When Harry awoke, he was asked to drink several potions in quick succession. The fact that he could now safely drink normal restorative potions would accelerate his recovery, Healer Stanhope informed him cheerfully.

Helpful or not, the potions also put him out like a lamp.

When he awoke again, he had visitors. He also had a wide variety of sensations passing through his body. Not the least of these was the needles-poking-through-my-flesh feeling he associated with Skele-Gro potions. That was currently running through his forearm, several ribs, and just a hint was emanating from the back of his neck. The muscles of his stomach and abdomen were extremely tender and even breathing seemed to stretch them intolerably. At least that bulky poultice was off his neck. While still bandaged, he could turn his head a little now.

It was when he was testing this that he saw his visitors. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting next to the bed. Mrs. Weasley had a copy of Witch’s Weekly in her hands while Mr. Weasley was dozing with his head propped up on one hand.

Mrs. Weasley looked up and her eyes widened. "Arthur," she whispered, nudging her husband. "Hello, Harry," she said brightly. "You’re looking a lot better. This is my husband, Arthur."

Harry felt a little odd, being introduced to a man he’d grown so close to before he died. Fortunately, his emotions wouldn’t be that obvious surrounded by a sea of discomfort. "Hello," he rasped, and grimaced.

Mrs. Weasley began fussing with the water glass, but this time Harry was able to use his right hand, though there was a bandage wrapped around his forearm. After a sip, he made a face. The inside of his mouth tasted like an old boot. "I guess they had some doxy antivenin," he said.

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "You’re at St. Mungo’s, so I imagine so. One of the healers recognized the bite marks right off."

Harry nodded. He’d been worried the wound sat untreated too long. "I wish I knew who sent them," he muttered.

Mrs. Weasley frowned and Mr. Weasley excused himself. "Arthur is going to go fetch the Auror, dear. We agreed when they let us sit with you that we’d let them know first thing when you woke up."

The door reopened after a moment and Mr. Weasley was followed by a tall black man that Harry immediately recognized.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," he said in his deep voice, "I’m Kingsley Shacklebolt, I’m here to ask you some questions about your injuries, if you’re feeling up to it."

Harry nodded and smiled. Kingsley had taught him more about duelling than most of his Defence teachers.

He’d also forgotten how perceptive the Auror was when the man frowned. "Have we met before, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

Harry’s smile widened in embarrassment. He needed to redirect the man’s curiosity. "Sorry. You, er, remind me of this Muggle actor…"

Kingsley smiled. "Ah, Samuel L. Jackson. Don’t worry, I consider it a compliment. He’s not a bad looking bloke." He glanced over at the Weasleys. "If you’ll excuse us?" he asked.

As Mrs. Weasley rose from her chair, Harry spoke up. "You, er, can stay, if you like. Ron and the twins got in trouble for rescuing me; it’s only fair you know why."

"Are you sure, Harry?" she asked.

Harry nodded and they all sat down.

"All right Harry," Kingsley began, taking out his little book. "Start where you feel most comfortable."

Harry took a deep breath and told them pretty much everything that happened on his birthday, with the exception of his conversation with Dobby. He only indicated that an un-named house elf admitted he’d been holding Harry’s mail, but Harry persuaded the rogue elf to finally give it over.

"Someone sent you a box of doxies for your birthday?" Molly was outraged, but subsided when Kingsley looked at her.

Harry nodded. "I managed to kill two, but not before being bitten. Hedwig got one, but the last one was just about to blind her, so I had to use my wand to kill it."

Kingsley nodded thoughtfully, but just waited for Harry to continue.

Talking about Vernon’s reaction was harder. He was angry at himself for letting things get that far, but he supposed it just appeared that he was angry at his uncle instead. He also let them think he was simply afraid to raise his wand against his uncle. The real reasons were a bit more complicated. By the time he was done describing Ron and the twins’ arrival he was glaring down at his blanket. The room was dead silent, and he realized that Mrs. Weasley was holding his hand.

After a long moment, Kingsley spoke up. "Mr. Potter, when my report is complete, I will be forwarding a copy to the Surrey Area Child Protection Committee with a recommendation for immediate prosecution. There will likely be a closed hearing at the Ministry scheduled after you are released to determine your legal status within the Wizarding world. I will also see Mrs. Hopkirk about having this warning removed from your record. The self-defence clause more than covers this."

"Sir, will the Weasleys get in trouble for the, well, you know?"

"Ronald’s use of magic was in preventing further injury. I’ve already seen to that. As for the means of transportation," at this he paused and grinned at Mr. Weasley, whose ears were turning red. "I’m afraid that’s out of my jurisdiction. In any event, my report focuses on what happened before they got there. I will go start the paperwork, but I believe these two would like to talk to you." With that, the tall Auror stood up, nodded once to Harry, and left the room with a determined stride.

