Chapter 42- knock, knock( part 2 ).

Harry finished emptying the first box of Mrs. Skower's, and reached for another. He had understood, and was truly touched by Tom's concern, he couldn't help but think that the old innkeeper was being a bit overcautious. He'd managed to successfully navigate the Floo System this time, and the only problem that had come up wasn't completely unexpected. Almost as soon as he'd arrived, an aged wizard in shocking purple robes had glimpsed his untidy black hair and blurted, "It can't be!" making Harry cringe reflexively as heads turned his way. Looking back, he'd almost felt sorry for the little wizard who thought he'd spotted Harry Potter. The poor old chap had rushed excitedly over to greet him, but when he'd caught sight of Harry's glasses-less face and brown contact lenses he'd practically wilted with disappointment.

As a general rule Harry thought being spotted in public was a ruddy nuisance, even when he wasn't going incognito, but it was really hard to be impatient with the witches and wizards who were so genuinely delighted to see him. They were far easier to tolerate than opportunists like Gilderoy Lockhart and Rita Skeeter, and the members of the wizarding public who acted as though they expected him to sprout a halo or horns at any given second.

He'd forgiven the purple-robed wizard's "mistake," of course, brushing it off like it happened all the time. Actually, when he'd started working days on Diagon Alley, it had. He'd nearly panicked the first time he'd been spotted, but mercifully, the witch who'd seen him had lost interest quickly when she'd noted his eyecolor and the rather menial work he was engaged in.

He'd gradually grown more used to it as the days passed. There was a certain rhythm to the encounters. Most of the time he was spotted from the back, or else he had his head down while working on something. Either way, he typically had time to school his features into a look of puzzled curiosity before facing whoever had spoken. Normally, it didn't take long for them to conclude that they'd been mistaken, apologize for troubling him, and go on about their business. Most of the time, he wasn't required to speak at all.

It was happening a little less frequently now, at least on Diagon Alley. Messy black hair was slowly beginning to imply Jim Patterson, rather than Harry Potter. Customers who came to the Alley only occasionally were still taken by surprise when they saw him, but more often than not, they were being intercepted and set straight by those "in the know" before they could approach him and embarrass themselves. Besides, any witch or wizard worth their salt knew it was rather early in the summer for the Boy Who Lived to be about. He typically visited Diagon Alley but once a year in order to purchase his school supplies. The rest of the year he was either at Hogwarts, or safely hidden away in the Muggle World.

No, the only thing Harry had to deal with on a regular basis was conversations. Customers, he noticed, tended to dismiss clerks and stockboys as part of the furniture, and not many of them bothered to lower their voices or try to keep their words private. Since everyone had an opinion on the Boy Who Lived, Harry had gotten quite an earful over the last few weeks.

If he was lucky, the shoppers would chatter about something innocuous, such as how Sparky/Jim Patterson reminded them of Harry Potter, or something nice like how the Daily Prophet was nothing but a filthy tabloid, and all its articles were rubbish. He'd once had reason to wonder if one's face could explode from too much blood rushing to it when two teenaged witches had noticed him (as Jim), and begun to speculate in giggly whispers about whether or not he qualified as the "sexiest beast alive."

If he wasn't so lucky, the conversations would take a darker tone. Harry found he didn't actually have to read the Daily Prophet in order to know what was being written about him. Shoppers who believed whatever was published would sigh about "that Potter boy's mental state" like he'd already been admitted to St. Mungo's for life, or else they would accuse Harry Potter of being a disappointment, a liar, a joke, or an attention-seeking glory hound.

It was annoying and discouraging, and made Harry yearn to stomp over to the gossiping busybodies, rip off his headband, and yell at them to shut up about things they knew nothing about. He couldn't, of course, but oh, how he wanted to! Thankfully, it never lasted long. The speakers would typically switch topics after a few minutes, or else they would continue on their way, taking their conversation out of earshot.

