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Chapter 2

Harry woke up wondering where he was. Then he remembered. Frankie and Johnny! Then he realized why Johnny had said ‘no smart remarks.’ The tune of the song popped into his head and he groaned.

“Hey, kiddo, you ok? What’s with the groan? You in pain?”

Harry squinted, trying to bring Frankie into focus. He realized that he hadn’t yet put on his glasses.

“No, no pain. Just ... I remembered Frankie and Johnny. Now I’ve got the tune stuck in my head.”

“Well, shit. Sorry about that.” Frankie’s grimace of sympathy was real. Harry shoved his glasses up his nose and settled into the bed more comfortably.

“That’s ok. If you’re hungry, I’ll get up in a minute and make some breakfast. If that’s ok, I mean.”

Frankie just shook his head. “You’re still recovering from ... that and you think I expect you to getup and cook? Are you demented?”

Harry thought for a moment. “No, just what I’m used to. My ... uncle didn’t care much one way or the other how I felt. I think he really wanted me to die. But I won’t. I’m too stubborn, or stupid not sure which. I’m going to live just to spite the prick.” Frankie blinked at Harry. “Sorry. I did some thinking while I was on the street. Even though it was only for a few days, it gave me plenty of time to do some real thinking.”

“Well, you just keep on thinking. I’ll get your breakfast and your tea. Then you rest. I know you’re not one for charity, but I’m not having you collapse on us. When you’re better, we’ll talk about things. Now, do you feel like getting up?”

Harry thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I do. I’ll ... do my thing and meet you in the kitchen.”

Frankie left and Harry went into the loo to take care of business. When he was done Harry returned to the bedroom to find a pair of scuffs, heelless slip on house shoes and a well-worn terrycloth house robe on the foot of the bed. Donning them, he headed down the hall.

When he got to the kitchen Frankie and Johnnie were sitting at the table talking in soft tones. Harry hovered in the door for a moment then moved into eye sight.

“Oh, Harry. Come in. Sit down.”

Harry sat at one end of the table. Frankie and Johnny sat at the opposite sides. But as he told Harry to sit down Johnny got up to stand in front of the stove. He clattered and puttered while Harry gratefully drank the tea Frankie poured for him.

Finally Johnny put a plate in front of Harry. “There you go, pal. Poached egg, dry toast, tea. Something guaranteed to set well on a sensitive stomach. Eat up.”

Harry ate slowly, not wanting to be sick. After going so long on little or nothing, he was sure to be sick if he ate too much. After he was finished eating, Johnny handed him a cup of his medicinal tea, one of them.

“Now that you’ve eaten and are, hopefully, feeling a bit better. We want to know about your uncle.” At Harry’s puzzled look he elaborated. “The one who abused you.”

“I’m not going back there. It doesn’t make any difference. ” Harry stuck his nose in his tea hoping that they’d let the subject drop.

Frankie gave Johnny a significant look. “Oh, my mistake. We’ll see about enrolling you in school in this district then. And ...”

Harry jerked so hard he nearly spilled the tea. “No! No, I don’t go to school. Not anymore.”

Johnny nodded to Frankie and got up, leaving the room quickly and silently.

“His uncle abused him. Just like yours abused you.”

Harry put his cup down carefully. “Yes, my uncle. My parents are dead.”

“Harry, there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s his doing. Not yours. What about school? Didn’t you tell?”

Harry thought of Dumbledore’s insistence that he return to Privet Drive for the protection of the wards. “Yes, they didn’t believe me. I’m not going back ... not until I’m an adult.”

“But that’s ... um ... how old are you?”

Harry grinned, it always threw strangers. He was small for his age and looked no more than fourteen. Poor food and ill treatment at a young age had stunted him. He wondered if he’d ever grow.

“Sixteen, almost seventeen. I’m just small for my age. But I’m strong and I can keep up.”

“I’m sure you can. Now, your eyes are drooping already. I’ll put the salve on you and then back to bed. You need to rest to get better.” Frankie grinned. This was going to work. Harry was much older than he looked.

Harry turned the chair around so that he was straddling the seat and leaning his crossed forearms on the back. Frankie carefully eased the robe off Harry’s shoulders and examined his back.

“It still looks bad. The infection is starting to clear though. How do you feel?”

Harry started to say ‘Fine.’ But Johnny suddenly said from the door. “Do. Not. Say. Fine. You’re not. No one is going to be mad at you for being sick. You’re still too flushed to be well. I’m going to take your temperature.”

Johnny cupped Harry’s cheek in one hand and turned his head. Harry cooperated only tensing a bit before relaxing when Johnny explained that he was going to put the end of the thing in his ear. Johnny checked Harry’s temperature and announced that while it was still high, it was down from the day before.

“Ok. Harry. You’ll have chores to do and rules to follow. If you want to stay.”