Harry looked over at the Weasleys, who were both suddenly hesitant. "Harry, dear," Molly began. "We were wondering if you’d mind coming to stay with us for a bit. At least until your hearing; Ron and Ginny and the rest are very worried about you, and I know they’d like to see you."

"We almost had to have them forcibly removed from the waiting area while you were unconscious. And we had to lock up the Floo powder," Arthur said with a rueful smile.

"I, well, I’d like that," Harry said quietly. "I just don’t want to be an imposition. I mean, I can always get a room at the Leaky Cauldron, you know."

"You will do no such thing!" Molly gasped, outraged. Harry jumped a little in surprise, but she squeezed his hand in reassurance. "You’re just barely twelve years old, Harry. You can’t live by yourself, who’d watch out for you?"

Mr. Weasley spoke up. "Molly does have a point, Harry. The law will not allow you to live alone at your age without a legal guardian."

Harry frowned but nodded. "I’d like that," he said quietly.

Mrs. Weasley gave her husband a look.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Well, while we’re on the subject. Harry, would you object if we applied to become your legal guardians?"

Harry was quite certain his heart just stopped.

Mis-interpreting Harry’s expression, Mr. Weasley began speaking very quickly. "It would only be until you were, seventeen, you know, legal age. If there’s anyone else you’d prefer, we understand though."

Harry was shaking his head. "No, there isn’t. I just don’t… I mean you don’t have to do this."

"No Harry, we don’t." Mr. Weasley agreed. "I think Professor Dumbledore will likely have some alternatives lined up by the date of the hearing. That would probably mean you could live at Hogwarts year round if you wanted."

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, "we’re asking because we want you to come live with us."

Objectively, Harry realized he shouldn’t have been too surprised, not when they were sitting there waiting for him to wake up. Subjectively, he couldn’t believe it. Somewhere inside of him was a thirty year old Harry thinking how much easier it would be to protect them at The Burrow, and how much studying he could get done over the summers if he didn’t have to hide his books. Somewhere inside of him was an eleven year old Harry who was amazed that someone actually wanted him. All of this was wrapped up inside a newly-twelve-year-old Harry who realized he’d never been this happy before. He opened his mouth and closed it and suddenly he was being hugged by Mrs. Weasley.

Harry could remember that happening before, when he was racked with guilt following the Tri-Wizard tournament. He’d been about to go spare then, and he wasn’t far from that now. He tried to calm his breathing, which was starting to hitch. When he relaxed, Mrs. Weasley let go and sat back in her chair, dabbing at her eyes.

Harry steeled himself for what he needed to say. "I’d like that," he said in a small voice, "but I’m afraid there are a couple of conditions." The Weasleys stared at him, and Harry saw a ghost of a frown on Mrs. Weasley’s face. "I — I mean. Well, my parents left me some money, for school and, and other things."

Molly shook her head. "That’s your money, dear."

"I, well -- you already have a family. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t… help out some."

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth, but her husband put his hand on her arm and shook his head.

"Harry, that’s very nice of you to offer," Mr. Weasley said. "But we didn’t even know about your inheritance when we made our decision to ask you. You really don’t have to do this."

"I know that, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied, working to keep his voice even. "That’s why I want to."

Eventually, Harry wore them down. Hospital beds do have some uses after all.

Mrs. Weasley got a little emotional toward the end. "Harry, we didn’t offer this to get at your money," she said bluntly.

"I know," Harry said. "The Dursleys never had a clue about it. They thought I got my school books from Public Relief."

Mrs. Weasley bit her lip but subsided. "What was your other condition, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Well," Harry began. This was probably the tougher one. What he was saying would constitute a direct threat to their family, and he didn’t think they’d react well to that at all. "You know what happened when I was a baby."

They both nodded, not looking like they knew where this was going.

"From what I understand," Harry continued. "There are quite a few people who’d like to see me dead." Mrs. Weasley flinched. "From what Professor Dumbledore has implied, there were special protections placed around my aunt and uncle’s house to keep it safe. My presence will put your family in danger, specifically from Voldemort and his allies."

Mrs. Weasley twitched again at the name, but Mr. Weasley just met Harry’s gaze calmly. "Harry, the Weasleys were not quiet in our opposition to Voldemort in the last war. If he and his kind were to return to power, we’d be in just as much danger."

Harry nodded. "That may be true, but my being at The Burrow would definitely move it up their priority list. I’d like to see about upgrading the security at The Burrow at my expense. I can talk to Goldfarb, who manages the Potter Trust at Gringotts and see whether he can legally justify withdrawing money for that purpose."

Mr. Weasley nodded. "If it would make you feel safer, Harry."

"It would," Harry agreed. And make me feel better that you are all safer.

