ostensibly being on Dumbledore’s side.

“I want to say that I don’t understand why he’s behaving this way,” Bill said slowly once Lacey was done with her brief, “but I see it.”

“Really?” Harry asked. He stared intently enough at Bill that Bill blushed a little bit.

“Explain that,” Dudley said with his version of the intent stare.

Bill’s cheeks went pale under the force of Dudley’s stare which just proved that he understood that Dudley was way more immediately dangerous than Harry could ever dream of. Sure, Harry had the reputation, but Dudley was a full-on Seer and had Fists of Doom.

Which Bill had already been acquainted with.

“It’s… very likely…” Bill said slowly enough to make it clear that he meant “dead-certain”, “that Dumbledore had something to do with at least Harry’s parent’s will not being executed properly. He was the actual executor. Legally, he’s responsible for your being with the Dursleys. He’s responsible for Sirius not getting a trial the way he should have. He’s also directly involved in my family, both in directing Mum and Dad, and in getting various of my relatives killed during the previous war.”

“Huh.” Harry stared at Bill for a long moment before turning to Dudley. “He needs to be freed of the vow just enough that he can go and demand a, ah, whatchacallit? Fiduciary something or other.”

“Fiduciary Responsibilities Audit,” Dudley said before Lacey could open her mouth.

“…You know about that?” Lacey asked, blinking at Dudley. Bill stared at him in flustered surprise, too.

“Oh, sure,” Dudley agreed. “Dad was director over the Accounting Department at Grunnings. He told me lots about audits. And sure, that’s definitely something you need to do. We already know that That Man stole money from Harry.”

Bill sat there, still as stone, as he stared at Dudley for a long, long, long time. Uncomfortably long. Ridiculously long. Long enough for Harry to start twitching about getting back over to Number Twelve.

“…He stole from the Potter estate,” Bill said.

Not asked. Just said.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Okay, thanks for the update, Lacey. Bill, you’ll want to get on that pronto. Dudley, what books do I need to bring back for Hermione, the twins, Ron and Ginny to read?”

“Do catalogus and specifically ask for “Knowledge that has been hidden from us with ill intent”,” Dudley replied. “And then hoof it. You’ve been gone too long.”

“Gah, I know,” Harry groaned. “I’m so looking forward to having Number Eleven and Thirteen open. It’ll be so much faster. Just no white, right?”

Lacey laughed. “No, we’ve already got the decoration planned. This is the only one that will be white.”

“Good,” Harry said.

Catalogus brought back fifteen very thin little volumes that looked like they were additions, amendments and exceptions to laws on the book which was just about perfect for what they needed. That they were all things that had been hidden for “ill intent” reasons was a bit worrying, but hey, they were light enough for Harry to pound up the stairs and then run back across the rooftops without ending up painfully winded.

Then it was back down the stairs to the empty, gleaming Black library with both his school books and these new books to distract Hermione and maybe worm out of her just what those rune pairs were intended for.

 

13. Sitting in a Quiet Room: Black Library

“You took a while,” Ron said when Harry dashed into the library with his little stack of books.

“Where are you getting these?” Hermione asked, frowning at Harry’s little stack of books.

Harry grinned at them both while obnoxiously checking to make sure that Molly was not listening in, anywhere close by, or potentially spying on them. The twins promptly grinned over his mugging. Ginny snickered, sprawled out in one of the chairs with a Witch’s Weekly.

“You know the books had to go somewhere,” Harry said. “Putting them where Mrs. Weasley can’t see them or be… upset by them, took a little bit of work. And, you know, getting to and from takes a bit.”

All absolutely one hundred percent true, which was a good feeling what with all the secrets he was keeping.

Hermione snorted as she gestured for Harry’s new books. “What’d you find?”

“Well, I did catalogus,” Harry said only to roll his eyes at the way Ron groaned. “Hey, it’s an amazing spell. I don’t need to know what I don’t know. I just need to say “give me books which are this” and it gives me books which are this. It’s cool. So much easier than the Muggle way.”

“Whatever,” Ron grumbled as he scowled at one of the law books.

He wasn’t reading it. Very clearly. There wasn’t anywhere near enough frowns, puzzled hums or outright swearing at how hard to understand the thing was. Harry had already flipped through that one and it made obtuse seem like a compliment.

“What did you ask for?” Hermione asked as she logged in each of the books he’d found.

“I asked for books with knowledge that had been hidden from us with ill intent,” Harry said, emphasizing the last bit to seem a bit more portentous and snooty, which would hopefully distract Hermione a little bit.

She stared at him, one book dangling from her hand and expression so flat that Harry almost ducked behind Ron to keep from getting a book to the face. Ron started snickering, though, so that was progress.

“You did not,” Hermione said.

“Actually, yeah,” Harry said, shrugging. “I mean, I know there’s stuff that’s being deliberately kept from me. It’s not just, you know, Minister Fudge doing it. There’re people out there who very seriously do not want me to know what’s going on. Some, like Mrs. Weasley, think that they’re doing the right thing and protecting me. There’s nothing mean about it. But Malfoy? I’d betcha that he’s got things he’s hiding from me for “ill intent” reasons.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Hermione said slowly as she studied the books with more interest. “And all of these are amendments and clarifications of laws. So, it’s Wizengamot things.”

“Mhm,” Harry agreed. “Seems like a good idea to see what people are trying to hide from me.”

Hermione hummed as she set to work skimming over the books to see what they held and how they related to the books that Harry had already shared with her. None of which looked like he was going to get them back very soon, but hey, he’d expected that. It was what Hermione did, after all.

Ron, on the other hand, scowled as if the sheer existence of all these books was an affront to him, his family and all his ancestors going back a hundred generations or more.

“What?” Harry asked quietly enough that the twins did not leap into their conversation and tease Ron unmercifully.

“What?” Ron replied with a belligerent glare. “Not going to help your girlfriend?”

“Oh, that again,” Harry groaned as he rolled his eyes. “Mate, Hermione’s like a sister, not a girlfriend. Seriously, neither of us see her that way.”

Ron blushed under Harry’s scorn and Hermione’s very stern look over the top of her book. “I could like her. You know, like-like.”

“Ron, you treat Hermione the same way you treat Ginny,” Harry said. “That’s not romance. That’s a friend or a sister. Come on. You’d never act that way with Romilda.”

Ron opened his mouth to protest, apparently on principle, only to freeze when Hermione pointedly put her book down and stared at the two of them with the Professor McGonagall raised eyebrow of doom.

“Do I get a say in this?” Hermione asked archly enough that there was exactly one correct answer, and Ron was not going to say it.

“Of course,” Harry agreed before Ron could huff his way into another screaming match with Hermione. “You get the final say. But seriously, you’re like the sister I never had, not like someone I want to date.”

“Mm, well, we’re all aware of Malfoy,” Hermione replied, picking her book back up as Harry spluttered in outrage and Ron squawked in matching outrage. “I mean, we’ve all seen the two of you together.”

“Absolutely not!” Harry yelped. “Not in a million years! His dad wants to kill me!”

“Harry’s not a poof!” Ron yelped at the same time.

“Hey!” Ginny snapped, pointing her wand at Ron. “You watch your language or I’m telling Bill and Charlie what you said.”

“But, but…!” Ron groaned and slumped in his chair. “But he’s not. He’s never been interested in a guy before.”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve pretty much never been interested in anyone, honestly. Too busy surviving each year. That’s not saying that Fleur wasn’t beautiful, and Cedric wasn’t handsome and stuff. Just, you know, not worth daring the Prophet commenting on my crushes. Anyone I show any interest in is gonna get crucified, you know.”

Since Fleur wasn’t around and Cedric was gone, they seemed good choices as people to pick out as crushes. True ones, though Harry hadn’t ever been as enraptured with Fleur as Ron. But Ron liked her, he’d actually asked her out, so it worked.

Hopefully.

“You know, I kind of forget about that until they blow up in your face again,” Ron admitted with a frown.

“Ugh, I wish I could,” Harry complained. “Last year I spent every single minute worrying just what Rita Skeeter was going to report next.”

Hermione smirked as she wiggled proudly in her chair. She went back to studying the new books and how they related to the original books, which let Harry kind of ease back a little from the table. Ron blinked and then slowly did the same. Not, like, all the way back but just a little bit like they were trying to give Hermione more of the table to work with.

She promptly shooed them away from the table entirely and took over its entire expanse. Harry shook his head as he flopped in one of the squashy brown leather chairs at the other end of the library from Ginny and the twins.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ron followed Harry instead of going to join his siblings.

“Seriously, where were all of those books?” Ron asked quietly. “I don’t remember seeing them in the library before.”

“Hidden,” Harry said. He shrugged at Ron’s look. “From what Remus said, Dumbledore’s been hiding those books from students for like three generations. At least two. Sirius said that his older cousins remembered them in the Hogwarts’ library and then they disappeared around the time Sirius started. I’m pretty sure that when Dumbledore started visiting here, Kreacher started hiding all the things that Dumbledore might try to throw away or lock away so that no one could see it.”

Ron blinked and then licked his lips while he struggled not to snicker. “None of the stuff Mum tried to throw away actually got thrown away, did it?”

“Mm, pretty sure not,” Harry agreed while waggling his eyebrows and grinning. “I mean, the troll foot might be gone. Might. And the elf heads are apparently properly interred with their bodies now. But other than that, nah. Kreacher’s determined not to let any of the Black Family’s glorious history get thrown out.”

Harry waggled his fingers at “glorious history”, expecting Ron to snicker or laugh or at least smirk and make a rude comment about rich pureblood families. He’d done it a million times when it was Malfoy’s so-called glorious ancestors.

Didn’t happen. Instead, Ron scowled and glared at his clenched hands.

“Our grandmother was a Black,” Ron said so low that Harry barely heard him. “We should’ve been part of all of this. Mum kept it from us, talks like the Blacks are nothing but evil. Like her own mum was evil. I don’t get it.”

“From what little I’ve seen of that newspaper article,” Harry said, “the Weasleys should’ve been just as rich and powerful. Maybe more so given how many of you there are. Really want to know who’s behind all of that.”

Ron scowled as he stared at his tightly clenched hands. Yeah, the jealousy was still there. Harry’s gut squirmed about it, utterly uncomfortable with it since Harry already knew that Ron would turn on him at the drop of a hat.

He’d done it before.

Which meant that Harry needed to first find a way to redirect Ron’s jealousy and then second find a way to get Ron more properly on Harry’s side instead of following Dumbledore’s nonsense. His vague ideas of pointing Ron at the whole Dumbledore plundering Harry’s vaults thing might, possibly, work though the existence of vaults, plural, was an issue.

Okay. Malfoy. Always a good place to start.

“Well, I reckon that we know who’s been pilfering all the Weasley money for the last couple of generations,” Harry said with a shrug when Ron frowned at him. “Come on, mate. The Weasleys and the Malfoys have had a blood feud going for generations. Who else would do it?”

Ron spluttered but his eyes went wide as if he hadn’t even considered that. Sometimes, often, Harry wondered about Ron’s so-called strategic genius when he didn’t seem to follow the simplest of thoughts through.

But then he was raised as a Magical and logic was Not A Thing among Magi, so Harry was probably being unfair.

“I mean,” Harry said with a slowly spreading grin that probably looked utterly demented, “I thought that the Malfoys must be involved in smuggling to keep their lifestyle up. You know, contraband pygmy puffs and the like.”

“Pygmy puffs?” Ron squeaked loudly enough to attract everyone else’s attention. “Contraband pygmy puffs?”

Hermione slowly raised her head to level Harry with the flattest, least amused stare the world had ever seen.

“Yeah,” Harry said, grinning. “I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? The Malfoy family, desperate criminals all, smuggling in forbidden colors of pygmy puffs to support their extravagant lifestyle. Waiting at the borders for harden criminals bearing illicit shipments of forcibly dyed pygmy puffs for the open market.”

Ron burst out laughing finally. “Mate, you’re nuts! There’s no way!”

“Well, of course not, but you’re not considering the fine art of swearing up and down that of course we believe it and there was evidence to prove it was true until your Mum threw it all out in a fit of cleaning,” Harry said as the twins started hooting and Ginny cackled. “Sadly shaking our heads at Malfoy whenever he comes by to “When My Father Hears About This”.”

“And, and, and then…” Fred squeaked through his rising laughter.

“But Malfoy!” George continued, one hand against his chest, “think of the pygmy puffs!”

“Merlin’s pants,” Ginny howled as laughter tears dripped down her cheeks. “I’m doing it! I’m doing it! Pygmy puff smuggler Malfoy!”

Hermione shook her head as she continued working with the books. “I know nothing. Nothing at all. You’re all insane. Besides, if Mr. Malfoy was involved in smuggling, it would be illegal Muggle hair products, not pygmy puffs.”

For a moment, they all stared at Hermione in dead silence. Then they all started cackling their fool heads off. The giggle-fits lasted through to dinner, then beyond. Every so often one of them would say “conditioner” or “mousse” and they’d all be off on giggle-fits that drove Molly crazy again.

Unsurprisingly, they exhausted themselves well before normal and trooped up to bed the instant that Molly suggested it. From the way Molly shook her head as they trailed out of the sitting room downstairs, she was just glad that they weren’t going to be snickering incoherently anymore.

Lagging behind the others, Ron stopped Harry just before he headed up to the family level to get some sleep.

“You…” Ron paused to look around and make sure that none of his family were around to overhear. “You really think Malfoy might’ve been behind the will thing?”