Harry nodded. “I’d like to. At least for a while. I may not be able to stay long.”

Frankie shook his head at Johnny. “Hun, he’s not in any shape to make decisions just yet. He’s still too sick.”

Johnny clasped Frankie’s hand across the table. “I know. But if we just let stuff drift he might not understand that we really mean it. Ok? Harry?”

Harry just stared into the near distance for a moment. Something was knocking at his mind, something important. Frankie and Johnny waited while Harry coaxed his epiphany into existence.

He was tired of lying. Tired of hiding stuff. He was going to tell the truth and insist on the same thing in return.

“I don’t know. It’ll depend on a lot of things. And, you’re right, I’m not in any shape to make important decisions just yet. I feel like crap. I’m hot, and shaky and my back hurts like a bitch. The tea is helping and so is the salve, but ... I really just want to go back to bed. If I stay here, I’ll do what I can to help out around. I’m not going back to school just yet. It’s too easy for Dumbledore or Dursley to find me.”

Harry started to pull his robe back up, but Johnny stopped him. “I still have to put salve on you. Then back to bed.”

“Ok, how bad does it look?”

“You’re cut. The cuts are infected in some places. Mostly where two lashes crossed and the cuts are deepest. You’re going to have scars. Sorry.”

Harry shrugged impatiently. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Nor mine. Vernon is just a bastard. I wanted to stay at school but the Headmaster wouldn’t allow me to. I told them the Dursley’s weren’t nice to me. But they didn’t care.”

“Well, we care. If your uncle turns up here, we’ll hide you. Ok?”

“Yeah, thanks. Are you done?” Harry tried to turn around to get a look at his back, Johnny just laughed a bit and turned his head back with one hand.

Harry obediently turned back, leaning on the chair again. He wished absently for one of Snape’s healing potions and some of his salve. He’d heal twice as fast. And a fever reducer. He felt really hot again.

Johnny finished his job and pulled the robe back up. “I think you’ve been up long enough. Back to bed now. March!”

Harry smiled and gave a sloppy half salute. “Yes, boss. I’m on my way. Um ... how did you know? That someone was beating me. Other than my back. And why did you ask if it was a master? I don’t understand?”

Frankie shook his head. “If you get back in bed, you’ll fall asleep in the middle of the explanation. When you’re better, we’ll explain it all. Now, go to bed. Ok?”

Harry headed back for his room and his bed without complaint. He felt he could really trust Frankie and Johnny. He called over his shoulder, “I’m going. But I want explanations. When I’m better.”

He crawled into the bed and settled down. He was asleep in seconds. Frankie leaned against Johnny, who was leaning against the door jamb. “He looks so very young. He’ll do. Don’t you think?”

Johnny nodded. “Only if he wants to. If he does, he’ll be spectacular.”

.

Severus Snape was not a happy man. Neither was Albus Dumbledore. Minerva McGonagall decided that she was glad she wasn’t going with Snape as she’d first wanted to. Snape in a temper wasn’t something she wanted to endure for long.

“Very well, Albus. I’ll go question the Dursleys. Professor McGonigal can talk to Weasley and Granger.” He waved his wand, transfiguring his robes into a neat woolen suit of light grey. He now looked like exactly what he was claiming to be, the chemistry professor from Harry’s boarding school.

It was now after New Year and Harry was still missing.

He stepped into the floo announcing, “Arabella Figg” in a clear voice. Minerva sighed, “How does he manage that?”

Dumbledore glanced up from a paper he was reading. “He’s a man of clear intent.”

Professor McGonigal grumbled a bit, took some floo powder, tossed it into the fire and snapped loudly, “The Burrow.”

.

Molly Weasley blinked when Professor McGonagall popped into her fire place.

“Well, well, as I live and breath. Minerva McGonagall. What has Ronald done now? Please don’t tell me he’s been expelled. Although, what he could have done during holidays, I don’t know.”

Professor McGonagall just shook her head. “No, Molly, don’t worry. He’s done nothing that I know of.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me that he’s gone off and done something. Or is this about Harry? Have you heard anything?”

Minerva sighed. “"Nothing as of yet, unfortunately. That's the reason I'm here. Does Ronald know that Harry’s missing?”

“No, and I don’t want him to know. I'm afraid he might get some hair brained scheme into his head about going off and trying to find Harry all on his own." Molly said with a worried look up the stairs.

“That’s what I’ve come about. I’d like your permission to question him. He might be able to give us some idea where that boy might have gone. Maybe he’s heard something from Harry.”

Molly nodded. “I see. Well, I don’t see any reason too. Harry hasn’t contacted him. I’d know if he had because he’d tell me right away. He was just complaining last night that he’d not had a word. Tea?” Her expression said that asking to see Ron again wasn’t going to do any good.