Funniest by far, were the self-proclaimed "Potter Spotters" who made it their hobby to catch a glimpse of the Boy Who Lived on Diagon Alley, and Hogsmeade Weekends. Since they usually kept their distance, and didn't call attention to Harry or try to interact with him, they didn't seem to care if the object of their fixation was "disturbed and dangerous" or perfectly normal. Harry had listened with mixed amusement and alarm as the witches and wizards engaging in this activity compared notes about habits like he was some kind of rare migratory bird. Some of them missed the mark completely, but others were dangerously accurate. He wondered if that was something he should call to Professor Dumbledore's attention, but wasn't sure how to do so without revealing his location.

His rambling musings were suddenly cut short when he heard brisk footsteps and an exaggerated gasp behind him. The identity of the newcomers was soon apparent when a familiar female voice gushed, "Cor Blimey! That's Harry Potter that is! How long's Harry Potter been working for you Marty?" Harry put the last bottle in its place, then sat back on his heels and twisted around to look at Cassandra and Mr. Lancaster over his shoulder.

Harry rolled his eyes at Cassie as she gave him a teasing wink. "I hate that," he muttered, lightly reproving the blonde witch.

"I know," she replied, gray eyes sparkling with mirth. "Sorry, I shouldn't tease, but you really do favor that Potter kid from the back."

"So I've been told," Harry replied dryly, accepting her outstretched hand and allowing her to haul him to his feet.

"It's that hair of yours, Sparky," Martin said with a grin. "Perhaps you should use some of your summer earnings to buy some hats. We have a lovely selection on aisle three you know."

Cassandra snorted beside him. "It really is a bit rich when you think on it," she remarked. "Do you know how many customers were thick enough to believe Harry Potter was doing something as common as stocking the shelves in this very store?"

Harry looked down and shrugged noncommentally.

Martin, in the meantime, was admiring the mostly-stocked aisle. "Well, I don't know about Harry Potter, laddie, but your work is certainly top notch!" he commented in his gravelly voice. "I was a little skeptical of the rumors-sounded a bit too good to be true-but this is well done! Very well done indeed!" He paused, then studied the boy with an appraising eye. "Do you think Tom might let you stay a little later if I promise to feed you?"

"I'm afraid I can't this evening, Mr. Lancaster. I'm expected at a friend's house, and really should be getting back. Maybe another time?"

Lancaster nodded, "Of course, lad. I should have guessed you'd have plans. Can't blame me for trying, though, and I suppose it would be better for me to speak to Tom and your family beforehand, anyway." Rubbing his hands briskly together, he glanced up and down the aisle Harry was currently working with a professional eye. "It looks like you're at a good stopping place."

"Yes sir, all I need to do is clean up the empty boxes."

"Feh," Martin said, waving one hand dismissively, and reaching for his wand with the other. "Allow me," he grinned, as he shrunk the lot, then summoned and pocketed them. "I'm just delighted to have the products on the shelves to sell." He turned to face Harry. "How did you want to settle up?"

"Store credit, please sir." Harry grinned as he considered the huge store. "I want to come back on my own time for a proper look 'round."

"Right-o," said Martin, summoning a ledger and making an entry in it. "I'd say you earned a good eight Galleons this afternoon. Well done! Come back as soon as you can."

"Thank you Mr. Lancaster, I will," Harry said, waving as the shopkeeper said his goodbyes and headed back to the front of the store.

"Ready to go then?" Cassie asked gesturing toward the fireplaces.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, then thought of something as they headed in that general direction. "Hey Cassie, have you ever done any child minding?"

The blonde witch shrugged. "A bit. I haven't in a while, though, unless you count me escorting you to and from the Leaky Cauldron," she teased, laughing at the exasperated look Harry threw her. "Why do you ask?"

"A friend of mine in muggle London asked me to watch her girls for a while this evening. She wants to pay me-won't take no for an answer-but I really don't know how much to ask. Do you mind telling me how much you charged?"

"It depended," Cassandra said thoughtfully, finally giving the question her full attention. "There were several factors: were they friends, how many kids there were, how much trouble they were, how much the family could afford..." Cassie trailed off with a suspicious look on her face. "I take it you've never done anything like this before?"