Harry shrugged. “Probably not all of it. He might’ve taken advantage where he could, but someone worked really hard to keep your family and mine and whole bunch of others from getting what they were due, Ron. Someone’s been stealing fortunes. For, like, decades. It’s a really big deal. Probably way bigger than any of the grown-ups want us to realize.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron whispered as he rubbed his hands through his hair, leaving it a horrible mess. “I don’t know what to do about this.”

“Get your Dad and Bill on side so you get the real story,” Harry suggested in a low murmur. “Your Mum won’t want you to know. She thinks we’re toddlers, Ron. The more you know, the more you can help. The more you can plan. That’s what you’re good at. You’re like, the very best at strategy and this is a war. We’ve got armies forming up all around us and we need to get ahead of them. I’m no good at that. I just charge in and trust my gut. Hermione will give us the laws we need to know and use. I’ll have the name,” Harry rolled his eyes which made Ron smile weakly, “but knowing how to use that? That’s all you, mate. I’m counting on both of you to keep me from making a fool of myself, you know?”

Ron laughed and then sighed. “Yeah. All right. It’s a big chess game, innit? I’ll think on it. Let you and Hermione know what I see tomorrow.”

“Good plan,” Harry said, smiling at Ron. “Night, Ron.”

“Night, Harry,” Ron said.

“Enjoy the single room,” Harry said with a little waggle of his eyebrows.

They exchanged grins for that. Real ones, even. Ron walked off to his bedroom with a bit of a bounce in his step and his shoulders loose instead of high and tight around his ears. Better. Harry couldn’t trust that he’d be a real ally yet, but if he could just get Ron thinking instead of buying whatever nonsense Molly tried to feed them, maybe he could keep his best mate after all.

Not likely. Harry’s gut didn’t think anything would fix the problems with Ron and Hermione, but he had to try. He certainly couldn’t afford any more enemies.

 

14. On the Run From Place to Place: Number Eleven

The next morning dawned, literally at five in the blessed a.m. with Kreacher insistently shaking Harry awake despite his grumbles, swats and whining. He’d fallen face-first into bed the instant he came back to his room, so he was stiff and uncomfortable, with hot feet pinched in his shoes and zipper marks up his stomach from his hoodie which’d rucked up in a knot under his right ribcage.

“Young Master Potter is waking up!” Kreacher insisted as he pushed Harry fight off his bed and onto the floor with a thump.

“Bloody hell, Kreacher,” Harry complained as he rubbed his eyes and then his butt. “What’s the rush?”

“Judoka is saying you is needed right now,” Kreacher said sternly enough that Harry stared at him. “There is being news and you is needing better clothes than that. Sleeping in yous shoes. Kreacher is not knowing what the world is coming to.”

Kreacher snapped his fingers and Harry found himself in nothing but his pants. A second snap had a very nice outfit with charcoal trousers, a rich burgundy shirt that took cufflinks instead of buttons at the cuffs, and a light summer robe in a lush gold linen to wear over it. Plus, the normal underpinnings, of course.

Harry stared, then listened to his gut.

Before scrambling to his feet to run into his bathroom for a quick clean-up and tooth-brushing. As Harry frantically brushed his teeth, Kreacher bounced around him to attack his hair with a potion and a brush that didn’t seem to do much for the rat’s nest that was his hair. But by the time he’d fumbled his borrowed cufflinks, nice garnet ones set in old gold, Kreacher had somehow gotten Harry’s mop to settle into a vaguely groomed effect that made his riot of curls look…

…almost artistic.

Almost.

By the time Harry dashed up the stairs, across the rooftops and back down into Number Nine, all that hard work was gone, of course, but it was kind of nice to know that it could be done with sufficient effort and a determined enough elf.

Maybe Harry would have Kreacher do his hair in the seconds before any future formal pictures. Maybe. Merlin knew, he rarely got warned before people started shoving cameras in his face.

“You made it,” Dudley said as he marched in from the library straightening up his old-gold linen cravat and tugging down his burgundy waistcoat which Dudley had instead of a robe. His shirt was a nice cream, also with cufflinks.

“Oh, nice,” Harry said, pointing towards Dudley’s gleaming moonstone cufflinks.

“Yeah, pretty spiffy,” Dudley agreed with a grin. “We got news. All the houses but Number Twelve are ours. Lacey says that we should have them connected by the afternoon. Getting a door into Number Twelve is gonna be a hard road, though. The wards are apparently a problem.”

“Eh, they’re really old so I’m not surprised,” Harry said with a winded puff. “Still better than running up the entire rooftop. Up stairs, across one divide and back down is much faster.”

“Agreed.” Dudley led the way down to the main floor and pointed to a brand-new door that had to connect to Number Ten. “We’ve got the doors all the way to Eleven now. And Lacey’s in there setting up for the interview.”

Harry blinked. Then followed Dudley through the door to Number Ten which was as quietly Magical-posh as it could be, though the wallpaper was faded, and the floorboards were grubby. Windows, too. Those needed such a scrubbing. Aunt Petunia would‘ve been pitching a fit at Harry to get to scrubbing if she’d been here. Still not too bad. Just a little dated, which was par for the course for Magical houses as far as Harry had ever seen.

It did have that Not Lived In faint mustiness that came from a house that’d been closed up and not inhabited for too long.

Number Eleven was a thousand times better. Lacey must’ve taken Harry’s loathing for the Hospital White décor of Number Nine to heart. Everything in Number Eleven was warm. Brown floors, gold wallpaper, red rugs and curtains in that lovely deep burgundy that shaded towards blue. The wood on the bookshelves in their new library, which was easily the same size as Number Eleven’s library if not as full, was all dark browns and near-blacks.

“Oh, this is much better,” Harry said with a relieved sigh.

Dudley snickered at him. “Yeah, I think you’re dead right. Once we get the houses connected and spiffed up, I’m gonna have them go back through Number Nine and take it to pale blues and seafoam greens.”

“That’d be way better,” Harry said. “So, who’s this interview with? How’d they find you? Us? What’s going on?”

Lacey emerged from the depths of their new library with an appointment book that she glared at like she wanted to set it afire. “Someone, we think one of the humans on staff at Gringotts, leaked that there is a new Seer. Silverclaw is working on discovering who it was so that they can be properly fined, beaten and then fired from Gringotts’s employ. Unfortunately, it’s too late to hide the fact that there is a Seer.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Harry groaned. “Great. So, who’s coming to ask us stupid questions? Minister Fudge?”

Lacey snorted a laugh, almost smiling despite her black fury. Or maybe her Black fury was a better way to put it.

“Minister Fudge did try to insist that the Seer Judoka and his associate should be made to meet with him,” Lacey said, “but Judoka said that the price for a meeting with the ministry was set at ten full years of the Minster’s personal wages, delivered before the meeting, and that Rita Skeeter would be required to be present and record every single thing asked and said during the meeting.”

Harry squeaked into giggles, swatting Dudley’s shoulder when Dudley just smirked at him.

“Like I want to meet with the rotter who’s been calling you a nutter all summer,” Dudley said, thumbs hooked in his waistcoat pockets like Uncle Vernon at his most pompous. “He backed right out. Unfortunately, we’ve got a good twenty people what want to talk to me. Only one of them is anything to worry about far as I can tell.”

“…Who?” Harry asked much more warily given that both Dudley and Lacey had gone still and grim.

“Narcissa Malfoy,” Lacey said with her lips pursed and her eyes promising death.

“Oh,” Harry said, stomach lurching as his Seer’s gift scrabbled like it wanted to get its hands on her. “Oh wow. Yeah, no, we need to talk to her right away. Like, can we get her in today? Within the next hour or two?”

Both Lacey and Dudley stared at him as if that was the last thing they expected. Why, he had no idea. She’d put runes on Privet Drive. They had to ask about that. And there was something important going on with her that needed, really, really, really needed to be addressed. Today.

Or sooner.

“Okay,” Dudley said, turning to Lacey. “She’s not gonna see this house. I don’t want her in Number Nine, either. But I don’t want to go to Gringotts.”

“Here,” Harry agreed. “Make it Number Eleven. I know it’s not fully ready yet, but we can get the entry and one of the parlors fixed up fast enough. Oh! Kreacher. Kreacher can help!”

Kreacher popped in, peering up at Harry before sighing and nodding. “Kreacher can do it. What colors is we needing?”

“Blue, green, black and silver,” Harry said. “All deep, not light seafoam and pastel.”

“Mm,” Kreacher hummed, nodding his approval. “Kreacher will be done shortly. Master Harry and Seer Judoka is getting pendants to protect their minds. Kreacher is also sending Bad Master Sirius with Heir ring.”

He popped out, leaving Harry to frown at Lacey who shook her head as she pulled two small black jewelry boxes from her pocket. Inside was a simple silver chain with what looked like a straightforward Merlin pendant.

“Who’s that?” Dudley asked, staring at the profile of Merlin.

“Merlin,” Harry said. “Minus the stupid hat he wouldn’t actually have worn at that age. Authentic?”

“Not even vaguely,” Lacey said. She laughed when both Dudley and Harry stared at her. “I bought them in a New Age gift shop in Hackney. They’re real silver and they have a good-enough image. That was all that I cared about. I’ve imbued both pendants and their chains to be the best protection possible against leligmency. Then I added wards against poison, compulsions and most potions. Finally, the Goblins put emergency portkeys on them so that if you’re ever kidnapped, attacked or in danger of being hit with any of the Unforgivables, you’ll be portkeyed to safety.”

“Huh, nice,” Harry said as he put his on. “Wear openly or against the skin?”

“Skin,” Lacey said. “They’re common enough that no one will think about it if they chance to see them, but it’s better to keep them out of sight.”

Dudley ended up having Harry fasten his for him. The fiddly little latch was a good bit too small for his fingers. By the time they had that and Kreacher had fixed Number Eleven’s main floor up enough to look respectable, Sirius arrived with another little ring box.

“I should’ve given it to you already,” Sirius admitted a bit shame-faced. “Things have just gone totally pear-shaped in the Wizengamot, so I’ve been preoccupied.”

Harry snorted at him as he slipped the onyx ring around his right ring finger. It sized to fit, sending waves of protective wards over Harry’s skin. Something in his magic, and in his Seer’s gift, relaxed a bit.

“It’ll help?” Dudley asked dubiously.

“Definitely,” Sirius said wryly. “It’s been spelled by some of the most powerful and ferociously protective Blacks of the last thousand years. Between that and the pendant Lacey created, you’re probably good against anything other than—”

Harry smacked his hand over Sirius’ mouth before he could say “Dumbledore”. “Not with the name. He’s That Man. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he’s got a taboo on his name or trackers or something so that he knows if anyone bad-mouths him.”

Sirius frowned as if Harry’d gone utterly paranoid. At least, at first he did. Then as he slowly pulled Harry’s hand away from his mouth, Sirius’ frown went thunderous.

“I… think he might have, at least at… school,” Sirius said. “More than a few times, dozens of times, we’d start ribbing on the various teachers and get to That Man. He always showed up right afterwards. Every single time.”

“Yeah,” Harry drawled. “Already noticed that happening. I don’t think it’s just school, though. That Man’s ego is… formidable.”

“She’ll be here shortly,” Lacey announced from the doorway into Number Eleven. “Get back to Grimmauld, Sirius. You can’t be seen yet.”

Sirius nodded. He claimed a quick hug from Harry, then did the manly back pat version of a hug with Dudley which made Dudley stare at Sirius’ back as he dashed back up to the roof. Once Sirius was gone, it was time.

“So how are we handling this?” Dudley asked as he led the way into Number Eleven, which looked amazing, at least on the main floor.

“We need a contract to make sure that she can’t tell anyone anything,” Harry said, laughing when Dudley pulled it out of his pocket. “Good! Glad you planned ahead on that.”

“Got a standard format and Lacey and I already worked one up for our guest,” Dudley said. “We just thought we’d have more time before we had to meet with her.”

“Lacey brings her in,” Harry said. “You can be sitting in the back. I’ll be between her and you. We demand that she sign the contract and then swear the oath. Then… questions. Ours. Hers.”

“And answers,” Dudley hummed. He nodded once, eyes distant, then again as his eyes focused on Harry. “Yeah. Good plan. We’ll play it that way. But you need to come sit on the couch or the arm of it or something once she’s signed. More impact.”

Harry laughed. “You got it.”

He didn’t especially want to meet Narcissa Malfoy. From what Draco had said, she was classy and beautiful and a blood purist in the worst sort of ways. Sirius hadn’t had much to say about her other than that she was his cousin.

But she raised Draco freaking Malfoy so Harry wasn’t exactly inspired to think she was a good person or that her ever-so-important question was something that would do him and Dudley good.

Plus there were those runes. Definitely needed to get to the bottom of those runes, one way or the other.

 

15. In a Warm, Welcoming Parlor: Number Eleven

The big grandfather clock at the base of Number Eleven’s stairs chimed six o’clock as Narcissa Malfoy carefully stepped into the foyer. She stood several inches taller than Lacey, lean and graceful like a willow with long black hair that had gone white in a thick strip at her temples.

Harry could see the resemblance to Sirius more than to Draco. Yeah, Draco definitely had her cheekbones and her slim, straight nose, but the rest of Draco’s face was all Lucius Malfoy.

Though honestly, the nervous tug on her robe was all Draco setting himself up to be as posh as possible.

“Right this way,” Lacey said only to stop and sigh at Harry as he straightened up out of the shadows next to the grandfather clock. “You were going to wait in the parlor.”

“Mm, I was,” Harry said, staring right at Narcissa whose jaw jumped. “Had to see her before she put the manners on fully, though. Good to know that you’re the one who taught Draco that useless little “I’m all straightened up so no one can see me be nervous” thing. The “my Father Will Hear About This” obviously comes from his dad.”

