Chapter 1012 - Ch: 12-14

CHAPTER TWELVE –

Leading Up to the Holidays

November passed in a rush of mind-numbingly dull classes. With the exceptions of a few fights with Slytherin, Bloody Malfoy! and a couple of three-on-one fights with Gryffindor, Weasley, Longbottom and Finnegan... useless gits! Everything was running quite well. It was mid-December, and Harry was bored. He knew that he wouldn't stay in the castle this time, and was looking forward to getting back to his flat for a little relaxation.

He approached Hermione in the Common Room, not sure whether his plan was a good idea or not. "Hermione?" He asked tentatively.

She looked up from her Charms book, unconsciously smiling, and sitting up a little. "Yes, Harry?"

He looked down at his hands, nervous. "I was just wondering... do you know what you're doing for Christmas?"

Hermione looked down at the book, mentally reviewing her most recent letters to her parents. "It's just me, Mum and Dad, having Christmas Dinner. Why?"

He looked up, a slight blush on his cheeks. "Well... do you think you and your parents would like to spend the Christmas holiday in the Wizarding world?"

Hermione looked at him, a blush marking her cheeks as she realised what he was actually asking. "You mean... we come and stay with you?"

Harry nodded shyly. "Yes."

"I thought you lived with your relatives... and that they hated magic." Hermione replied.

"I don't live with them, anymore. As soon as I turned eleven, I got emancipated. I own a flat in Diagon Alley. It's got three bedrooms..." He looked down at his hands again. "I thought it might be nice to spend Christmas with my friend."

Hermione's heart went out to him, and she resolved to immediately ask her parents. "Harry?"

He looked up at her. "Hmm?"

"Do you mind if I borrow Hedwig?"

Dan and Emma Granger prided themselves on being perfectly rational people. Coming from a perfectly normal middle-class background, and reasonably well off, after all, running a private dentistry earned the pair quite a bit of money, made the two quite aware of the world.

Until, of course, it was announced that their daughter was a witch. When that happened, the two went through the usual stages; disbelief, fear, avoidance, and acceptance. After a brief visit from one of the tutors of the magical school, they decided they would leave the decision up to their daughter to make.

When she decided to go, the two, being good parents, threw their full support behind her, as she set off to a completely new world, to learn and to grow.

The letters they had received had cheered them up immensely. Their daughter, always alone because she scared the other children with her frightening intelligence, had immediately made friends with a boy on the train, who had stuck with her through thick and thin.

When the letter came from Hermione's Head of House about the Halloween incident, their first instinct was to pull her out of the school, due to the danger. Several hurried letters from Hermione, and one from her friend, had put their minds at ease, as it was explained that a gargantuan creature rampaging through the school was an exception, not the norm.

The most recent letter from their daughter was... startling, to say the least. Her friend had invited all three of them to his house over Christmas.

"Dan, what do you think?" Emma asked.

Dan didn't reply straight away, just leaned back in his recliner and thought. A minute later, he answered. "Let's pro and con it, shall we?" Emma nodded. "Cons first. We'll be leaving the house empty for almost three weeks." He thought for a moment. "That's all I got."

Emma chuckled. "Pros, then. We'll get to meet this boy that's got our Hermione all in a tether. We don't have to cook." She grinned cheekily. "No cleaning up the carnage, either."

Dan chuckled. "Although, that's not really a factor. We'll get to see how wizards celebrate Christmas. And... we'll see Hermione happy."

The two nodded to each other. It was decided. They would be spending Christmas in the Wizarding world.

Hermione rushed through the corridors, intent on getting to the Great Hall, and finding Harry. As expected, she saw him engrossed in a book, Probably Quidditch, at the Ravenclaw table, and haphazardly working his way through an immense pile of bacon sandwiches.

She plopped onto the bench next to him, waving the note excitedly. "Harry, they said yes!"

Harry looked up from his book, and grinned. "Excellent! Did they say what they'd be doing?"

She nodded, and held the note out to him. "Basically, when the Express pulls in, they'll pick us both up, and take us to Diagon Alley." She cocked her head. "Is there a place to park there?"

Harry shook his head. "Parking in central London? Not a chance, too expensive. We'll just keep the car at my place."

"Oh." Hermione looked perplexed. "How?"

Harry just chuckled. "I'll show you when we get there." He passed the note back. "God, I'm looking forward to this. I've never had a proper Christmas before."

"Never?"

Shit. Didn't mean to say that. "Uh... well... for the Dursleys, I ended up making their dinner, then being thrown into my... room, while they ate it. Then, I got dragged into the kitchen to do the clean-up."

Hermione's eyes instantly filled with tears. "Oh, Harry." She pulled him into a 'Hermi-hug'. "Well... you don't live with them, anymore, so it's okay."

Harry squeezed her back. "I know. But, I'm not looking forward to Professor Dumbledore's speech."

"Eh? What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore doesn't know that I've moved out of the Dursleys." Harry said, attacking yet another bacon sandwich. Hermione was sure she could hear the faint sounds of pigs squealing in the distance.

