Chapter 78- it takes a village.

July 29, 1995

Molly Weasley headed for the Leaky Cauldron's main staircase with determination, ready to Stupefy one Harry Potter and drag him back upstairs if necessary. Huffing crossly she drew her wand out of her robe pocket and cast a dim Lumos so she wouldn't trip. At least he had sense enough to leave a note. That and the ridiculously early hour were the only things saving him from a proper dressing down.

Dear Mrs. Weasley or whoever wakes up first:

Thanks for letting me come up to visit last night. I'm sorry I fell asleep on you, but I feel loads better this morning.

I can't get back to sleep so I'm off to the kitchen now. I didn't get a chance to talk to Tom about my schedule, so I reckon I should carry on the way I have been. See you when you come down for breakfast.

Harry

'Loads better' are you? Well, we'll just see about that, young man, Molly thought, shaking her head, as she hurried down the stairs. According to those Muggles he'd

been well enough to meet yesterday and they could all see how that had turned out! If she'd had her way, Harry would have been tucked into bed the instant the meeting ended. The poor thing had gone from peaky to outright pale and was clearly dead on his feet. She couldn't believe Tom had agreed without even a token protest when the children asked him to allow Harry a short visit.

Still, she hadn't argued the fact. Tom had been named as one of Harry's guardians after all. Besides, she and Arthur were perfectly capable of looking after Harry, and they did owe the old innkeeper a great deal. Since they were facing a longer than average stay while the Burrow was repaired, Tom had transfigured two of the Leaky Cauldron's larger adjoining rooms into a suite of sorts to save her family a bit of money and give them a modicum of privacy.

Molly hadn't been happy about the way the meeting had turned out, of course. The bit at the end had been too quick and confused for her liking, and Harry's guardianship wasn't something she was willing to take chances on. Not this time. As the evening went on, she began picking up hints that Harry's situation might not be as dire as she initially assessed.

The first eye opener had come after the kids clattered up the stairs. She and Arthur had lingered in the dining room, ordering dinner to eat upstairs later, and waiting for Tom to wrap it up. She supposed she shouldn't have been-Tom had been keeping an eye on Harry all summer after all-but Molly had found herself moderately surprised when he pressed their supper order into Arthur's hands and a pillow and folded blanket into her own.

"He won't last long," the old innkeeper had predicted, proving he had noticed Harry's sorry state. "He's knackered, poor lad, but he's missed his friends dreadfully the last few weeks. I suppose I can indulge him a bit," he said, nodding at the stairs the children had just climbed. "If you don't mind, he can kip on your couch tonight, or I can fetch him during a lull if you prefer."

Molly and Arthur had quickly assured Tom they didn't mind, but the old wizard's words put her on her guard. After returning upstairs she had watched the children carefully, ready to intercede if they became too rambunctious. Her caution hadn't been necessary as it turned out. After dinner the children gathered on the big "L" shaped couch Tom had provided, talking and playing Exploding Snap while she and Arthur cleared the table and stacked the dinner dishes for Tom to pick up later. It had been a familiar, domestic scene, and Molly had felt her lingering homesickness ease a bit. Tom's wandwork was always first rate, but he'd really outdone himself when he charmed and transfigured their suite. The room to the left was the dining and living area with ample seating and a sturdy oak dining set that would seat twelve. The room on the right had been carved into a modest master suite for Arthur and herself and bedrooms for the twins, Ron, and Ginny. It had almost all the comforts of home, really. All that was missing was a kitchen.

I'm off to the kitchen now...

Molly raised a considering eyebrow. If he wasn't too bad off, perhaps she'd ask Harry for a cuppa before they went back upstairs. Making the last turn into the dining area she whispered "Nox!" then stood in the shadowed doorway and stared.

Harry had evidently visited his own room to shower and change because he was wearing different clothing than he had been last night, his hair was damp, and his glasses were absent. As Molly watched he gave the dining room floor a few last scrubs with a mop, then dropped it in a bucket before moving to the table nearest him and beginning the business of setting the chairs on the floor.

