Chapter 58- Coming around.

Sunday, July 23, 1995

"Albus? May I have a word?"

Dumbledore looked up and managed a tired smile for the wizard in his fireplace grate. "Of course Arthur, let me open the Floo for you."

"Thank you," Arthur said a few second later from his place on the hearth. "I went to Diagon Alley today and spoke to Tom and some of the other shopkeepers," he started, before noticing Sirius, Remus, Minerva and Fillius and pulling himself up short. "Is this a bad time?" he asked uncertainly, noticing the room's other occupants appeared particularly distressed. "If so, I'll be brief, or call again later."

Dumbledore shook his head and transfigured another chair in front of his desk. "Your timing couldn't be better. We have finished, I think. Now, this is about young Harry, I presume?"

Weasley nodded, taking a seat beside Sirius while the Headmaster settled himself behind his desk. "Yes. I spoke to Tom at the Leaky Cauldron first. He verified that Harry spent the night of July first at the Leaky Cauldron, but didn't offer any additional information. I couldn't tell if he knew anything else, and didn't dare ask outright. I was having enough trouble keeping Ron and Hermione quiet. They wanted to discuss Harry and figure out where he had gone and what he was up to."

"Well you know, they're probably in the best position to spot him, even if he's wearing a disguise," Remus pointed out. "I daresay they know his habits and mannerisms better than he does-Ron, especially, because they share a dorm."

"That is true," Albus conceded. "Perhaps it is time to solicit their assistance."

"Hermione is visiting for the afternoon," Arthur said, glancing towards the fireplace. "Would you like me to call them?" he ventured, not liking the grim look his companions shared.

At length, Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Perhaps that would be best," he admitted, raising his white eyebrows inquiringly at Harry's godfather. "Do you have any objections, Sirius?"

Black and Lupin, Arthur noted, looked sharply conflicted-rather like men trying to determine the lesser of two evils. Finally Sirius spoke. "All right, but let's not get into that if we can avoid it," he said, nodding at a large stone container by the Headmaster's desk.

"Agreed," Albus said, a vast sadness in his mysterious blue eyes. "We shall call them directly, but for now please continue, Arthur."

Nodding, the red-haired wizard got back to business and summed up the high points. He began by recapping the salient parts of his conversation with Amos Diggory in case Dumbledore hadn't mentioned it to the others present, then told about the family he'd spotted and the minor altercation in the Leaky Cauldron.

"They split up and left before we could get close enough to talk to them, or even get a good look at them," he reported. "The boy headed for Diagon Alley, and the parents and the two younger children went back into Muggle London. You know, the whole family appeared to be Muggle, come to think of it," he muttered almost to himself before getting back on track. "Anyway, I'm almost certain that's the boy Amos spotted. I asked Tom for an introduction since he seemed to know the family. He said he'd arrange one, then the children and I headed down Diagon Alley ourselves. Hermione wanted to go to Flourish & Blotts, and frankly, I was hoping to catch up to that boy."

"So did you?" Sirius asked, interested in spite of himself.

Arthur shook his head, sighing heavily as he did so. "No, but I did learn quite a lot about him."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore prompted, steepling his fingertips together.

"Yes. His name is Jim Patterson, but everyone calls him 'Sparky.' He's been working at the Leaky Cauldron since the beginning of the holiday doing general cleaning, meal preparation, that sort of thing. He started out working nights, then began waiting tables and taking odd jobs in some of the shops about mid-month. I was very excited because that agrees with the letters Harry has written to Ron." Arthur paused a moment, then shook his head remembering. "The Alley wasn't hideously busy, so I was able to speak with several shopkeepers. They couldn't say enough about him: how bright he is, how responsible he is, how hard-working he is...they all agreed on those points."

"I think I sense a 'but' coming," Remus commented dryly, exchanging a look with Sirius.

"Maybe," Arthur admitted, smiling wryly. "I'm truly not sure. Things got a little fuzzy when I steered the conversations towards more personal matters. Some thought he was earning room and board at the Leaky Cauldron, others thought he went home every night. Some thought he belonged to that family I mentioned, others were under the impression that he had merely befriended the family. They laughed about the way he fooled newcomers, and how they'd had to start heading people off who thought they'd spotted Harry Potter."