"What does it have to do with him?" She asked, sneakily pinching one of his sandwiches.

"It was him that placed me at the Dursleys in the first place. Something to do with my Mum's blood. I don't know. But, he'll try and make me go back there."

She looked at him, scowling. "Well... well... you're not, are you?"

Harry sniggered. "Hell, no! I'm gonna have my first enjoyable Christmas." He wrapped his free arm around her shoulder. "With my first friend."

She grinned shyly, and took another bite of her purloined sandwich.

The day before school let out for the holidays, Harry received a note from Professor Dumbledore, asking him to see him in his office.

Harry showed the note to Hermione, who rolled her eyes. "Do you want me to come with you, Harry?"

He shook his head. "I should be okay, Hermione. He'll try and stop me, but it's okay. I promise." He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then let it fall back into her lap. He took a few deep, fortifying breaths, then left the common room.

The walk to the Headmaster's office was like walking the Green Mile. Damn Stephen King for writing such a good book. As he approached the gargoyle that protected the entryway, he smiled at it.

"Would you please open?" The gargoyle, obeying the rule of Harry being the heir of Hogwarts, opened immediately for him. Harry stood on the revolving staircase, letting it carry him up.

When he got to the top, he knocked on the door. "Come in." The Headmaster's voice called. Harry took a last deep breath, and entered the room.

Dumbledore looked up, a little startled that the gargoyle guarding his stairs hadn't warned him that someone was coming. He hadn't even given the boy the password.

"Ah, Harry." He said, quickly bringing himself back under control. "I'm glad you could stop by." He peered down his nose. "I'm curious, my boy, as to how you got past the gargoyle."

Harry shrugged. "I asked it to let me in, Headmaster."

"Ah." How would it do that? It's only supposed to open for me. Curious... "Anyway, Harry. I asked you here, because I saw your name on the list of students who were going home for Christmas."

"Yes, sir?" Harry replied, sounding politely confused.

"I'm glad to see that you're getting along with the Dursleys, Harry."

"The Dursleys, Headmaster?" Harry was again sounding politely confused. "What do they have to do with my going home for Christmas?"

Now Dumbledore was confused. "Well... you live with the Dursleys, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. I live in my flat on Diagon Alley. Have since my birthday."

"What?" Dumbledore sounded aghast. "Why didn't you notify me?"

Cocking his head, Harry stared at the Headmaster, tightening his Occlumency barriers. "With respect, sir, I was planning on notifying you at the end of the year, so that my second year letter would be sent to the right place."

"But, Harry, you must return to the Dursleys. It's not safe for you to live anywhere else." Dumbledore replied, in his usual grandfatherly tone.

Harry stared at Dumbledore, waiting for the other man to crack first. Dumbledore began to fidget. "Yes, Harry?"

"I'm waiting for you to explain that statement, Headmaster." Harry replied with infinite patience.

"Harry, you were placed with the Dursleys ten years ago for your own protection. There are special wards available to you, but only if you live there."

"Protection from what, Headmaster?" Harry asked, wondering just how far Dumbledore would go.

Dumbledore took off his glasses, and rubbed the top of his nose. "That's a difficult question to answer, Harry. I ask that you trust me, and return to your Aunt's house for Christmas, and also for the summer."

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. Without a definitive reason, I choose to return to my own home."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, his hands folded on the desk. "I'm sorry, then, Harry, but I have no choice but to confine you to the school during the holiday period."

Harry stiffened, but managed to keep his fiery temper under control. "You do not have the authority to do that, Headmaster." He swallowed several insults. "As my Headmaster, you have limited authority to advise me, but you cannot specify where I live, nor can you restrict me to the school during holidays."

Dumbledore searched through the papers on his desk, picking one up. "Actually, Harry, I can." He passed the parchment over. "This gives me a Power-of-Attorney over you, until you come of age. As such, I have the authority to specify where you go." He leaned back in his chair. "So, will you be going to the Dursleys, or remaining at Hogwarts?"

Harry read the parchment through, noting the date on the bottom, and passed it back with an expressionless face. "Neither, Headmaster. I will be returning to my flat on Diagon Alley." He gestured to the parchment, "This Power of Attorney was made on July 1st. As such, when I went to Gringotts on July 31st, I was emancipated, as I am the last of the Potters." He held up his hand, showing off the Head of Family ring.

Dumbledore reared back in shock. "How did you know about that?" He demanded, all traces of the grandfatherly persona gone.

Harry kept his expression neutral. "That's not relevant to our discussion, Headmaster. But, as you can see, your document is now worthless." He stood up. "Good afternoon, Headmaster."

Dumbledore's wand was in his hand in a flash. "No, Harry." He stood. "I've told you about your options. You can either remain at Hogwarts, where the wards of the castle will protect you, or you can return to the Dursleys, where the blood wards will protect you." He shook his head sadly. "I will have to go before the Wizengamot in order to overturn your emancipation." He looked at Harry with a sad expression. "Do you know how much extra work you've created for me, Harry?"