Professor McGonagall shook her head, with some regret. Molly Weasley’s pie was delicious. “No, thank you. But, you’re right about not telling Ronald, we’d probably have two missing boys to deal with if he knew Harry was missing instead of the Dursleys not letting him owl. I better be getting back as quickly as possible. Professor Dumbledore is beside himself. He’s even got Snape interviewing the Dursleys.”

Molly grinned in a way the Minerva could only call nasty. “Oh, he does, does he? Interesting. I hope he goes all Slytherin on them.”

The professor couldn’t think of anything to say to that so she just went back to Hogwarts.

.

Professor Snape Apparated into Mrs Figg’s back garden. She was waiting for him and just pointed to #4 as if he didn’t already know where it was. He just nodded once and headed for the house.

He knocked on the door and Petunia answered it. She started to slam it in his face but his foot, inserted firmly in the opening, prevented that.

“Hello. I am Professor Severus Snape. I have come to ask you some questions about where Harry might have gone.”

Petunia’s sour expression told Snape all he needed to know about her. “I don’t care where he’s gone. And you’re not bringing that nasty freak back here to contaminate my precious Duddykins.

Snape turned his ferocious frown on her and snapped, “No, I don’t expect that we will. Now, answer my questions, woman. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

“No, I don’t. Now get out.”

Just then Dudley came in the back door. “Mother, I’m home. Where’s my snack?”

Petunia turned to go into the kitchen. Professor Snape didn’t try to stop her, instead he merely followed her.

Dudley was standing by the kitchen table with a sour expression on his face. Petunia hurriedly placed a large platter of carrot and celery sticks on the table. In the middled of it was a large bowl of dip. He eyed it with dismay.

“Mother, you know I’m not supposed to have that much. I’ve got to lose three stone. At least. And ... who’s that?” Dudley eyed Snape with some misgiving.

“My name is Professor Snape. Do you know where Harry is? Do you know why he left?”

Dudley just shrugged, giving the closet beneath the stairs a significant look. “No, not really. I wasn’t here. He’s ... peculiar. Didn’t like Dad’s idea of discipline. Took off. Don’t know where. Maybe that place where his friend lives ... the Burrow or something like that.”

Snape caught Dudley’s look, of course, and went to have a look at the cupboard. He saw the locks on the outside and stared at them for a moment. He drew his wand and pointed it. ‘Alohomora’

The door popped open and he bent to peer inside. He drew back with a snarl. Turning to Dudley he snapped, “Kindly explain to me how three locks are needed to keep a small child imprisoned within.”

Dudley just shrugged. “Don’t know. Just Dad said the freak wouldn’t stay in without them.”

Snape winced slightly. His visions of Harry as a doted upon, much loved, spoiled, arrogant brat exploded in his face by the sight of a scrawled graffiti in a green crayon.

“My name is Harry James Potter

I am eight years old

I won’t live to be Nine.

I’m so very hungry

but I’m too thirsty to eat

Someone please remember me.”

He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to scream, cry or hex the lot of them into oblivion.

“I’m going to ask you what happened here and I want the truth. If I think for one moment that you are lying to me I’ll make you wish you were dead. Do you understand me?”

Petunia turned white, then scarlet. “You have no right to talk to me like that. You and your freak friends, dumping that little ... brat on my door step and just leaving him. He’s nothing but trouble. Exploding things and floating around. And ... I don’t know what all. You’re lucky Vernon put up with him for as long as he did. At least the little monster could clean house. Get out.”

Dudley had the wisdom to push her into the parlor and growl. “Let me, Mum. You get too mad and you’ll have one of your spells. Sit down and relax.”

Dudley motioned to Snape to follow him into the front hall.

“Look, I know you won’t believe me but ... well, I’ll start with this.

“I got into a bunch of trouble early this year from bullying some younger kids. But ... well, I’ve been taking anger management classes. The judge said, if I would, he’d see that I didn’t get charged. Dad had a fit, but he went along with it. God forbid that his precious Duddy-wuddy got put in juvie. So anyway, I’ve been learning stuff. Stuff I’m not too happy with. Like how stupid my Dad is. And Mom. And how bad I’ve really been. Don’t like myself much, frankly.

“But we are what we’re raised to be. So, well, I’ve been learning better.

“If you find Harry, tell him I’m really sorry. And don’t bring him back here. They’ll kill him. Dad’s gone over the deep end. I’m afraid he’ll start smacking Mum around. He’s come close to it.”

Snape just looked at Dudley, trying to see if he was telling the truth or not. He felt Dudley was and felt his stomach sink.

“I see. So now you’re ... what? Making reparations? Do you have any idea what happened here to make Mr Potter take off?”

“Yeah, but you won’t believe me.”