Narcissa’s shoulders slumped slightly as she rubbed two pale, slim fingers between her eyebrows. “I can’t say that I’m surprised that he still does that.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. He waved for her to follow. “Right this way, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“This was a trick, then,” Mrs. Malfoy said, lips twisting with barely restrained anger.

“Oh, no,” Harry said as he looked over his shoulder and let his gut show just how much he wanted her to sit down and answer all the questions.

Narcissa froze, eyes slowly going wide as her pulse began to pound at her temples.

“Seer Judoka and his ally will see you, Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry said. He could hear the little thrill in his voice that had come when they forced Remus to see what Dumbledore had done to him. “You’re… first. Though there are conditions.”

The parlor was lovely, deep blues and greens on all the furniture and the curtains. Dudley sat on the couch nearest the huge fireplace that most emphatically was not linked to the floo system. He had both arms draped over the back of the sofa and one ankle crossed over his knee. In front of him was a low mahogany coffee table with elaborately carved lion feet and one armchair sitting all by itself directly opposite him just far enough away that the occupant would have to bend deeply to read or sign anything set on the coffee table.

Sitting like that, eyes so intent that they practically bored a hole through Narcissa’s forehead, he looked like a powerful man. A strong one. Someone you would never, ever want to cross, even though they were both still teenagers.

Harry sauntered over and perched on the arm of the sofa, one foot kicking as Narcissa slowly, tremblingly, took the single armchair across from the sofa.

Lacey stood to the left with a leather folder. She let the silence stretch until Narcissa’s eyes turned her way. Then she pulled out the contract and laid it very precisely in front of Narcissa who swallowed like her throat had gone to broken glass and sandpaper.

“You will read the contract,” Dudley said. “It is not negotiable. We require a vow before anything happens. If you will not vow, you will be obliviated and given the memory that you were turned away at the last second because, oh, the Seer Judoka took offense to your husband, I think.”

“You will answer questions that we put to you,” Harry continued. “Your money is worthless to us. Your power, insulting. Your family legacy, both birth and marital, irrelevant. The only thing that we,” Harry paused.

“The Seers Evans,” Dudley said as Narcissa’s knees visibly trembled despite being pressed together tightly.

Narcissa sucked a sharp gasp through her nostrils as she straightened up painfully on the chair.

“Want from you is information,” Harry said. He narrowed his eyes as she started to shake her head. “Your husband and son are trivial, Mrs. Malfoy. Our questions are for you, alone.”

“Read,” Lacey said. “Use your magic to sign. Then the vow.”

She read the one-page contract three times, fast, then infinitely slowly as she checked for any hidden clauses or trick provisions, and then again with a frown at how very simple it was. They would not provide Seeings on money, political power or romance. They would answer questions put to them, but interpretations of those answers were her problem, not theirs. She would not share what she learned or their identities with anyone on pain of loss of her magic and death.

The vow was at the bottom of the page, underneath the spot where she would sign.

“Very clear,” Narcissa said in a tone that suggested it was the most confoundingly obtuse thing she’d ever read in her entire life. “Very well. I agree.”

She signed with blood and magic. Then read the vow again before holding up her wand next to her cheek.

“I, Narcissa Anastacia Malfoy nee Black, do hereby swear on my life and my magic that I will not speak of the individual allied with Seer Judoka, that I will not write, sing, dance, use sign language, convey any information at all through body language, or use any known or unknown magical means to communicate information about Seer Judoka’s ally up to and including memory extraction. Furthermore, I, Narcissa Anastacia Malfoy nee Black, do hereby swear upon my life and my magic that I will not inform anyone of Seer Judoka that which was discussed, Seen, explained or otherwise revealed during this meeting until such a time as Seer Judoka informs me in person that it is acceptable. So do I swear, on my life and my magic.”

Her wand glowed with a silent Lumos.

“Thank you,” Harry said, leaning back against Dudley’s arm. “We have reason to be exceedingly careful right now. We appreciate your cooperation.”

“Especially since the last person who swore those oaths had to get punched in the face before they’d do it,” Dudley drawled.

Narcissa swallowed a startled laugh. “I thank you for not leading with a punch. I try to avoid fisticuffs at all costs.”

“Fair,” Harry said, snorting. “Draco pretty clearly doesn’t agree.”

Narcissa’s shoulders slumped as she sighed. “Very well. Ask your questions, please.”

“Nope,” Dudley said. “We’re starting with you. Questions won’t change, more than likely, though we might add one or two. What’s so important that you’ll subject yourself to us?”

Lacey didn’t quite roll her eyes. Not quite. It was obviously a close thing as she took the contract and tucked it away into her leather folder. In its place, she put down a clean scroll of parchment and a Records-All quill that began recording everything they said.

Narcissa’s pulse began pounding again.

“Seer Judoka works with the written word,” Harry said before Narcissa could work herself into a state. “I work with verbal and hunch. We’ll need that to do what you need.”

“Ah,” Narcissa said.

She licked her lip and nodded very slightly, eyes locked on the quill that actually described her facial expressions, the tremble of her fingers on her lap, and the way the light from the parlor window turned her navy-blue robes cobalt.

“I see,” Narcissa said. “Very well. My husband has lost his mind. He is, in fact, a drooling maniac who is no longer capable of anything without being extensively controlled and charmed into compliance. All of the Dark Lord’s most ardent followers are in similar states. I had hoped to discover what might fix it.”

Harry huffed and stared at her flatly. “You already know there isn’t a fix. Old Moldipants is dead for good. And don’t try to lie to us.”

“We already know your husband’s just fine,” Dudley agreed with a much more threatening glare. “Stop trying to tailor your approach to this one’s reputation and remember Lily Evans. Think that crap would’ve gone past her?”

Narcissa blanched. “No.”

“Then knock it the fuck off,” Dudley ordered. “Real question. Truth only. Contract says we can obliviate you if you don’t follow the fucking rules. Remember that.”

“Ah,” Narcissa said. “My apologies. I… flat truthfulness has been a lethal choice in my life.”

“Don’t care,” Dudley declared. “Truth or gone.”

It was interesting the way the faint tremble of Narcissa’s fingers and knees abruptly stopped entirely. Instead of a faint aura of repressed fear, she now looked tired. Angry. Deeply frustrated.

And utterly uncomfortable as she smoothed her hands over her thighs.

Good. Maybe this time she’d tell the truth.

“At one point,” Narcissa said bitterly, “I dearly loved my husband. Before we left Hogwarts, before the Dark Lord went utterly mad, he was… everything that I allowed myself to dream of. Not what I wanted, of course. With Bella mad as a hatter and Andromeda married off to her Muggle-Born, my path was set. That day is… long gone.”

She looked away, glaring sightlessly at the bookshelves full of books both Muggle and Magical.

Lacey stared at her so flatly that Narcissa shook her head and turned back to Harry and Dudley. It was really obvious that Lacey was not impressed by this explanation.

“Love or not,” Narcissa said, “I was not prepared to sacrifice that which I bought through marriage, repeated marital rape, and bowing down to a stinking, screaming madman. I still am not. Lucius knows that the Dark Lord is gone. He has not abandoned the Dark Lord’s plans. I… find myself much less inclined to stay with him after everything. But I cannot see a way to escape that does not involve sacrificing my only son. My sister Bella sterilized me once I bore Draco. She had been denied children by her husband, and she would not allow me more than my one child. I am here to ask you, Seer Judoka, if there is a path to saving both myself and Draco.”

“Murder?” Harry suggested to Dudley who started snickering. “I mean, immediate gut reaction is murder. Maybe wholesale murder.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Dudley agreed through his snickers. “Might not be necessary. Let’s see what we’ve got. Catalogus me up the best book for escaping a piece of shit husband with everything possible.”

Harry rolled his eyes but did just that.

As Narcissa stared at them with a confused little wrinkle between her eyebrows, the catalogus rifled though all the books in the parlor. Then it expanded out to all the other libraries they’d set up.

Harry kind of wasn’t surprised to see a copy of one of the big ancient law books come flying at them with one small amendments volume on its heels.

“Let’s see what the book says for us,” Dudley said as he tossed the law book on the coffee table with a ringing thud.

It flopped open immediately to a page about a quarter of the way in. The amendments book settled on the coffee table with a delicate little flutter of pages as it opened to the last three or four pages where the text was all magnifying glass tiny and hard to read.

”A wife is to be considered property of her husband,” Dudley read with a disgusted sneer. ”If she is ever divorced, she must… return to her father or brother’s home.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully, exchanging a look with Dudley who scooped up the amendments book.

”If a wife or heir can prove before the Wizengamot court,” Dudley said more slowly while peering at the teeny tiny print. “Wow, they did not want anyone to be able to read this. Ridiculous. Let’s see. ”Then should the heir be of a wand-bearing age and… trained in…”

Harry leaned over and peered where Dudley pointed. “Self-defense? I think? No, no, that’s select defense techniques. Of…”

”Of the Ancient and Noble houses,” Dudley continued with a slow nod, ”then the wife may rule regent over the heir until such a time as her natal house either supports her bid for freedom or the heir challenges her husband for her freedom and for rule of the house.” Bloody hell, just outright recommending murder. You were right.”

“Murder,” Harry agreed with a grin that made Dudley snort-laugh while both Lacey and Narcissa stare at them like the teenage boys they were. “Got another bit in there about using the Wizengamot to force the husband to release the wife, but basically, murder.”

Dudley nodded, turning both the books around so that Narcissa could read them and see what he’d seen. He waited until Narciss sat back with a huff to stare at them like this was exactly what she did not want to do.

Harry smiled. Dudley smiled. After a long, long moment, Narcissa’s eyes rose from the book as the air in the room began to thicken until they were all breathing electrically charged bath water. Narcissa tried to say something, but when she opened her mouth only a sort of gasping clicking noise came out as her teeth clacked together worthlessly.

“Of course,” Dudley said with all the weight of the Evans’ Seer legacy pressing down on her, “the bit you’re missing in all of this is that murder’s the second choice. First option: Get him to divorce you and go back to your birth family, the Blacks. Second option,” he leaned forward to tap the amendment book with one thick finger, “get a new amendment added to the law that says that in cases of divorce, the wife gets half and the kids, however many of them there are, get to choose which parent to follow.”

The air punched right out of Narcissa’s lungs as she flopped back in her armchair with the weight of Dudley’s Seeing bearing down on her. Tears welled up and then spilled out over the corners of her eyes as a wild, vicious, hopeful smile spread across her face.

 

16. Secrets Laid Bare and Bleeding: Number Eleven

And then things got difficult because Narcissa wiped her tears, took a deep breath, and made as if to stand up.

To leave.

Harry pointed a finger firmly at the floor. “We’re not done yet. You haven’t paid.”

All Narcissa’s joy burns to ashes in an instant, leaving only wary distrust. Not ideal, especially with the full weight of the Evan’s magic still pressing down on the room. Harry nodded to Lacey who pursed her lips before pulling out two slips of paper: the rune pairs that Harry had found on Privet Drive.

“You’ve been to Privet Drive,” Harry said as Narcissa frowned at the rune pairs as if she not only had never seen them before but also like they deeply, personally, offensive. “We have your magical signature putting runes on the place. These runes, in fact.”

“What?” Narcissa gasped, so utterly and completely horrified that both Harry and Dudley raised eyebrows at her. “I most certainly did not place these, these… these abominations!”

Harry hummed at her. “Really? What are they? We’ve had several readings and people have been mildly concerned to rather lip-curlingly disgusted by them. Your response is… quite a bit stronger than that.”

He lowered his chin to stare at Narcissa much the way that Professor McGonagall would stare over the top of her half-moon glasses when he and Ron got in trouble. It always worked on him and Ron. It tended to work on the twins, though only for a heartbeat or two at a time.

Narcissa Malfoy spluttered something as incoherent as any of Draco’s “My Father Will Hear Of This” rants before snapping her mouth shut and breathing violently through her nostrils while tapping her nails sharply against her knees.

“The rune pairs separately are not much of an issue,” Narcissa finally allowed. “One encourages, strongly, obedience and lack of creativity. The other encourages people to observe the individual that they’re targeted against. It’s the combination of them that’s appalling.”

“Why?” Dudley asked as the Evans magic surged in the parlor, filling it with ripples that looked like smoke hazes and distorted the world like looking through several yards of water.

Narcissa barely seemed to notice as she glared at the rune pairs. “Because they’re slavery runes, Seer Judoka. These runes, combined as you’ve drawn them, especially when used with multiple rounds applied over a period of time, will radically alter the targeted people to the point that they’re virtually enslaved to whatever the caster intends.”

Harry leaned back before turning to Dudley who hadn’t moved much despite the way he seemed to be leaning back into the sofa so hard that Harry was surprised it hadn’t toppled over backwards. As Harry’s mind ran in horrified little circles, squeaking about how Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been so malleable to their magic and how the various neighbors always watched Harry just as fiercely as Uncle Vernon ever had, Dudley licked his lips.

“What did you put?” Dudley asked.

Narcissa frowned at him. “I’d have thought you’d ask why first. Interesting. The runes I placed were on the front steps near the foundation and on the front fence. Two pairs. One was monitoring, as I urgently wanted to know what happened to… your ally. The other was to notify me if anyone in my husband’s old organization ever went there. I had vague ideas of notifying the Aurors before they could kill everyone in the area.”

Unlikely. Harry was willing to let it go, especially with Narcissa drawing two rune pairs that were very, very close to the ones that they’d found on Privet Drive.

