I am sorry about Harry Potter NR.0 it was never suppose to be posted. It is were I post story’s for editing and considerate if I should post them so every one could read them. But a friend of mine told me that my story was constantly changing so i found out why and fixed it by deleting it and re-posting it only for editing.
p.s. this is a new story.

It’s OK Not To Be OK (But I Promise, I’m Trying)
by rayrae118

Chapter 1

This story is pretty AU from the end of the third book, and I took a few liberties beforehand, mostly in the abuse Harry suffered at the Dursleys. In addition to the emotional abuse and occasional periods of starvation he suffered, they were also physically abusive, but smart enough to not leave marks where anyone would see them. Harry has gone to teachers before Hogwarts, only to be accused of lying, due to the reputation the Dursleys spread about him. By the time he got to Hogwarts, he decided that it wasn’t worth it anymore. His trust in adults is badly shaken. He has been forced to hide his own prowess at school, to avoid being punished for doing better than Dudley, but he is very observant, and hides his intelligence out of self-preservation. He has been remarkably average during his first three years at Hogwarts, partially because he has had it beaten into him to not perform well, but also because in letting his inner Slytherin out to play, he does not want any attention to be brought on him by outperforming his classmates. And also, Hermione seems to really enjoy being the smartest of their trio, and Harry doesn’t want to begrudge her that. I suppose I’m also trying to make Ron mature quicker than he did, so I’m giving him some observation skills too. He’s Harry’s best friend, and I want him to really act like it. I’ve also changed minor details, mostly about family histories, jobs the younger generation’s parents held (like James and Lily), and the like. Nothing too big, but it definitely diverges from canon.

Oh, and a note about pairings, while I’m thinking about it. I haven’t quite decided if there will be any, but if there are, it will most likely be H/G and R/Hr. Probably also some RemusTonks, and I’ll see if I can find someone for Sirius too – I am open to suggestions, if someone wants to see him with an already established character.

I’m also not sure what to do with Snape. Do people want him to change and be better, or should I find some way to get rid of him? No matter what, this will not be a Snape saves Harry, becomes his surrogate father story. That role is reserved for Sirius, aided by my denial that he ever dies. I listen to suggestions, and what my readers want is usually what shapes my stories.

Ok, now that the incredibly long authors note is done, on with the story! I promise, no other AN’s will be this long!

Disclaimer: everything belongs to JK Rowling, I only own my own thoughts.

Harry let out a long sigh as he stared out the window of the third year boy’s dormitory. For one hour, one amazing hour, he had believed that he wouldn’t have to return to the Dursleys. Sirius had done more than his aunt and uncle ever had: he had offered the young orphan a home. And even though it hadn’t worked out, the fact that at least someone wanted him lit a fire inside his chest. That fire was now warring with the dread that was bubbling up from his stomach at the thought of returning to his ‘loving’ relatives for yet another summer. Given how they had left things the previous year, he did not hope for a warm welcome.

While it was true that Vernon hadn’t broken any bones since he had started Hogwarts, that didn’t mean he hadn’t been very unpleasant. And he had had ten months to let his anger stew.

No, Harry was not expecting a warm welcome at all.

The door slammed open, and Harry jumped slightly, turning around and trying to control his reaction as he observed his best friend entering their dormitory.

Ron, for his part, tried to ignore the slight flash of fear that crossed his mate’s face at his entrance. While many would call Ron Weasley a bit thick headed – and they would be right, most of the time – when the need called for it, he could be observant. And over the last three years, he had observed quite a bit about his best friend. Like the way he avoided any mention of his family. The way he flinched slightly whenever he saw sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, or if someone touched him when he wasn’t expecting it. He remembered having to pull the bars off of Harry’s window to rescue him two years previously, and the way that whale of an uncle tried to stop them. Harry always seemed to be skinnier at the end of summer than he was when they left school.

Ron saw the look on his friend’s face, and the way he immediately schooled it back into what he had silently termed Harry’s ’emotionless mask’. It was a look he put on when he didn’t want to talk about whatever it was. So Ron just smiled, and asked Harry if he was ready for breakfast.

Harry didn’t speak, not quite trusting his voice just yet, and followed the redhead down to the Great Hall.

Surrounded by excited and talkative students, he was able to push the emotions to the back of his mind, where they usually stayed, and managed to make conversation with Hermione, though he wasn’t sure how believable he was, or how much she bought his ‘I’m fine’ attitude. The dread was climbing further and further north, until it was lodged somewhere in his throat, and he wasn’t sure he could force himself to take another bite. He wasn’t even sure he could swallow anymore.

“Harry?”

Harry jerked and looked up from his plate, which he had been staring at intently, as if it had done him a personal offense, and took in the worried bushy-haired witch. “Sorry, Hermione, what’d you say?”

Hermione bit her lip nervously. She could see how withdrawn her friend was, and she could guess as to what was causing it. She knew how much Harry wanted his family back, and she knew how disappointed he had been to lose the chance to prove his godfather’s innocence. She was a very smart young woman, and had made the same observations over the years as Ron. Perhaps maybe even a few more than her sometimes emotionally absent redheaded friend. She remembered their walk from the Hogwarts Express down to the boats their first year. At the time, it hadn’t meant much, but Harry had stumbled over a tree root, and his clothes had shifted slightly, enough for her to see a rather oddly shaped bruise on the back of his neck. It looked slightly like a handprint, but she hadn’t said anything about it, even after they had become friends. She had been so happy to be included, that she hadn’t wanted to pry. So she just watched, and waited. It killed her to see him return to those people each summer, and she hated how emotionally detached he became after spending just a minimal amount of time in their presence. Even the short letters he had sent her just seemed so… impassive. Like he had withdrawn into himself, and it usually took several weeks back at school before he became somewhat the same boy he had been the previous term. Though as brilliant as she was, she could see that with each holiday away from Hogwarts, another small piece of the brave, courageous, bright young boy had died.

Oh yes, she knew that Harry held himself back, though she couldn’t understand why someone would deliberately do worse in school. She supposed it might have something to do with his relatives, or not wanting the attention; at one point, she had wondered if he didn’t want to do better than her – she had seen a slight flash of guilt in his eyes when he had done better on their Defense final than she had. She felt horrible that her attitude towards knowledge, and needing to be the best at everything may have driven him to deliberately sabotage his own future. She couldn’t change the past, but she could change her attitude in the future. She truly wanted the best for her friend.

She noticed both Ron and Harry watching her, slightly confused. A light blush spread across her face, but she repeated herself, knowing that Harry had been too caught up in his own thoughts to hear her the first time. “Are you certain you don’t want to eat more, Harry? You need a proper breakfast.”

Harry shrugged and looked back at his plate. He really didn’t think he could force anything down his throat. “I’m fine, Hermione,” he assured his friend, though they all could see through the thinly veiled lie.

He wasn’t fine. He wouldn’t be fine until he could get away from the Dursleys. Hermione and Ron could only hope it would happen before they ended up killing him – both in mind and in body.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak again, but was cut off by a rather unlikely source. Ginny Weasley, seated on the other side of the bushy-haired witch, piped in, “Leave him be, Hermione. If he’s not hungry, he’s not hungry. Maybe you could pack something up to take on the train, for later.”

All three turned to face the younger girl, who promptly turned red, both at the attention, and with embarrassment that she had actually interrupted their conversation. She hadn’t meant to, but hearing the older girl adopt that bossy tone, she had just spoken without thinking.

Harry was the first to recover, and he nodded and forced out a smile. “Thanks, Ginny,” he replied, causing her to look up, startled. “That’s a good idea,” he continued, before beginning to wrap up a few pieces of toast, and some bacon. That act complete, he stood up and stepped away from the table. “I’ve still got some packing to do. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Hermione looked like she wanted to object, but once again, she was cut off by the red haired witch next to her. Ginny had also stood up, downing the last of her pumpkin juice in the process. “Me too,” she commented, forcing her voice to remain steady. “Do you mind if I walk back to the common room with you?” she made herself look Harry in the eyes.

Harry, for his part, was slightly surprised at the forwardness of the younger witch he had never, as yet, had a full conversation with. He nodded his agreement, and the two of them made their way out of the Great Hall together, watched closely and worriedly by three separate pairs of eyes.

Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration Professor, watched two of her students depart, keeping the turmoil she felt from showing in her stern expression. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were definitely the two she spent the most time worrying about; with Miss Weasley’s disastrous first year, the young witch hadn’t managed to really acclimate to Hogwarts. She hadn’t made many friends, and Minerva, observing her over the year, wasn’t sure she would ever really be able to become comfortable with her year mates. They had had that first year to get to know each other, and had already formed friendship bonds. She was glad, now, to see that the young girl had at least made an attempt to reach out to someone; watching them walk out together, she was reminded of another black and red haired couple, though these two seemed to get along much better than James and Lily had at that age.

Harry Potter. She remembered her reservations in placing the young child with the Dursleys all those years ago. Despite her discomfort, she had made no real attempt to reason with Albus, and once they had left, she hadn’t really thought much about the young Harry for almost ten years. He had arrived at school, almost three years previously, looking slightly less than well fed, a little worse for the wear, but amazed at the world he had so recently discovered. The idea of Harry Potter not growing up knowing his heritage definitely rubbed her the wrong way, though not as much as James and Lily’s son not knowing where he came from.

She had watched him over that first year, and had come to several conclusions. One: he was a bright boy, but seemed to hide that part of himself. As an educator, she wanted to confront him, but she had held back, unsure of her place in the child’s life. She was his professor, and that was all. But she couldn’t help but think about what might have happened, had James and Lily been alive. They had been two of her favorite students, and had kept in touch even after graduation. She had shared in so many family moments with them: their engagement, their wedding, their pregnancy. After James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus, she had been next in line to hold the baby Harry. One look, and she had fallen in love. He had awoken long dormant maternal instincts she had thought buried forever. Lily had taken her aside briefly to explain why they had chosen Alice over her for godmother, but just the thought that they had considered her was an honor she had cherished.

Her second observation was slightly harder to notice. His hero tendencies definitely grated on her nerves, and if she acted a bit snappish, it was only because his propensity for putting himself in harm’s way terrified her. She was petrified that one of these times, he wouldn’t be able to get himself back out of a dangerous situation. But that inclination to ‘save the day’, as it were, was all the more interesting – and heartbreaking – for the underlying causes. She felt it was less because of a desire to save the day, and more because he honestly believed his life was worth less than others. And she hated to think of why that may be.