He got a sharp look and a very soft. “Try me”

“I wish you had some of that stuff like they have on telly.” Snape just looked at him with a raised eyebrow. It pleased him to see that that particular look had the same effect on Muggle boys as it did on Wizarding ones. “You probably don’t even know about it. But it’s some sort of stuff you spray around to show where there’s been blood. Dad flipped out and took his belt to Harry. He’s done it dozens of times before ... only I don’t remember it being this bad. Cut him up something awful. I was afraid he’d kill him outright. Blood everywhere. Mom had a fit. She was going to make Harry clean it up but I told her it wouldn’t do any good, he’d just bleed more. I helped her clean it up some. Then I gave Harry all my pocket money and ... and got him out of the house. It was the only thing I could think to do. He popped out and I haven’t seen him since. It’s the truth ... I swear. Really.”

Snape felt a hard cold lump settle in the general area of his stomach. He raised his wand and snarled, “Ostendo Ullus Cruor” He nearly staggered. There was blood everywhere. Dudley hadn’t been exaggerating much.

There was a trail of blood from the middle of the hall clear into the kitchen, under the table, then on into the back. He noticed droplets in a weaving trail up the stairs, into the bathroom and then across the hall into a bedroom. A very tiny bedroom with a lock at the top of the door, one just above the door knob and another near the bottom.

There was blood all over the walls, some of it older than the two weeks ago of this latest – he decided to quit thinking before he set the house on fire. He returned to Dudley.

“I see. I have absolutely nothing to say to you, just be thankful that I recognize that you, at least, didn’t really know any better. You’ll be hearing from the Aurors. And possibly the Muggle police as well. Good day.”

Dudley felt limp. He watched the professor storm away with his wand clutched in his hand. “Oh, man, this is not good. Not good at all.” He went to talk to his mother. They were going to have a really hard time explaining this to Dad.

.

Draco settled at the breakfast table, poured some tea and sighed. “How are we going to curry favour with The Git Who Lived if we can’t even find him? And you do know that, when they find him, we’ll never get anywhere near him.”

Lucius just sipped at his tea for a moment. “My dear son. I do have some influence still. Thus, your ability to come home on weekends. No one much knows that I’ve changed my coat and many don’t care. The Dark Lord won’t let it get out that one of his highest ranking, most trusted minions has thrown over the traces. Not just yet at any rate. So ... I think I’ll look into who is actually responsible for our Mr Potter.”

After buttering some toast, Draco finally admitted, “Well, I’m sure it’s Vernon Dursley. Potter’s uncle. Why?”

“Hmmm. That won’t do at all. I do think Mr Potter’s guardian should be a ... responsible wizard. Someone who can introduce him to the proper people. Someone who has some influence. Perhaps with a son to keep him company during holidays and summer vacation.” He gave Draco a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk. “Someone who’s a governor of his school. Someone like ... oh, I don’t know ... me?”

Draco choked on a toast crumb. “How are you going to arrange that? Merlin, Dumbldore will have a spasm. I like it. It’s going to be really interesting. When Potter finds out that you’re his guardian, that you can make him do ... well, anything ... he’ll curse the house down around our ears. This is not going to be pretty.”

Lucius looked down his nose at Draco. “My young dragon, you must control your too outspoken glee. You’ll alienate him. And we can’t afford that. We not only have to bring him into the family, we have to make him like it. And it’s not going to be easy. Not at all. He has every reason to hate our guts.” He sighed and rubbed his temples for a moment. “I do wish I hadn’t been so very impulsive with that boy. But who knew that Voldemort was going to go mental on us.”

“Well, Father, I did wonder several times. He’s ... dark powers create dark creatures. And, I don’t know. I just ... had a feeling. And then watching him ... how could you serve him like that. I don’t understand.”

“I was young and foolish. Then I was old and trapped. When your mother took the mark Voldemort threatened me with her and you. And her with you and me. She turned into a sycophant. What you call, I believe, a snitch. What could I do but obey? Especially when he threatened to kill you slowly and make me watch. I was so sure that you wanted the mark.”

Draco made a scoffing noise. “What? Me want that great ugly thing on my arm. I’m much too beautiful for that. Besides it doesn’t look well at all. You would think he’d make it look nice at the very least. Does yours bother you?”

“Not so much. I can bear it. As long as I know you’re safe. Your mother, on the other hand ... I believe she’s much better off in France. Now.” Lucius stood up and tossed his napkin onto the table. “No more torturing the house elves. Understand? I’ve got to go to the Ministry and have the guardianship papers filed.”

Draco looked faintly scandalized. “I don’t torture the elves. It’s beneath me. And what papers?”

“Well, the one’s I flooed my lawyer about last week. I’m going to have myself made Harry’s guardian. We are related. My sister’s husband’s cousins’ something or other sort of thing.”

“That sounds completely vague.”

