Chapter 12- Settling in(part 2).

For the first time since he'd started attending Hogwarts, Harry had completely unpacked his trunk. Even now, he questioned the wisdom of the act-if he had to leave in a hurry, there was a very real chance he might forget something-but he hadn't been able to resist having a normal room for once.

So he had compromised.

Items that could be easily replaced if things got sticky now decorated the area. His school books sat proudly on a shelf by the desk. Some of the magical objects he'd acquired over the last few years were scattered around as well. The Pocket Sneakoscope that Ron sent him from Egypt, and the broom servicing kit from Hermione, for example, were in full view. Hedwig's cage was on the wardrobe, and homework assignments, in various stages of completeness, lay haphazardly on the desk. Harry rolled his eyes when he imagined the Dursley's reaction to all this set out for the world to see. The homework assignments alone would have probably cost him some time in the cupboard.

He hadn't left everything out, though. Practical items he'd need in an emergency (money, food, a few changes of clothes), school supplies he didn't use much in the summer (his cauldron, for instance), and a few items he couldn't bear to lose (like the precious photo album Hagrid had given him, the Invisibility Cloak that had been his father's, and his Firebolt ) had been carefully re-packed. Just in case. Harry thought, as he folded his cloak, and put it away.

By the time Harry finished showering, brushing his teeth, and pulling on his pajamas, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. He'd discovered that falling asleep was easier before the sun rose too high, so he quickly dealt with Hedwig's cage, and set out fresh water and owl treats before climbing wearily into bed. That was another good thing about the new living arrangements, the boy thought, settling comfortably under the covers. Hedwig was much happier. She enjoyed being able to come and go as she pleased enormously. Harry smiled softly as his eyes drifted shut. This wasn't so bad, really. Even if having your days and nights flipped was extremely weird...

Tom shook his head in bemusement when he entered the kitchen. He still couldn't believe how well things had worked out.

The offer of work, and his old room had been a spur-of-the-moment inspiration. An attempt to keep the boy safely accounted for, without injuring his pride. He wasn't losing money on the room, by letting Harry stay there, after all. The boy could have stayed there for free as far as Tom was concerned, and the Leaky Cauldron could easily absorb the cost of meals for one, but something had told him that Harry wouldn't accept that.

Still, Potter was very young. Tom hadn't thought he could have much in the way of skills for that reason alone. He knew from past dealings with the boy that Harry was quiet and well mannered, but like most of the wizarding community, he'd assumed that Harry's home life was relatively easy. Harry had been immediately hidden in the muggle world after his parents' deaths. Until his re-introduction to the wizarding world almost four years ago, almost nothing had been known about where he was, and how he fared. On very rare occasions, there would be a "Boy-Who-Lived Sighting" in the Daily Prophet. Sometimes these reports would be accompanied by a distant, indistinct photograph, but on the whole, Harry Potter was an intriguing mystery.

Tom wondered if Harry knew what he meant to the wizarding world. Probably not. The innkeeper smiled fondly as he remembered Hagrid bringing Harry to the Leaky Cauldron, and the boy's bewildered surprise at his reception. He had thought at the time that Harry must have been sheltered by his muggle relations. Or perhaps they didn't know themselves. How could muggles articulate those horrible years when You-Know-Who had been at full power? It was hard, even for those who lived through it to describe the turmoil, confusion and utter fear that the Death Eaters' terror-campaign had wrought. When Harry had somehow survived the Killing Curse, and destroyed You-Know-Who's power in the bargain, it had been exhilarating...like the first rays of sunshine after a particularly wild and brutal storm.

Tom did a cursory check of the dining area, before walking into the kitchen. This must be what having a house elf is like, he thought dazedly. Everything was ready for the breakfast rush. Tom chuckled at the irony. No skills indeed! Harry's stay was turning into a vacation for him. He'd thought he was doing a favor-extending a little harmless charity. He'd expected to have to teach the teen what he needed to know. When he'd gone to check Harry's progress the first day, he'd imagined the boy struggling ineptly with the mess, and had been prepared to breeze in and take over. Instead he had gained an efficient, conscientious, employee.

He checked his ingredient canisters, and found them full. All he had to do was make sure the charms that kept the food fresh didn't need replacing. Tom looked around bemusedly. It was ridiculous. Impossible. The boy wasn't even fifteen yet, and he had the domestic skills of a seasoned housewife. At this rate, Harry Potter was going to earn the right to stay at the Caldron free of charge for the rest of his life. Especially after that list fiasco...