His second year, she had watched from afar as he had managed to uncover a millennium year old secret, and saved a young girl’s life. She had felt her heart stop upon realizing that he and Ron had disappeared from Gryffindor tower, and felt like she hadn’t been able to breathe until they had returned, bringing with them a frightened Ginny Weasley, Fawkes, a rather bloody sword, and an almost incomprehensible story.

This past year, she had seen the effect the Dementors had on him, and had tried so hard to keep her distance, believing that by this point, he would be more adverse to someone he thought of only as a professor and head of house trying to force her way into his life. She had seen his struggle, and watched as Remus Lupin, someone else who should have been a staple in Harry’s life from day one, battle with the same issues as herself, and ultimately come to the same conclusions, that he probably wouldn’t want him. She had heard about what had happened in the Shrieking Shack from Dumbledore, and she couldn’t believe the implications behind Sirius Black’s lack of a trial. An innocent man, sentenced to Hell on Earth! And because an incompetent moron held the position of Minister of Magic, Sirius was more likely to be Kissed than pardoned. She hoped he had gotten away clean, though she felt for Harry. In one night, he had learned the truth about his parents’ deaths, discovered a link to the life he had never known, and then lost it all.

Watching him that morning, she had seen an aura of depression surrounding him, though she also thought she sensed some fear as well, but she couldn’t understand why. Harry Potter had a lot of mystery surrounding him, and now more than ever, she regretted not taking that extra step, and trying to get to know him better. Sure, she was his teacher, but she also felt like so much more. Maybe he would turn her away, but if she didn’t at least try, she knew she would regret it.

Resolve came over her, and she vowed to try and speak with him before he left for the train. It was the least she could do. If nothing else, she did, after all, have quite a few stories of his parents he would probably be interested in knowing.

XXX

Harry and Ginny left the Great Hall and made their way up to their common room. The silence at first was slightly awkward, though for some reason, Harry couldn’t help but feel comfortable in the presence of the younger girl. They hadn’t really had any conversations, but strangely enough, he felt like, out of everyone, Ginny was the one who understood him the best. It was an unacknowledged thought in the back of his mind, that only surfaced now, in the presence of the witch herself, but he couldn’t deny the truth when it was staring him in the face. Ginny was the only one who could relate to him; she too, had been touched by the evil of Voldemort. The two of them had lost their innocence, and were now faced with the unenviable prospect of being adults trapped in a child’s body.

“So, are you looking forward to the holidays?” Ginny asked hesitantly, growing somewhat self-conscious with the prolonged silence.

Harry couldn’t quite hide the flinch her question brought, and shook his head slightly. “Not really,” he replied quietly, almost surprising himself with his honesty.

Ginny bit her lip, and they made it another half a corridor before she worked up the courage to ask the obvious follow up question. “Why not?”

Harry paused for all of half a moment, before he found himself answering. By the time they had reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, he had shared with her the basics – from the periods of near-starvation, to the days and sometimes weeks he had been locked up in the cupboard under the stairs, to the rages Vernon would fly into whenever Harry did something ‘freakish’, or disobeyed an order, or if he just felt like it. Any time something went wrong, it was somehow always Harry’s fault.

Walking into the common room, Harry explained why he was so reluctant to return to his relatives this summer. He feared retribution from his accidental magic the previous August, and he worried that Vernon’s strange reluctance to do much physical harm recently may be overturned.

Ginny listened in silence, horror growing as she learned more about her childhood hero than she ever thought possible. When he stopped talking, he sunk into an armchair, his face growing hot as he realized just how much he had divulged, without even thinking about it. He would have time later to ponder just why it was so easy to talk to the youngest Weasley.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Ginny sat down on the chair’s arm, and lightly grasped his shoulder. He looked up, and into her caring gaze; her warm brown eyes were filled with compassion, and try as he might, he could find no trace of pity, which truly lightened his mood. He didn’t think he could handle it if he saw pity there. An apology was on the tip of his tongue, when she suddenly shook her head.

“I swear, if you apologize right now, I might have to do something drastic, Potter,” she smiled, which took the bite out of the words. Harry’s mouth opened slightly in shock. How had she known what he was thinking? Ginny’s smile widened. “You’re much easier to read than you think, Harry. And you have this bad habit of apologizing for everything, whether or not it’s your fault.” Harry looked down, embarrassed, but Ginny wouldn’t let him stew. “You know none of that is, right?” Harry seemed confused as he continued to study his lap. She clarified, “your fault. It’s not. Your uncle is to blame. And probably your aunt, and your cousin. And V – V – Voldemort.” Harry looked up sharply as she stuttered out the name of the dark lord. Ginny took a deep breath. “Harry, will you promise me something?” Harry nodded, finding himself unable to tear his gaze away. “If things get bad, promise me you’ll get out. Take the Knight Bus to The Burrow.”

Harry nodded, reaching out and taking her hand in his, squeezing gently. “I promise, Gin,” he replied quietly but firmly. Ginny started at the nickname, but didn’t comment. Truth be told, she sort of liked it. But only when Harry used it.

The moment was over a second later, when several more Gryffindors entered the common room, and the two separated for their separate dormitories to retrieve their belongings.

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Chapter 2
OK, so that author’s note last chapter, where I said I wasn’t quite sure if there would be pairings in this story… apparently, I lied. If the last chapter wasn’t an indication, this will definitely be HG and RHr. Sorry if that disappoints, but I really like the canon pairings (not to say I don’t read anything else, it’s just my preference). It also seems to be developing into a soul bond fic, though it will be slow going.

I have decided on a bi-weekly update schedule, since this story is pretty much complete. It will cover Harry’s fourth year, and if there’s enough of a positive response, I will continue with a sequel that will cover his fifth year. So every Tuesday and Saturday, check your computers!

And I apologize for any cultural mistakes I may make; I tried to write as English as possible, but other than the one year I lived in England when I was three, I am completely and one hundred percent American.

Disclaimer: I only own the plot

Once upstairs, Harry walked around his dormitory, picking up a few odds and ends that had not yet made it into his trunk. On the nightstand next to his bed, he picked up Hermione’s Arithmancy book, and smiled slightly. He had asked to borrow it shortly after their somewhat ill fated rescue attempt, and had almost withdrawn the request after seeing the way her eyes lit up. But listening to her talk about the subject over the year, he couldn’t help but relate it to the maths classes he had taken in primary school. And if he had been allowed to perform at his best, rather than hide his intelligence to please his relatives, he would have been at the top of those classes. They had been his favorite.

He had begun reading through the textbook, and was surprised at how much he understood. He had half-formed ideas about asking what the policy was on changing electives, but he doubted McGonagall would allow it.

Professor McGonagall was something of a mystery to him. She seemed too stern and strict, but then she would give him these looks, like she was ashamed of herself, or guilty. Her expression would soften, and he would feel like she just wanted to give him a hug or something. It was a little unnerving, but he tried to ignore it. Adults were confusing, and he had long ago learned not to trust them. Not after the first time he had tried to go to a teacher about the Dursley’s abuse, only to have the teacher – Mr. Waltham, the History teacher in Year Three – call up his aunt and uncle to warn them about his ‘overactive imagination’. He had spent a week in his cupboard for that, trying not to cry every time movement jostled his broken arm and fractured ribs. The injuries had, of course, healed unnaturally quickly, something that only made Vernon angrier.

Harry flipped through the book for a moment, taking in very little of what was actually written, before he set it on the top of the rather haphazard pile of possessions packed in his trunk, and closed the lid. His wand, he kept with him, on the very real chance that he would be separated from his trunk upon arriving at Number Four, Privet Drive. He prayed he would be allowed to take a few things, but he didn’t hold out much hope.

Dragging his trunk back downstairs, he was surprised to find Ginny waiting for him, her trunk packed and ready, and as he entered the room, she picked up one end, and began dragging it over to meet him by the door.

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the girl who, until quite recently, had been so shy around him she hadn’t been able to get out two words. “Thanks for waiting,” he said quietly.

Ginny didn’t reply, but the corner of her mouth quirked upwards. She couldn’t believe how much their relationship had changed over the last hour. Just a day previously, the thought of being in the presence of the Boy Who Lived was almost too much to think about. She supposed the only thing that had really changed was her perspective. Harry wasn’t just the Boy Who Lived anymore. Or rather, she didn’t see him that way. He had gone from a fantasy bedtime story hero, to a real person. And she liked the real Harry. She had seen through the mask this morning, to the shy and somewhat uncertain boy underneath. He had opened up with her in a way she really couldn’t have imagined possible, and she wasn’t sure he had ever really opened up with anyone the way he had with her. She had seen the look in his eyes as he had spoken about long buried feelings and emotions, and she just knew that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to talk about with Ron and Hermione. It made her feel special, but she also felt a sense of duty, and a weight settling down around her shoulders. She wanted to help him, but she didn’t know how. She wasn’t even sure their strange new relationship would last longer than this morning.

Ginny’s thoughts carried her through several hallways, until they were stopped quite suddenly by Professor McGonagall, who asked for a quick word with Harry before he went to catch the train.

Harry looked over at Ginny briefly, before turning back to McGonagall. “Can Ginny come?” he asked, surprising all three of them. He wasn’t sure what had prompted him to ask, but somehow, he felt like her presence in this meeting would be a good thing. He wanted her there.

McGonagall seemed about to refuse, until she saw the uncertain look on Harry’s face, and the concern on Ginny’s. With a small sigh, she nodded. “Of course,” she replied, turning around and making her way to a nearby empty classroom. “Come along, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley.”

Once inside the classroom, Minerva threw up several privacy wards to ensure they would not be interrupted. She was somewhat surprised that Harry seemed to know exactly what she was doing, but then she remembered her theories that he was actually much smarter than he appeared to be in class. She figured he must have read a few library books about wards. Though she wondered why he hadn’t taken Ancient Runes, if he was interested in them.

Once she was certain they were safe to speak, Minerva let the stern expression fall slightly, as she took in the son of two of her best students, and two great friends. Harry was slightly unnerved to see the small smile that graced her face.