“I know. Delightful, isn’t it. And not a thing in the world Dumbledore or anyone else can do about it once the papers are filed.”

Draco made an irritated sound. “You do realize that I’m going to be the laughing stock of Slytherin, don’t you. This will make Harry my brother.” He frowned. “It really doesn’t bear thinking of.”

“Do think of it. And remember, being a laughing stock is much easier to handle than having Cruciatus cast on you. And I should know. Survival before all.” He stepped away from the table, headed for the fire place in the main hall. “Would you like me to bring you anything?”

“How about a bright, shiny new brother.” Draco scowled into his plate. This was not going to be easy at all.

.

Lucius flooed into the Ministry atrium, dispelled the faint dusting of floo soot from his clothing and swept down the hallways to the appropriate office.

He found the sycophantic clerk a true irritation, but he managed to keep from snarling at him by main force of will. He knew that, in order for the Malfoy family to survive and prosper, he had to truly change. Old habits die hard but he was determined to murder them in their sleep.

“My lawyers have sent over some papers for me, I believe. I’d like to sign them in front of a reputable witness, you’ll do nicely.” The clerk preened and bowed. “Then I want them filed. Quietly. You understand? It wouldn’t do for the Prophet to get hold of this. Now, or ever. Do I make myself clear?” Lucius looked down his nose at the man who cringed and nodded vigorously. “I thought so.”

“Right this way, my lord. I’ll just run and fetch the papers. I know just which one’s you’re speaking of. It’ll only be a moment. Make yourself comfortable.”

The clerk scurried out. Lucius ran a finger over the top of the desk. It came away with a faint but unmistakable film of dust. He gave a ‘tisk’ of disgust. He was still standing in the middle of the room when the clerk came back with the papers.

“Right here they are. I’ll just read them.” He started to unfold the guardianship papers but Malfoy pressed them between his palm and the desk top, catching the clerk’s fingers as well. Not that that bothered him much.

“I think not. All you have to do is witness that I signed them, not the contents thereof. My lord will not be pleased if this gets out. If you don’t know what is in them, if it gets out, you can’t be blamed. Correct?”

“Oh, yes, my lord, of course, my lord. I’ll just ... watch you sign them, shall I?”

Lucius signed the papers in his elegant Spenserian script, watched as the clerk scribbled his signature on the appropriate line, then followed him as he registered them in a large book. The stupid man then dropped a large dollop of crimson wax onto a ribbon that he held to the bottom of the first page. He pressed the Ministry seal into it and wrote a number beside it.

“There you are, my lord. There’s now a copy in the files, and it’s registered.” He pointed to the number, “That’s the registry number. And here’s the original. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to keep it in a safe place. Thank you, my lord.”

The clerk bowed Lucius out the door then heaved a relieved sigh. That hadn’t been so bad. The Malfoy reputation for being supercilious and difficult must be exaggerated.

Lucius had to take a moment to control his temper. He took a deep breath, snarled softly, “I’m not a lord, you prat.” and headed for the floo, robes streaming out behind him.

.

Harry spent the next few days moving from the bed to the loo to the couch and back. He napped, watched telly and ate. He had his teas and either Frankie or Johnny put salve on his back.

It was very nice and he was slowly going barmy. He needed something to do. But both Frankie and Johnny, in separated conversations, had cautioned him about over doing. So he rested.

Harry was watching an old episode of Fawlty Towers when it hit him. He was supposed to be able to lie around until he was completely well. It was the way things were supposed to be. He wasn’t supposed to have to push on no matter what. He felt slightly like he’d been hit in the head with a bludger. He’d never gotten to actually completely heal in all his life before. He found himself sobbing into his hands without really understanding why.

Frankie heard him and hurried in to see what was wrong. “Harry, what is it? Do you hurt? Something on the telly? Here. Hush.” Frankie sat down on the sofa and put one arm around Harry’s shoulders and firmly pulled his hands away with the other.

Harry managed to hiccup himself to silence, taking several shuddering breaths. “I’ll be alright. I just realized something. I ... you ... um ...”

Frankie just sat gently patting Harry’s hands. “I’ve got all day, pet. Get calm then tell.”

Harry leaned against Frankie and sighed. He felt a bit foolish but it felt so good just to be held. He finally managed to get his thoughts together.

“I just realized that I really don’t have to get up and clean, do laundry ... oh, shit. Laundry. My stuff.”

“I dried it days ago. It’s folded in the chest of drawers. Go on.”

Harry relaxed against Frankie, half on him and half leaning on the back of the sofa. It was easy on his back which was healing nicely.