"Not really. I distracted them so their mother could do some chores a few nights ago, but I've never been alone with them."

"Well don't be surprised if they give you a rougher time of it tonight. They'll probably push you, to see how much you'll let them get away with since Mum won't be there to step in. Will you have to feed or bathe them?"

"No, their mum said she would take care of that. I'm just there to entertain them until bedtime, then sort of stand watch until the parents get back."

The witch shrugged again then began ticking points off on her fingers. "They're friends of yours, you like the kids, money isn't that much of an issue, and you shouldn't have to do loads extra work, correct?" She waited for Harry's nod, then asked, "How many are there?"

Harry held up two fingers. "One's ten, one's two."

"Is the little one still in nappies?" she asked, trying not to laugh out loud at the look of dawning horror that crossed Harry's face. At length he nodded, recalling how Janet mentioned she was planning to begin Becky's Toilet Training soon. Since Becky was physically ready, Jan had considered attempting it before they moved but decided in the end to put it off until the family was settled again. "Well that's a bit of extra work, but it isn't all that bad," Cassie downplayed kindly. "It's just something you need to be aware of, and check every hour or so."

Harry grimaced. Suddenly the evening was looking a little less fun and a lot more complicated. "I'll manage, I suppose. Besides, its too late to back out now."

"I'd say one Galleon per hour for the two of them. That isn't too dear," Cassandra said after a minute, then looked at him as though sizing him up. "Look," she offered, taking note of his worried face, "I'm sure you'll be fine, but if you'll wait just a moment, I'll see if I can get you a little insurance."

"Okay," Harry said with a shrug, wondering what she had in mind. He watched curiously as she went over to where her boyfriend Silas Bowman was working. He was a striking young wizard in his early twenties with dark hair and dark eyes. Harry hadn't had a chance to speak to him, other than being introduced, but he seemed nice enough. He observed as the two of them conversed briefly, then Cass hurried back. "Here," she said, handing him a small, flat, rectangular something in a black leather sleeve. "We'll get it back from you tomorrow."

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow, as he eased the object out. It was just a plain mirror, about the size of his palm.

"It's charmed," Cassie explained, seeing his confusion. "Say my name, and watch the mirror."

Harry still didn't understand, but did as he was told. "Cassandra."

A second later Cassie's pocket twitched. Smiling, she reached in, and drew out a round compact. It was hinged in the middle, and flipped open to reveal two mirrors. When she looked into the top one, her face appeared in the rectangular mirror Harry held. "Hi!" she said, waggling her fingers at him.

"Excellent!" Harry exclaimed in delight, beaming at her. "But why did I have to use Silas' mirror?" he asked, obviously a little ill-at-ease about borrowing the other wizard's things.

"Well, I could lend you mind instead I suppose, but his mirror contacts mine and vice versa." Cassandra nodded in her boyfriend's direction as she draped a companionable arm around Harry's shoulders. "Silas is a good enough chap, but I'm afraid he's not very knowledgeable about nappies and night terrors," she whispered conspiratorially in his ear, making Harry snicker into his hand.

"That's better," she said approvingly, reaching for the Floo Powder. "Can't have you going back looking all scared like that. Tom would think we've been mistreating you or something."

"Thanks, Cassie," Harry grinned, suddenly feeling much more confident as he threw the Floo Powder into the fireplace. She was right. He might not want to deal with nappies, but they certainly weren't anything he couldn't handle. Heck, he'd done pretty well for himself most of the summer, Harry realized with a start as he fell out of the hearth at the Leaky Cauldron, waved to Tom, and headed to his room. He was grateful to Tom and the other merchants for giving him a chance, but he had been the one who'd had to prove himself. They hadn't been obligated to ask him to return.

It was actually beyond ironic that he had his dear Aunt Petunia and her ruddy insistence that things be perfect to thank for his success. He was used to working fast and hard, and he'd picked up any number of timesaving shortcuts while living on Privet Drive.