“I’m glad I managed to catch you before you left, Mr. Potter. Harry.” Harry’s eyes widened as the professor used his given name. Minerva’s smile grew more wistful. “I would like to tell you a story, if that’s all right with you,” she continued, seating herself not at the teacher’s desk, but at a student’s, and motioning for both Harry and Ginny to do the same. Once they were all seated and facing each other, she went on, “It began in September of 1971, when two bright but utterly different students began their education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Harry leaned forward intently, recognizing that he was about to learn something about his parents, but confused as to why McGonagall was telling him in such a way. Ginny’s hand found his, and she squeezed reassuringly, feeling elated when she felt him return the pressure. “Over the next few years, they excelled in pretty much every subject, though their arguments were the thing of legends. It wasn’t until their seventh year when James Potter and Lily Evans began to date. I’m told he was much more attractive once his head deflated a little.” Minerva’s smile widened a little more, and Harry soaked in the information on his parents, learning more in just a few sentences than he had in the last twelve years. “Once they graduated, James and Lily began to make their mark on the world. James entered the Auror program, and promptly broke every record previously held, while Lily began working on a Charms mastery. They began to speak of marriage less than a year later, and on a surprisingly cold night in July, 1980, they welcomed a rather handsome baby boy into their family.” Harry’s face reddened at that, even as he felt the confusion growing. Minerva, recognizing that he needed to know why she was telling him all this, leaned forward, her hands folded on top of the desk to keep herself from reaching out to a boy she wished she could have known better. She had never felt so disgusted with herself. “Your parents were great friends of mine, Harry. Though moving away from the student-professor relationship was a bit of a challenge at first, I am not ashamed to admit that I came to love them as a parent quite quickly, especially after their own were killed. Your father’s father was killed in a Death Eater raid during his last year in school, and his mother died of illness a few months later. Your mother’s parents were killed by Death Eaters shortly after she graduated Hogwarts.”

Minerva recognized the fire in his eyes, and knew that he was soaking up any information on his family; she knew that he hadn’t been told any of this before. It angered her, and saddened her, that he would be so eager to hear about death, just because it was new information. She sighed. “I was one of the first James told when he was planning on proposing – I believe his best friends beat me out, but I don’t begrudge them that. I was there when they exchanged vows, and I can attest to how excited they were when they found out about you.” Moisture grew in Minerva’s eyes, as she saw the pain reflected in Harry’s own green orbs. She saw the way Ginny seemed to lean towards him, and she internally smiled, recognizing the similarities between those two and Harry’s parents. What was it about Potter’s and redheads? “After Remus and Sirius, I was the next one to hold you the night you were born.” Harry looked up sharply at her mention of his godfather, and Minerva, guessing correctly, nodded. “Albus told me about what really happened. I wish there was something I could do – ” she cut herself off. Perhaps there was something. Albus had said that without Pettigrew, he couldn’t do anything, but it struck her as a little fishy. He was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. If he really wanted to, he could call for a trial. She began to think about her options. Perhaps a letter to Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, wouldn’t go amiss. Madame Bones had been a bright student, unusually grounded for a Hufflepuff, and only interested in justice, unlike some others in the Ministry. She saw the slightly confused looks Harry and Ginny were giving her, and she shook herself out of her thoughts. She didn’t want to get his hopes up, so she would keep her plans to herself for now.

“I asked to speak with you, Harry, because I want to apologize. I should never have let Albus place you with your relatives, and I should never have agreed to stay away. Had things been different, you probably would have known me as ‘Aunt Minerva’.” She saw the slightly bemused expression, and she smiled again. “Lily told me that she and James had considered asking me to be your godmother, but went with Alice Longbottom instead. I do not begrudge her that, just being considered was honor enough.” Harry started. He hadn’t known that Neville’s mum was his godmother. Why hadn’t she ever come for him? Surely, as godmother, she would have had as good a claim as Sirius? “When you arrived at Hogwarts, I was sure that, by that time, you wouldn’t want me to be more than a professor, so I stayed away. I wish, now, I had done things differently, but I want you to know that I am here, if you want me to be. I know you are growing up, and fast leaving childhood behind, but I hope that I am not too late.”

With that, Minerva sat back slightly, and waited for either salvation or damnation. Truly, she wouldn’t blame Harry in the slightest if he told her he never wanted to see her again. Her confusion grew as she watched Harry and Ginny appear to have an entire conversation without words. Finally, Harry sighed, and looked down.

“Harry.” Ginny’s voice was slightly pleading, and had a lot of worry in it, which only made Minerva’s concern rise.

Harry’s shoulders slumped, and he bit his lip. Minerva watched this with some alarm; she was so used to seeing the wizard as a composed, rather mature young man, she hadn’t really been aware of how much he had been hiding. But when he raised his eyes to look at her once more, she was struck by just how much older he seemed.

His voice was sincere as he replied, “Thank you, professor. That means a lot to me.” Minerva nodded, shifting in her seat as she studied the couple in front of her.

Ginny gave Harry a nudge, but when he didn’t say anything else, she just sighed and turned to face her head of house. Minerva was taken aback to recognize the blazing expression in the young Weasley’s steady gaze. In that moment, Ginny reminded her so much of Lily, it was uncanny. “Professor, you said that you had reservations about the Headmaster placing Harry with the Dursleys, right?” The way she practically spat out ‘Dursleys’ immediately caught Minerva’s attention. She nodded, but didn’t speak, and Ginny continued, “Did he happen to say why he felt it necessary to leave Harry there?”

Minerva let out a sound that was almost a hiss, reminding both students of her animagus form; the amount of anger she should immediately reassured both of them that she was on their side. “Albus felt it better for you to grow up away from all of the fame. I believe he was worried that you might gain some… unsavory characteristics, if you had been exposed to the notoriety you received after You-Know-Who’s fall.” She had to hold in a smile as Harry let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like ‘Malfoy’. “I think he also wanted to give you a real childhood. I was less certain that was what you would receive, but, and I am ashamed to admit this, I trusted his judgment. After all, he is the leader of the light. I am so sorry, Harry.”

A few tears escaped from her eyes, which convinced Harry more than any words she could have spoken – though of course, the words did help. He nodded, a little ashamed to feel a burning in his own eyes. He closed them tightly for a moment, trying to will away the tears. He felt Ginny withdraw her hand from his, and barely had a moment to figure that she was probably disgusted with his emotional display, before he felt her hand across his shoulders, hugging him gently.

Minerva waited another minute, until Harry seemed to gather his composure. When he was able to look at her again, she asked, “Why do you ask?”

It was Ginny’s turn to let out an animalistic sound, though she didn’t move from her position as she growled, “He can’t go back.” Harry looked at her almost in protest, but she overrode anything he may have said. “No, Harry, I mean it. After everything you told me, I’m scared for you! You told me yourself that you were afraid of what he might do. And he’s had a whole year to think about his sister, and what happened last summer. You said it! Please, let me help. Let us help.” She trailed off as she started crying, hating herself as she did so. This wasn’t about her, but she couldn’t help it. She was afraid of what might happen if no one did anything.

Harry seemed to almost curl in on himself, sinking into his seat as he tried to will McGonagall not to ask.

Unfortunately, she did not seem to hear his silent prayers. “Harry.” She waited a moment, until the boy finally looked up. His expression was mostly blank, though there was an undercurrent of pure fear that she could just barely see, but that truly worried her. Her voice was soft and calm as she spoke. “Will you let me help?”

And there it was. It was the way she had asked that made Harry actually want to tell her. She wasn’t asking for specifics, she wasn’t even asking for vague details. She just wanted him to let her in, in any way he was willing. Slowly, he nodded, his hands clasping together tightly in his lap, until Ginny let go of his shoulders to force his grip open so that she could hold on herself.

Feeling slightly better, Harry began to speak. He didn’t say much, but what he did share was enough to convince Minerva that Albus truly had been mental, to leave the boy there and then not even check up on him over the years.

She listened as Harry outlined just a little bit about what growing up had been like: from the forced periods of starvation, to the first time he had brought home a perfect test, only to be beaten up by Vernon for ‘using his freakishness to outperform perfect Dudley’. She learned about how he had rather quickly gained the knowledge that standing out in any way only led to more pain. She heard in detail about what had had happened to Vernon’s sister the previous summer, what had caused Harry to feel that running away had been the best option for him. And hearing about it in his words, she truly agreed that it had been.

Harry took a deep breath as he concluded, “I know it’s probably stupid,” he mumbled, “But he was really angry when I left, and time doesn’t really mellow Uncle Vernon like it does most people.”

“It’s not stupid, Harry.” Ginny was the first to chastise, though Minerva had been opening her own mouth to say much the same thing.

The Transfiguration Professor smiled lightly, and nodded her agreement. “Miss Weasley is correct. Harry, you shouldn’t have to be afraid to go home for the summer. I don’t think I can do anything before you leave, but I give you my word that I will have you out of that house as soon as possible.”

Harry’s gaze was searching, assessing, and gave Minerva the shivers. It wasn’t natural for a thirteen-year-old boy to have so much power in his gaze. He truly would be a force to be reckoned with, when he grew older.

Finally, he nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly, looking down at his lap.

The look he was wearing as he contemplated his hands, still entwined with Ginny’s, almost broke her heart. It seemed as if he wasn’t going to let himself hope too much. Just in case.

Screw it. Minerva stood up and moved until she was kneeling next to Harry. She used one hand to force his chin up so that he was once more looking at her. “I promise, Harry. I will get you out of there.”

“What about Professor Dumbledore?” Harry voiced the question that had been gnawing at him.

Minerva shook her head. “His intentions may have been good, but he lost any right to have a say when he didn’t even check on you once during those first ten years.” Ginny snorted, but the real win was seeing the ghost of a smile cross Harry’s face.

The moment passed, and Minerva stood up, followed quickly by Harry and Ginny. She hesitated for a moment, before throwing caution to the winds and encircling the young wizard in a light hug. She choked up a little when she felt him return the gesture. His movements were uncertain, however, and she realized that it might have been the first time he could remember receiving such an action from an adult. That thought definitely didn’t make her feel better.

The two students were almost out the door, when Harry turned around. “Professor?” Minerva turned back around, abandoning the attempt to wipe the tears from her eyes. Harry swallowed. “I was wondering if students were able to change electives after third year.”

Minerva quirked an eyebrow. “It certainly isn’t orthodox, but I believe it has been done before. Why do you ask?”

Harry grimaced. “I’m tired of Trelawney predicting my death every week. Hermione leant me her Arithmancy book after finals, and it seems interesting. Most of what they covered last fall is stuff I already knew, and what they learned over the spring doesn’t seem too complicated. Would it be possible to switch?”

Minerva thought for a moment. It was a rather unusual request, but as she had said, it wasn’t unheard of. “I’ll see what I can do. If you take the summer to study the third year textbook, I’ll see if Professor Vector would consent to giving you the end of year exam when you return in September. If you pass, I don’t see any reason why you can’t be placed into the fourth year class.”