“My guardian, Uncle Vernon, he would half kill me then make me cook and clean. Sometimes I could hardly stand. And if I didn’t get my chores all done, I didn’t get any food. Sometimes not even water. And there was usually something to pick a fault with. Aunt Petunia would slip me stuff from time to time, but she always said, “I’m not doing this for any reason other than I hate housework and you don’t do it right if you’re starving. Otherwise I’d let you go hungry until Vernon let you eat.” And it was always cold leftovers. But, you really don’t want me to do anything until I feel well enough. I’m feeling really good for the first time in my life.”

“But at school. You said you started going to boarding school at eleven. I’m not even sure where I’m going with this question.”

Harry sighed. “My school ... they expected a lot from me too. I tried to live up to their expectations which were really high. It’s really complicated. But now I don’t have to worry about it.”

Frankie decided not to push Harry just yet, if ever. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure out something. I know you don’t want to be a burden or a charity case. So ... Johnny and I are going to give you a job at our club. If you don’t like it or it scares you, we’ll find something else. For now, just do what you can. Whatever you feel able to do. Ok?”

Harry accepted the tissues Frankie handed him, wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “Ok. I think tomorrow I’ll see what needs doing around the house. I’ll do a bit.” Harry held up his hand. “Just what I’m sure I can do. Probably just clean my quarters. Maybe cook some sort of casserole for when you get back from work. Um ... where do you work? I never asked.”

Johnny wandered in, got a good look at Harry’s still tear streaked face and settled on his other side.

“Here! What’s this?” Frankie gave Johnny a quick rundown while Harry worked on getting himself calmed down again. Johnny nodded. “Harry, luv, you don’t have to be superman with us. If you can’t do something, or simply have a good reason ... and, I don’t want to, could be a good reason, we’ll figure something out. Compromise. You understand? That’s one of the reasons why we’re not saying too much about you wanting to work around the house. You obviously really don’t want to be beholden. Not that you are, but you feel strongly so we’re going to compromise. See?”

Harry nodded. “I do. And ... thanks. No one’s ever considered my feelings like this before. They’d either poo-poo my feelings or work me half to death.” Harry gave Johnny a slightly harassed look. “Did I just say poo-poo?” Frankie gave him a solemn nod. “Shit! I’m taking a nap. My brain is fried.”

Harry got up and wandered into his room. He flopped onto the bed and fell asleep, exhausted by emotion.

Frankie watched him go then poked Johnny. “We’ve got to get him some clothing. He swims in everything we own and his stuff is even worse.”

“Salvation Army?” Johnny made a face. “Or maybe Edith’s?”

“Yeah, Edith’s, just a few things. Couple of pairs of jeans, some t-shirts. Underwear from ... somewhere cheap, Primark maybe. That way he won’t feel like he’s taking advantage. And we’ll just tell him he’s to pay us back from his earnings. And he will. His pride won’t allow anything else.”

“You’re right. Hug?”

So they sat necking on the couch while Harry slept in their guest room.

.

Voldemort was not pleased. And when he wasn’t pleased others suffered. In this case it was Severus Snape. Between the numerous Cruciatus curses and a physical beating that would have killed a lesser man, Snape was in bad shape.

“Get him out of my sight. Drag him away. If he dies, I’ll find another spy.” Two trembling Death Eaters did as their lord commanded. They just dumped the limp professor into a bush and left him. Snape didn’t bother to try to get out of the bush, he Apparated to the Hogwarts apparation port and passed out cold. The alarm went off in the infirmary and Poppy Pomfrey hurried down to pick him up and try to put him back together – again.

It didn’t take long to realized that his left side was partially paralyzed. Poppy didn’t think it was permanent but she was sure that he had some nerve damage and would be slow to recover. She flooed from her office to Dumbledore’s on the internal floo system and went over all the ramifications with him very carefully. He just nodded and sighed.

“Well. That does put a different light on things. I’ll speak to him when he’s more rested. I do not relish a dose of his tongue. Thank you, Poppy.”

She left and Dumbledore sat staring into the fire.

.

Harry woke the next morning rested and feeling better than he had in some time. His back was definitely on the mend.

He rummaged in the dresser to find something fit to wear. The best he could do was a pair of cargo pants that were only three sizes to big and a t-shirt that was two sizes too big. He sighed sadly. He’d had some decent clothing after first year, but Vernon had sold them all at the second hand store and told him that Dudley’s cast offs were good enough for him. He’d refused to buy clothing after that.

He grumbled, “Damn, I look like a house elf. Wonder what Dobby would do?”

There was a sharp pop behind him, which made him jump. The squeaky voice was more than familiar.

“Master Harry Potter Sir has summoned Dobby? Dobby is here to serve.”

Harry blinked once then shut the door quickly. “Dobby! How did you find me? Shit! Please don’t tell me you said anything to anyone.”

Dobby didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “Master Harry Potter Sir doesn’t wish his friends to know where he is? Dobby has not told anyone yet. Dobby was just summoned. What does Master Harry Potter Sir wish?”