“Can rune pairs like that be altered after they’ve been placed?” Harry asked. He grinned, startling Narcissa into a jump in her seat when she frowned at his lack of knowledge. “I never took Runes. Kind of regret that now.”

“You most certainly should,” Narcissa said with Draco’s appalled little sniff. “They’re a vital foundation to Magical society.”

Lacey nodded ever so slightly while projecting an aura of smugness since she’d said the same thing when Harry had told her that he didn’t know a thing about runes. Which fine. Whatever.

“I’m planning on fixing the issue,” Harry said just grumpily enough to make both Narcissa and Lacey smirk at him. “Probably private study since… That Man… also placed those runes on the house. As well as a fair number inside of the house that we didn’t dare to explore and make records of.”

Narcissa went as white as the streak in her hair. She turned to Lacey who pulled out a second sheet of paper. Fingers shaking, Narcissa took it, stared at the runes, and then hissed as she slapped it on the table upside down.

She bolted to her feet and began pacing along the far side of the room while muttering under her breath. Harry couldn’t quite hear what she said, but he got the feeling that Merlin’s name was being taken in extreme vain.

Dudley turned to Harry, a grin twitching at his lips. “Her boy does that?”

“Rarely in public,” Harry said, openly grinning back at Dudley. “He tries really hard not to be vulgar. Too posh for honest pacing and cursing, you know.”

“Oh, really,” Narcissa said, glowering at them both.

Harry shrugged and then laughed. “Sorry, but he tries really, really, really hard to be all upper-class proper and posh and then completely fails every time he pulls the When My Father Hears About This rant.”

“I’ve told him and told him,” Narcissa groaned as she flopped in the armchair again, “that he’s not to do that. Lucius has ruined him.”

“Probably,” Harry agreed. “So. You do know who I mean by “That Man”, correct?”

“I call him the very same thing,” Narcissa confirmed with a grim, unamused little smile.

“Could That Man come in and alter runes that other people placed on the house?” Harry asked.

“If it were anyone else, I would say no,” Narcissa said, staring at the two sheets of paper and scowling. “That Man, however, has always been oddly powerful. I suspect that he has some artifact which increases his power dramatically beyond what it would normally be.”

Harry’s gut shouted. “Wand. It’s the wand.”

“You sure?” Dudley asked, holding up a hand so that neither Lacey nor Narcissa would interrupt.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry confirmed. “Totally sure. It’s the wand. I suspect without it he’s just a regular old warlock. Power rating, don’t worry about it.”

Dudley nodded. He rose from the couch and sauntered to the bookshelves, running his fingers over the backs of the books with his eyes mostly shut. Narcissa had gone still as stone again, watching Dudley with her eyes wide and her mouth firmly shut. Eventually, Dudley pulled a slim little book out, turning it to Lacey who choked and Narcissa who blew out a breath and sagged back into her armchair in shock.

“Tales of Beedle the Bard,” Dudley said, not flipping through the book at all. He ran his fingers over the back cover which had a circle in the middle of a triangle that’d been cut in half by a line down the middle.

“The Deathly Hallows?” Lacey hissed. “You cannot be serious!”

“Mmm, I don’t know that it’s true,” Dudley said, still not opening the book. He tossed it on the table. “Don’t think it is, actually. But That Man believes that it’s true.”

“Ron told me about the story,” Harry said, humming as his gut went full on roll of the eyes derisive. “Three brothers tricked Death into giving them the most powerful wand in the world, a stone that lets them see the dead, and an invis…bility cloak that even Death couldn’t see through.”

“…what?” Dudley asked.

“That Man gave me my dad’s old invisibility cloak, first year for Yule,” Harry said. He scowled. “Thought it was weird at the time but now I’m wondering if it wasn’t part of some stupid plan of his. If he really believes this, then it was probably a lure for me to ask more. I just used the thing to sneak out after curfew.”

“That’d be useful,” Dudley said, snickering. “Coulda used one of them more’n a few times at my school.”

None of which really mattered. Sure, it gave them a tiny little window of insight into why and maybe how Dumbledore was doing things. Did nothing whatsoever to protect Harry from Dumbledore or to get the whole Wizengamot mess sorted out.

“Something to fuss over later,” Harry decided. “I don’t believe your explanation for why you placed your runes. Try again and this time it’s the truth or you leave with obliviated memories.”

Narcissa choked. She’d apparently forgotten that she would only keep what she’d learned if she met their requirements.

“I told the truth,” Narcissa tried only to flinch when Harry held up a hand.

“I don’t want “from a certain point of view” truth,” Harry said. “I want the bleeding, ugly, screaming in pain truth that you would never, ever tell someone without your life on the line. Which, actually, I think both your life and your son’s lives are. Why?”

Narcissa cringed. Then straightened up to sneer just like Draco. Then cycled into tears, misery, and finally a black sort of smile that was so much like Sirius that they could’ve been siblings, all within the span of maybe five heartbeats.

As Dudley flopped back on the couch with a spring-twanging thump that almost knocked Harry right off the arm, Narcissa shook her head. Her fingers were still, relaxed. Her eyes dark and bitter. Her smile a cruel little one.

But her cheeks were pale as milk.

“I put one rune pair to track you,” Narcissa said, business-like and calm. “I placed that first rune the first night you spent on Privet Drive. We all knew that the Dark Lord was not dead. We all knew that he would come after you. We all knew that eventually you would face him again. I assumed that he would come back quickly, slaughter your family and then return to rule Britain.”

“Didn’t work out that way,” Harry agreed. “The other?”

“Was placed after I got my first letter from Draco after the Sorting,” Narcissa said, still calm but now darkly amused. “He was deeply offended that you rejected his efforts at friendship. I scolded him because I assumed he offended you.”

“He was a prat,” Harry confirmed. “And stupidly rude to me, the first kid my age I met in the muggle world who treated me like a friend. But mostly a prat.”

“I have so much work to do with that boy,” Narcissa muttered while shaking her head in annoyance. “Well, the second rune pair was designed to tell me if anyone in the house was charmed, spelled, compulsed or otherwise affected by magic.”

Harry started snickering. “Totally worthless?”

“For a Muggle neighborhood, there was a stunningly large amount of mind control magic thrown about,” Narcissa said. “I hadn’t set up anything that would let me know who was casting. I hadn’t thought it was necessary. And then my runes failed, so I assumed that they’d been discovered and removed. Obviously not.”

She glared at the papers on the coffee table again.

It felt true. Complete. Or complete enough for what Harry wanted, anyway. She obviously had like a hundred more motivations and a thousand more plans, none of which had gone the way she’d wanted, or she wouldn’t be sitting there having the conversation with them.

But it was enough, and Harry was satisfied. He looked to Dudley who nodded his agreement.

“All right,” Harry said. “Here’s your task, which should benefit you and us, too. Get your husband to put a law on the books, or an amendment to that law anyway, that if a wife divorces, the kids get to choose. Couch it as, oh, obviously any child would choose to stay with the patriarch where the power and money resides and just think, we might be able to seduce some half-bloods into the traditional lifestyle.”

Narcissa nodded with a faintly confused air. “And that’s your price?”

“No,” Harry said, snorting. “My price was truth. That’s Judoka’s price.”

Dudley smiled, wide and slow and mean. “There’s… things. Moving in the background. See if you can get someone among your friends to do the Wife Gets Half amendment, too. We get that in, plus the kids one, and we can make some real progress in stopping That Man.”

“You…” Narcissa trailed off, blinking at the two of them. “You’re not on the Light’s side. I. But.”

“Light?” Dudley asked so harshly that even Lacey flinched. “Dark? The fuck do I care about that? Magic is gonna die if That Man keeps up with what he’d doing. He’s tortured my ally, crippled my parents, blocked me from my gifts for most of my life. There is no Light or Dark or Grey here. There’s for magic being free or against it. That Man wants to control it all. He will not win, no matter what we have to do.”

“Your political parties mean nothing,” Harry agreed. “Get the amendments through. Keep your husband from making the situation worse. And tell your son that he’s a prat, as confirmed by the new Seer.”

Narcissa shut her eyes as she sighed. “It shall be done. Thank you. I had… given up hope.”

“Don’t,” Dudley said. “If all else fails, just stab the son of a bitch and claim that he committed suicide because your stupid Dark Lord is dead.”

Amazingly enough, Narcissa left Number Eleven giggling quietly. That was one more thing in motion and hopefully one more thing that would distract, confuse and keep Dumbledore too busy to rape and destroy Harry’s mind.

Might even do some good, which was a lovely thing indeed.

 

17. With News of Heritage Long Denied: Grimmauld Kitchen

There should be a law against nosy old men harassing you first thing in the morning. Harry grumbled into his tea as Dumbledore chatted brightly with Molly who wasn’t half as welcoming and over-awed by him as she normally was.

Actually, given the way the Magical world worked, there might be a law. Everyone had just forgotten it existed, if so. Harry was absolutely going to find it and remind everyone so that cheerful morning people would stop being cheerful at him in the mornings.

“Mate, you’re muttering,” Ron muttered into his eggs and bacon.

“Grmph,” Harry grumbled back at him.

When Harry slanted an annoyed look Dumbledore and Molly’s way, Ron nodded and sighed. Most mornings Ron was way sleepier and grumpier than Harry, but he’d gone to bed while Harry stayed up with Hermione until the wee hours of the morning, studying the law books and their amendments.

There were so many stupid laws that should be stricken from the books.

So many.

“Now, Molly,” Dumbledore said in that particularly obnoxious Grandfather Knows Best tone, “I understand your concerns, but it would be best not to interfere.”

“Excuse me?” Molly replied in her sharpest You’d Best Rethink Your Behavior tone that drew everyone, even the twins on a rampage up short. “My family has nine wills that will be read today. Nine! I am not staying home, nor are the kids. We will all be going to Gringotts to make sure that no more shenanigans happen, Albus.”

“I’m just concerned…” Dumbledore shut his mouth with a snap when Molly’s wand appeared in her hand. “Molly. There’s no need for this. There will be a great deal of publicity. I’m concerned that the children might be affected by it.”

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” Molly said in full Mom Voice of Doom, “the next words out of your mouth had better be that you’ll be providing enhanced security for the children, or we will be having words out in the garden.”

“Oh, full name,” Ron whispered to Harry.

“That’s gotta sting,” Harry agreed, only watching in side-long glances because nope, not getting in the middle of that battle.

Dumbledore’s jaw dropped open. It was like he couldn’t believe that anyone would ever full-name him. And like he couldn’t believe that Molly would ever disagree with a single thing he’d decided was right, proper and for The Great Good.

Promising. Harry’s gut didn’t believe that it would last without some serious hits to Dumbledore’s authority and power, but it was nice to see while it lasted.

Breakfast had been served for a while now but no one else had braved the kitchen to eat it. Harry kind of thought that Kreacher had warned the others off. Pity he hadn’t gotten to Harry and Ron before they shuffled down the stairs and flopped at the table. Though Kreacher might just’ve decided that it was none of his business at all.

Oh, well. Hardly mattered. Harry poked at his eggs and bacon before grabbing toast and making a breakfast sandwich. Easier to eat. Faster, too.

“I will, of course, do what I can for the children,” Dumbledore said far too grudgingly. “I still do not believe this is necessary, Molly. The situation is being handled.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Molly snapped. “You’ve work to do, Albus. Get to it.”

The tip of her wand sparked. Harry ducked his head and crammed about half his sandwich in his mouth just in case he had to run for it. Ron eased a little back from the table, going lower and lower like he was thinking of ducking under the table.

Not a bad idea. Harry wasn’t sure that the table and chairs would be adequate protection, though, so he chewed fast, swallowed, and shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.

The moment he had it, he bolted for the stairs with Ron on his heels. They pounded up the stairs with nary a word of scolding from Molly for running in the house, which said just about everything that needed to be about how hazardous the kitchen was at the moment.

The twins ducked to the sides when Harry burst into the hallway. Except it wasn’t just the twins. Ginny was there with Hermione by her side. Sirius and Remus were both there, too. Amusingly, both Bill and Arthur were there, and they looked twice as leery as Harry felt.

“Ah, safe to head down yet, boys?” Arthur asked before biting his lip.

“Um, I’d suggest having Kreacher set up breakfast in one of the parlors, actually,” Harry said after swallowing the last of his breakfast sandwich. “I think they’re about to duel down there.”

“Good plan,” Sirius exclaimed. “Kreacher, make it so!”

Breakfast in the parlor was noisy, full of chatting about the upcoming will readings and the twins stealing bits of food off everyone’s plates. Even Harry’s. He knew it was just teasing for them. Nothing serious and nothing to be fussed over. If anything, the twins probably saw it as a way to implicitly say that Harry was just like a brother to them.

It still bothered him ferociously every time they did it, especially since the twins just grinned when he glared.

“It’s not funny,” Harry said, waving his fork in warning at Fred.

“Ah, it’s just—”

“Stealing food from someone who was regularly starved is not funny, Fred,” Harry said loudly enough that the entire table went silent. “You know what my relatives are like. Knock it off.”

Fred’s eyes went wide, and George’s breath caught as he went very pale. Across the table, Hermione bit her lip before she put some sausages on Harry’s plate. Harry smiled at her, all crooked because seriously, Hermione was so wonderful sometimes even when she was being a ridiculous know-it-all.

“I want to go visiting,” Sirius said in a bright, airy, utterly furious voice while staring out the spanking clean window.

“Nope,” Harry said as he stabbed one of his new sausages and then waved it at Sirius. “None of that. We don’t have time. Besides, you’ll mess up Hermione’s plan for ultimate destruction.”