"This is only for new wards and such, correct?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Or any additions of a defensive nature," Harry temporized.

Mr. Weasley gave Harry a piercing look. Mrs. Weasley was shaking her head in resignation so Harry gave him a quick wink. Mr. Weasley looked a little dubious, but patted his wife on the arm. "Come on, Molly. We’ve tired the boy out enough." As his wife collected her things and headed out the door, Mr. Weasley took Harry’s hand.

"I’m sorry, Harry," he said in a quiet undertone.

"For what, sir?"

"If I’d listened to Ron and Ginny, we’d have been out there days earlier," he said, chagrined.

"You didn’t know," Harry said. "Nothing too bad happened until last Friday."

"You’re being uncommonly generous."

"It’s over now, and maybe I won’t ever have to see them again. Anyway, I’m just glad I’ve got a home to look forward to." He smiled shyly at his best friend’s father.

The man chuckled. "You haven’t even seen The Burrow before, have you?"

"No, but it’s the people that make the home, don’t they? And I know most of the Weasleys already." Harry’s grin was infectious now. Arthur Weasley smiled back, though his eyes were a little wide. He followed his wife out the door, but not before giving Harry an odd look.

It took Harry a moment to realize that he’d just repeated one of Arthur Weasley’s favourite sayings back to him.

~+~

After a relatively peaceful night, which made Harry ever so grateful for the dreamless sleep potions they finally gave him, he awoke to find Healer Stanhope taking the bandage off his right arm. The doxy bite had been left untreated for days, and the poison had done enough damage to leave a frightful scar. It looked like a shallow spoonful of flesh had been removed from his forearm, which is pretty much what happened.

"The tissue had gone necrotic, so we had to excise a good bit to ensure no further necrosis or putrefaction occurred."

"I understand what all those words mean, you know," Harry complained, turning a little green.

"Oh? Pity, that. I usually skate by using technical terms when people want to know what happened. Most of them don’t really, not in any detail. They just feel like they should ask," the grey-haired healer confided.

Harry ignored that. He peered at the fierce-looking scar. The edges of it were raised and angry, like puffy little hedge rows on his skin.

"Lads your age usually like to have a good scar or two. Builds character, you know. And you get to make up stories about how you got them!"

Harry looked up at the healer and quirked an eyebrow. "I’d rather have a lot of stories no one believes. He rolled his eyes upward to indicate the infamous lightning-shaped scar on his forehead."

Healer Stanhope reddened when he made the connection. "Yes, well. Quite. Skele-Gro aches all gone?"

Harry nodded slowly, pleased that his neck had stopped hurting.

"Feeling back in all your extremities?"

This time Harry grimaced. He still had pins and needles in his left hand and foot, along with spots of numbness.

Stanhope didn’t ask for elaboration. Instead he pulled out his wand and ran it over Harry’s left side. "I see -- still a bit of mending to be done; you’ll be with us for a couple more days, Mr. Boy Who Lived."

Harry started when he heard his famous sobriquet.

"Ah yes, I should warn you that your identity did eventually slip out after the Aurors left. Security has had to throw out four reporters already. They haven’t had this much fun since Celestina Warbeck was checked in for acute laryngitis."

Harry made a disgusted face.

"Don’t worry," Stanhope said, his voice serious now. "We take patient confidentiality very seriously here. The orderly that said they saw you on the patient roster was sacked on the spot. No one knows any details, which is what’s driving those vultures absolutely mad."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Will the nerves completely recover? And how long will it take?"

"A couple of days more on the nerve-restoring potions. After that you may have some intermittent weakness for a couple of months. You should be fine in plenty of time for Quidditch."

Harry jumped. "How did you—"

"I was sorted into Gryffindor, and I still keep up with the cup scores. I even played chaser back in the day."

"Wow, did they have balls back then? Or were they still using rocks for Bludgers?" Harry asked sarcastically.

Healer Stanhope blinked and chuckled. "I supposed I have been winding you up a bit, haven’t I?"

Privately, Harry thought the healer’s eyes were a little too calculating. Was he testing me to see if I was traumatized or still had a sense of humour? He wondered.

"Anyway," the healer continued. "I wanted to discuss some of your test results, since you are awake and sufficiently aware to mock my age and experience. First, I have a question. Have you experienced any unusual bursts of magic recently? Or at all?"

"Well," Harry said carefully. "I have had a couple of bits of accidental magic over the past year."

"Really, these happened after you started attending Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, I suppose that would account for… anyway. To explain before you jump up and throttle me. When you were admitted, we did a Magical Resonance Imaging test — standard procedure for people with head and neck wounds. What the test does is create a diagnostic image of a person’s magical energy. Quite useful for seeing if any central nervous system damage has impacted their ability to use magic. Your test, Mr. Potter, showed no damage. It did, however show that you had a second locus linked to your own. This secondary corpus magi was significantly larger and better defined, but it was slowly being integrated into the primary corpus that is linked to you."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Weird," Harry said in a wondering tone. "How rare is that, anyway?"