Harry looked at Dobby for a few seconds. The elf just gazed calmly back. Harry finally sat on his bed and did his best to explain.

“Dobby, you know that ... um ... the Dursleys don’t like me much. Right?” Dobby nodded, ears flapping. “So, they’re not nice to me. I ran away. No one here is a Wizard., they’re all Muggles. If they find out who I am, they’ll just send me back to the Dursleys and I’m ... Dobby, I’m afraid they’ll kill me. And I can’t do magic to defend myself. Last time I did, the Wizengamot nearly sent me to Azkaban. Don’t tell anyone. Ok?”

Dobby just shrugged. “Dobby is knowing that nasty Vernon and fat Duddykins isn’t nice to Master Harry Potter, they is treating him worse than the Malfoy’s is treating Dobby. Dobby will help Master as best he can. What is being needed?”

Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t really want anything. I was just wondering what you would make of these clothes.”

Dobby gave the ragged, too big garments one scornful look and said flatly. “Cleaning rags. They is not fit for anything else. Why doesn’t Harry Potter Sir transfigure them into something nicer?”

Harry shook his head. “You know the Ministry forbids underage magic. They’ll track me in a second. Then I’ll be back at Privet Drive.”

Dobby blinked once. “Oh, yes, Dobby is remembering. But Master Harry Potter Sir, that prohibition is only for Class A magic. Even youngest wizards is allowed to work Class B magic. As long as they isn’t hexing ... well, even if they is. Dobby is knowing Harry Potter Sir hasn’t been told anything he should be.”

Harry frowned at Dobby. “I wish someone would tell me stuff. What is Class A magic? And Class B? And how do they know what I’m doing anyway?”

Dobby hopped onto the desk chair, crossed his legs, revealing mismatched and wildly clashing socks and started to talk. “Dobby is explaining as good as he can. Is this good?” Harry nodded, hoping that Frankie and Johnny didn’t wake up. “The different magic is charms and spells that wizards is using for chores and personal care is Class B. Class A magic is ... Dobby is not sure how to explain except to say, if it is powerful it is Class A. Major Transfigurations, Apparating, Major Hexes and Curses. The Unforgivables they is all Class A. And, using magic of any kind in self defense is always allowed. Except for house elves. Is this a good explanation? Did Dobby do good?”

Harry thought carefully. So, he could work some kinds of magic without the Ministry descending on him. “I think so. Dobby, you always do good. Thanks. I wish ... is there a book anywhere that explains it. And how does the Ministry know?”

Dobby shrugged. “There is a tracer on all wands given to young wizards and witches. Dobby is not sure how it works, just that it knows the difference between the magic. There is a book, Dobby will get it for you. Can Dobby do anything else for Master Harry Potter Sir?”

Harry reached over to pick up his tin from the desk. “Yes, since I’m not about to do any magic until I’m sure what can be tracked and what can’t, can you bring my books back to normal size? Please? I may not return to Hogwarts, but that’s no reason to neglect my education. I’m going to need all the help I can get to defeat Voldemort.”

Dobby refrained from comment, just returning the books and parchments to normal size. He eyed the quills with some disfavor and sniffed disdainfully at the ink.

“Dobby is bringing Harry Potter Sir the book. And better quills and ink. Dobby will be back quick.”

And he was. He returned with a soft pop only a few minutes after he left. He brought with him two books and a handsome writing box. The box was filled with parchment, in sheets and scrolls, several highest quality quills and a bottle of good quality ink. He set them on the desk and nodded to Harry.

“There. Is much better. How does you come here? Is these people nice to you? Is there anything else Dobby can be getting for Harry Potter Sir?”

Harry rubbed his face, thinking carefully. “Yes. If you could get your hands on a couple of healing draughts and some wound salve, I’d really appreciate it. But don’t get yourself in trouble on account of me. Ok?”

Dobby eyed Harry sharply. “Dobby is needing to know what Master Harry Potter Sir needs the draughts for. So that Dobby will be getting the right ones. Yes?”

Harry turned bright red but knew trying to hide his wounds from the elf wouldn’t do any good. If Dobby was to get the draughts, he did need to know what was wrong with Harry.

“Uncle Vernon ... he strapped me good. Don’t you dare to tell anyone. Promise!”

Dobby held up one long fingered hand palm out. “Dobby promises.” But he crossed the fingers of his left hand behind his back.

Harry pulled his t-shirt up and off over his head. He turned around to show Dobby his back. Dobby gasped softly. Then growled, “The Uncle Vernon person is a very bad man. Harry Potter is not a house elf to heal himself over night. This is not good. Dobby will get potions and salve. Only ...” the elf sighed softly. “Dobby cannot do it right now. Professor Snape is brewing. All the best potions and salves are in the potions lab. Dobby can be bringing what is needed tomorrow.”