Gobsmacked, Molly tried to reconcile the sight in front of her with the scene last night. Harry was clearly "loads better" judging by the energetic briskness of his movements and the easy, practiced way he hefted the benches and chairs. The unnaturally still and fragile-looking boy from the night before was nowhere in sight.

Too bad he can't bottle that. Molly shook her head again marveling at the change, then recalled Madam Pomfrey had mentioned a healing state the night before. She and Stephen Wright had come back to the Leaky Cauldron wanting a quick word with Harry, but they'd never gotten the chance to talk to him. Things had been a little pear-shaped at the time.

Since Harry was obviously still recovering from his illness and tired from the day's events, it hadn't really surprised anyone when he'd nodded off during a hand of Exploding Snap. What had been surprising was the unusual depth of his slumber. He hadn't even twitched when one of the trick cards exploded in his hand-a fact that immediately had all the children on high alert. Harry's tendency toward light, restless sleep was well-known to Hermione and the Weasley household.

By the time she and Arthur hurried over, attracted by the children's frantic attempts to call Harry back to wakefulness, they'd all been in a right state. Arthur, always the practical one, had muttered something about calling Poppy before vanishing into the hall, leaving her to assess Harry's condition and soothe the childrens' distress. She'd managed, but it hadn't been easy. The necessity of staying calm for their sake was probably the only reason she hadn't given in to a mad urge to grab Harry by the shoulders and shake the life back into him.

Mercifully for all concerned, Arthur had returned almost immediately with Madam Pomfrey and Stephen Wright hurrying along behind him.

"Madam Pomfrey and Mr. Wright wanted a word with Harry," Arthur explained when she'd looked up at him. "They were on the way up when I ran into them."

Her guests' reactions to the unconscious boy on the couch couldn't have been more dissimilar. Molly took her cue from Poppy Pomfrey who was wearing a "Well, finally!" look of satisfaction and relief. Mr. Wright, by contrast, looked rather worried-almost frightened. Molly hadn't quite known what to make of him when he'd muttered "Damn!" then hurried over to Harry, seating himself on the couch, and hovering a hand over the boy's forehead. She'd wondered for a second or two if the man was daft, before Poppy's next words put her quite firmly in her place.

"It's all right, Steve, Harry isn't connected to You Know Who. This is the healing state I told you and Janet to watch out for. He's finally mending. When he wakes he'll be as good as new." Mr. Wright had nodded absently, but didn't seem completely convinced.

"Are you sure, Poppy? The air over his scar isn't tingly but he's all floppy and unresponsive like before. Are you sure he's still in there?" he asked, while Poppy nodded patiently.

"He's in there, dear. I've seen him in this condition more times than I'd like. I know it's a bit off-putting, but it's also normal...well, normal for Harry," she'd clarified, smiling as Mr. Wright finally relaxed a bit, heaving a big sigh and patting Harry on the shoulder.

"Harry, you knucklehead, what are we going to do with you?" he'd wondered aloud with a warmth and genuine fondness that both surprised and disarmed Molly. Rising from his seat, he'd become all business, thanking Arthur and herself for their hospitality and requesting Poppy's help in getting Harry home to bed.

Molly smiled, thinking of Ron as Harry finished setting the chairs in place and began gathering some of the emptier condiment containers. He and Hermione would be pleased to see how much Harry had improved overnight. They had both been dreadfully worried and quite unwilling to let Harry out of their sight, but it had been Ron who'd gotten Mr. Wright's attention and asked, "Can he just stay here tonight? Please?"

Mr. Wright hadn't seemed too keen to leave Harry behind at first, but relented when she and Arthur waved away his concerns at imposition and Poppy Pomfrey assured them all that Harry would likely sleep like one who had ingested the Draught of the Living Death but nothing else. "There shouldn't be any adventures tonight, Steve, and the Weasleys are more than capable of caring for him or summoning help if necessary." Mr. Wright appeared to argue with himself for a minute or two, then he sighed and looked up at Arthur and herself.