It would be worth any trouble his request may cause, just to see the way his face lit up at the affirmative answer.

“Thank you, so much,” Harry grinned.

Minerva smiled in return. “If you should have any questions about the subject, please don’t hesitate to owl me. I’m certain Miss Granger would also be of great help.”

Harry nodded, and with a parting good bye, he turned back around and pulled Ginny out of the classroom. Neither one actually seemed to be aware that they were still holding hands.
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Chapter 3
Thank you to everyone who is reviewing, I’m glad you’re enjoying! And to those who have reviewed and stated how they hope I keep up with the updates, I promise, I will. This story is basically finished, apart from some minor tweaking and revision. I will have updates twice a week, every Tuesday and Saturday, until the story is finished. It will cover Harry’s fourth year, and if there’s enough of a response, I will turn it into a series, with one story per school year. I’m trying to keep events mostly the same, with some minor changes; the big things will happen, but differently from JK Rowling – after all, if you wanted that, you could just read the book.

And my shout out for today, I would like to thank a reviewer from my previous Harry Potter fic, My Life, My Choice, for their review that blew several holes through that story. Your review was what made me really go back and think it through, and decide to rewrite the idea in a way that would be more structurally sound. So thank you, Katconan, for your review. Even if it was a little disheartening, I do appreciate constructive criticism, and I think this story is much better than that one.

Disclaimer: don’t own

Harry and Ginny barely made it down to the train before it departed, and had to walk almost the whole length before they found Ron and Hermione, seated towards the back, looking rather worried. However, their expressions cleared immediately when they saw the two.

Ron barely gave them a chance to sit down before he was asking where they had been. “When I went back to grab my trunk, yours was already gone. Hermione said you had probably already left for the train, but we couldn’t find you. What happened?”

If his expression hadn’t been so worried, Harry might have been annoyed. As it was, he couldn’t fault either of them for being concerned. He shrugged. “Sorry, Ron. Ginny and I were heading down when McGonagall asked for a word.”

Ron and Hermione shared a quick glance. “Is everything all right?” Hermione ventured, wondering what the professor might have wanted, the morning they were to depart for the summer.

It was Harry and Ginny’s turn to look at each other, once more seeming to share an entire conversation with just one glance. Finally, Harry turned back to his best friends, and shrugged. “We talked about a few things, she told me a little about my parents…” his expression grew pensive, and slightly wistful. He made a mental note to speak with Neville some time soon. He knew that the shy boy lived with his grandmother, and was curious as to what had happened to his parents. He wanted to know what had happened to his godmother. He smiled gratefully at Ginny when she grasped his hand once more, an action that garnered the attention of both Ron and Hermione, though neither chose to comment at that time. Clearing his throat, Harry continued, “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” He braced himself for an explosion, but was surprised when neither commented. In fact, both actually seemed to understand, nodding in agreement. He let out a sigh of relief, and decided to get in some reading now, while he still had access to his textbooks.

Pulling out the Arithmancy textbook was met with confusion by Ron, and approval by Hermione.

“Mate, why are you reading that? You’re not even taking Arithmancy.”

Harry grimaced, and looked at his friend. “That’s actually one of the things McGonagall and I talked about. I’m tired of putting up with Trelawney, so I asked her about changing electives. I borrowed Hermione’s book after classes ended, and I actually understand a lot of it. McGonagall said she’d talk to Professor Vector about me taking the third year final exam in September, and if I pass, I can drop Divination.”

Once more, he was expecting an explosion, and was pleasantly surprised when Ron just stared at him, dumbfounded. Finally, he just shrugged. “Well, I guess I can’t fault your reasoning there,” he admitted. “Trelawney’s pretty unbearable.”

Hermione was simply beaming. “I’m so proud of you, Harry!” she practically gushed. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to owl me, it’ll be so great to have you in class next year!”

Harry tried not to laugh, but her enthusiasm was so infectious that he couldn’t hide the smile. “Thanks, Hermione,” he chuckled. “McGonagall actually told me I should owl you, too.”

Hermione’s smile, if possible, got wider.

And on that note, the four of them hunkered down for the ride. Hermione pulled out her Ancient Runes text, while Ron perused a Quidditch magazine, and Ginny seemed to be reading the Arithmancy book over Harry’s shoulder. Until he realized what she was doing, and lowered the book, moving it over so that it was in both their laps.

Ginny smiled her thanks, and the hours seemed to melt away as the terrain outside the window changed from barren fields, to rocky hills, to farmland, and back again.

It wasn’t until the Trolley Witch had come and gone, leaving them a few galleons lighter, but more weighed down with Pumpkin Pasties and Chocolate Frogs, that Harry came out of his Arithmancy trance. He looked up and studied his friends for a few moments. Ron had fallen asleep while reading, his head was resting against the window, but Hermione seemed to be puzzled over something she was reading. Her brow was furrowed, and her lips moved soundlessly.

Feeling the eyes on her, Hermione looked up and met Harry’s gaze. He smiled slightly. “Everything all right there, Hermione?” he asked quietly, trying not to wake up his redheaded friend. Next to him, Ginny also looked up, her concentration at trying to figure out a subject she would begin studying next year broken.

Hermione flushed a little, embarrassed at being caught not understanding something for only a moment, before she relaxed. Harry would never judge, she knew. She shrugged, moving one shoulder up and down as she looked back at the text. “I’m just trying to learn ahead a little,” she replied, flipping the page and furrowing her brow.

Harry and Ginny shared a knowing glance, before they both turned back to the bushy haired witch. Harry took this opportunity to learn a little more about yet another subject he was regretting not taking. Now that he had learned a little more about it, he realized just how useful it might be. Runes were used a lot in the creation of wards, and he had taken some time after classes had ended to read up a little on the topic in the library. It sounded like a rather fascinating subject.

Ginny seemed to understand what Harry was thinking, because she asked Hermione to give her an overview of the subject, since it, too, was one she would be taking next year.

That was all it took for Hermione to go off, discussing translations, and Runic applications. For a while, she spoke about the career of Curse Breaker, and the way they used both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Her voice took on a slightly dreamy quality as she talked of ward construction, and the way they could be woven together; it sounded more like an art than anything else, the way she described it.

When Hermione seemed to have run out of air, Harry felt it safe to break in. “That sounds really interesting. I’d be interested in learning more, but I don’t want to take more than one textbook away from you for the summer. It’s too bad I can’t get to Diagon Alley easily.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up, but it was Ginny who answered. “You could always owl order the book,” she suggested. Harry turned his questioning gaze on her, and Ginny elaborated, “Flourish and Blotts has an owl order business. All you have to do is send them the payment and what book you want. If you do it often enough, they’d probably set up a tab.” She looked at him sidelong, and then amended, “Actually, you probably could just ask for them to set up a tab. They’d never deny the Boy Who Lived anything.”

Harry spluttered for a moment, before he caught the decided twinkle in the redhead’s eyes. He growled lightly, but returned the smile she gave him readily enough. “I think I’ll do that,” he told them.

The train started to slow, announcing their arrival to London. Ron began to shift and stretch, waking up slowly as he looked around. “What’d I miss?” he asked, blinking owlishly.

Harry and Hermione smiled, while Ginny just shook her head. “We were just talking about electives,” Harry answered. “Hermione was explaining Ancient Runes to me and Ginny.”

Ron grimaced. Term had just ended for Merlin’s sake! They had a whole summer to relax, and all they wanted to talk about was school! He tempered his reaction, though, when he took a good look at his best friend. As the train slowed even more, even he couldn’t fail to notice the dread settling around Harry. As the train screeched to a stop, he saw the black haired wizard swallow harshly, before steeling himself to stand up.

Harry handed the Arithmancy book back to Hermione. “Thanks for letting me borrow this,” he said gratefully, his voice quiet with anxiety. “I’ll just owl order my own, along with the Ancient Runes one.”

Hermione nodded, feeling her own apprehension rise as she watched her friend close himself off, becoming almost an emotionless husk of a human. To be perfectly frank, it scared her.

The four of them made their way onto the platform quietly, looking for the large group of redheads they knew would be easiest to spot.

Mrs. Weasley was waving them over from where she stood with Percy, Fred, and George. After a round of hugs in which Harry did his level best not to flinch, she stood back and smiled matronly. “How was your term, dears?” she asked, reaching over to wipe some nonexistent dirt off of Ginny’s face.

The redhead leaned back, trying to avoid the embarrassing gesture, though inwardly, she rejoiced in the feeling of having a mother at all, remembering what Harry had told her of his relatives just this morning.

“It was fine, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione answered, looking around for her own parents. She had taken the question, somehow knowing that Harry probably wasn’t up for speaking just now. Indeed, he simply nodded an agreement, before turning to say goodbye to his friends.

Hermione stopped searching as she turned back to him, and wasted no time in grabbing him for a tight hug. She tried to pass on her support to him without saying anything, but she felt like he understood when he began to hug her back. Stepping away, she lowered her voice slightly. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to owl.”

Harry nodded, and turned to Ron. The two boys shook hands, though their grasp was slightly tighter than normal, as Ron too offered his support.

Ginny surprised everyone by following Hermione’s lead and grabbing the Boy Who Lived in a firm embrace. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, willing herself not to cry again. Not here, in front of everyone.

When they let go, both of their faces were slightly red, and Harry’s eyes were suspiciously bright. Ginny couldn’t help but hug him again, though this time it was slightly less unyielding, and she whispered, “Remember, you promised me. You’ll let me in, right?”

She felt him nod, even as he replied, “I promise,” his voice slightly muffled by her hair. They pulled away again, and locked gazes. After a moment, he smiled, though it seemed a little forced. “I’ll write,” he told her, before turning to face the rest of the Weasleys.

They all seemed confused at the closeness the two seemed to share, since, as far as they knew, the pair had never really had a serious conversation. Ron couldn’t help but wonder just what had happened on their walk up to Gryffindor tower that morning. He vowed to have a rather uncharacteristically serious conversation with his sister at first opportunity.

Harry said his goodbyes to the closest thing he really had to family, before he decided it was time to face the music, and turned towards the barrier between Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and Kings Cross Station.

On the other side, he found a rather angry Vernon Dursley, waiting with an irritated Petunia, and a bored Dudley.

None of them said anything as they saw Harry. Petunia simply sniffed haughtily, before Vernon spun on his heel and led the way back to the car.