“Don’t tell them about that,” Hermione huffed as she swatted at Harry’s shoulder and blushed.

“I’ll help,” Sirius promised.

Which was certainly better than Sirius haring off and letting people discover that the Dursleys were gone. Either way, they all finished eating just about the time Molly stomped into the room with a black, furious scowl. Dumbledore wafted along behind her, looking vaguely ruffled around the edges with his hands firmly hidden behind his back.

Good. Hopefully Molly tore him a new one.

“So, when do we leave?” Harry asked.

“As soon as you lot are cleaned up,” Molly replied. She glowered at Dumbledore who sighed but didn’t protest. “I’ll just get the…”

She trailed off as all the dishes and table settings disappeared from the table. Sirius shrugged when Molly huffed at him. Really, what had she expected? That was Kreacher’s literal job, no matter how much Molly wanted to take it from him.

Harry had made a point of laying out some of his reasonably good clothes, the Muggle ones that he and Dudley had selected together. He had one of his school robes to throw over the top and the good trainers that Dudley had insisted on.

“You could stay,” Dumbledore murmured as the Weasley kids rampaged upstairs to change into nicer clothes and Molly stomped her way off to do… something else. Who knew what?

Dumbledore didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t even really look in Harry’s direction, which was so telling. Why wouldn’t the man just think things through? Was it easier to believe that Voldemort took over Harry’s body than that Voldemort could’ve been defeated without his input?

The instant that Harry thought it, he realized that it was true.

Dumbledore literally could not accept that anything could happen without his personal meddling. Not the wills. Not Harry’s childhood. Not the defeat of Voldemort or anything else. It was probably part of why he had so many positions; Dumbledore had to meddle in everything.

“Nope,” Harry said. He shrugged and studied his new shoes as soon as Dumbledore glanced sideways at him. “Afraid not, sir. I… I’ve never had anything from my parents. I can’t let their will be read without me being there. It’s all I’ll probably ever have from them. Money and stuff is just… stuff, you know? Their will is their own words. It means so much more.”

Dumbledore hummed as if he thought that was a poor reason to risk Harry’s safety. “I can understand that, my dear boy, but the risks are so great.”

“Not as great as if it was just my parents’ will being read, sir,” Harry insisted. “With so many wills being read, it’s going to be very busy. I was hoping that you could, you know, transfigure my clothes into something properly wizardly? Not, you know, bright like yours, but more posh maybe? That plus a hat and people might not really notice me so much. I mean, I hope?”

He didn’t like the idea of Dumbledore casting anything on him. Not with all the things that Dumbledore had convinced himself of, but it was a little way to differentiate himself from Voldemort.

And no way was Harry letting Molly cast on his clothes. He did not trust her to listen to his color or style preferences.

Thought there was no guarantee that Dumbledore wouldn’t light Harry up like a bloody Christmas tree.

Dumbledore blinked, looking squarely at Harry’s chest for the first time. “Ah. A good point. I hadn’t considered that. If you’re sure?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged and tugged at his T-shirt. “Same basic colors, just in wizard styles, I guess?”

Dumbledore’s grandfatherly smile came out as he nodded and pulled his wand. Harry bit his lip and then squinched his eyes shut because oh, bloody hell, he did not want to do this! Except he needed to.

Magic passed over and around Harry, shifting and tugging at his clothes. It also caressed his forehead, poking at the scar, and sort of delved into his chest as if Dumbledore was looking for something inside of Harry’s lungs.

There was, of course, nothing to be found. Harry already knew that.

“Oh, wow,” Hermione said from the doorway. “You look great, Harry.”

Harry peeked, one eye only, and then stared down at his very proper, very appropriate for a young pure-blood wizard, clothes. Dark blue trousers instead of jeans. A very nice burgundy tunic the exact shade of his T-shirt. His robe was now a nice open style with an embroidered pattern of lilies and stags on it.

“Oh,” Harry breathed as he ran his fingers over the embroidery. “…Thank you, sir. That’s… that’s lovely.”

“Of course, my dear boy, of course,” Dumbledore said with that patronizing smile of his.

Still without meeting Harry’s eyes, though he had a faint frown wrinkle between his eyebrows. Good. Maybe he’d actually think things through now.

Unlikely but Harry could hope.

The others arrived in a bow wave of excited chatter. Harry put on his wizard cap which he’d had stored in his pocket and then blew out a breath when Hermione looked at him curiously. Harry shrugged and ran his hands over the embroidery.

If it had been anyone else, Harry would have said that it was a kindness. With Dumbledore? Harry wasn’t sure if it was kindness or just another in a long string of tests that Dumbledore threw at him to make sure that Harry did only and exactly what Dumbledore wanted.

“It’s lovely,” Hermione murmured.

“My dad was a stag Animagus,” Harry explained quietly as Molly began arguing with Dumbledore again. “He learned while at Hogwarts, supposedly secretly but I guess not.”

“Oh,” Hermione breathed, eyes going wide. “Oh. Oh, that was kind of him, wasn’t it?”

“Almost want to ask him to make it permanent,” Harry admitted with a sheepish little smile. “But, you know, school robe. Maybe I can ask Mrs. Weasley if we can commission one just like this for, you know, when I’m not in school.”

“I think she’d be honored to help, Harry,” Hermione said.

There wasn’t time for anything else because Arthur opened the floo and they were off to Gringotts in a rush of powder, ash, and nerves.

 

18. With Ghostly Voice Accusations Are Made: Gringotts

Harry stumbled out of the floo at Gringotts in a welter of ash. A strong arm caught him around his chest when his feet twisted around each other, keeping him from smashing glasses first into the marble floor.

“Easy there,” Bill shouted as he set Harry back on his feet. “Wouldn’t want to get trampled in here.”

Bill’s eyes were not on Harry. Took him a moment to realize that the roaring sound pounding his ears was voices, hundreds, thousands, millions of voices. The few times that Harry had come to Gringotts, it had been busy, like any bank, but not crammed wall to wall with people.

It still wasn’t crammed but only because the Goblins had done something to increase the size of the lobby until it was bigger than most football pitches. Harry stared, setting his hat more firmly on his head and then nodded his thanks to Bill.

“Off to the left,” Bill shouted. “Don’t get left behind now.”

“Right,” Harry replied.

Not that Harry had a chance to get left behind. Bill kept one hand firmly on Harry’s shoulder as he hurried to catch up with the rest of the Weasley family. Dumbledore was already striding up a long string of doorways that hadn’t been there the last time Harry visited Gringotts. Goblin guards with heavy axes and long, wickedly sharp pikes stood in front of each door, keeping anyone who didn’t belong out.

“How’s this gonna work, Bill?” Harry shouted. “What if people need to be in multiple will readings?”

“We’re recording the readings,” Bill shouted back. “People will attend their primary wills and then get called in to watch the secondary ones. Mum’s going to be busy for days listening to will readings. At least you’ve only got the one.”

Harry nodded, deeply grateful for small favors even though he was pretty sure that his was going to be a bomb going off in Wizarding society. His luck always went that way.

Molly rushed off with her kids to a different room two doors up from the one Bill deposited Harry at. Several people were waiting, including Sirius, Remus and Amelia Bones. Bill patted Harry’s shoulder.

“Go ahead and open the door, Harry,” Bill shouted. “You’re the heir so you’re primary on it.”

Harry frowned about that, but the goblins nodded when Harry approached the completely unremarkable oak door, no different from any of the others up and down the hall. Brass doorknob, iron banded, set in a freshly carved section of stone wall.

It opened like any other door.

Inside, there was a table made of stone with stone stools that looked like they’d been extruded right out of the floor. A glowing crystal globe sat in the middle of the table. Silverclaw already sat at the table, studying a folio full of parchments and tapping his shiny silver claws against the tabletop. No sparks so apparently, he wasn’t angry already.

Yet? Wasn’t angry yet.

Harry stepped inside. Remus and Sirius followed him. So did Amelia Bones.

And so did Dumbledore who swooped into the room just as the heavy door swung shut.

“Didn’t you have other wills you needed to handle, sir?” Harry asked with a frown at Dumbledore’s beard.

“None as important as this one, my dear boy,” Dumbledore replied with a smile that was probably supposed to be reassuring.

It just felt like a threat. Everything about Dumbledore was a threat.

Harry tucked himself between Sirius and Remus, leaning against Sirius in a way that made both of them go teary and soft. Amelia Bones smiled sadly at Harry as she sat at the table. Dumbledore took the seat at the head of the table as if it was made just for him.

So, of course, Harry sat down directly opposite Silverclaw who smirked ever so slightly for a second at the way Dumbledore frowned.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Potter,” Silverclaw said. “We may as well get started. Your parents had a very simple will, despite the complexities of their estate. They submitted both a written will, shared jointly between the two of them, and a recorded will. As is traditional, we will start with the recorded version.”

“Didn’t you have other duties, Amelia?” Dumbledore asked before Silverclaw could do more than reach for the glowing globe.

“No, Albus,” Amelia drawled while staring at him like he was a particularly shiny bug she intended to smother and then pin to a board before mounting and displaying him in her parlor. “I don’t. Now hush. Have some respect.”

Silverclaw ignored Dumbledore’s huff, so Harry did too.

Two people appeared in the glow of the globe, at first tiny and then growing until they were about two foot tall. The man was tall with messy dark hair and round glasses just like Harry’s. The woman had red hair and a surprisingly pronounced resemblance to Ginny of all things. They both smiled straight at Harry which made his breath catch as he clutched Sirius and Remus’ hands.

“This is the last will and testament of James and Lily Potter,” the recording of James said. “We’ve only a few bequests because neither of us have much family left. It’ll almost all go to Harry, of course, but Sirius, you get Lily’s potions journal.”

“Be sure to be especially smug about it when you see Snape, Sirius,” Lily said with a fierce look. “Certain People keep saying that I should forgive him, but you know exactly why I won’t. I left some treats for you in the journal. Use them when you think is appropriate and be sure to use them with all my level of vengeance.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Sirius sobbed through the tears streaming down his face. “That woman!”

“Remus,” James said without responding because of course he wouldn’t. He was just a recording. “You’re stubborn bloody idiot. You’ve always been bloody stubborn and you’re the stupidest genius I’ve ever met. You’re taking a quarter of a million galleons and Lily’s history library and you’re not going to complain about it.”

“There’s no one else that deserves my history books, Remus,” Lily said with a wry smile. “I know you’ll enjoy them, and lord knows, no one else in the Magical world is going to be interested in world history.”

Remus bowed his head, leaning into Harry’s shoulder as he fought unsuccessfully against tears. Unlike Sirius’ shaking sobs, Remus cried utterly silently. Harry leaned into his side and let Remus half-crush his hand.

Not like Harry wasn’t squeezing back just as hard.

“Amelia,” James said much more seriously. “I’m sorry, but we’re giving you a bloody mess. We recorded this on October thirtieth. If we died on the thirty-first, then Peter Pettigrew betrayed us. We’d had Sirius as the Secret Keeper for the Fidelus guarding our cottage in Godrick’s Hollow.”

Lily’s jaw worked when James wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “On the twenty-ninth, Albus Dumbledore convinced us that we needed to change secret keepers. He wanted Peter. We did not. There’d been issues with Peter for ages, going all the way back to fourth year. You know the issues. You were there for the thing with Morag.”

Amelia took off her monocle and rubbed her eyes, which were red even though she wasn’t crying. “Oh, bloody buggering fuck.”

“Peter got the secret very, very late on the thirtieth,” Lily continued even as Dumbledore’s aura crackled around him and made the room rumble. “So, if we died on the thirty-first, which we expect will happen based on certain heritage from my family, that means that Peter is the one who killed us. He pointed You-Know-Who our way.”

“This can’t—” Dumbledore started to say only to freeze when Silverclaw’s claws abruptly were coated with very violent lightning.

“Harry, darling,” Lily said so very sadly, “I wish we could’ve been there to watch you grow up. I’m hopeful that Remus and Sirius will do a good job raising you. The plan is for you to either grow up with them, with your godbrother Neville Longbottom, or with Minerva McGonagall who is one of the best people in the whole Magical world. If none of them can take care of you, you might grow up with Amelia, in which case I apologize to Amelia for all the Evans family shenanigans you undoubtedly will have to deal with.”

“Under no circumstances should Harry be given to Lily’s sister, Petunia,” James said, stern and serious and somehow fiercely intimidating despite only standing two foot high. “The Evans family gifts passed her by, and her jealousy of Lily is so fierce that she would absolutely abuse Harry. Other than that, it all goes to Harry in the hopes that he’ll have a wonderful life, even if we can’t be there for it. We love you, Prongslet. We always have and we always will. Be strong, be fierce, trust your gut.”

“Always trust your gut,” Lily agreed with a nod that went right to Harry’s core.

They blinked out, leaving the glowing globe on the desk and three adults glowering at Dumbledore who looked just about ready to pitch a fit. Or to start memory charming everyone in the room.

“Can I watch it again?” Harry asked Silverclaw. “I mean, not right now, but, you know, later? I’ve never seen my parents before. Only some pictures. And a memory of my mum getting murdered by You-Know-Who that the Dementors brought back. I’d like… I’d like to watch it again if I could.”

The soft, hesitant question cut even Dumbledore off at the knees. His thrumming magic abruptly stilled. From the corner of Harry’s eye, he saw the way Dumbledore frowned at him as if he was confused by Harry wanting to see more of his own parents.

No surprise. He didn’t actually think that Harry was Harry, so why would he want to listen to two strangers? Bloody hell, Harry was so tired of Dumbledore’s nonsense.

