Family Secrets

Harry liked all of them more that he'd spent time with them in their home. He could actually see them as they most often were. But this visit was almost complete. They'd gone to Diagon Alley the prior day to fill their school lists. Harry had pretended to shop. He'd long since bought what he needed, which hadn't included those Lockhart books. The man was no adventurer. A fashion consultant, perhaps. Harry had tagged along, but hadn't been able to duck into more than one used book store where Mrs. Weasley had bought most of Ginny's books.

"Breakfast was great," Harry said, after Mr. Weasley had Floo'd to work and Floo'd home claiming he'd forgotten something. He didn't say what it was, just something he needed to take with him, predictably he couldn't find it.

Mrs. Weasley smiled, whether at her absent-minded husband or at Harry's compliment was less than clear. Everyone else was still in bed.

Harry again cleared the table which again shocked Mrs. Weasley into silence. What? He'd learned manners, if nothing else, from living in Little Whinging.

"Anything else, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Well, no, Harry. Go up and get your bath now."

Harry nodded and climbed the stairs. The stairs leaned. The house leaned. The bath tub leaned which made taking a bath rather fun.

He was thinking about what he needed to get out of his trunk when he stubbed his toe on a book, of all thing. "Oww."

He leaned down and picked up a black diary from the floor. It had a name engraved on the back, Tom Marvolo Riddle. So it obviously didn't belong to a Weasley.

Harry walked it back down the stairs and found Mr. Weasley still turning over a pile of old newspapers.

"Is this what you were looking for? I found it upstairs," Harry said. He handed the book over.

Mr. Weasley shook his head, but looked at the volume.

"Percy? Percy!"

The oldest of the Weasley children still at home came down the stairs with messy hair and in his pajamas. "Yes, Father?" He yawned.

"Did you purchase a diary?" Mr. Weasley held up the book.

"I did. But it's not black like that."

"Did anyone else purchase something like this yesterday?"

"No, I don't think so, no."

"Have a good day," Arthur said. "Thank you, Harry. I'll take this in to work. I can feel it has some magical properties. Best be sure."

"Okay, Mr. Weasley."

"I'm not going to find what I'm looking for now. I'm off again, Molly." He made the flames of the fireplace green and announced his destination. Then he walked into the fire.

Wizards, Harry thought. Let's walk through fire. And no one had thought it a bad idea.

Harry went back upstairs and got his bath.

Much later, an agitated Mr. Weasley entered the grove where they flew brooms and played a last game of Quidditch for the summer. Harry was thinking about trying out this year for the house team.

Nuts, he'd forgotten to buy a broom on one of his many trips. He might need to sneak away the next afternoon.

He had his tent, of course, but what adventurer went exploring without a broom? Though the stories the twins told about that Oliver Wood made Harry wonder about this choice.

Mr. Weasley headed to Harry. Strange.

"Harry, can I talk to you?" Arthur Weasley asked. He pointed to a spot outside the grove.

Harry shrugged, but got up and walked toward him.

"Just Harry. It's nothing bad," he said to his children, his extremely curious and devious children.

Harry walked in silence with Mr. Weasley to the little shed where he kept his collection of plugs, among other things.

"That diary, where did you find it?" Mr. Weasley asked.

The diary, something about it must have been real trouble. Mr. Weasley looked angry. "Upstairs near the bathroom. Stubbed my toe on it."

"Right, right. It was enchanted. Are you sure it wasn't yours?"

"No."

"I thought not. Did you see it anywhere else before this morning? Strange package, strange owl, or something yesterday in Diagon Alley?

"No, sir."

"I suppose I'll have to talk to my children."

"What was it, Mr. Weasley? You said it was enchanted."

"Yes. It was something quite...well, nasty. You were very smart to bring it to me. I had to hand it off to some very clever chaps at the Ministry. They were quite alarmed as well."

"But we're okay now?" Harry asked.

Mr. Weasley remembered to smile, finally. "I dare say we are."

"Good."

By supper, it turned out that the diary had been among Ginny Weasley's books. She hadn't remembered purchasing it or dropping it. She had barely had a chance to crack it open and get a look at it. She'd minded that it had a boy's name embossed on it, but a second-hand diary with blank pages was better than none at all.

Arthur promised his daughter a new diary.

"Why?" Fred or George asked.

"Because the one she dropped was cursed."

"Cursed?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Yes. Best we knew about it as soon as we did." Mr. Weasley nodded at Harry, but said nothing else.

"Well, how did Ginny get it?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I've handed the matter over to Amelia Bones."

"Arthur?"

"It's taken care of, dear." It was an answer that satisfied no one, but Mr. Weasley didn't vary from it.

.....

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