The trip back to Privet Drive was uneventful, and moreover, completely silent. Harry’s imagination began to run away with him, and he was very glad he had decided to send Hedwig on ahead, so that she could hopefully avoid being locked up, should it come to that.

Sure enough, no sooner had he passed the threshold to Number Four, than Vernon had grabbed his trunk and thrown it into the cupboard under the stairs. The next thing he did was grab Harry’s arm and haul him up the stairs, where he was unceremoniously dumped into the smallest bedroom. Harry heard the locks engage as he absentmindedly rubbed his arm where his uncle had grasped it. Clearly, his idea of what this summer would entail hadn’t been that far off the mark. He could only hope that McGonagall would remain true to her word, and get him out of here quickly.

Hedwig chose that moment to enter through the open window. Harry stroked her head as she came to a rest on his shoulder, and he smiled slightly. Just seeing the owl made him feel better.

Harry took a moment to hunt around for a spare bit of parchment, on which he quickly scribbled a brief note to Flourish and Blotts, asking that they owl him the third year Ancient Runes textbook, and the third and fourth year Arithmancy books.

He was startled from his writing when an unfamiliar owl entered the room, coming to a rest on top of his dresser. Harry took the letter from the regal bird with a nod of thanks, hunting around in the top drawer for the bag of owl treats he knew he had left there the previous summer; he hoped they would be all right, since the other bag of treats he had was currently in his trunk locked in the cupboard under the stairs.

The owl gave him a somewhat dubious look, but took the treat readily enough, and with a sweep of its wings, was once more out the window.

Harry turned to the letter, and, unfurling it, was surprised to find McGonagall’s tidy handwriting. Hedwig left her perch on his shoulder and moved over to the dresser, as he sat down on the bed and began to read.

Dear Harry,

Hearing, or reading, his first name from Professor McGonagall would definitely take some getting used to, Harry thought wryly.

I hope your return trip to London was both relaxing and enjoyable. I wanted to assure you that I am doing everything possible to keep my promise to you. I have sent a note to Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She is a very fair woman, and I trust her. I am hopeful that we will be able to come for you within the next week or two.

The other reason I wanted to write you was to talk about another topic you may find interesting. I noticed, this morning, that you seemed very interested in the privacy wards I set before our conversation. If you have an interest in the subject, I would recommend reading some books on Ancient Runes. While privacy wards are some of the simplest wards to create, utilizing more spell work than Runes, the topics are comparable, and I think, if you are interested, and if you work hard this summer, we may be able to see about getting you into the fourth year Ancient Runes class as well.

Please do not hesitate to owl me if you need anything, and please feel like you can come to me if you need help.

Minerva McGonagall

Harry re-read the note, brow furrowing as he took in the implications. Truthfully, in his readings of the subject utilizing the library, he had found the topic fascinating. He wished the second years had been given more advice regarding their elective choices. Had he really had the subjects explained to him, he never would have gone for Divination, rather than Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. He had only chosen his subjects because Ron had picked the same ones. But in all honesty, neither Divination nor Care of Magical Creatures would help him with any career he might choose.

Picking up his note to Flourish and Blotts, Harry added the Ancient Runes fourth year textbook as well, before walking over to Hedwig and tying the note, along with a small pouch filled with a few galleons that he luckily still had in his pocket, to her leg.

“Can you take this to Flourish and Blotts for me, Hedwig?” Harry asked, giving her a year-old owl treat, which she took, though she didn’t look too happy about it.

Hedwig gave him a beady stare, which he understood to mean ‘why, after all these years, do you even have to ask?’

Harry smiled and held out his arm, which she hopped onto for a ride over to the window.

Once Hedwig was no more than a distant speck in the sky, Harry returned to his bed, lying down fully clothed and closing his eyes, trying to think about everything that had happened in the last day. He was so tired, however, that no sooner had his eyes closed, than he was asleep.
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Chapter 4
I would like to state here, for the record, that I have no beta. I do all my own writing, editing, and proofing. So any gramatical errors are mine. I try to catch them all as I edit, but some undoubtedly will slip through. I tend to type very fast, so sometimes I’ll write the wrong form of a word (two/to/too, you’re/your, etc), and then not catch it when I edit, most likely because I know what I’ve written, so my eye can skate over the words and not really catch the errors. I apologize for mistakes, and I hope when you read you don’t automatically go to the errors and ignore the story.

And another note, as I said this is an AU, and I did take a few liberties from beforehand, so please don’t harp on anything that’s different. I changed what needed to be changed to fit my story. Another point of contention may come up in this chapter – I know that Amelia Bones is actually much older than Harry’s parents, but for the purposes of this story, I made her younger; she is about five years older than the Marauders. And according to sources, the Bones’ that were killed (that Hagrid mentioned) were not actually Susan’s parents, but I am saying that they are, so Amelia is Susan’s legal guardian. I hope that doesn’t offend anyone.

Disclaimer: not mine

Dear Harry,

I hope your summer studies are going well. If you have any questions on the Arithmancy text, please don’t hesitate to ask!

I’ve been spending a good deal of time reading ahead for next term. We only have two more years before our OWL exams, so I’ve begun drawing up revision schedules. I do hope I have enough time to get everything done.

My parents are talking about going on holiday for a few weeks this summer, though we will definitely be back by August. Ron says the Quidditch World Cup will be in England this year, and he believes his dad can get tickets. It should be so fascinating to watch history in the making!

Love,

Hermione

VVV

Mate –

How’s everything going? Have you heard from Hermione yet? Can you believe it! Two years until OWLs and she’s already talking about revising. Mental, that one is.

Summer’s been pretty normal here; Fred and George are holed up in their room most of the time, though the explosions have been at a minimum, so far. Percy’s got a job lined up at the Ministry, the prat. Can’t say I thought he’d go anywhere else, though. He’s been talking about working for the ‘pillar of Magical Society’ since before I started Hogwarts.

Have you heard? The Quidditch World Cup’s gonna be in England this year. Dad reckons he can get some tickets through work, so you’ve got to come! Hermione will be there too, she said the historical aspects would be fascinating.

Speaking of the siblings – mate, what’s up with you and Ginny? Why does she suddenly think you’re like best friends or something? She wants to give Errol her letter, too, so I better wrap this up. Don’t let the muggles get you down.

Ron

VVV

Dear Harry,

Don’t worry, I’m all right. I won’t tell you where I am, in case this letter gets intercepted, but I want you to know that I’m safe. If you need anything, I’m only an owl away, and I’ll be there, no matter what.

We didn’t have a whole lot of time to talk, but I hope to remedy that soon. From what I’ve seen of you, though, I can tell that you are a remarkable young man. You remind me so much of your parents, Harry, and not just in looks. That generous, caring soul is all Lily, the passion and belief in doing what’s right is definitely James, and I daresay you got both their tempers.

Never doubt yourself, Harry. You’ve got good instincts, so use them. And remember, I’m here for you.

-Padfoot

VVV

Dear Harry,

I hope things aren’t too horrible. You’d tell me if they were, right?

Things have been pretty boring here, so far. Mum’s got me and Ron doing chores, though I daresay you’ve probably got more. Fred and George are causing their usual mayhem, though fortunately, we came to an agreement a long time ago, so I don’t have to worry about them pranking me (ask me to tell you about it sometime, it really is quite the story!). Ron’s been on his guard, after the first night when they gave him a duck bill! But right now, they’re focusing on Percy – they say they need to get it all out now, before he moves out. I’m not sure when that’ll be, but now that he has a job, I’m expecting it any day.

Bill left most of his textbooks here when he moved to Egypt, so I’ve been able to do a little reading for next term. I’m about halfway through the Arithmancy text – it’s quite fascinating! I’m very glad I chose it, as opposed to Divination (listening to Ron grumble and complain really didn’t make the decision too hard). I really hope you are able to get into the class in September, so that you can help me with my homework!

Please tell me how things are going – and I won’t accept any lame ‘I’m fine’ letters. I expect you to tell me the truth! You promised, remember.

If things get bad, don’t forget you’re welcome here any time. At the very least, you’ve got to come for the Quidditch World Cup. I’m sure Ron’s already told you about it, so I won’t.

I miss you, Harry. Please, tell me if you’re all right. I’m really worried. Have you heard from McGonagall yet? I trust her, so if she says she going to get you out, she will.

Write soon,

Ginny

VVV

Summer with the Dursleys was never fun, but Harry usually knew what to expect.

This summer, however, he was unpleasantly surprised to discover that Vernon was ready to take his treatment to a whole new level.

Harry was let out of his room before Vernon left for work the next day, and given a long list of chores to do by Petunia. His cautious inquiry about breakfast was met with a disgusted sniff and a shove towards the cleaning supplies.

That day set the routine for the next week. His uncle would wake Harry up before leaving for work; Petunia would give him a list of chores to do for the day. He would be given one meal a day, at lunchtime – if you could call it that. Petunia would thrust a piece of bread, a few slices of cheese, and a glass of water at him with a barked order not to get any dirt, or mud, or dust on the floor, depending on what chore had had been working on beforehand. He would be back to work shortly thereafter, and would spend the rest of the day finishing his chores. If he were lucky, he would get through the list before Vernon returned from work. That usually resulted in a few pointed insults, sometimes a few slaps or punches, but never enough to do more than leave a few bruises.

If he didn’t finish the list, Vernon would take him to task. Those beatings were much worse, but so far, Harry had been able to escape serious harm.

Waking up one week after his return from Hogwarts, Harry winced as he tried to get out of bed without jostling the rib he was certain was at least cracked. He was fairly sure it wasn’t broken, though, which was fortunate, as that would create a whole new set of problems.

His vision blurred slightly, reminding him of the blow to the head he had taken the previous night, and Harry grimaced.

He heard the now familiar sound of the locks disengaging, and knew he only had a few minutes before his aunt would be handing him his list of chores for the day. With a sigh, Harry stood up and got ready to face the day. He whispered a muted prayer for McGonagall to hurry up, before he left his room.

XXX

Minerva McGonagall looked up as the fire in her office flared, before the Floo spit out Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE. She set down the paper she was currently reading, before standing up to give her former student a rare smile. “Thank you for coming, Amelia,” she said, gesturing the formidable woman towards a chair in front of her desk.

Amelia nodded as she sat down. “Your note was vague, Minerva. It sounded rather important, so I apologize for the delay. Things have been somewhat busy lately.”

Minerva’s smile tightened. “I understand,” she replied. “And you’re right, it is rather important, though also quite delicate. I am hoping that you will be able to help me with some discretion.”