"You are the first and only case we’ve seen of it since the MaRI was developed."

"That’s really peculiar," Harry said carefully. "What does it mean though?" Is this from the merger?

"As you get older, you may experience some increases in magical power. Those bursts of accidental magic are probably indicative of that. I wonder what could cause such a thing though… Have you been exposed to any usual magical… energies…"

The healer’s voice trailed off as Harry sighed at him. Finally, he raised his hand and tapped the scar above his right eyebrow.

"Ah, yes, that would definitely constitute exposure to, er, well." Stanhope looked sheepish. "I must say, Mr. Potter, you shouldn’t be that surprised if I forget. It’s not like you go about beating everyone over the head with your celebrity status."

Harry just grinned. He wished Snape could hear him say that, the git.

"Anyway, thank you for satisfying my professional curiosity. I believe you have some visitors." The healer walked over to the door and let himself out.

A moment later, Ron stuck his head in the door. "You awake, Harry?"

"Yeah, I am!" Harry said brightly.

Ron stepped carefully into the room, looking around. He was wearing threadbare but comfortable looking trousers with a Chudley Cannons tee-shirt. To Harry’s surprise, Ginny followed him through the door. Harry thought she was looking very pretty in a flower-print sun dress with her hair streaming down her back.

"Mum’s down getting a cuppa from the lunch counter. The healer saw us in the hall and said we could go on in."

"I’m glad he did, Ron. It’s getting sort of boring now." Harry cracked a lop-sided smile. "That’s two I owe you. When are you going to get tired of saving my arse?"

Ron looked down and scuffed his shoe, but his ears had already gone red. "The twins drove the car."

"Who convinced them to go?"

"Well, I did a little, but it was Ginny that really got to them." Ron glanced sidelong at his little sister, who’d frozen in place and suddenly gone pink. "She wouldn’t leave them alone once her letters stopped being answered."

"Right, which reminds me, did one of the twins grab my mail?"

"Fred did. But why didn’t you send any responses back with Errol?"

"Some barmy house elf was nicking the letters before I even saw them. He was trying to talk me out of going back to Hogwarts and thought that if I didn’t get any letters I’d think no one cared." He glanced at Ginny. "As if that would happen."

She wrung her hands together, but he thought her down-turned face was smiling a little.

"Anyway," Harry continued. "I convinced the elf that I was going back no matter what, so he eventually returned my mail. Unfortunately, I had a birthday gift on top of the stack. When I opened it, four doxies flew out and began playing merry-hell with me and Hedwig. We killed all of them, but I had to use my wand to get one off of Hedwig. When the owl from the Ministry came, it disrupted this dinner party my uncle was throwing downstairs and his guests left. When he came upstairs he was blazing angry and had just discovered I couldn’t use magic to stop him."

"I would have hexed him anyway," Ron snarled.

"In retrospect, I should have. I just didn’t think it would get as bad as it did."

"He’s hit you before?" Ginny gasped. She was staring at him now, her embarrassment forgotten in her shock.

"Not like this," Harry said quickly. "Maybe once or twice, not like he really meant it."

"That’s rubbish," Ron spat. Harry couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s sentiments.

"Look, it’s over, and I don’t think I’ll have to deal with them again. You can’t imagine what a relief that is." Harry couldn’t help but smile thinking about The Burrow. He didn’t think he had a single bad memory that took place in the Weasley’s haven.

Ron grunted. "Who do you think gave you the doxies, Harry?"

"I’m not completely sure, but I have my suspicions. Did the twins grab the box?"

Ron shook his head. "That Auror already asked. Sorry, it was really confusing in there, not to mention dark."

"Whoa, Ron, back it up. You three were brilliant in there. The healer says you were incredibly smart to use a spell to levitate me, by the way. There were some loose bone fragments that could have sliced into things if you’d banged me around too much."

Ron looked a little green, but nodded weakly.

"I wish Mum hadn’t caught Fred and George," Ginny hissed. Her eyes had gone a little red to match her face.

"What did she catch them doing?" Harry asked curiously.

"They were trying to send a package to your relatives via Muggle post," Mrs. Weasley said angrily as she walked through the doorway. "One with enough explosives and fireworks in it to get them both sent to Azkaban."

"They deserve worse," Ginny said darkly, ignoring the look her mother gave her.

Was she always this vicious where I was concerned? Harry wondered. "Your Mum’s right. I don’t want anyone getting revenge on my relatives… unless I’m personally involved in the planning and execution."

Mrs. Weasley had been smiling at Harry until that last bit. "Harry!" she remonstrated him, "You really shouldn’t worry about such things."