“The globe is yours, Mr. Potter,” Silverclaw said. “I have a carrying case for it here. The rest of the will was a list of assets, which has already been adjusted for the loss of the cottage at Godrick’s Hollow and the ransacking which certain individuals did after your parents’ murder. You’re quite wealthy, of course. We can discuss the details later.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, gently cupping the globe to his chest.

Sirus jerked to his feet. So did Remus. They shoved Dumbledore away from the table, hissing threats and questions at him low enough that Harry could pretend not to hear them. When Amelia started to stand, Harry licked his lips and turned just enough to meet her eyes.

He must have projected enough Evans for Amelia to see it because she sucked a sharp breath through her nostrils and stayed on her stool rather than standing.

There were a limited number of things Harry could say with Dumbledore there in the room. A very limited number of things. So limited.

But he needed to get her alone somehow.

The hissing argument on the far side of the room abruptly cut off as someone, probably Remus but maybe Dumbledore, silenced it so that Harry couldn’t overhear anything “important”. Thank bloody hell for that.

Now he just had to hope that it silenced their conversation, too, because Dumbledore did not need to hear this.

“…Speak with Silverclaw privately about an interview with the Seer Judoka,” Harry murmured to her as he carefully packed his globe away in the box that Silverclaw offered him.

Amelia’s eyes narrowed. When she spoke, it was a low murmur that wouldn’t carry past the table so yeah, she knew that Dumbledore was a threat to Harry, too.

“I requested one already and was denied,” Amelia said.

“Request again,” Harry said. “Be prepared for a very quick turnaround.”

She nodded slowly. “I’ll do so. Thank you, Mr. Potter. I’m sorry for your loss. If you want to ask me for stories of your parents, please feel free. I knew Lily quite well.”

Amelia didn’t put emphasis on the “quite well”. There was nothing different in her tone or the way she gazed sadly but sternly at Harry. Anyone looking at her from the outside would say that she was doing that grown-up thing where they threw platitudes at you and hoped that you’d actually believe them.

Harry’s gut all but screamed that when Amelia said “quite well” she meant “I’ve seen some shite and it left me scarred for life but I’m never gonna show it no matter how traumatized I am”.

Which was cool.

Helpful even.

Harry put on his sad orphan face, the one that regularly made grown-ups in the Magical world turn into puddles of weepy goo over their beloved “Boy-Who-Lived”. On the other side of the table, Silverclaw pursed his lips as if he wanted to smile but refused to do so. The stern look in Amelia’s eyes softened by, oh, maybe two percent which felt like a lot for her.

“I’d really appreciate that,” Harry said with a sad, mopey little smile as he hugged his box to his chest. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Harry almost leaped right out of his own skin when Sirius appeared at his elbow to put a consoling hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“All right there, Prongslet?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. He let his breath shudder a little. “Um, Madame Bones knew my mum. She offered to tell me about her sometime. You know, when things aren’t quite so crazy.”

Off on the far side of the room with Remus, Dumbledore looked like he wanted to object. He certainly couldn’t come over and get between them because Remus had a firm grip on Dumbledore’s shoulder, keeping him right there.

“Can I go home?” Harry asked Sirius with the biggest eyes he could manage. “There aren’t any more wills I have to listen to, are there?”

“No, Mr. Potter,” Silverclaw said. “That was the only one for you. You’re free to leave as you wish. Make an appointment to come in and talk to me about the estate later. There’s a great deal of work that will need to be done.”

Harry nodded and let Sirius take the folio full of parchment. “I will, sir. Thank you for your time. I really… I really appreciate you letting me take the will with me.”

When Harry stood, Sirius was the one who came with him. Amelia moved to intercept Dumbledore so that he couldn’t follow Harry back to the floo. Given how fierce her expression was, Harry wasn’t at all surprised that Sirius sent him back to Grimmauld Place alone with both the box and the folio full of parchment.

Give it a quick fifteen minutes being all sad-eyed and weepy at whoever had come back to Grimmauld and Harry would be free to warn Dudley that they had another very important Seeing to do.

And Dudley absolutely needed to both watch the will and read the actual paperwork. With his stronger gift, who knew what he might figure out beyond the obvious?

 

19. Hints of Enmity Twisting Free: Number Fourteen

“This turned out nice,” Harry commented to Anthony who grinned as he showed Harry into the library in Number Fourteen.

“Thanks,” Anthony said with a grand gesture. “I figured we’ve kind of got a rainbow theme going so making Number Fourteen all indigos and purples was a nice touch, you know?”

“I’m not normally one for purple velvet sofas,” Harry said as he stared around the absolutely lovely, if rather small, library, “but this really works.”

The walls and vaulted ceiling had the palest shade of lavender possible while the four bookcases had a deep, lush purple tint to their varnish. Anthony had gone full-on purple for the upholstery on the one sofa and two armchairs in the small library. It actually worked with the indigo blue curtains. The carpet underneath them and the low, purple-varnished coffee table had vines and cabbage roses in shades of cream and faint green for a nice contrast to the rest of the place.

“Are we just moving the books around from library to library depending on who we’re meeting?” Harry asked Anthony.

Anthony laughed. “Oh, no, what Dudley and Lacey decided to do was have each library focus on different things. This one is all about history; Magical and Muggle both. When they have an appointment, Lacey will ask Dudley which library will give him the best answers and then he picks from a catalog she’s got prepared. Then they just set up the meetings in the correct library.”

“Cool,” Harry said, nodding to Dudley as he sauntered in wearing a delightfully plaid waistcoat and a robe that would make Dumbledore go green with envy from how brilliantly lavender it was. “Nice.”

“Yeah, I figure it fits with Number Fourteen,” Dudley said, smirking. “I’m having so much bloody fun with this. It’s ridiculous. I’m half considering not ever going back to Smelting’s.”

“Can’t blame you,” Harry said. “Do you even want to live in the Muggle world?”

Dudley hummed as he thought about it, brushing his fingers over various books as if considering it with his Seeing instead of just mulling it over. There wasn’t a feel of weight to him though, so it was just thinking thinky thoughts.

“I dunno,” Dudley finally said. “Maybe? Last report is that Mum and Dad have forgotten they ever had a kid. Aunt Marge doesn’t remember me, either. Most of Privet drive remembers Mum, Dad and sometimes you. Not much about me, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, reaching out to squeeze Dudley’s meaty shoulder. “Whoa. Have you been working out?”

Dudley grinned. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been working hard at my Judo exercises. Lacey found me a tutor who’s willing to come to me. We set up a training room in Number Nine, mats and everything. She also volunteered to find me tutors for all the rest of the subjects I’d need to learn. Not ready to make that decision yet, though.”

“Fair,” Harry said with a little nod as the doorbell rang and Anthony hurried off to escort Amelia in.

As had turned into their normal routine, Dudley sprawled on the sofa, powerful and confident as only a six-foot-tall teenager made of muscles could be. Harry perched on the arm of the sofa and did his best not to cackle at the way Amelia’s jaw went slack for a moment on seeing the two of them together.

“Madame Bones,” Harry said while Anthony moved off to stand by the doorway, out of the way, “may I present the Seer Judoka? Judoka, this is Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Enforcement. She has a seat in the Wizengamot.”

“Does she?” Dudley asked.

He studied Amelia for a long, silent moment. Unlike Narcissa, Amelia stood firm and silent under his examination. She didn’t grimace, tremble or even fidget with her monocle. Eventually, Dudley nodded approval and Amelia sat in the armchair opposite him.

“I’m rather surprised to see you here, Mr. Potter,” Amelia said. “I had thought that you had contacts, not that you were… involved with the Seer Judoka.”

Harry smiled and let his gut loose. The air in the room went liquid and heavy, drawing a strangled gasp from Amelia.

“Truth,” Harry pronounced. “It’s rather more than you think it is, Madame Bones. Before we get to your request for Seer Judoka, there is a matter which I must address first. I require blunt, absolute honesty. If you do not answer completely honestly, Seer Judoka will throw you out.”

“Oh, Merlin’s bollocks,” Amelia breathed as her face went white as milk and her hands began to shake. “It’s not just one. It’s both of you. You’re both Seers. Evans seers. What the bloody hell?”

This time she shook. Her fingers shook so hard that she could barely take her monocle off so that she could press both of her hands over her eyes so hard that her knuckles went white. Huh. Mum really must’ve done a number on Amelia for her to respond that hard.

Harry left her to her emotional reaction, waving for Anthony to bring over the rune pairs. As soon as Anthony approached, Amelia dropped her hands with a huff so that she could set her monocle back in place.

She glared at the rune pairs. Then glared at Harry, though his gut didn’t think she was angry at all. Rattled right down to her toenails, but not angry. It was more like she’d trained herself never to show any emotions other than anger just in case it might be used against her.

Likely. Dumbledore and the Wizengamot did seem like sharks that way.

“You placed rune pairs on my aunt and uncle’s house,” Harry said. “These are pairs that were found with your magical signature.”

“Those are not what I placed,” Amelia declared as she pulled out a little notepad and a fountain pen.

She wrote two different rune pairs in swift, confident gestures, setting them down so that Harry and Dudley could read them both. If, you know, they could actually read the darn things properly.

“Someone with an immense amount of power took my runes of protection and warding,” she tapped her runes, “and transfigured them into these runes of slavery and panopticon. If you have the power, it’s not difficult, Mr. Potter. They’re close enough that it only requires a couple of additional lines.”

She demonstrated, adding one line to one rune, then three lines to another and presto, they had matching runes. From the fury on Amelia’s face, she rather wanted to arrest whoever it was and throw them into Azkaban for the rest of their miserable lives. Harry studied her, surprised that there wasn’t a single attempt at twisting the truth, shifting their attention, or the mildest sorts of white lies about her.

His mum really must’ve made an impression.

“How much power?” Harry asked.

“…The only person that I know of in Britian is Dumb—”

“No names,” Dudley snapped. “Especially not That Man’s name.”

Amelia shut her mouth with a clack of teeth that threatened a bleeding tongue. She stared at Dudley for a long, very tense moment before nodding precisely once. The sheer level of threat pouring off her made Harry squirm a little on the arm of the sofa.

Dudley, of course, sat regal and in control without moving at all.

“Understood,” Amelia said. “That Man is the only one in Britian that I know of. You-Know-Who might have been able to do it before his… problems, but he’s gone.”

“I am so glad that you realize it,” Harry said. He laughed a little. “So glad! Why are people so stupid? Surely there’s ways to check other than asking us.”

Amelia laughed under her breath at the same time that Dudley snorted and lightly swatted Harry’s elbow. It wasn’t much of a joke. He’d actually been serious about the stupidity of people asking Seers how to make decisions and get on with their lives, but hey, he did have to remember that most people didn’t have a gut with Harry’s level of accuracy.

No wonder Hermione always had a fit when Harry just did things instead of making proper plans and talking whatever the situation was to death.

“The Department of Mysteries confirmed it,” Amelia said. “No one knows how he survived. No one knows why he died for good. I’m going to assume that it’s something to do with you…” she paused and visibly edited Harry’s name out, “and leave it at that.”

“Good call,” Harry agreed. “Why did you put the runes on Privet Drive?”

“Because Lily was one of my friends,” Amelia said. “She… impressed… me. When we were in school, you understand. And. Many times, Lily complained about her sister. Many times, she told us about horrible things that her sister had said or done. I had no faith that you would be safe in her sister’s home, but I had no authority and rank to pull you out. With That Man sealing the will and locking the Child Welfare file, there was nothing else that I could do.”

She scowled at the rune pairs, radiating fury.

“Obviously, That Man couldn’t allow even that much supervision,” Amelia continued. “He must have gone in and revised them as soon as I walked away. If I could, I’d throw him in Azkaban.”

“Eh, not yet,” Dudley drawled. “That was all blunt truth. Surprising. Few people can manage it without giving it a couple of stabs first. You’ve paid for your Seeing. What’d you want to know?”

Dudley speaking up for the first time made Amelia start. It was as if she’d forgotten that her interview was really with him instead of with Harry. Which, you know, fair. Harry had been monopolizing her attention.

She leaned back in the chair, eyes locking onto the rune pairs for a long few seconds that stretched into two full minutes.

Dudley let her think.

Back by the door, Anthony twitched with nerves the longer the time stretched, but Harry just relaxed on the arm of the sofa while Dudley’s sprawl was so relaxed that he could’ve withstood a 9.0 earthquake without doing more than quivering slightly.

“I had several questions that I wanted to address,” Amelia finally said, “but I suspect that the radical new laws being submitted to the Wizengamot have a source very close to me.”

Harry grinned. Dudley snickered and waggled his eyebrows.

“Very well,” Amelia said with enough of a smile for it to actually wrinkle the corners of her eyes and curl her lips for a second. “I won’t bother with that. You-Know-Who is no longer a problem. I believe the only thing I need to know is whether I should openly challenge Minister Fudge and That Man or whether I should work from the shadows.”

Dudley pushed up and out of the sofa, tugging his waistcoat down as he went to brush his fingers over the books on the shelves. The underwater feeling of the library increased as he moved around the room. Unlike Narcissa or Remus or Sirius or even Kreacher, Amelia seemed to be perfectly comfortable with the weight of his Sight pressing down on her.

She sat, calm and controlled, and waited.

Dudley shook his head as he pulled The Art of War from his pocket. No page seemed to capture his attention. Harry couldn’t feel anything either.

“Got nothing for you,” Dudley said. “That one’s entirely up to your own conscience. There’ll be good things either way. There’ll be bad things either way. Minister Fudge needs to go. I can tell you that. He’s a weathervane and a bigot and he’s been treating my associate like a nutter in the press, but that’s all I got.”