"I don't mean to imply that Jannie and I can look after Harry better than you, and it's obvious he thinks the world of your family. It's just a few nights ago was...intense. He scared the hell out of all three of us," he confided, nodding in Poppy's direction, then offering a rueful smile. "Now that I think of it, his staying here is probably best. It's still pretty crowded downstairs. I doubt we could get him up to his room or out of the building without attracting attention-and we all know how Harry loves attention."

That said, he hunkered down by Harry who had been divested of a few accessories and arranged comfortably on the couch. "Harry? Buddy? This is Steve," he said, before reaching out and grasping Harry's hand. "You're going to spend the night with the Weasleys. Your glasses, belt, and shoes are on the table to your left. Now I expect you to be on your best behavior. If you follow your connection or let old what's his name draw you out of your body again I will put you on Dolly Dressing Duty until you leave for school. Do we understand each other?"

Molly shook her head again, recalling how Harry had shocked the lot of them when he made a tiny amused sound and roused enough to manage a weak hand-squeeze and a badly slurred "Yessir" before becoming still and silent once more. Poppy and Mr. Wright traded smiles before promising to chat with Tom on the way out and taking their leave.

"Amazing," she whispered, watching as Harry bustled back out of the kitchen, depositing a large basket full of cutlery and serviettes on the first table he passed, then replacing the half dozen or so condiment containers he'd topped off. When he finally seated himself at the table he'd left the basket on and began assembling place settings, Molly nodded decisively and stepped through the door. "Harry?" she called softly, trying not to alarm him, but Harry started violently in spite of her caution. He swung around at the sound of her voice, looking rather like an owl in daylight.

"Mrs. Weasley," he managed, then bit his lip and looked up at her. "Erm, did Pig give you my note?" he asked uncertainly. Molly got the distinct impression he was testing her mood.

Molly smiled and nodded, trying to put him at ease. "Thank you for telling us where you were," she said, taking a leaf out of Arthur's book and striving for patience. Harry was looking much better, true, but he also looked like he might take to his heels at the first sign of strife.

The tactic paid off. Harry seemed to relax a bit, and gave her a small smile while his nimble fingers kept sorting and wrapping Tom's silverware. "I couldn't sleep anymore so I reckoned I should get started down here," he explained before frowning again. "Pig didn't wake you, did he? I asked him not to."

Molly shook her head. "No, dear, he didn't wake me. I've been getting up every few hours to check on you. Madam Pomfrey assured us you were only mending, but Mr. Wright seemed concerned when they stopped by last night."

Harry looked like he wasn't sure whether to be touched or mortified. "You didn't have to...I mean, thank you but you didn't have to."

"I know, dear. I wanted to. I was worried, and so were the others. No one was sitting with you because Madam Pomfrey didn't think you'd stir until at least midmorning." She had to swallow a smile when Harry huffed in exasperation and rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't as bad off as all that," he said, then seemed to register the other part of her statement. "Why did Steve and Madam Pomfrey stop by?"

Molly lifted her hands. They'd never had a chance to explain. "I don't know. They said they wanted a word with you, but you were already in your healing state when they arrived."

"I'm sorry about that," Harry said, looking uncomfortable. "I would have left before I got pulled under but I didn't realize what was happening at first-with the healing thing," he clarified glancing up at her before returning his attention to his task. Molly slid into the chair next to Harry's as he twisted together a few more place settings, then stilled his hands with her own.

"Harry, are you all right? Really all right with everything?" she asked very seriously. Harry seemed to consider her question then nodded.

"I'm all right. Really. It's just...things are going to change today, and I rather liked things the way they were." Harry hesitated a moment then added softly, "I was hoping to stay hidden until school started and just take my punishment then."