"I know," Harry agreed. "At least until I’m seventeen and I can do it legally."

She shook her head as Ron stifled a bark of laughter. Looking at her children, Mrs. Weasley asked "And why did you not stay out in the hallway like I told you to?"

"Mrs. Weasley, the healer sent them on in when he finished examining me," Harry said quickly, wanting to keep his friends out of trouble.

With that, they all settled into chairs and began talking. Mostly, Harry and Ron told stories from their first year at Hogwarts. Carefully edited stories, that is.

After a couple of hours, Mrs. Weasley looked at the clock on the wall. "Oh dear, I need to head back and fix lunch for Percy and the twins, provided they haven’t killed each other." She shook her head. "Ron, Ginny, come on."

"I’m not very hungry Mum, is it okay if I stay?" Ginny asked in a small voice.

Her mother gave her a long look, but finally nodded. Ron got up to follow his mother and his stomach gave an audible growl. Both Harry and Ginny had to suppress a snicker, but he never broke his stride as he walked to the door.

He stopped halfway out the door and dug into his pocket. He pulled out something rolled up and tossed it toward Harry’s bed. "You almost forgot this," Ron said as he let the door shut behind him.

Bedridden or not, there wasn’t much chance a true Seeker would fail to catch something thrown directly at his face. It was the scarf Ginny had made for him. Harry slowly unrolled it and looked over at the youngest Weasley.

Her eyes had gone wide and but she stood her ground.

"I g-guess you really like the colour," she said.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I do."

He couldn’t help but stare at her, even as his sense of caution warned him to change the subject immediately. Lying in that stifling room, he didn’t think he’d ever get to see her again, and that’s when he truly began to hate his aunt and uncle.

Ginny looked back at him for a moment, and then picked up the Daily Prophet her mother had left in one of the chairs. "It’s nearly impossible to read one of these things one-handed, you know. Would you like it if I read to you?"

Harry nodded.

And so she sat in the chair, paper folded in her lap, and began reading the stories to him. At first, Harry could care less about the stories, and just lay there listening to her voice. After a while though, she started to insert her own commentary into the stories. Looking down at the paper, she didn’t seem to be quite as nervous, and it was almost like reading one of her letters, only out-loud.

Soon Harry began to add his own comments under his breath. She read an article about "prominent purebloods" opposed to the recent spate of Ministry raids looking for cursed Muggle items. Harry responded by coughing and saying "Malfoy" simultaneously every time the "prominent purebloods" were referenced. By the third time Ginny was snorting. By the fifth time she laughed out loud. By the end of the article she had cracked up and nearly fallen out of the chair.

Harry thought her laughter sounded musical; though he figured he was probably just being sappy. Still, it was good to hear her laugh. He’d heard little of it, probably because of the chamber. Now if that isn’t a downer of a thought, Potter you morbid tosser, he grimaced. Watching Ginny slowly regain her composure, he smiled even as he made a vow. Screw the bloody continuity. I’ll take that Diary and shove it up Lucius’ arse first thing. No. Wait… better hold onto it. It is a Horcrux after all. Still, I’m going to keep that ruddy thing away from her this time.

By the time Ginny’s mother returned, the girl’s voice was a little hoarse and Harry’s sides hurt from laughing too much. He was fairly certain he saw Mrs. Weasley’s shadow under the door several minutes before it opened.

"Ginny, it’s time to come home. Dinner will be ready soon and I need you to set the table."

Ginny looked rebellious for a moment, but just sighed in resignation.

"Dear, you’ve been here all day. Visiting hours are almost over and I’m sure Harry is exhausted."

"I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley, but I think Ginny’s probably pretty hungry. She’s been chewing on her hair."

Ginny jumped and pulled the stray lock of fire-collared hair out of her mouth. She gave Harry a betrayed glare, but he just tried to look innocent; and failed miserably. She gave up the glare as a bad job and began giggling again.

Mrs. Weasley sighed, but she still had a smile on her face. "Come on dear. There will be visiting hours tomorrow as well." She began to lead her slightly less resistant daughter from the room.

"Don’t forget your letters, Ginny," Harry called out when they reached the door.

"I won’t Harry, but I don’t see why you’d want to read them now," she said, looking downward again.

Harry tried to shrug and winced. "I just like knowing what you were thinking when you wrote it. There’s a little piece of you in there, you know."

He hadn’t meant it to be embarrassing, but his words made her flush like a tomato all over again. "Bye Harry," she whispered as they left the room.

~+~

Harry awoke the next morning when an orderly cast a cleansing charm on him. At least it’s less embarrassing than a sponge bath, he thought groggily. He smiled at the young woman after yawning widely. He scratched his head for a moment before he realized he was using his left hand with no difficulty. The numbness was gone.