Harry hummed, staring into the distance as he considered first Minister Fudge and then Dumbledore. The feeling with Fudge was one hundred percent a ferocious urge to go pop him one in the nose and then lecture him until he went running. Dumbledore, though, that was much different.

“I think…” Harry said slowly enough that both Dudley and Amelia frowned at him, “that you can challenge and even take on Fudge. You can be fierce about it. You can all but punch him in the face and then lecture him the way Mrs. Weasley does the twins.”

Laughter spread wrinkles at the corners of Amelia’s eyes. “I see. Well, that’s promising. I want to do that every time I so much as hear his voice.”

“Fair,” Harry said. He shook his head. “But not That Man. It’s dangerous, Madame Bones. He’s as deadly as anyone you’ve ever faced down, more lethal than a XXXX creature and harder to hit than You-Know-Who. If you go after him in any public way, That Man will destroy you utterly. There is…” Harry shook his head and turned to Dudley who nodded as if he could feel or See what Harry was picking up on.

“There’s a path that’ll take That Man down for good,” Dudley reassured both Harry and Amelia. “It’s a twisty, political minefield of a path, but it exists. You’re not gonna be the one to do it. You can’t if you want to do any good. But you can support the amendments coming up to change marriage and inheritance laws. You can go after that nitwit Fudge. You can strengthen the Aurors and, you know, claim it’s because You-Know-Who might come back. That Man’ll eat that up.”

Amelia smiled and it was like watching someone pull their wand at the start of a duel. “Very well. That is something I can do. Thank you, Seer Judoka. I appreciate your taking the time to meet with me. If you need anything, do not hesitate to send a message to me.”

“If I do,” Dudley said with a grin as he held up his copy of The Art of War, “it’ll have the dragon from the cover on it instead of a name.”

“Understood,” Amelia said.

She stood, bowed very properly, and then marched off like she was going to war. Which she kind of obviously was. Harry relaxed a little and sighed. If she could get Fudge off the playing field, a lot of things might change. Depending on who went into Fudge’s place, Harry’s life might get much, much better or it might get much worse if it was one of Dumbledore’s men.

 

20. Amendments to Tyranny Bring Freedom: Wizengamot

“I really wish I could go,” Harry complained as he slouched across the parlor table from Hermione who had notes, and paper, and books stacked around her.

“It wouldn’t be safe,” Hermione consoled Harry even though she nodded and looked bitterly disappointed that she couldn’t have gone to the Wizengamot meeting, too.

Arthur was at the Wizengamot. Remus was, too. Sirius wasn’t, obviously, since he was still officially on the run. Instead of the Wizengamot, Sirius has snuck off to Gringotts to pay the Goblins to help him get a proper trial somehow. He was probably going to have to go through the ICW but as soon as they were brought in, it would cause tidal waves of outrage in the Wizengamot, so Sirius was going to try other things first.

No idea what “things” meant, but Sirius had gone all shifty and avoided Harry’s eyes, so it was probably bribery and possibly outright murder for hire.

Harry officially had no idea that Sirius was not in the building. He was more than happy to let Sirius handle that. Though he had notified Lacey who’d groaned and sent messages to Gringotts to warn them of the trouble heading their way.

That meant that Harry and Hermione were alone in the parlor with the wireless because Molly had decided that it was time to do some sewing for her kids as there was no cleaning and very little cooking to be done. She seemed… extremely bored. Possibly freaked out about being so bored. Ron had gone wide-eyed, and pale faced when Molly announced her clothes-making plans.

Ginny had bolted. She hadn’t made it to the door.

The Wireless reporter had the breathless-with-excitement tone of a rugby reporter on the final game of the championship even though all that had happened was everyone filing in, taking their seats and the reading of the last meeting’s minutes.

Narcissa was there with Lucius. Madame Longbottom was there. So was Dumbledore and a whole bunch of people that Harry had no clue of their positions, power, family, whatever. He just listened as the reporter kept on being breathless and Hermione’s quill scratched against her paper as she desperately tried to record every single word.

“Lord Malfoy, you have the floor,” Dumbledore said in that pinched sort of tone that meant he really would have preferred that Lucius had stayed home or at least stayed seated.

“Thank you, Chief Warlock,” Lucius said in his gracious tone that meant “fuck you and the horse you rode in on, you absolute pillock”. “The last few weeks have been a revelation to us all. Laws which we thought protected our legacies have been shown to be weak and unenforceable. I propose an amendment to the inheritance laws which would ensure that in the case of a wife divorcing her husband, any children are given the right to choose which side they join.”

The ”side” was said with all the implications that mentions of pureblood this versus mudblood that had always held. Lucius’ contempt couldn’t have been more obvious if he tried to shout it to the stars. A shocked murmur went through the Wizengamot, and the reporters began speculating on which of the Ancient and Noble families were heading for a divorce.

“That’s… a surprising amendment from you, Lord Malfoy,” Dumbledore said warily.

“Not at all,” Lucius countered. There was a tap so he must have that stupid snake-headed cane of his. “We have seen that our inheritance laws, our very wills, can be ignored. I will not have my sons’ rights to the Malfoy legacy taken from him by a charlatan if I chance to die before my time. I will not risk my colleague’s children being torn from their fathers and cast into poverty by a judge who did not listen to their wishes.”

Hermione raised her head to stare at the Wireless. “Wow.”

“Yeah, got no clue that anyone might not want to inherit a bunch of Dark artifacts and a big creepy mansion, does he?” Harry said with a grin. “Someone did a right number on convincing him.”

“They certainly did,” Hermione said as she went back to taking notes on the rising volume of shouted arguments. “I’d want to check him for the Imperious.”

“Fair,” Harry agreed.

It took a solid half an hour of shouting, reading the amendment sixteen times as they word smithed where to put a comma, and then adding “and” in the place of the disputed comma before it came to a vote.

“It passes!” the reporter whisper-shouted with glee. “Forty-seven to three!”

“He has got to have done reporting on rugby before,” Harry said.

Hermione snickered into her notes. “I was thinking golf with all the whispered shouts.”

“Nice,” Harry said, snickering, too.

“The amendment is ratified,” Dumbledore said with heavy disappointment. “I hope this does not cause chaos in our society.”

Both Harry and Hermione stared at the Wireless. That was way more heavy-handed than Dumbledore usually indulged in. He must be rattled by the change.

“Oh, stuff a sock in it, Dumbledore!” Madame Longbottom shouted. “My amendment’s next. Get on with it!”

“Yes, of course,” Dumbledore said. “You have the floor, Madame Longbottom.”

“Finally,” Madame Longbottom said. She projected her voice so firmly that Harry scrambled to turn the Wireless down a touch lest Madame Longbottom shout their ears off. “The divorce laws in Britian are a travesty. Everyone knows it. Everyone agrees with it. Even the worst of the pureblood families understands that they’re a horror that embarrasses us across Europe.”

To Harry’s surprise, the crowd at the Wizengamot only murmured respectfully instead of scoffing or catcalling. There’d been more than a bit of catcalling for Lucius’ amendment. Obviously, Madame Longbottom was way more impressive than Lucius had ever dreamed of being.

“My amendment proposes to change that,” Madame Longbottom continued in her operatic bellow that drowned everything, including the Wireless reporter, out. “If a man or a woman wants a divorce, then they will split all but the entailed family items half and half with their spouse. Money, property, businesses, all of it.”

The shouts that rang out for that idea made Harry wince and turn the Wireless down just a little bit more. Hermione actually stopped taking notes to stare at the Wireless with both her eyebrows up like she was shocked that Madame Longbottom had dared.

Harry was pretty sure that Narcissa was the one who’d gotten her to propose the amendment. Amelia kept shouting for order overtop the background outrage and the foreground squeaking outrage from Fudge.

Not a peep from Dumbledore. Of course. Why would he do his freaking job? He was probably too busy thinking about how to take advantage of the chaos.

“That’s madness!” Fudge bellowed, finally shutting everyone up. “You cannot possibly be serious. There’s no way that such a thing could work. The sheer nightmare that accounting for everything would be makes it insanity!”

“The amendment specifically allows the couple to shift things about so that the man may, for example,” Madame Longbottom sneered, “maintain possession of prized property by paying the wife an equal value as determined by the Goblins. There’d be no accounting on our part. The Goblins already know everyone’s worth. They’d be the ones adjudicating. I already got Ragnok to accept a one percent fee on the couple’s worth as the price for their work. It’s nine percent less than what they currently charge for assessing a person’s worth.”

“But, but, but… it’s not… I mean,” Fudge spluttered.

“They’re already going to get a divorce,” Madame Longbottom snapped at him so harshly that Harry winced, too. “The point is to make sure that we’re not responsible for paupers afterwards. No more of this nonsense where a woman manages to get a divorce and then she’s destituted on the street. No more of a man getting a divorce and suddenly he has no house, no business, no way to stand among men. This will keep more people in the Magical world and lead to fewer divorces, mark my words.”

The debate was still going on when Molly meandered in with a tray of sandwiches, Kreacher-made, and a pitcher of lemonade, clearly Molly-made because it didn’t have pansies and lavender in it. Harry smiled at her as he took a sandwich and let her pour him some lemonade. Hermione was still scribbling.

“I don’t know how her hand hasn’t fallen right off,” Harry murmured to Molly. “She’s taking dictation. By hand.”

“Practice,” Hermione said without looking up from her notes.

Molly smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. She just kept studying Harry as if she was trying to look straight into his soul.

“What’s happened so far?” Molly asked as she poured for Hermione who nodded her thanks but didn’t drink.

“Well, Mrs. Malfoy’s amendment to allow kids to choose which parent to go with when their parents divorce went through,” Harry said only to grin when Hermione glared at him. “What? There’s no way that Mr. Malfoy came up with that. It’s gotta be her.”

“Fair,” Hermione said. “I still think he needs to be checked for the Imperious.”

“True,” Harry agreed. He gestured towards the Wireless, happy to see that Molly’s smile was now wrinkling the corners of her eyes as her lips twitched as if she wanted to grin and didn’t think it was proper. “Right now, they’re having conniptions over Madame Longbottom’s amendment. She wants people getting divorces to split all the non-entailed assets fifty-fifty. I can’t tell from the shouting whether it’ll pass or not but I kind of hope so. The magical word really is horribly behind the rest of the world on women’s rights and marriage issues.”

The way Hermione sighed and shook her head said volumes about just how behind she thought Magi were. Preaching to the choir with Harry, but apparently that surprised Molly because she frowned like it didn’t make sense.

Harry looked past Molly towards the door, nodding that it was closed.

“I mean, I don’t like to be rude about the Magical world when Ron is around,” Harry said apologetically. “He gets all angry and flustered, even if he agrees with me. It’s a whole thing. It’s just, I mean, if my Aunt Petunia wanted a divorce, she could get one. Not only could she get one, she’d probably get the house, get custody my cousin Dudley, and Uncle Vernon would have to pay her monthly bills plus a bit. If she was magical, Aunt Petunia first off couldn’t get a divorce without Uncle Vernon’s permission. Second off, she’d be destitute. Dudley would have to go with Uncle Vernon. And it’s just… so unfair.”

“That’s… it keeps families together,” Molly said as she slowly, cautiously, sat at the table.

“A family that has to stay together because the other choice is starving in the streets or dying is not a family that should exist,” Harry declared. “People should be able to marry for love and not survival. Or contracts or whatever it is that purebloods like the Malfoys do. I mean, seriously!”

The shouting over the Wireless reached a peak and then Amelia did something that shut everyone up. She huffed and told everyone that it was time to vote, no more arguing or carrying on.

“Wow, I didn’t expect her to just take over that way,” Harry said.

The three of them sat silently as the Wireless reporter whispered a rapidly rising tally. It wasn’t like Narcissa’s amendment. Madame Longbottom’s amendment ran right on the knife’s edge all the way to the final three votes which were Dumbledore, Lucius and Amelia.

Amelia voted for.

Then Lucius voted for it after a long, tense look at Narcissa that had the Wireless reporter all breathless with excitement. Hermione’s eyebrows went up before she mouthed “Imperious”. Molly snickered and nodded.

Dumbledore…

…abstained.

“It passes!” the Wireless reporter exclaimed to general chaos and shouting on the other end.

Harry sagged back into his chair, frowning at the Wireless in fury. That Man. He was just… That Man-ing all over the place and making everything harder for everyone all the time. Harry was going to get Dudley to do some more Seeings about how they could get him out of power sooner, see if he didn’t.

“Oh, he did not,” Harry complained. “That jerk! He didn’t take a side at all? How dare he? How can he even claim to be a lord of light if he won’t support women and kids getting to survive after a divorce?”

“Maybe there was procedural reason?” Hermione suggested but she really didn’t sound certain about it at all.

“No,” Harry huffed. “He just didn’t want to go on the record where people could see it and report on it. At least it passed. I might actually be able to get married in the Magical world now.”

Molly started. “…What?”

“I’d already kind of promised myself I wouldn’t ever have a relationship like my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon,” Harry explained with his best rueful shrug and reluctant grimace, the one that he’d practiced with Dudley and Lacey before coming to Number Twelve.

“What?” Molly repeated. She turned to Hermione who shrugged and nodded.

“I’m with Harry,” Hermione said. “The laws are so awful that I wasn’t going to marry, either. This does make me more willing, though frankly there’s a long way to go.”

The sheer idea of kids planning outright not to get married to anyone seemed to blow Molly’s mind. She gaped at the two of them while making shocked, horrified little sounds. Harry poured her some lemonade and pressed it into her hands, encouraging her silently to drink it.