"So they don't think he's Harry?" Sirius asked, seeing where this was headed.

"No."

"Did they give a reason?" Dumbledore wondered.

"Everyone insists the boy has brown eyes and no one's ever noticed a scar," Arthur shrugged. "I thought he might have managed a glamour charm somehow, but one of the clerks at Flourish & Blotts said she got suspicious early on and hit him with Finite Incantatem. She felt like a right idiot when his appearance didn't change, and begged his forgiveness, of course. By all accounts, he was shocked for a minute then laughed it off, and that effectively squashed most of the Potter speculation."

"What did Ron and Hermione think?" Sirius wondered, leaning slightly forward in his chair.

"They weren't sure-neither was I for that matter. Something about the way he carries himself reminded us all of Harry, and his hair sticks up in the back like Harry's does, but if it is Harry, he's hit a massive growth spurt. As Ron so elegantly put it, 'he's taller now and not as scrawny.' He also looks like he's been spending a fair amount of time outdoors. We all agreed that we'd need to get closer and actually speak to the boy before we could tell for certain, but we didn't get the opportunity. We went from one end of Diagon Alley to the other, and stayed much longer than I intended, but he simply wasn't to be found."

"Perhaps that is something you could check for us, Minerva," Dumbledore suggested. "I believe your Animagus form would allow you to observe Mr. Patterson undetected. I know you are capable as well Sirius," he continued, when Black opened his mouth to protest, "but if this boy is young Harry, he will know you in an instant. Minerva's form is smaller and easier to conceal. She has a great deal of experience in these matters as well. If he is hiding from us as well as Voldemort as we suspect, you could panic him into running, revealing himself or something equally unwise."

Unable to deny it, Sirius subsided, but looked most unhappy about the entire situation. "I hope you realize you're sending a cat to do a dog's job," he grumbled, crossing his arms on his chest and drawing a pointed look from his former Head of House.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to talk to Ron and Hermione," Remus suggested, tactfully changing the subject before Sirius could dig himself in any deeper.

"Of course. Let me call the Burrow and see if they're about," Arthur offered, rising and walking to the fireplace.

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Tuesday, July 25, 1995

Almost...almost...oh come on now!

Kneeling on the floor beside it, Harry clung to the box from Mrs. Figg's house with one hand and stretched his other arm in as far as he dared, reaching...

stretching...

searching...

and...

finding!

"Hah!" he crowed in victory, as his hand finally closed on one of the objects that had been teasing him. It was the furry one.

With a determined little frown, the boy worked on pulling the thing through all the paper still on top of it. It was slow going, rather like dragging something up through a vat of warm taffy, but Harry was too close to give up now. He'd been thinking about this particular object, and had already decided it was probably one of his old baby things-a stuffed toy, most likely. What he didn't know, of course, was what shape it was. Did magical children own things as common as stuffed bears?

Planting his feet on the floor for more leverage, he gave an almighty heave and finally hauled the thing out of the box, standing as he did so. Grinning in anticipation, Harry glanced down at his prize, then blinked in shock when he recognized the ginger cat he had by the scruff of the neck.

"Crookshanks?" he yelped, dropping the bandy-legged beast onto the floor. "Wha-what are you doing here?" Crookshanks shook himself and sneezed twice before blinking lazily up at him.

"Why looking after you of course," the cat replied, calmly licking a paw.

"You can talk?" Harry gulped after making an inarticulate noise of surprise.

"Of course," Hermione's bushy-tailed feline replied, pausing long enough to give the boy an amused look. "You should hear what Hedwig says when you're not about."

Harry decided he didn't want to think about that, then grimaced as something else occurred to him. "Is Hermione with you?" he asked timidly.

"What do you think," Crookshanks said smugly, somehow managing a very evil smile before enlarging and transforming into a fuzzy Chudley Cannons blanket.

A Chudley Cannons blanket with a suspicious-looking lump underneath.

Before Harry could do much more than suck in a startled breath, Ron and Hermione threw off the blanket and stood up. Initially his friends looked as shocked as he did, but they recovered quickly, whipping out their wands and glaring angrily. Harry instinctively backed up a step, stumbling over the box and sitting down hard on the floor.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione cried, immobilizing Harry before he could regain his feet.