After a moment of groping on the nightstand, Harry found his glasses and put them on. The enchanted windows showed it was daylight outside, at least mid-morning. I don’t think they gave me a dreamless sleep potion last night, Harry mused. Apparently he still managed to sleep through the night without dreaming.

After downing another round of potions, Harry drained the water glass in one drink. Not only was he thirsty, but the mingled aftertaste from his medicinal potions was impressively foul. However, when the orderly asked him if he was hungry, Harry found himself nodding.

Every hospital should have some house elves, Harry reflected as he chewed on a nicely crisped strip of bacon. He was finishing a surprisingly well-cooked breakfast when the door opened.

Ron and Ginny walked in, carrying handfuls of unopened letters. The twins followed them, with Mrs. Weasley bringing up the rear. Of course, the twins started in on him immediately.

"Ickle Harrikins!"

"Imagine meeting you here!"

"One might think—"

"You were a bit under the weather."

"Fred! George! Mind your manners!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. "You said you’d be on your best behaviour if we let you come this time."

"But this is—"

"our best behaviour!"

Ron spoke up as he peered around. "They have a point, Mum. Nothing’s exploded yet."

Ginny looked over at Harry, rolling her eyes. He smiled back at her.

"We were just telling ickle Ronnie-"

"Hey! I’m not any shorter than you lot," Ron objected.

"Ah, but you’re shorter in all the ways that matter:"

"Wit, sense, pocket change, and dare I say it—"

"Only if you want both your mouths washed out. And I’ll use the lye soap this time." Mrs. Weasley’s eyes were narrowed, but Harry didn’t think she was completely serious.

"Saved by the mum, Ronnikins!"

"As we were saying—"

"before that rude interruption,"

"That we should have continued—"

"Our classes with that old bat Trelawney."

"As we seen to have—"

"That inner eye she natters on about."

"Shocked we were,"

"Very shocked indeed!"

"When Mum and Dad—"

"Called a family meeting last night!"

"And we hadn’t even set anything on fire yet!"

"Quite surprising it was!"

"Could have coshed me with a feather,"

"A small one at that,"

"When we found it was true—"

"-and we actually had found a black-haired Weasley!"

Harry looked at Fred and George for a moment before snorting. "Did you rehearse that?" he finally asked. Ron and Ginny were grinning and stifling laughter.

"No, but we did —"

"Practice this bit—"

"If you will remember,"

"At the Sorting Feast—"

"Last fall!"

With that, the twins linked elbows and began dancing a jig, singing "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry was roaring with laughter, even before Ron and Ginny joined in. Mrs. Weasley tried to shush them, glancing at the door. Finally she pulled out her wand and cast silencing charms on her children.

"Honestly, I don’t know what’s got into you! This is a hospital! There are sick people here and healers trying to do their jobs," Molly said as she frowned at Harry, who was holding his stomach and lying back on the pillows, red-faced. "I’m sorry Harry, I had no idea they had something like this planned." She seemed actually distressed.

"N-no, it’s okay," Harry said. "It actually was funny. Muggles have this saying: ’Laughter is the best medicine.’ So, I think I just got a dose big enough to bring me back from the dead."

Mrs. Weasley’s face went pale all of the sudden and Harry felt ashamed. He was just trying to let her know that the twins’ little skit actually made him feel better… not remind her of how badly he’d been hurt.

Wiping at her eyes, Mrs. Weasley let out a sigh and raised her wand again and cancelled the charms. "You are far too forgiving, Harry. Now, if the rest of you do not stay quiet I will send you home."

"Right Mum," one twin said, rubbing his ear theatrically.

"We get the message," the other one elaborated.

"We brought your mail, Harry," Ron announced, stepping forward. "We saw Ginny gathering up some of your letters and figured you’d rather have the whole lot."

Harry glanced at Ginny, who was beginning to turn pink again. "Thanks," he said, trying to meet Ginny’s eyes, but she wouldn’t look up.

"We sorted it a bit," Ron said. "I have the letters from Hogwarts and from students. Ginny’s still carrying her letters," he added frowning. "And the twins have everything else."

"For a firstie, you sure get a lot of mail. George and I have stuff from half the shops on Diagon Alley, including Gringotts," Fred said coolly.

"Fred, don’t pry into Harry’s affairs," Mrs. Weasley scolded.

"There’s a letter from Gringotts?" Harry asked, sitting up. "Let’s see it."

George frowned and began digging through a stack of letters. "Here it is," he said, handing Harry an envelope of creamy white vellum with an elaborate Gringotts seal on the flap.

Harry broke the seal and pulled out a short note.

Mr. Potter,

The diversification we discussed has been completed. Please contact us at your earliest convenience when you wish action taken.