Harry pulled his shirt on then turned around. “That’s ok. I’ll keep until then.” He heard a sound outside his door and swore softly. “Oh, shit.” He turned to Dobby. “Go along with me. Please.”

Dobby just nodded. Harry threw up the window over his bed and handed Dobby one of Dudley’s over sized hoodies. “Put this on.” Dobby just pulled the garment on and, realizing what Harry intended, pulled the hood up over his head.

Johnny knocked then opened the door to stick his head in. “Hey, Harry. Who’s your friend?”

Harry managed to look embarrassed without overdoing it too much. “Sorry about this. This is Dobby. He’s a friend of mine. Came in through the window. He’s ... shy. Most people take one look at him and freak out. Please don’t stare at him, ok?”

Johnny gave Dobby one searching look then turned back to Harry. “Ok. But there’s some rules. We haven’t had time to discuss them yet. So, right in front of your friend. No drugs. No booze, unless we give it to you. All your friends come in through the front door. They let us know they’re here and when they leave. Ok?”

Dobby nodded his head, careful not to dislodge his hood. Harry nodded too.

“I’m really sorry about that. But ... um ... he’s at the same school as me. He brought my books and stuff so I wouldn’t be behind if I decide to go back. He’s really shy so he decided to sneak in the window. Can he come back to visit me?”

Johnny’s look let Harry know that he knew something was wrong with the story, but he was letting it slide. “Sure, Harry. He can come back anytime he wants to. When you feel like you can trust me with the truth, I’ll listen. Just don’t bring trouble here. Got me?”

Harry flushed but nodded. Johnny went to make breakfast.

“Dobby, you have to come in and out by the front door. I can’t get thrown out of here. I just can’t. I can’t live on the streets. It’s awful. Don’t mess me up. Please. And, you better go now. Sorry.”

Dobby shook his head and started to take off the hoodie. Harry shook his head and told him to keep it for when he wanted to come back. Dobby caressed the material with long delicate fingers.

“Dobby thanks Master Harry Potter. Dobby is sorry to have caused Master any trouble. Dobby will be more careful. Good-bye, sir.”

Dobby hopped off the chair and padded quietly down the hall. He called out in his squeaking voice. “I is leaving now. Good-by, sirs.” He went out the front door, closing it with a sharp click.

Harry tucked his shirt into his pants as he walked down the hall to the kitchen. “I’m really sorry about Dobby. He should have come to the door but he’s been stared at, beaten, and thrown out, so he’s a little skittish. He’s decided that he needs a Master and he picked me. If he calls me master don’t make a big deal ok? Um ... oatmeal? Can I have sugar?”

Johnny allowed the subject change without comment. He dished out the oatmeal, put a pat of butter on it and set the sugar bowl next to Harry’s elbow. He and Frankie stared as Harry spooned way too much sugar into the bowl. Neither man said anything but their eyes met over the table. If Harry wanted the whole sugar bowl he was welcome to it.

After Harry was done eating his oatmeal, two pieces of toast piled with jam and a glass each of orange juice and milk, Johnny told him that his clothing was unacceptable.

“Harry, I know you don’t have anything beside what was in your pack, but you can’t wear those rags. We’ll take you to Edith’s Second Hand and get you a few things.”

Harry wiped his mouth on a paper napkin then put his dishes in the sink to wash later. “I don’t have much money, you know. How am I supposed to pay for it all?”

“We’ll pay. And you’ll pay us back later. We’re working on getting you a job. That’s one of the things we wanted to talk to you about. Please sit back down.”

Harry sat and Frankie settled next to Johnny. When they explained about their relationship Harry could only say, “Well, yeah, I kinda figured that one out on my own. Um ...” he thought quickly and decided on a partial lie, or partial truth, depending on how you wanted to look at it. “My people don’t think much about that sort of thing. You love who you love. As long as both families have heirs or ... um ... I don’t really remember all the lecture. Anyway, it doesn’t bother me a bit. I ...like I said, I kinda figured it out.”

Frankie looked relieved. Johnny just hugged him then said, “See? I told you Harry was a practical young man. Let’s take him to Edith’s.”

.

Harry was pleased to get out of the apartment. He was beginning to get really restless. The walk to Edith’s didn’t take long. The neighbourhood was small so everything was fairly close.

Harry finally got to do one thing that most teenagers take for granted. Window shop.

He darted from one side of the road to the other, looking in windows and doing a bit of wishing. He was especially attracted to the video game store. Duddley had several, hand held and console, but Harry had never been allowed to touch even the outdated, broken original Gameboy. He coveted one but knew that there was no way he could afford one. But he could look, and dream.

Frankie finally called him to order, telling him they would be at Edith’s soon. Harry joined Frankie and Johnny again and walked along with them just peering in a window from time to time. He had no idea what was in store for him in the second hand store.
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