Amelia contemplated that request, the gears in her mind turning. There weren’t many reasons why a professor would be contacting the DMLE. If it were something concerning the school, Dumbledore would have been the one to include her, not that he would. She respected the old man as a powerful wizard, but she took everything about him with a grain of salt. She felt he could be a little heavy handed and manipulative, playing things too close to the chest when sharing information could be so much more beneficial. She also did not believe in trusting blindly, as so many seemed to do towards the venerable old man. She believed that trust was earned, and she did not like the way Dumbledore seemed to play with people’s lives

After a moment, Amelia nodded her agreement. “I will do my best, but of course, you understand that, without knowing what I am agreeing to, I cannot guarantee anything.”

Minerva’s smile was a little more genuine at that. “I understand,” she affirmed, and then paused. How was she to broach the subject? And which to talk about first? Harry or Sirius?

Deciding that, of the two, Harry’s predicament was the more grave, she began there. After all, Sirius had eluded capture for almost a year now. He would be all right for another few days, most likely.

Minerva sighed. “A situation about a student’s home life was brought to my attention shortly before the Express departed last week. He told me that his guardians were both physically and emotionally abusive, and I am hoping to get him out of this situation with little fuss or fanfare.”

Amelia sat back and considered the concise report she had just been given. As a former Auror, and head of the DMLE, she appreciated getting the maximum information in the shortest amount of time. She could draw several conclusions just based on what she had in front of her. That it was Minerva coming to her suggested that the student in question was a Gryffindor. The fact that she had said ‘guardian’ suggested that this child did not live with his biological parents. Even the lack of Dumbledore gave the illusion that Minerva was reluctant to get any authority figures involved. Or rather, any that she thought may have their own agenda. Amelia was well known for being a stickler for the law. Tough but fair; it was a reputation that she prided and strove to uphold.

The only thing she really couldn’t figure out was whom it was her former professor was trying to help. Clasping her hands together, Amelia sat up straighter. “I will need to speak to the student in question, you understand, but if what you are saying is true, the Department of Child Welfare will need to become involved. If his guardians are, as you say, physically abusive, removing him shouldn’t be a problem.” Minerva snorted at that, shaking her head. This whole situation was riddled with problems. Amelia frowned. “This might be easier if you were to just tell me whom you are talking about.”

Minerva took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Harry Potter,” she admitted quietly.

Amelia froze. No. Surely not! She remembered quite clearly the events that had led to the end of the war twelve years ago. Everyone had rejoiced the disappearance of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but no one had given a second thought to the young boy who had made it happen. Even she was guilty of it. She had still been drowning herself in her own grief over the death of her brother and sister-in-law, and adjusting to motherhood, being charged with the care of her now orphaned niece. She had felt for her young charge, but never once had she considered the fact that Susan wasn’t the only orphan of the war. Somewhere, in a location unknown, a young Harry Potter had lost everything, and everyone he had known, and was sent to live with abusive relatives. His aunt hadn’t been there to hug away the nightmares that woke him up screaming in the middle of the night. More likely, she had just told him to shut up and let decent people sleep.

All those celebrations about the end of the war, and no one had really given thought to the young family that had been ripped apart to make it happen.

Minerva seemed to understand exactly what Amelia was thinking, because she nodded, and handed the younger woman a handkerchief. “I know,” she commiserated. “All that celebrating. James and Lily were two of my best friends, despite the age difference, and I didn’t even try to get Albus to change his mind in Harry’s placement at his relatives. Not really. I had watched them all day, I knew they were the worst sort of muggles, and yet I still let Albus put him there. I just watched, as he left Harry on a doorstep in the middle of the night! With naught but a letter for explanation! And in ten years, I didn’t even ask Albus for an update. I thought he had been watching the boy, but I never confirmed it. I should have done something.”

The self-disgust was evident in her tone, causing Amelia to set down the borrowed handkerchief and lean forward in her chair. “It’s not your fault, Minerva,” she implored. “Albus should have listened to you. I respect him as a wizard, but you can’t deny that he tends to see people more as chess pieces than human beings. He has his own plans, and doesn’t seem to understand that you need a back up, for when those plans go pear shaped.”

Minerva chuckled weakly as she nodded her agreement. Albus was a good friend, but there was no denying that he made his share of mistakes. And unfortunately, he wasn’t quite as willing to own up to them as some.

After a minute of silence, Amelia shook her head. “Can you get in touch with Harry? I can file a formal complaint, and bring Patricia Welding on board, and then we can go speak with him.” Minerva nodded at the name of the head of the Department of Child Welfare. Patricia had been a Ravenclaw a few years above Amelia. She was capable of using discretion if the situation called for it, and Minerva knew she would respect Harry’s wishes. She always looked after the child, first. But in her own way, she could be as tough as Amelia.

The DMLE head studied the professor for a moment. “Where were you thinking Harry would live until he reaches his majority?” she asked curiously.

Minerva bit her lip, looking suddenly uncertain. “I had rather thought I might take him in, if he was willing,” she admitted softly. She wasn’t sure how to even ask the young wizard, but the idea appealed to her more and more as she thought about it. McGonagall Castle was rather lonely after all, with just her.

Amelia nodded, satisfied. She began to make the motions of standing up, when Minerva stopped her. “I actually had another issue I wanted to discuss. Something else Albus should be taking care of, but for some reason, he seems unwilling.”

Amelia frowned, settling back into her seat. She nodded for McGonagall to continue, which she did, hesitantly, doing nothing to settle the former Auror’s nerves.

Minerva swallowed. She was getting into dangerous territory. “A situation came to light at the end of the semester. Are you aware that Sirius Black was never given a trial?” Amelia’s eyes narrowed, her heart skipped a beat, and she shook her head. Minerva sighed. “A few weeks ago, Harry and his friends were confronted by Sirius, where he explained that he had been set up to take the fall for something he didn’t do.”

“Black was here?!” Amelia half rose out of her seat, but a glare from McGonagall had her sitting back down, suddenly feeling like the student she hadn’t been in many years.

“Yes, he was here. He snuck into Hogwarts to capture the real culprit, who unfortunately escaped before we were able to question him properly.”

“And just who was that culprit,” Amelia asked somewhat waspishly.

Minerva sighed. “Peter Pettigrew,” she admitted. It shamed her that a Gryffindor would betray his friends like that.

Amelia shook her head in disbelief. “Pettigrew’s been dead for twelve years -” she denied.

Minerva cut her off. “All they found was a finger. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? If he really had been blown up, wouldn’t there have been blood, or bits of flesh? There never really was a proper investigation. Crouch and Bagnold just declared the matter closed, because everyone knew Black was guilty. As it turns out, Pettigrew had been hiding as a pet rat in a wizarding household for over a decade. Sirius recognized him from a picture in the Prophet, and escaped to protect Harry. Harry and his friends saw Pettigrew with their own eyes, but because of his escape, Fudge wouldn’t hear a word about it. Incidentally, isn’t it against the law to order someone who never got a trial to be Kissed on sight?”

Amelia considered all the implications from what she had just heard. This was quite the embarrassment for the Ministry, and as a law enforcement official, it rubbed her the wrong way. And then there were the personal implications. She sat back in her seat and rubbed her face tiredly. “I don’t suppose you might have some way of getting in touch with Sirius?” she asked curiously.

Minerva shook her head. “I could try to owl him, but I can’t guarantee that would work. I’m sure he’s keeping in touch with Harry though, so you could ask him. It would definitely be a point in your favor if you get him out of his relatives’ house. He doesn’t trust easily, and seems to be wary of authority figures, for obvious reasons.”

Amelia nodded. “I can understand,” she admitted. “We really failed him, didn’t we?” Minerva didn’t need to reply, even knowing that she was speaking about both Sirius and Harry with that statement, and after a moment, the head of the DMLE stood up, shaking herself off and mentally making a list of the things she would need to do to correct this horrible miscarriage of justice. “Thank you for including me in this. I’ll let you know as soon as I speak with Patricia, and hopefully we will be able to talk with Harry in a day or two.”

Minerva stood up as well, and offered her hand, which was shaken firmly. She let out a small smile. “Thank you for your help. The sooner the better, I believe. I never want to see that look of fear in Harry’s eyes again.”

Amelia nodded again. “I’ll be in touch,” she promised, before making her exit through the Floo.

Minerva waited until the flames had subsided, before she sat back down, returning to her work, her chest feeling slightly lighter with the knowledge that things were moving along, and hopefully soon, Harry would be out of that nightmare of a house.

XXX

Ron,

Sounds like business as usual at the Weasley household. I bet Percy’s excited for his new job, though from what Ginny said, it sounds like the twins are celebrating his appointment in their usual style – that’s got to be keeping him on his toes.

Speaking of Ginny – she’s my friend. I told her I’d write, and I asked her if she would as well. We had a good talk before we left school, and we really have a lot in common. Don’t worry, mate, you know you’re my best friend.

The World Cup sounds great, let me know more when you hear. The muggles are behaving pretty much how I expected, but I’m used to it by now. I’m fine.

-Harry

VVV

Hermione,

I’ve been doing a lot of studying, both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. I got a letter from McGonagall a few days ago, and she said I might be able to take the Runes exam too. Just the idea of no more Trelawney is motivator enough for me to work hard.

Summer’s been pretty much the same as it always is, so about what I expected. I’m fine, and I hope you enjoy your holiday.

-Harry

VVV

Padfoot –

I don’t know where this will find you, but I do hope you’re keeping out of trouble. I wish I could be with you, even if you are on the run. Anything would be better than the Dursleys. But don’t worry about me, just worry about keeping yourself hidden. I don’t want to read about your re-capture in the Prophet.

I’ll be fine, Padfoot. I’m used to this, so please don’t worry about me.

What you said about my parents really meant a lot to me. I look forward to hearing any stories you can share with me, and I miss you.

Love,

Harry

VVV

Dear Ginny,

Don’t worry, I won’t even try to sell you that ‘I’m fine’ crap, as you asked. I did promise. I won’t say things are great, or even good. I just hope McGonagall is moving fast. I’m not sure how much longer I can go before I end up cursing Uncle Vernon, Underage laws or not.

I’m as all right as I can be, Gin. I don’t think he’s broken anything yet, but I’m really not sure how long that’ll last. I don’t want to scare you, but I did promise you I wouldn’t lie.