-Goldfarb

Harry looked up with a wicked grin.

Ron was giving him an odd look. "What’s that all about?" he asked, nodding at the letter.

"Well, it means my preparations are complete," Harry said with a smirk. He glanced over at Ginny, who was looking interested again. He thought the twins had likely teased her about the letters that morning, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to get her some payback. "You’re right, Ginny. Blowing up someone’s mailbox is very amateurish." He sighed and clucked his tongue. "Now, getting them sacked is another matter entirely."

Ginny looked up, confused. But after a moment, she caught his intent and gave her brothers a very superior look.

"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley spoke up. "What are you up to?"

"Well, I had the Goblin who manages my parent’s trust buy up some shares in the company where my uncle works," Harry explained. "I know Mr. Shacklebolt said he’d try to get him prosecuted, but if that doesn’t work, and he tries to do anything at the hearing, he’ll lose his job."

"I’d rather transfigure him into something nasty," Ron said darkly.

"Or set him on fire," Ginny added.

"This will be worse," Harry replied before Mrs. Weasley could object. "He’s always on about how he hates magic. This," he held up the letter, "was done with no magic at all. I’m beating him at his own game this time."

Fred let out a low whistle. "George, I think we’re at risk—"

"Of being supplanted as pranksters supreme!" his twin agreed.

"Should have seen this coming—"

"After him smuggling that dragon—"

"Not to mention trashing—"

"The Divination Tower as a diversion!"

"What are you talking about? Harry would do no such thing! Would you, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley turned an outraged expression toward Harry, who felt a sudden urge to sink into the bed. Mrs. Weasley raised an eyebrow at Harry as the silence wore on. She didn’t even notice Ginny kicking Fred in the shin, making him hop about on one foot.

"Well, it’s a long story, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said apologetically. "Hagrid had this dragon egg he won in a card game, and when it got too big for him we helped some friends of Charlie’s transport Norbert down to the preserve in Romania."

Mrs. Weasley’s eyes had gone wide. "Harry, that’s illegal! Do you know how much trouble you could have got into?" She rounded on Ron. "I suppose you were helping him, weren’t you? Tell me the truth, Ronald Bilius Weasley, or so help me…" She didn’t notice Ginny get George, either.

"No, I didn’t," Ron said disgustedly. "Stupid thing bit my hand so Neville had to help with the crate." He paled as his mother looked even angrier. "Mum, we had to! Hagrid is Harry’s friend. Besides," he added innocently, "didn’t Hagrid help when you and dad were almost caught at the Astronomy Tower?"

Molly Weasley stopped dead in her tracks, mouth open in mid-tirade. Her face went from pale with anger to red as a tomato in seconds. "Yes, I see. Well, don’t let it happen again. Alright Harry? Ron?" she said tonelessly.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and nodded vigorously.

"Good," Mrs. Weasley said. "Now that’s settled, I’ll go see the healer about when you can come home, Harry." She smiled faintly and left the room.

"Oi! Ginny—"George said the instant the door shut. He was still rubbing his shin.

"What the bloody hell—"Fred continued, tapping his leg with his fingertips and frowning.

"Was that for?"

Ginny still had her fists planted on her hips. "I would never have expected you two, of all people to go all Percy on Harry!" she snapped, still outraged.

"Well, we had to make sure—" Fred began.

"Harry could handle a Weasley chewing out—"

"While he still had the protection of a hospital bed."

Ginny sniffed. "I think you’re just afraid of the competition, to sink to such a low."

"Never see little Gin-Gin lose her rag like that, do we, brother of mine?" Fred asked his twin in an arch tone.

"Truly, oh brother of mine. I think someone may not be quite as happy as the rest of us at having Harry as a brother." George replied in a conspiratorial murmur.

Ginny had a stricken look on her face and Harry felt a sudden flash of anger. "That’s enough, you two," he snapped. Harry had given the twins orders before, when he’d assumed temporary command of the disintegrating Order of the Phoenix. He’d slipped into his ‘voice of command’ without really meaning to. It didn’t work so well with a twelve-year-old’s voice, but it had the desired effect.

"Sorry, Gin," they muttered in unison.

~+~

As Molly Weasley tried to locate Healer Stanhope, she steadily regained her composure. Harry and Ron had never mentioned anything about smuggling a dragon out of Hogwarts! She couldn’t believe they’d even tried to do something so outrageous, let alone get away with it.

She heaved a tired sigh. She’d hoped that once the twins were safely graduated she could stop worrying so much. But it appeared that Ron was just as trouble-prone as his brothers. She’d been horrified when he mentioned the incident at the Astronomy tower. Fortunately, he appeared not to understand exactly what had happened — only that Hagrid had helped her and Arthur out of a jam. Thinking about the start of that night gave her a warm glow. It was the first time Arthur admitted he loved her, and after that they lost all track of time. If Hagrid hadn’t hidden them from Filch… She shook her head and asked the one of the white-robed witches where she could find Healer Stanhope.