No! Wait! Let me explain! Harry thought, desperately trying to break free of the Full Body Bind his friend had cast. Unfortunately, it wasn't as prone to being thrown off as the Imperious Curse.

Ron was next. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he intoned, lifting Harry from the floor, and floating him over to where the two of them were standing.

Harry was grateful that Ron had at least positioned him upright, until he saw the look on Hermione's face.

Bugger.

That was the scowl she normally wore right before trying to knock some poor bloke's head off his shoulders.

Wait, please! Let me explain! Harry begged, silently willing them to understand since his frozen mouth and vocal cords still refused to work.

"Of all the stupid, thoughtless, juvenile behavior!" Hermione raged, drawing her hand back while Ron crossed his arms on his chest and continued to glare unforgivingly. Unable to close his eyes or turn away, Harry watched helplessly as her hand flashed out, connecting with a sharp crack that sent him tumbling arse over elbow.

Her touch seemed to have broken the spells cast on him, Harry noted distractedly as he flailed around trying to right himself. Somewhere along the line he'd acquired an armful of something, and clutched at it frantically as he continued his dizzying free fall. It seemed to go on forever before he came to a halt, colliding solidly with something behind him.

"Relax, buddy," a voice said reassuringly in his ear, as two sets of arms reached out and steadied him. "We have you. You're not going to fall."

Steve! Tom!

Harry closed his eyes in relief and sagged gratefully into their comforting strength. He smiled a little when he felt gentle fingers-Janet's?- brush his cheek, only to stiffen in surprise a second later when the fingers grew cold, and his scar burned fiercely in response to the contact. Without warning, the bundle he held was snatched from his hands, and the arms encircling him tightened uncomfortably, transforming into rough ropes.

What's happening? No, oh no! the boy thought wildly, when the bodies he was leaning against grew as hard and cold as stone, and a breeze that hadn't been there before ruffled his hair. Reluctantly he forced his eyes open, shuddering in distaste when he recognized Peter Pettigrew and the graveyard where Voldemort had been reborn. Desperately casting around for assistance or a means of escape, Harry gasped in horror when he saw Steve, Janet and Kitty laying crumpled on the ground beside him, and somehow perceived that the tombstone he was tied to marked the resting place of Tom, the Leaky Cauldron Innkeeper, not Tom Riddle.

Light, quick tugs and pats distracted Harry's attention, as Wormtail busily checked the cords that held him fast. All the while the rat Animagus clutched a bundle of black cloth to his chest, forcing himself to work one handed.

One handed...eurgh!

Shivering again, Harry swallowed with difficulty. His heart began to pound in forewarned anticipation when the little man produced his knife from one of his robe pockets, and inspected the edge of the blade. He had no desire whatsoever to see or "participate" in the rebirth ceremony again, so he squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to block it all out.

Of course being tied up and all, there was very little he could do about his hearing. An evil chuckle on Harry's right was the only warning he had before the cold hand was back, cupping his chin almost lovingly. The teen gasped, arching against the ropes as the contact set off fresh waves of misery from his scar.

"What's wrong, boy?" Voldemort purred silkily, enjoying the Gryffindor's anguish for a few more seconds before relenting and taking his hand away. "Do you not wish to see the festivities?"

Panting harshly, Harry hung limply against the ropes for a minute or two before he could summon the strength to lift his head and see what the dark wizard was on about. The huge stone cauldron was back, filled with some soupy liquid that hissed and bubbled sluggishly. "It is almost ready, Master," Wormtail commented, while Harry glanced uneasily from the cauldron to the black cloth in the shorter wizard's hands.

That couldn't be right.

Voldemort was standing right there, already re-formed. The potion was different, too.

So what was in the blanket?

Or who... Harry blinked suddenly, ripping his gaze from the cauldron, and jerking his head in the direction of the Wright family, before letting it rest on the black cloth again. No. Oh, please no... he thought, cringing involuntarily as Pettigrew unwrapped the black cloth and he found himself staring into the terrified eyes of Rebecca Wright. "'Parky!" she cried, reaching out to him as Harry struggled fruitlessly against his bonds. "'Parkeeeeeeee..."

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