The admission that he had intended to stay hidden stung more than Molly thought it would. Why would he do that? Didn't he know he was considered family? Didn't he understand they only wanted to be there for him? She bit back her hurt and angry words with difficulty, wondering again how Arthur managed to keep his temper in check so often. Then the second half of his statement registered. "No, Harry. I know several people want to talk to you-reassure you-but no one wants to punish you. We're all just happy you're safe. We were worried about you," she insisted, but Harry shook his head.

"I know how it works, Mrs. Weasley. Accusation means punishment. At least this time I know I did what I was accused of."

"We understand there were extenuating circumstances, dear," Molly offered, sensing she was on delicate ground. "Those things are taken into account," she insisted when Harry shook his head again and absently resumed sorting and wrapping the silverware.

"It doesn't matter. It never has. This should be okay, though. Professor Dumbledore said he wasn't going to expel me, and that was the only thing I was really afraid of. He'll likely give me detention with Filch or Snape once term starts," he said, in a matter-of-fact way that exacerbated Molly's helpless horror. She didn't even bother to correct his manner of address.

"Then again he might talk to Steve and Janet. That would be best, I think-just get on with it. I don't fancy having this hanging over my head until September," Harry speculated, almost startling a laugh out of Molly. She sincerely hoped the headmaster had better sense than to dictate Harry's discipline to his new guardians. She doubted they'd take it well-she certainly wouldn't. Shaking her head, she forced herself back on track.

"No, Harry," she repeated firmly, recalling all the times she and Arthur had considered Ron's enigmatic best friend and wondered what went on behind those watchful green eyes of his. She was getting an idea now and not liking it at all. As if proving her point, Harry chose that moment to notice her upset and graced her with a reassuring smile. "I knew I was risking consequences when I chose to stay hidden, but no matter what happens it was worth it."

And there it was. The mystery none of them could decipher. Harry's refusal to divulge his location, even to the point of turning down a visit at the Burrow. Harry seemed to appreciate honesty so Molly firmly set aside her own frustration and continued down that route. Reassuring Harry was the first order of business. Everything else could wait.

"I don't understand, Harry. Why did you hide from us?" she asked as gently as she could. "I know what Professor Dumbledore and the others think, but I'd really like to hear it from you."

Harry hesitated for a long while, his expression changing from uncomfortable to rather pained, even as the pile of finished place settings continued to grow. Molly wondered if she's ever get used to his "Jim" disguise as unfamiliar brown eyes met hers before dropping again. "It's stupid," he finally mumbled. "It's stupid and...I really should start setting the tables now."

Nice try, Harry, Molly thought, retrieving her wand. "That won't be a problem, dear," she said aloud, sending the finished place settings flying onto several empty tabletops with a perfunctory swish and flick. "You make more while we're talking and I'll put them in place for you," she said, looking him firmly in the eye until Harry sighed and his shoulders drooped.

"Do you mind if I make a pot of tea first? The kettle should be ready now."

Molly smiled as she thought about her earlier plans. "Tea sounds heavenly," she agreed watching fondly as Harry nipped into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with one of Tom's Brown Betty teapots, two cups, milk, sugar, and a plate of scones balanced on a tray. Harry unloaded the tray and poured their tea with a practiced hand before sliding gingerly back into his seat and staring intently at his cup.

"There isn't a good answer to your question," he finally said, just as Molly was wondering if a prompt would be in order. "I know everyone expects me to be brave, but I just wasn't ready. I found out Professor Dumbledore was looking for me and panicked."

Molly didn't bother to hide her befuddlement. "You didn't want us to find you?" she asked, seeking clarification. Harry nodded.

"That's right. I wasn't ready to give it up yet and I knew I'd have to." He glanced up at her again before returning his attention to assembling place settings. "I'm still not, really."

Determined to keep her calm, Molly took a deep breath and blew it out. "Have pity on a confused witch and back up a bit. What do you not want to give up?"

"You know," Harry said, looking over both shoulders, then leaning forward and lowering his voice. "Being normal."