Amazingly, she actually did drink it. Better, Molly seemed to calm down now that she had something in her hands to fuss with.

“Frankly, the whole thing where women and kids couldn’t escape from a bad marriage bugged me,” Harry explained. “The thought of some woman being stuck with me no matter how we feel about each other is awful. It feels too much like my aunt and uncle’s marriage. So, I wasn’t going to get married, not in the Magical world anyway. But maybe now I could. I don’t know that I will. There’s really no one that I’m interested in. Hermione’s like a sister to me. Ginny basically is a sister since she’s my best mate’s little sister. And I don’t know, none of the boys are interesting, either. I’m young. There’s time for that sort of thing once I’m grown up.”

When Molly stared at Harry, it was like she saw him for the first time ever. Not the Boy-Who-Lived. Not Ron’s Little Friend. Just Harry Potter, who had opinions and thoughts that he hadn’t shared, plans for his life that she’d never heard of.

And maybe, possibly, she’d just watched all her plans of marrying both Hermione and Harry into the Weasley family go down in flames.

“Stop talking, please,” Hermione huffed at Harry. “It’s making it hard to take notes.”

“Okay,” Harry said easily. “Um, I can help you take stuff to the kitchen, I guess?”

Molly nodded. “That, that’s kind of you, Harry. Thank you.”

His gut shouted to get Molly away from everyone else. Out of Number Twelve and up the street so Harry grabbed the pitcher and followed Molly down to the kitchen. Here’s hoping he could find an excuse. Harry kind of thought he needed to get Dudley’s opinion of Molly.

Right now.

 

21. Fiery Heart Spluttering in Fear: Number Fourteen

“So,” Harry said once they were in the kitchen. Alone. “Did you know my mum?”

“Lily?” Molly said with a sad smile. “Not as well as some, but yes. We were both in Gryffindor, though I was two years ahead of her, so of course we knew each other.”

“Good. If my mum told you that you needed to do something right now,” Harry said, watching her face very carefully, “would you do it?”

Molly’s breath caught. She turned away from the sink where she’d been halfheartedly washing the glasses that Kreacher absolutely was going to rewash as soon as Molly set them down. Whatever she saw in Harry’s face, it made Molly go very pale. Harry watched her and then nodded slowly as she pressed her lips together and swallowed nervously.

“Right,” Harry said. “There’s someone you need to meet. Right now. Before anyone comes back. Before anyone can find out about it. It’s vital. I think… it might be the key to the Weasley family’s continued survival.”

Molly’s hands shook as she wiped them off on a kitchen towel. “Then… I suppose you’d best lead the way, Harry dear.”

They went out the kitchen door and into the backyard which was a jungle and a half despite Kreacher’s efforts to fix things up. It seemed like most Magical gardens were designed to be wild and uncontrolled, completely overgrown and terrifyingly complex. Having grown up on Privet Drive, Harry found it a lot less attractive than he might have otherwise.

“Just not a fan of this style of garden,” Harry admitted once they went out the back gate into the little alley at the back of Grimmauld Place. The rubbish bins were Muggle which made Harry blink.

“More of the classic English style then?” Molly asked, amused despite her shaking hands and pale cheeks.

“Very much so,” Harry agreed. “I always wanted to have a nice cottage on the canal, you know with a hill that slopes down and a dock. Get a nice narrowboat and tie it up there. Do the full formal garden thing in the back, maybe flowering shrubs with some nice tulip and daffodil beds in front. Crocuses. Gotta have those. It’d be lovely.”

“Hm,” Molly hummed as they went to Number Fourteen’s back gate. “I tend to find classic English gardens a bit stuffy, personally, but to each their own.”

“Any garden is better than no garden,” Harry agreed, grinning when Molly laughed in spite of herself. “This is it. Come on. We need to head inside.”

“This… Harry!” Molly hissed as he led her into the thoroughly overgrown magical garden behind Number Fourteen. “You can’t intrude on people’s houses this way!”

Harry turned and stared right into her eyes, snapping her mouth shut and making her shiver. “I’m not. I need to introduce you to someone. Come on. It’s really important that we hurry.”

She stayed silent as he took her through the better tended but still overgrown garden at Number Fourteen. And when they went in the servants’ entrance. Even all the way through into the front where Lacey was standing, stiff and fierce with her wand out by the entrance to the library.

“This is Molly Weasley,” Harry said. “She needs to meet my associate and ah, talk to him.”

“We have an open slot,” Lacey said slow and low as she stared straight through Molly’s soul. “Your associate said it would be filled but wouldn’t say how or why.”

One of Molly’s hands drifted up to rest just below the notch of her throat. She opened her mouth and then shut it again as if she was afraid to speak at this point. Miracle, there. Harry wouldn’t have thought that Molly would ever lose her words.

“Sometimes things are a bit wobbly, I guess,” Harry said. “Right this way, Mrs. Weasley. And um, just so you know, the price of this is absolute truth. Any questions that you’re asked, you must answer with complete, absolute honesty.”

“U-understood,” Molly said.

Her eyes were wide, uncomprehending. At least until Harry led her into the purple library. The instant Dudley turned around to stare at them, Molly made a high-pitched noise as she stumbled. Dudley hummed as he studied both Harry and Molly whose knees shook under her dowdy skirt.

“Seer Judoka,” Harry said, “this is Molly Weasley. Mrs. Weasley, this is Seer Judoka. We’re… associates, I suppose you could say.”

“We’ve teamed up for a very specific purpose that you do not need to know,” Dudley agreed. “Sit. You’ll get the right to ask one question of me if you answer my questions with absolute honesty. Pick a good question.”

Harry had to help Molly to the lavender armchair. She sat, shaking like a leaf, as Dudley moved around the library, touching this book, then that one. He brought three to the sofa before sitting with a thump to flip through them.

“First off, you will call the Chief Warlock “That Man”,” Dudley declared. “There are issues with using his actual name that strongly resemble You-Know-Who’s taboo.”

Molly opened her mouth, then shut it again, as her eyebrows twisted into a confused frown. After a moment, she nodded. Dudley nodded back as he skipped through the second book, humming quietly.

“Second,” Dudley continued after he set the second book down and picked up the third, “don’t bother asking how we met or what we’re working on. I won’t tell you and I’ll have my seneschal obliviate you entirely if you attempt it. Finally, there will be a vow on your magic at the end of this. The vow will be that you will not reveal that you spoke to me, that my associate brought you here, or any questions that I’ve asked you. That’s the exact wording of the vow.”

Lacey passed Molly the vow. She read it in silence once, then again. At the end, Molly nodded.

“I can accept that,” Molly said. “Ask.”

Dudley settled on a particular page of the third book, eyes dark and more than a little angry. He grunted and shook his head when he set the third book aside. When he set it down, Harry saw that all three of them were books on pureblood inheritance. The third one specially addressed marriages.

Oh, great. She’d been promised his money if Ginny married him, hadn’t she?

“When That Man suggested that your youngest son “befriend” my associate,” Dudley said, staring at Molly as the air went liquid again, “how much money were you paid?”

Molly’s mouth dropped open. “W-what? I…”

She sagged back into the armchair with her hand over her mouth for a long, long few seconds. Then she swallowed and shut her eyes. When she opened them, the mercenary look in them was… well, it hurt. Harry did his best not to let it show.

“That Man waived my youngest boy’s school fees, robes, books, cauldron, all of it,” Molly said. “He said that if my Ron became your associate’s best mate, every year of his schooling would be waived as long as they were friends.”

“That’s…?” Dudley turned to Lacey who huffed.

“Approximately fifteen-hundred galleons or somewhere close to seven thousand pounds per year,” Lacey said.

“We didn’t… we didn’t actually take it,” Molly said in a much smaller voice. “I thought we should. It would’ve helped the family finances so much. But Arthur put his foot down and said no. That Man was… not pleased, but he eventually apologized for putting us in a bad place.”

Dudley nodded. “And your daughter? How much were you promised if she married my associate?”

“Oh, ew,” Harry whined. “She’s like my little sister! That’s gross!”

Lacey laughed ruefully at the same time that Molly pressed her fingertips to her lips. Dudley, on the other hand, just stared flatly at Harry. Too flatly. Which meant that this one was going to be the sticking point, wasn’t it?

“The contract that That Man proposed to us said that the Weasley family would get one third of any and all vaults your associate has,” Moly whispered. She stared at her white-knuckled hands in her lap. “Ginny… my daughter is convinced that it will happen eventually. Arthur hasn’t signed. He refuses to. But That Man made both of us swear that we wouldn’t tell Sirius, even though he’s your associate’s real guardian. I don’t… I don’t think it’s valid. I did. But… the wills. And the way he’s been voting. I don’t…”

Dudley leaned forward to stare at Molly who slowly, fearfully raised her eyes from her hands to meet Dudley’s gaze. She winced. Licked her lips. Bobbed her head respectfully.

“He’s using you,” Dudley said. “I don’t even need to use my full gifts to see that. You’re a tool and he’ll throw you away the instant you don’t do what he wants. That Man’s convinced that You-Know-Who is still alive even though the Goblins, the Department of Mysteries and I all confirmed that he’s completely and utterly dead.”

“There was a prophecy,” Molly offered.

“Met it,” Harry commented with a shrug and little smile. “Totally accidentally. It’s part of how all of this,” he waved at Dudley, “started up. The prophecy has been fulfilled. Completed. No matter what That Man thinks.”

“You won’t ever marry my Ginny, will you?” Molly murmured. She sighed.

“You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mum, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry admitted. “I mean it when I say that Ron and Ginny are like siblings to me. They literally are. It’d been downright queer to think about marrying either of them. I mean, seriously? No way. The only thing weirder would be kissing Hermione. She’s like my big sister. Ginny’s like my little sister.”

Not a single thing she’d said so far had been a lie. Harry’s gut hadn’t felt even vague attempts to twist words or sculpt meaning. So, he was kind of surprised when Molly frowned at Dudley.

“This isn’t the official question I intend to ask,” Molly said, “but those new amendments?”

Dudley beamed. “Taken some serious work to get them moving but yeah, that’s me. My associate had some good ideas.”

“Mostly Hermione,” Harry said. He rolled his eyes at the stern look from Dudley. “It was. Don’t get on me.”

Molly nodded slowly. “All right. Were there other questions? We really should get back as quickly as we can.”

“Agreed,” Dudley said. “Nope. I’m done. Ask away.”

“I don’t know if you can help,” Molly said, “but my Arthur was supposed to inherit his grandfather’s tool chest. His will was one of the ones that wasn’t properly executed. No one knows where the tool chest is anymore. Can you tell me where to find it? It would mean so much for Arthur to have it, even after all these years.”

Dudley blinked at her, then leaned back in his chair to laugh. “That’s the best question anyone’s asked me so far. I don’t know. Let’s see if I can find the thing for you.”

He waved for them to follow him, leading the way into Number Thirteen through the connecting door. Molly squeaked and stared at the lovely blues and greens. She turned to Harry who shrugged.

“He owns all the houses on Grimmauld Place other than Number Twelve,” Harry murmured. “Sirius already… had an encounter of his own. They’re discussing linking Number Twelve in, I think. There’re issues with the wards.”

“So many issues with the wards,” Dudley groaned. “We’re still working at it. I really want to be able to keep my associate safe. That Man is an on-going threat to him. And me. You, too. I hope you realize that now.”

“I do,” Molly admitted. She clenched her hands together, not quite wringing them. “I wouldn’t have believed it before the wills but…”

“Yeah,” Dudley said.

He pulled down four map books, took out a quill and a bottle of green ink, and then flipped through the books until he settled on maps for Devon. One that showed the whole thing, one that focused just on Ottery St. Catchpole, and then two really, really, really ancient ones that were written in runes, for one, and Old English, for the other.

Harry pushed Molly into a chair as Dudley worked because the air went blue and wet, then heavy, then so dense that Molly wheezed, and Lacey panted through her open mouth. It was hard on Harry, too, but nothing like what it looked like for Molly.

“Ha, I think I got it,” Dudley said as he started sketching. “This is going to be kind of a treasure hunt. What I Saw isn’t necessarily literal. It’s more… figurative. Start at your home. Go to the Light house, the one with the other Seer.”

“Probably Luna Lovegood,” Harry commented.

“Sounds right,” Dudley agreed as he sketched in the green ink, creating a map that was for all the world a pirate’s treasure map. “There’s something like a lightning blasted tree stump with what might be a fairy ring, might be standing stones. Possibly both. Turn right there. Do not step in the ring whatever it is. It’s trapped somehow. There’s a wood, maybe coppiced? Feels like furniture more than like regular trees. At the far end of that, there’s a hut or building or something. The tool chest should be there. Not sure if the tools are still in it, but the chest itself should be there.”

He had a dozen more landmarks on the map when he passed it over to Molly. She smiled as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Thank you for trying,” Molly said. “Truly. I don’t… I feel like this is worth more.”

“Do your best to get That Man out of his positions of power,” Dudley said as the air whooshed back to normal. “You know, out of the school. Out of the Wizengamot. Out of the ICW, too. He’s got too much power, and he doesn’t bloody well listen. It’s a problem.”

Molly nodded thoughtfully. “I can do that. I think I’ll have to have some parties. We should get back. Thank you so much, Seer Judoka.”

“Oath and then off you go.”

Dudley didn’t give Molly a chance to hug before he sent them on their way. Harry got one of Molly’s intense, near-smothering hugs instead. She said not one word once they were back in Number Twelve’s kitchen. She just hugged him until he twitched, nodded once she let him go, and then marched off calling for Sirius.

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