As Molly waited outside the ward where she was told the healer was conducting his rounds, she realized something was bothering her. Ginny was not at all surprised by the twins’ revelation. She regretted for a moment her decision not to read any of her daughters’ correspondence. On the other hand, she knew Ginny would not take it well if she found out. She knew being the only girl in a house full of boys meant that privacy was at a premium. Her relationship with her daughter was not as close as she’d like it to be… they were too different in some very basic ways. However, she didn’t envy Arthur’s closeness to ‘his little girl’. In some ways, she wondered if her Ginevra was just playing a role with her father as well.

Molly sighed. Perhaps she wasn’t as close to her youngest as she wanted to be. That didn’t mean she couldn’t try to bridge that distance. She had an entire summer before her last baby started at Hogwarts.

"Ah, Mrs. Weasley," Healer Stanhope said as he walked through the doorway.

Molly gathered herself and smiled. "Healer Stanhope, I have to say you do incredible work. Harry looks like a different person."

The grey-haired man waved his hands dismissively. "Yes, well, when you work with a healthy young man with magic that strong… well, any old duffer can look like a champion."

"Does that mean he can be released soon?"

"Like to take him home, would you?" the healer asked, but his eyes were kindly.

"Well, I’m sure he might rest better there. I’d like him to be able to forget… everything," Molly said quietly.

Stanhope looked her in the eye and for a moment his genial affability fell away like an old cloak. "I think we need to talk about that," he said firmly. His hand on her elbow was light as he guided her to a small meeting room. As she took the offered seat, she felt a quiver of dread. Was Harry not going to be all right? She wondered. He’d said the poor boy was healthy… She hadn’t got to see that much of Harry Potter, but what she did know wrung her heart. She didn’t want to see him go through anything else.

"Normally, this is something I would discuss only with an immediate family member. However, I understand you and your husband are to become Harry’s guardians?" Stanhope said as he sat down.

"Yes, we talked to Harry and my husband has already filed the paperwork."

"I understand you were there when the Auror took his deposition." It was not a question.

Molly nodded. Thinking about what she heard still made her feel sick.

"Despite what Harry may have said, I don’t believe this is the first time something like this has happened to him," Stanhope said in a steely voice.

"I don’t think Harry would lie to us and his friends," Molly replied.

"I’m not sure it’s as simple as a matter of truthfulness," Stanhope said with a sigh. "The boy shows signs of a severe mental disturbance. Last night was the first night since he was admitted that he didn’t have to have a dreamless sleep potion. We don’t like to administer them if we can help it, but he would have such violent nightmares each night that we had little choice."

"Couldn’t they have been caused by what happened on his birthday?"

Stanhope leaned back in his chair. "When a boy suffering from broken bones tries to sit up in bed, that’s not a normal dream. Do you know if he’s suffered from nightmares before this?"

Molly sat thinking for a few minutes. "I believe my son mentioned that he didn’t sleep well when he was at Hogwarts."

The healer nodded slowly. "I think he’s been through a lot more than he lets on… and it’s left its mark on the boy. He acts in some ways like the older Aurors, the ones that were hurt badly in the last war. A lot of them saw things, or had things done to them, that they never recovered from. Do you remember the Longbottoms?" he asked.

Molly nodded. "Their son is classmates with Harry and Ron."

"Not all of the old veterans are as bad off as Frank and Alice, but many have problems like Harry. Some are just a bit jumpy, others will go weeks before they get an uninterrupted night’s sleep. A lot of them never fully recover," The healer said as he looked Molly square in the eyes. "I think you should probably discuss this with your husband as well."

Molly inhaled sharply, but her voice came out in a whisper. "We are not going to abandon that boy now," she practically hissed.

"Good. But you both need to make an informed decision. It’s entirely possible that Harry has gone through things so horrible that he’s repressed the memories. Him getting better may or may not require that he remember. If he does, you will have a very powerful young wizard going through an intense emotional trauma. Are you ready to deal with that as well?"

"We will do whatever needs to be done," Molly said earnestly. "That poor boy has gone through so much, only to be left with people who treated him worse than dirt. It is high time he got to live with people that care about him. Otherwise I’m afraid of what will become of him."

Stanhope nodded slowly. "I hope you and your family are in this for the long haul. I’m not a specialist in mental injuries, but I don’t care to think about what another disappointment could do to him."

"If by some freak occurrence my husband and I were both to falter, I doubt our children would ever let us get away with it. My youngest four are very close to Harry."

"Good," Stanhope said, smiling slightly. It was his first change of expression since they’d sat down. "I think he needs as many friends as he can get."