If he hadn't been so clearly serious, Molly would have laughed aloud. As it was she really didn't know what to do or say to that. Harry watched her carefully, then mercifully decided she needed additional information.

"I wasn't daft enough to expect a warm welcome, but I never thought they'd just leave." He paused to take a sip of tea, then began assembling place settings again.

"I imagine it was a shock," Molly commented honestly, sending more place settings flying toward empty tabletops as Harry finished rolling them. She'd almost said, I understand but stopped herself. For all her blustering and threats when her children drove her to distraction she didn't. Not really.

That seemed to be the right move because Harry gave her a rueful smile. "Shouldn't have been, I suppose, but yeah, it was." Molly noted with amusement that serious conversations with Harry went much better when the boy had something to do with his hands.

"You know the first bit. After a going to Surrey I wound up here. Tom saw I was dead tired and told me I could register the next day. I thought about contacting someone the next morning if that's what you want to know, but I couldn't."

That part Molly was aware of. Sirius had mentioned Harry had felt ashamed of his abandonment. Shaking her head, she hurried to reassure him. "Harry, you aren't to blame for your relatives' actions."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose, but at the time I didn't want anyone to know. That seemed very important-and not just because what would have happened if the Prophet had gotten wind of it. I reckoned I could hide my circumstances until school started if I tried hard enough. And don't take this the wrong way, but I really didn't want to be shuffled off to the Burrow or Hermione's house. Not just then. I didn't want to be around normal family interaction-not when mine hated me so much." Harry trailed off, drawing in a deep breath and closing his eyes.

Her own heart aching, Molly bit her lip and waited for his inevitable tears. To her surprise they didn't come. When Harry released the breath a few seconds later he was still dry-eyed and remarkably calm, considering. His hands stilled in the basket of flatware so she reached out and grabbed the one nearest to her.

"You shouldn't have been alone, Harry," she said, anger and frustration making tears prick her eyes. "We could have helped you. We still want to help you if you'll let us." She half expected him to tug his hand away as Ron generally did, but he surprised her, shaking his head and taking her hand between both of his.

"I know, and I appreciate it, really," he said with a sincerity that soothed her tattered feelings. "I didn't intend to be a bother or frighten anyone, but the Dursleys leaving brought up a load of personal rubbish. I needed some time alone to sort myself out. Tom gave me that time when he started me working nights. Later, when he thought I should get out, "Jimmy" started doing odd jobs for the Alley merchants. For the first time people dealt with me. No Worthless Freak. No Boy Who Lived. I'm sorry I worried you, I truly am, but it's a brilliant thing, being normal. Very freeing. I suppose I got caught up in it." Harry released her hand then looked at the tabletop. "You can think me selfish or stupid if you like, but I didn't want to give it up until I absolutely had to. I wish there was a better explanation, but that's all I have."

There was little Molly could say to that, so she sat in silence sipping her tea, while Harry returned his attention to the cutlery basket. "Remus was more right than we gave him credit for," she finally offered. "He insisted you were staying away to protect yourself-that you'd found some measure of peace this summer. I guess the rest of us were feeling too frightened and left out to see that." She paused and considered Harry over the rim of her teacup. "You seem to have things figured out now."

"I'm getting there," Harry said agreeably. All the tables were set now, so he began stacking the place settings beside the basket. "My aunt and uncle always told me how awful I was. Once I rejoined the Wizarding World, well, you know how that's been. Either way, I was always judged and nothing I did was good enough," he confided quietly. "I knew it was unfair of course. I just didn't realize how much of an impression it had made on me. Janet helped me figure a few things out."

Intrigued in spite of herself, Molly raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Indirectly, but yeah. She was out of sorts a few nights ago after her weekly phone chat with her mum." Harry paused there, considering her carefully.

"Go on," she encouraged, feeling giddily delighted when his expression softened and she knew he'd decided to trust her.