Tom sighed, as he remembered the mistake. He'd written a list of tasks that needed doing, and given it to Harry as a guide. He'd meant for the jobs to be completed over the next few days, but he'd evidently forgotten to tell Harry that. He'd been amazed the next morning when he'd come down and found everything done!

At first he'd assumed that Harry had misunderstood, and used his wand. He was composing a "you know you're not supposed to do magic out of school" speech to deliver later, when he'd entered the kitchen and found Harry asleep at the table. He'd evidently nodded off while waiting for his tea to steep. One look at the exhausted boy, and Tom had known he hadn't used magic. The red, irritated skin of his hands was mute testimony to that. He still couldn't believe it. There had been twenty-five jobs on that list. Harry must have zipped around like a scalded cat to get it all done in one night.

The boy had seemed embarrassed, but had just shrugged a little when Tom had asked why thought he had to do the whole list at once. He did that a lot, Tom noted. Especially when his muggle family came up in conversation.

Tom stood in the door between the kitchen and the dining area and looked around, honestly impressed. Harry was obviously putting in some serious hours. He thought he had cleared up the misunderstanding, but perhaps he should lay out a work schedule as well. There was no need for the boy to earn the entire summer's worth of room and board in one week, after all. To be fair, he hadn't told the boy in so many words what he expected in return for the room and food, nor had they discussed precise wages. Harry was such an appreciative little thing, it was possible, even highly likely, that he thought the ridiculous amount of effort he was expending was an even trade. Tom rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He'd go talk to Harry later, and sort things out. Perhaps he could convince the boy to write to Dumbledore as well.

A chime from the wall caught his attention. The wall clock now read, "You're Late." Tom muttered a mild oath and hurried over to unlock the doors. Harry Potter was a puzzle that would have to wait for now..

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A small group of his fellow Diagon Alley proprietors were outside the door, waiting for him to open up. Tom apologized for the delay, and ushered them in.

"Blimey, Tom," Florean Fortescue commented, looking around appreciatively. "The old place is looking great! Have you given up eating and sleeping?"

Tom smiled his toothless grin, pleased they'd noticed. It had been subtle at first, but after several nights of work, Harry's efforts were beginning to show. Tom kept the Leaky Cauldron respectively clean, of course, but couldn't always find the time to give the old place the attention it deserved. "No, indeed, Florean," he replied jovially. "I've hired myself a hand for the summer. Hogwarts student. He's a very hard worker, I must say."

"Indeed? I may have to try and steal him," the manager of Flourish and Blotts joked. "He can organize my back room. How much are you paying him, Tom?"

"Yes, Tom," Madam Malkin joined in, smiling coyly, "you know how hard it is to find good help."

Tom frowned thoughtfully. He'd been trying to figure out a way to get Harry out of the Leaky Cauldron. The night schedule had actually started by accident, because Harry's sleep pattern had been disrupted. Having the boy work nights was a good idea, and it almost ensured that the boy remained unseen, but Tom felt bad about it. Harry hadn't complained, but the solitary lifestyle he'd been leading couldn't be good for him. He looked better than he had that first night, but still seemed a bit down. Getting out might cheer him up.

"I can see if the lad would be interested in doing some extra work for you if you'd like," he finally said. "He might like the chance to earn his school supplies, but he's been working nights. Even if he agrees, he'll need some time to sort himself out, mind."

"Tom, we were just having you on," Florean began, but Tom shook his head firmly.

"No, really. I wasn't expecting him to be so quick." Tom made a sweeping gesture that included the dining area and bar. "I'm going to run out of extra things for him to do." Tom grimaced a little, before continuing, "He's already working on his summer assignments, and I daresay he's finished one or two." He paused a moment wondering how much to say. "He had a nasty shock a few days ago, and seems happier when he keeps busy."

"Well, we'd need to meet him first," the manager of Flourish and Blotts pointed out practically. "Assuming the boy says yes of course. What's his name, anyway?"

This wasn't a question Tom was prepared to answer, so he stalled for time by refilling teacups, and asking after everyone. Telling them the boy in question was the Boy Who Lived probably wasn't wise just yet, but he couldn't delay forever. Admitting the boy's name was Harry wasn't a good idea either. Harry was a common enough name, but it might be too obvious. What's his middle name again? Tom thought frantically. James. Not bad, that. Rather formal, though, and it still might tip people off, as much as the lad favors his father. What's short for James? Jamesey? Jamie? Jim? They were waiting for an answer. What the hell... Tom faced his colleagues and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. My mind wandered a moment. The boy's called Jim."

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