He was still feeling pleasantly chuffed as he entered his room, and greeted Hedwig. He wasn't due at Janet's for a while yet, so he headed to the desk, intending to start his weekly letter to Sirius and Remus while he had a little time. In retrospect, he should have known it was too good to last. All his warm, happy feelings turned to ice when his eyes fell on his enchanted parchment, and he recognized his headmaster's loopy handwriting on the top sheet.

Oh, bugger...

"WHAT?!" Sirius Black roared, practically launching himself across Dumbledore's desk. "You knew Harry wasn't in Australia hours ago, and you just see fit to tell us now?!"

"I sent Harry a message on the enchanted parchment, Sirius," Albus tried to explain, while Snape and Lupin grabbed Black by the arms and hauled him back. "I would have notified you had he responded earlier. As it is, he is out or hasn't noticed he has a message."

"Settle down, Sirius, before Snape casts Impedimenta on you," Remus hissed urgently in his friend's ear. "We suspected Harry wasn't in Australia days ago. We have facts and leads-we'll find him. Harry sounded fine in his last letter. Wherever he is, he's managing."

Sirius closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before nodding and pulling his arms free. "What have you found out?" he growled in a barely civil tone, addressing Dumbledore.

Albus had just opened his mouth to answer when one of the stacks of parchment on his desk emitted the familiar ping that signaled an incoming message. The room couldn't have been silenced more effectively if the noise had been a gunshot. Almost as one, the group moved behind the Headmaster's desk so they could see the parchment.

Professor Dumbledore?

Sirius and Remus grinned manically when they recognized Harry's writing, and Dumbledore's eyes began to twinkle behind his half-moon glasses. "I believe we shall have our answers soon, Sirius," he remarked. Picking up his wand, he spelled the parchment to accept multiple messages, then picked up his quill and wrote: Harry! Where have you been? then tapped the new lightning bolt totem that adorned the top of his parchment along with all the others.

There was a pause, then Harry's rather uncertain reply swam up with another ping! At work. Is something wrong, sir?

Dumbledore sighed. There was no easy way to say this, so he chose the direct approach. Harry, we know you aren't in Australia with the Dursleys. Tell me where you are, and I'll have you brought to Hogwarts until all this can be sorted out.

Harry seemed to hesitate a long time before replying. When he did, his message wasn't satisfactory at all. Don't trouble yourself, sir. I'm all right where I am.

The assembled adults did a collective blink. Did he just refuse?

Perhaps you misunderstood, Harry. I am afraid this is not a request. Dumbledore's words, though kind, held an unmistakable hint of steel.

There was a little longer pause this time, but eventually Harry's message appeared. His words were still proper and polite, but the state of his writing spoke volumes about his current state of agitation. I appreciate your concern, sir, but unless something has changed since you spoke to me at Hogsmeade Station, I think it would be safer for everyone if I just stay where I am.

"Gimme that," Sirius snarled, snatching the quill out of Dumbledore's hand. Harry, this is Sirius! Stop messing around and tell us where you are at once!

Arthur Weasley grimaced, visualizing Harry's bright green eyes widening in shock, then narrowing in annoyance. Besides his work at the Ministry of Magic, Arthur had a rather large family. He'd learned over the years that threats and ultimatums were generally counterproductive with people in general, and adolescent boys in particular. Sirius and Albus were going at this all wrong. He glanced back to the parchment when it rang again.

Sirius? What are you doing there? Who else is there? Harry's quill strokes were quick and jerky now. Was he angry? Panicked? Excited? Relieved? It was impossible to tell for sure.

Sirius looked questioningly at the Headmaster, then begain to list the room's occupants and receiving his nod of approval: Professor Dumbledore, me, Remus, Snape, Arthur Weasley, and Arabella Figg are all here, he informed his godson, before resuming his fussing. Really Harry, how did you get into such a mess? I thought you were smarter than this! You should have contacted someone immediately!

Surprisingly, this time Harry's reply was calmer. Even a bit pacifying. I was going to Sirius, but I was lucky enough to get this job right away. It worked out, so I reckoned I shouldn't bother you. I know you're busy and all.