"They'll probably tell you themselves at some point. They do that with people who are around a lot so they don't get surprised. I'll just hit the high points in the meantime." Harry thought a minute as though trying to find the words to start, then finally decided on the bald truth. "Janet has a minor brain injury."

Molly's face must have showed her shock and concern because he gave her a little smile and nod. "I reckon that was my reaction too, but Steve and Janet both claim it could be much worse. Anyway, it happened when she was a baby. She survived, obviously, and leads a fairly normal life, but the incident scared the pants off her mum and dad. Made them a bit...protective."

"I can imagine," Molly said, empathizing easily with Mrs. Wright's parents. Lord knew her children had given her some scares over the years. The worst by far was the black period during Ginny's first year when she and Arthur believed their only daughter was lost to them forever. "So, she made a full recovery, then?" Molly didn't know Janet Wright very well yet, or what Muggle healers were capable of for that matter, but the other witch seemed perfectly normal the day before.

"Mostly. She takes tablets and has to make some allowances, but it doesn't slow her down a lot. Growing up, her parents loved and encouraged her, even insisted she attend university, but they were sure her condition would prevent her from holding a job or managing on her own. Janet understands its their fear talking, even now, but when she was younger...well, they're her parents, right? You're supposed to believe what your parents tell you. Steve says she's come a long way, but sometimes something brings up the old insecurities-especially when she's tired or stressed."

"Like a few nights ago?" Molly guessed, seeing where he was headed. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, she was dead tired from looking after Kitty, Becky, and me. I told her not to be a nutter, but I knew where she was coming from. Then she laughed a little and said, 'if I'm the product of fearful but well meaning parents, I don't even want to think about the damage a guardian could do if they were deliberately trying to be cruel.' That gave me something to think about that I hadn't considered before." He shrugged then and returned his attention to the last few pieces of silver in the basket.

"Arthur found the bars from your window when we were warding the shed." Molly watched Harry's fork knife spoon wrap twist rhythm falter slightly, but pushed on. "I'm sorry we didn't take it seriously at the time. I thought Fred and George were telling tales again."

Harry pursed his lips, then chuckled. "Can't imagine why. We all know what sensible, sober chaps they are. Please, don't," he said, when she would have protested. "I understand, really, and I'm not angry. I was quite glad it all blew over. Even then, I didn't want anyone to know. Still don't," he confessed with a rueful shrug, "but we don't always get what we want."

Molly looked at him over the rim of her teacup. "No, I suppose we don't," she agreed, watching as he wrapped up the last fork, knife, and spoon and began stacking the finished place settings in the basket. "I just can't believe no one noticed, even if you didn't tell anyone."

Harry shrugged again. "Besides my clothes there wasn't much to notice. Do you remember when I turned my ankle on the way back from the pond the summer before my second year?"

"Yes," Molly said, thinking the question was rather off the subject, but willing to go along. Casting back, she recalled how Harry had limped in, and how red and swollen his ankle had been by dinnertime. "I was going to take you to the local healer the next day but-" She broke off and blinked. Perhaps this was not as off topic as she'd originally thought.

Harry nodded. "But the next morning it was okay again," he finished for her. "I don't know what caused the delay this time, but yeah. That's how the healing thing usually works. I get hurt or start to get sick, sleep, and within the next day or two I'm better. Sort of tied my teachers' hands, you know? Even when they noticed something was off they couldn't prove anything." He looked up at the sound of a door opening and closing off to their left. "That'll be Tom," he observed, nodding in the direction the noise had come. "Pity I couldn't tell him to sleep a bit longer without waking him," he went on, making Molly chuckle.

"I daresay he'll be glad to see you looking so much better," she said, her smile broadening when a sleepy Tom came into view. The old innkeeper appeared to be moving by rote at first, but it didn't take him long to notice the two of them and hurry over.

"Molly! Is everything quite all right?" he asked, before pausing and taking in the 'ready for business' condition of the dining room. "Harry?"

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