I’m doing a lot of studying; thankfully, I was able to owl order the Arithmancy and Ancient Runes books, like you suggested, so they didn’t get locked up with the rest of my stuff when I got back to Privet Drive. I’m working as hard as I can so that I can pass the exams to get into both classes next year.

I haven’t heard much from McGonagall yet, but she said she’d been in touch with Amelia Bones, from the DMLE. I’ve never heard of her, though I think she’s related to Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff in my year. McGonagall says she trusts Ms. Bones, so I guess I should, too.

I’ll keep you updated, Gin. If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know.

I miss you, and I can’t wait to see you again, hopefully soon.

Love,

Harry

VVV

Harry had just watched Hedwig disappear into the darkening sky with his letters for Ginny and Ron, when a door slamming caused his attention to waver.

He swallowed harshly as he heard muted yelling, and the sounds of a heavy person making their way up the stairs. It sounded like Uncle Vernon was really angry tonight.

That thought proved to be true, as his uncle threw open his bedroom door in the next second. It spoke to his frame of mind that he didn’t bother to take the time to disengage the locks, and instead ripped them all off their hinges.

His face was a mask of fury, causing Harry to shrink backwards against the window frame, but that didn’t do anything to deter the whale coming at him.

Time seemed to become meaningless after that, and Harry was only aware of the feeling of pain, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. He heard some vague threats, and something about a lost client of his uncle’s being his fault, but he couldn’t make much more sense than that.

He lost count of the number of times Vernon’s foot connected with his chest; he felt it when the first rib snapped, followed by another crunching sound he was pretty sure was his collarbone.

His head connected with the leg of his bed, and darkness encroached on his vision. Finally, Harry welcomed the blackness, and he was no longer aware of anything around him.
_
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Chapter 5
I’m so glad people are liking this story, and thank you all for reviewing, and telling me your guesses as to what’s going to happen next. I feel somewhat smug that not one of you guessed right! All of your ideas were great, but this was what came to mind as I was writing.

And I missed it on Tuesday, but Happy Passover to those of you who observe the holiday. And a Happy (early) Easter to anyone who celebrates.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns everything

Ginny folded up the letter she had received from Harry, thinking hard. So much had changed recently, and it all seemed to stem from one particular instant: her decision to walk back up to Gryffindor tower with Harry before leaving Hogwarts. Making that effort had shown her the boy behind the hero, and she was so thankful she had made it.

She hated to remember her actions from the summer before her first year, when she couldn’t even be in the same room as him, and she was very sorry that she had gone two years without really ever speaking to the older boy. Harry was a great guy, and she felt so much sorrow for the hand life had dealt him. Reading his latest letter sent threads of alarm and fear coursing through her. Hasn’t broken anything. As all right as I can be. Those were not the words of someone enjoying their holiday. She hoped McGonagall was really working on helping him. It sounded like he needed it.

XXX

Darkness.

That was the first thing Harry noticed when he came around. That didn’t mean much to him, since it had been evening when he had lost consciousness.

Groaning as he turned his head to the side, Harry tried to find some indicator of the time or day. Nothing was readily visible from his place on the floor, but he did notice that his door was still broken; the door was shut haphazardly, but the broken locks had splintered the frame. That would be useful, if he could manage to get himself up.

He had promised Ginny that he would get out if things got worse, and this definitely counted. Harry hadn’t lost consciousness in a beating since he was nine years old, and he had forgotten how much he hated it. Especially waking up and not knowing how much time he had lost.

The house was silent, indicating the time to be in the very late evening, or perhaps early morning. Harry steeled himself, taking a deep breath and holding it as he prepared to try and stand up.

He made it into a sitting position, though it took a few minutes. His left wrist appeared to be at least fractured, perhaps broken. His left shoulder was aching horribly, and he felt that might have been the snap he had heard from his collarbone. His chest was throbbing, from at least one broken rib, and his head was pounding, the room going in and out of focus as he caught his breath.

Harry knew he needed to leave, but he wasn’t sure how he would be able to carry his trunk.

Using his uninjured right arm, Harry carefully pulled himself up to a standing position, using the bed for support. The only things he had in his room that he wanted were his wand and his Arithmancy and Ancient Runes books. He grabbed the wand from its location under his pillow, and glanced around to find the books. They were sitting on his dresser, next to a hairpin, given to him by the Weasley twins with a wink and a grin last year, and his repaired alarm clock, showing the time to be shortly after two o’clock in the morning.

Harry grabbed the books, and the hairpin to use on the lock on the cupboard, and, as quietly as he was able, made his way out of the room.

The stairs were an unpleasant experience, and he had to stop every few steps, just to keep from crying out in pain.

Eventually, he made it to the ground floor, and paused for a few minutes, listening for any sign that the Dursleys had awoken.

The house was silent, fortunately, and Harry wasted no more time in picking the lock on the cupboard that used to be his bedroom. He quietly opened his trunk and placed his books on top of the rather messy pile, before closing the lid once more. He looked at Hedwig’s cage for a moment, before deciding that he really couldn’t carry it and his trunk, considering he only really had one good hand. He was just glad that she was still out hunting or delivering letters, so he didn’t have to worry about freeing her from this prison as well.

His trunk liberated, it was time to depart. Pulling the luggage out of the house was a nerve-wracking experience. Harry was certain that, at any moment, Vernon would wake up and find him.

No one came, however, and soon enough, Harry was out of the house and making his way down Privet Drive. He wanted to get further away before calling the Knight Bus.

The slow walk gave him time to think, though it was a little hard to do so around the pain.

Harry felt a strange sense of Déjà Vu as he sensed something watching him before he reached the end of the street. He turned from one side to the other, before smiling slightly as he saw a pair of eyes staring at him anxiously from a nearby hedge. He headed in that direction, hearing a faint growl as he passed under a streetlight, throwing his face into sharp relief. Harry grimaced, knowing that he must look like a mess.

When he was in the shadows by the hedge he had seen the eyes, a ragged looking man stepped out of the shrubbery. His hair was long and tangled, and his gray eyes were haunted, but there was a kindness surrounding him that smoothed out any of the wildness.

Sirius Black tried not to show his rage as he took in his godson’s appearance. One eye was almost purple, and he wondered how the boy could see anything. His movements had been slow, indicating more injuries under the surface.

The two studied each other for a few moments, before Sirius broke the silence. “Merlin, pup, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Harry gave a half snort, which he aborted in the middle as he felt the stab of pain to his chest. Sirius stepped forward in concern. “What happened?” he asked gently. The responding flinch was answer enough. Sirius remembered his own childhood with startling clarity. It really took an abused child to know an abused child.

With a sigh, Sirius reached over to take Harry’s trunk. “Come on,” he said, deliberately not asking any more questions. He would get Harry somewhere safe, and then see about getting someone to heal him. Of course, he would have to think about just whom he could contact.

Harry relinquished his trunk without any arguments, but seemed confused when Sirius held out his other arm for Harry to take. Sirius gave him a small smile. “I’m going to apparate us somewhere safe, and then we’ll see about getting you patched up.”

Harry nodded, exhausted, taking his godfather’s arm. Sirius hesitated. “This will probably be a little uncomfortable,” he admitted, peering at his godson in concern. “It won’t help your injuries, but it’s the fastest way of getting out of here, and it won’t last long.”

Harry nodded again, gritting his teeth in preparation. “I’m ready,” he said, clutching Sirius’ arm even more tightly.

Sirius nodded, and took a moment to visualize his destination, before he reached for the magic inside him, turning slightly on the spot, and the two disappeared from Privet Drive.

XXX

Harry gasped as he felt the peculiar – and painful – sensation of being squeezed through a very small tube. He supposed that without the broken bones it might not be quite as agonizing, but he still wasn’t looking forward to apparating again any time soon.

When he got his breath back, Harry opened his eyes, taking in the gloomy surroundings. “Where are we?” he asked quietly, feeling like speaking any louder would shatter the uncertain calm.

Sirius grimaced a little. “I grew up here,” he admitted. “My parents weren’t the greatest, and my entire family, with a few exceptions, were dark. I found out that I inherited the Black family fortune after my parents died five years ago. That includes the family home. I haven’t been able to spend much time cleaning it out yet, so be careful. Don’t touch anything unless I tell you it’s all right.”

Harry nodded his understanding, and the two made their way inside Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

The inside was as gloomy as the outside suggested, and Harry stopped just inside the entrance, a little afraid to go any further, especially without more light.

Sirius came up behind him, and quietly ushered him further. He helped his godson up the stairs, and down a hallway, stopping at one door in particular. “This is the only bedroom I’ve cleared yet. Everything inside should be safe, so let’s get you settled.”

Harry just nodded, a little winded. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, which scared him a little.

Sirius led him over to the bed, helping him to sit down, feeling a little alarmed as he saw his godson holding in a wince, a brief flash of pain making its way across his face. He recognized that desire to not show weakness – he had been the same way, growing up. It had taken James and Remus to get him to admit to what his parents were doing. And when he had finally run away at sixteen, showing up on James’ doorstep in the middle of the night, his best friend had simply taken one look at him before dragging him into the house, showing him to his own, already set up bedroom, and basically informing him that it had been waiting for him for years.

When Harry was leaning back against the pillows, Sirius had to pause to think. He had a few potions in the medicine cabinet, though they were mainly headache potions, and pepper up. There might be a pain reliever in there somewhere, but he knew Harry needed a healer. The question was how to get one when he was a wanted fugitive.

Harry groaned and opened his eyes; they were slightly glazed over with pain, and with alarm, Sirius realized he probably had a concussion. “It’s going to be all right, Harry,” he tried to sound reassuring.

Harry started to nod, but stopped when the motion caused his head to pound. He coughed weakly. “Professor McGonagall,” he managed to get out around the burning in his chest. Sirius’ questioning gaze caused him to elaborate, “She knows the truth, and she said she was working on getting me out. She said something about contacting Amelia Bones at the DMLE.”

Sirius nodded his understanding, his affection for his former head of house skyrocketing. At least someone had been trying to look out for his godson. There would be time later to get the whole story, but right now, he needed to get Harry well. “I’ll take care of it, Harry. You just rest, and I’ll be right back.”

Harry inclined his head just once, and let his eyes slip closed as Sirius hurriedly left he room. He made his way to the study, and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, quickly scribbling out a note for the head of Gryffindor.

The question now was how to get in contact with the Transfiguration professor. He could make a Floo call, and hope that she was in her office, at three o’clock in the morning, but that seemed unlikely. If he had an owl, he could send her a note. Unfortunately, he didn’t have an owl or the time to wait. That left one option.