Oh, no, Arabella thought with dawning horror while Remus and Arthur looked on in shock and Sirius sputtered incoherently, He doesn't even realize he's the main thing we're protecting! That his safety is our paramount goal!

Sirius, meanwhile, was not so quiet about his feelings. Seizing the quill again, he began to fill the page with furious strokes. YOU SHOULDN'T BOTHER ME? EXACTLY WHO IS THE GUARDIAN HERE?! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO ASK IF YOU NEED HELP! DON'T YOU KNOW YOUR SAFETY COMES FIRST?!

Professor Dumbledore said not to contact anyone unless it was an emergency! Harry retorted, as if that should explain everything.

Snape made an impatient noise in the back of his throat, and tried to take the quill from Sirius' shocked fingers, but Dumbledore beat him to it. Considering his words carefully, he wrote, And you do not believe your circumstances qualify, Harry?

No. Harry must have realized his answer was a trifle blunt, because after a few seconds he added Sir.

And what pray tell would you consider an emergency? Sirius had reclaimed the quill and his words were fairly dripping with sarcasm. Does Big bloody Ben have to fall on that thick head of yours?

There's no need to be so shirty. You were busy, and contrary to popular belief I'm not completely useless! Would it kill you to say "Well done, Harry?" It's like you're angry that I managed to look after myself instead of falling on my face or panicking like some stupid baby!

"Here, Sirius, let me try," Arthur said holding out a hand for the quill when it became obvious that Sirius was preparing to write something he'd probably live to regret. "Relax. He'll not say no to this," he grinned, certain that he held the trump card. When Black reluctantly surrendered the quill, and moved out of the way, Arthur stepped forward and wrote: Harry, this is Arthur Weasley. We don't have all the wards constructed around the Burrow, but the house is done. If you agree to stay in the house, you can come to the Burrow straightaway! You can even come tonight, if you'd like.

Harry paused for a long time. . When he finally replied, his words were faintly regretful. Thanks Mr. Weasley. I'd like to make plans for a visit, but I really can't come tonight.

The look of shock on Arthur's face would have been comical if the situation hadn't been so serious. Harry was refusing to come to the Burrow? Hell must have frozen over. There was no other explanation.

Sirius took the quill back, but before he could think of something to say, Harry went on.

Sirius, everyone, I hate to be rude, but I need to go now. I have another job I need to take care of, and besides, I'm using all my parchment. I'm not going to have any left to tell you about Voldemort if we don't stop.

But you said you just returned from work, Sirius scribbled hastily. What the hell are you doing at this time of night?!

I'm moonlighting as a cat burglar, didn't I tell you?

Remus and Arabella glanced at each other, then looked warily at Sirius who seemed to be in danger of popping a blood vessel. Fortunately Harry didn't wait long before letting the other shoe drop. Seriously, I said I'd help a friend of mine out tonight. It's no big deal.

No one seeme to know what to say, so Harry continued. Look, I'm sorry I got short with you, but if I'd really needed help, I would have asked for it. I'm all right, okay? Besides, if you haven't been able to find me, what chance does Lord Moldywarts have?

That's entirely beside the point, Harry! Sirius argued. This is a dangerous time for you! You need to be protected, not doing who knows what and living God knows where! Now for the last time, WHERE ARE YOU?

What will you do if I tell you? Harry flared again. Lock me in a cage? Send me back to the Dursleys? Put me in a bag and bury me? I...AM...FINE! Now, if you'll excuse me, the lady who requested my services this evening should be by any moment now, and I really need get going. Mr. Weasley, please tell everyone at the Burrow 'hi' for me. Professors, Mrs. Figg, Sirius, Remus, have a good evening.

"No! Wait!" Sirius yelped when he shook off his shock. Harry? HARRY!

"I think he left," Remus said unnecessarily a few minutes later when Harry didn't respond. "What now?"

Dumbledore had a odd look on his face when he answered, equal parts exasperation, embarrassment and oddly enough, pride. "Now, Mr. Lupin, we find him with all possible speed. Harry is safe enough for now, but that will change once Voldemort attacks his former residence, and discovers it is uninhabited."

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