“Kreacher!” The old Black family house elf popped into existence next to his master, muttering the whole while. Sirius grit his teeth at the insults coming out of the elf’s mouth, but didn’t comment. “Take this note to Minerva McGonagall. Tell her nothing beyond the fact that your master gave you the note to deliver, and then come right back here. Talk to no one else. Understand?”

Kreacher nodded rebelliously. “As master wishes,” he grumbled. Before he popped away, Sirius heard something along the lines of “filthy blood traitor master, what would my poor mistress say,” before the elf was gone.

Sirius shook his head and headed down to the sitting room. Minerva would use the Floo, so that was where he would meet her. He sank down into an armchair, and thought about what had happened in the last few hours. He had felt both rage and fear, seeing Harry limping his way slowly down the street, dragging his trunk behind him. It had been too similar to the previous summer, though last year he hadn’t had the injuries.

Getting Harry back to Grimmauld Place had given him a purpose, and now that all he could do was wait for McGonagall, he was left with nothing but his own thoughts. He wondered what the Transfiguration Professor’s role was in all this. Harry seemed to believe that she was on their side, though he had a few questions about why the woman, whom he knew to be as close as a mother to James and Lily, wouldn’t have kept an eye on her pseudo grandson over the years. For that matter, he wondered what Dumbledore had to do with all this.

Amelia Bones’ name was another shock to him. He remembered the woman from his brief stint in the Aurors, along with James, before his incarceration. She had been a few years ahead of them, already a contender for head of the Aurors, when the current one moved on or retired. He had admired her quick wit and sharp temper. She always gave as good as she got. They had had a few flirty moments, in the hallways and across their desks, but nothing had ever come of it. Sirius Black had been a player, and Amelia Bones was dedicated to her job, and not looking for a fling.

He wondered how much time had changed her. He wondered if she had ever questioned his guilt. He had hoped that she might, knowing him the way she had, but apparently, overwhelming evidence had swayed her from looking further. Not that he really blamed her; after all, Remus had made the same mistake, and Sirius had forgiven him easily. He would be a hypocrite to not give Amelia the same chance.

The Floo roared to life at that moment, drawing Sirius out of his rather morose thoughts. He looked up to see a rather exhausted and worried Minerva McGonagall stumble out of the fireplace, her normal grace and poise gone at the thought of Harry in trouble. The note she had received had been rather vague.

She looked around, eyes lighting on Sirius’ lanky frame. The innocent convict looked rather worried himself, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of her, or for Harry.

Mentally steeling herself, Minerva stepped forward, stopping unsurely. “Mr. Black,” she began, stopping when she realized she didn’t know what she was going to say.

Sirius shook his head. He did understand, after all. “The evidence was all there, and I was a bit of a hot head,” he admitted ruefully. “I’m just glad that Harry believed me.”

Minerva nodded. She wasn’t one for touchy-feely moments. There would be time later to talk more. “Your note said that Harry was in trouble. Is he all right? What’s happened? Do I need to fetch him from his relatives?”

Sirius was slightly surprised by the amount of fear he heard in her questions. The fact that she kept firing them off without waiting for a response also spoke to her panic. Oh yes, he and Minerva really needed to have a conversation later.

“Harry’s here,” he informed the professor. He watched as she let out a shaky breath and collapsed onto the sofa.

“What happened?” she almost whispered. She knew that he wouldn’t have left his relative’s house unless he had had no other choice. He had known she was working on it – she and Amelia were planning on meeting with Patricia the next day, and most likely going to collect Harry that day or the day after.

Sirius let out an almost growl. “I received a letter from him yesterday that had me worried. I just wanted to see him, so that I would know he was all right. I waited all day, but I couldn’t get a glimpse, until about two o’clock this morning, when I saw him dragging his trunk down the street.” Sirius broke off, looking down at his lap as he remembered his first glimpse of his godson. “Half his face was bruised, and it looked like he was sporting some broken bones. I brought him here to decide what to do next. He told me to contact you. He needs a healer, Minerva. Badly.”

Minerva let out a muttered curse, her fear for the boy she would hopefully become responsible for soon skyrocketing. “Where is he now?” she asked, leaning forward.

Sirius glanced towards the door. “He’s upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Second floor, third door on the right. I probably shouldn’t have left him alone, since I’m sure he has a concussion, but I needed to contact you so that you could hopefully get a healer to patch him up.”

Minerva nodded her understanding. Her first instinct was to immediately rush to Harry’s side to assure herself that he was all right, but she knew that she had to do what only she could, and that was get a healer to come and check his injuries. “Why don’t you return to Harry then, and I’ll see if I can get Poppy here.”

Sirius agreed, and left Minerva to contact the Hogwarts mediwitch. He only hoped she would explain the whole situation properly before Poppy decided to curse the ‘infamous murderer Black’ first, and ask questions later.

XXX

Harry was either asleep or unconscious when Sirius re-entered the room, but he didn’t want to try and wake him up, wary of jostling any possible injuries.

There was a single chair in the room, which Sirius dragged away from the rickety desk so that he could sit at Harry’s side. He sank down into the chair, and waited, trying to keep his mind from sinking back into his morose thoughts.

It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes later – though it seemed much longer – when Minerva cautiously opened the door, leading a rather startled Poppy Pomfrey. When she had gone to bed that evening, she had in no way expected to be woken by a frantic Minerva McGonagall, imploring her to hurry, as Harry Potter was injured and need her help.

Poppy Pomfrey was not an idiot, and she had seen more of Harry in her infirmary over the last three years than most other students. She had noticed several things that didn’t add up. That boy was always too skinny. Every time she treated his injuries, he just seemed so… detached. Even re-growing all the bones in his arm hadn’t seemed to faze him.

The story she was told about Sirius Black was almost incomprehensible. But she knew that Minerva would never tell her such a thing if it were untrue. She remembered Sirius quite well; he, Remus, and James had been quite the troublemakers, though she had been quite fond of them – not that she’d ever tell them that. Both Sirius and James had projected a cocky ‘I know exactly how good looking I am, and I know exactly how to use it to my advantage’ attitude, but every visit they made to Remus in the hospital wing after a full moon, she could see how much they cared. It had seemed so wrong that Sirius would betray his best friend, his brother, the way he had. She was glad to know that he hadn’t, but horrified to realize that an innocent man had spent twelve years in Azkaban. She couldn’t help but hope and pray that the prison hadn’t dimmed his caring and passionate personality. He could be just what young Harry needed.

Seeing the escaped convict now, looking so worried from his place by his godson’s bedside, she knew that those two would be all right. They would be good for each other.

Pulling herself out of her current thoughts, Poppy moved to the opposite side of the bed from Sirius, while Minerva moved around to stand next to her former student. Setting her bag down on the floor, Poppy palmed her wand and ran a simple diagnostic spell. What she learned nearly had her cursing. What on earth had happened in the last few days?

Looking up at her audience, she took note of their worried expressions, and almost smiled. She knew Minerva had her favorites, even if she didn’t outwardly show them. And Harry Potter was definitely a favorite. She remembered a night almost thirteen years ago, when the two of them had spent the evening at the Three Broomsticks, and under the influence of a few too many drinks, Minerva had told her about Albus leaving the young Potter heir on the doorstep of his aunt and uncle’s house in the middle of the night. She had listened to her longtime friend’s concerns about the type of people those muggles were, and her grief that she couldn’t give young Harry a proper home.

Poppy sighed. “It’s a good thing you got him when you did,” she informed them. Noting their startled looks, she figured it might be what she had said, but her level of understanding may also play a role in their surprise. She shook her head, rummaging in her bag for a few potions as she elaborated, “I’ve had this boy as a patient quite often. Several things never added up. I’ll need to do a deeper scan later, but for now, I’ll treat his immediate injuries. Mr. Potter is suffering from a concussion, fractured collarbone, two broken ribs, one cracked rib, and a fractured wrist.” She saw their worry change to horror, and hurried to assure them that he would be all right. “I don’t foresee any complications, though I am beginning to think it might be best to get to work on some of the previously untreated injuries. He has had several broken ribs before, and that wrist has also been broken, as has his leg; none of them properly healed.”

Both Sirius and Minerva made sounds reminiscent of their animagus forms, causing Poppy to lean back in surprise. She frowned, but continued, pulling out the potions she needed. “I’ve got a few potions that I can spell directly into his stomach; the concussion worries me, though fortunately there’s no sign of any skull damage. I’ll feel better when he wakes up, but perhaps it’s for the best that he won’t be conscious for me to heal his broken bones.”

Minerva and Sirius nodded their understanding, and settled back to wait for the mediwitch to work her own special brand of magic. The first thing she did was spell a sleep aid into Harry’s stomach. It wasn’t her first choice, but it would help if he could sleep through the worst of the healing process. With the concussion, there wasn’t much she could do but wait for him to wake up. She wasn’t too worried, though her readings did inform her of a rather sizeable knot on the back of his head. She guessed he had hit it on something, perhaps the floor, or a piece of furniture. She wished she could give him some pain relievers, but the Skele-Gro would render them useless.

She decided that it would be much better to just get all the healing done now, rather than heal some injuries with spells, only to have to re-heal them later with Skele-Gro. The ribs would be tricky, and required her to set up a complicated spell to ensure he would not suffocate from the removal of five of his ribs. First she vanished the bones in his left wrist, before setting up the spell for both his ribcage and his collarbone, and removing those bones as well. Once the Skele-Gro was in his stomach, she allowed herself to relax slightly, looking back up at her audience.

She offered them a small smile to reassure them. “He’s going to be in a lot of pain when he wakes up, but the process should be mostly done by the time he does. I can’t do much with the bruises, but I’ll leave a balm for him. Twice a day, and they should clear up in a week or so. If you were planning on involving the DCW, I’d recommend taking photos of the injuries before using the balm, for documentation.”

Minerva nodded her understanding, and made a note to speak with Sirius about getting Amelia Bones here.

Poppy packed up her bag and draped it over one shoulder. “He should be fine for the next few hours, so I will return to school for the time being. I need to get a few things, but I will be back after breakfast. If he wakes up before I return, please contact me immediately.”

Minerva nodded again, and went to walk her colleague back to the Floo.

When Sirius was alone with Harry, he slumped down in the chair, grasping his godson’s hand as tightly as he dared. More than ever, he felt so guilty for going after the rat, and leaving Harry to this fate. How could he have been so stupid?

Waiting for Minerva to return, he allowed himself to drown himself in his morose thoughts.

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