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "Extra work I've created for you, Headmaster? I have done no such thing. I have claimed my birthright, according to the law." Without a word, he passed through the door, and left the office.

Dumbledore flopped back into his chair, tucking his wand into his sleeve. This is not good. He needs to go to the Dursleys for his own protection! He pondered, and pulled a clean piece of parchment over, before inking a quill.

The Hogwarts Express pulled out of Hogsmeade at exactly eleven o'clock. There had been a brief kafuffle, as Filch had tried to stop Harry leaving, on Dumbledore's orders, but Harry had simply bypassed the caretaker, and boarded the train.

Harry and Hermione were in a compartment, with the door locked and the blinds closed. Both youngsters were sitting on benches, eyes half-closed due to the warmth of the compartment, the gentle rocking motion, and the soothing 'clack' sound of the wheels on the track.

"Harry?" Hermione said sleepily.

"Hmm?" Harry replied, just as sleepily.

"Why did Filch try and stop you leaving?"

"Dumbledore doesn't want me to leave the castle." Harry replied, opening his eyes fully. "He wouldn't actually tell me why I have to stay with the Dursleys. Pulled out a Power of Attorney, making him my magical guardian."

Hermione yawned, and opened her eyes. "You said you were emancipated, though."

Harry nodded. "I am. He said he's gonna go to the Wizengamot to get it voided. Even thanked me for making a load of extra work for him. Doddering old fart."

"Harry... that's not nice. He's a professor." Hermione reproved gently. Hearing about the old man's ultimatums were making his stock drop rapidly in her opinion.

"Okay, then." Harry replied. "Doddering old fart of a professor."

Hermione yawned, and nodded. "Much better, Harry." She smiled at him. "So, are you gonna explain about the parking now? You never did say."

Harry stifled yet another yawn, and moved to the end of his bench. "Not yet. Are you tired?"

Hermione nodded. "I can barely keep my eyes open." She said, yawning again. Harry patted the bench next to him. Hermione abandoned her own seat, and sat next to him, snuggling close. "This is nice." She whispered.

Harry put his arm around her, pulling her even closer. "It is, isn't it?" He asked rhetorically. "Sleep, fair Hermione. I'll wake you when we get there."

Five hours later, the train started to slow as it approached Kings Cross. Hermione had abandoned her snuggling to lie down on the bench, her head in Harry's lap, as he gazed down on her adoringly.

"I will always love you." He whispered, stroking her hair. Hermione moaned, and wriggled slightly, as she made her way back to consciousness.

"You slept well." Harry said, gazing at her with love in his dreamy green eyes. Hermione felt herself tense as she stared at his eyes, neither blinking.

She sat up, rather embarrassed to realise she fallen asleep in his lap. "Thanks." She blushed prettily. "I did sleep well."

"I could tell." Harry said, smiling. "You have the cutest little snore, you know."

"Hey!" Hermione slapped at his arm near the shoulder. "I do not snore!"

"I said 'little snore', not 'snore', you know." Harry said, rubbing his arms unconsciously. "And, did you notice the key word? 'Cutest'?"

Hermione blushed again. It seemed half the time she spent with Harry involved her blushing in some way. "Thank you." She whispered.

In five years time, I'd like nothing more than to fall asleep and wake up to that cute little snore. He thought to himself, his eyes glazing over as he thought about it. He shook his head, bringing his thoughts back to the present.

"We're just pulling into Kings Cross." Harry said, standing up and stretching. He let out a gasp of pleasure as his spine cracked twice, causing Hermione to wince.

"That's gross, you know."

"Yes." Harry replied, rolling his head, letting off another three cracks from his neck. "But it feels good."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Grab your trunk, you prat. I wanna find my folks."

The two left the train, trunks handily shrunk down in pockets. Harry passed through the barrier, quickly followed by Hermione. When he got through, he stopped suddenly. Standing on the other side of the barrier was Vernon Dursley.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry asked, discretely reaching for his wand.

Vernon snarled, and turned purple. "I'm here to collect your freak arse, boy!" He snapped. "Get your trunk, and get in the car!"

Harry shook his head. "No. I don't live with your anymore, remember?"

Vernon rolled his eyes, and changed colour, turning a lovely shade of puce. "I know that, boy. But that blasted Headmaster of yours sent me a letter, telling me that you were coming back for Christmas, and I had to take you in." He raised his fist threateningly. "Now, get your freak stuff, and get in the car!"

"I don't think so." Harry said, pulling his wand out. "Go home, Vernon."

The corpulent man smirked. "You can't use your stick outside of school, boy." He took a step forward, holding his hand out. "Give it to me. I'll give it back to you when you leave in the New Year."

Harry smirked. "Unlike other wizards, Vernon, I can use my wand. If you want to push me, I assure you, you will not like the consequences. Now... get out of my sight!"

Vernon, thoroughly intimidated by an eleven-year old child, turned and ran out of the train station. Hermione turned to Harry, staring at him in shock. "What the hell was he doing here?"

Harry fumed quietly. "Dumbledore." He hissed. "He sent Vernon a letter, telling him to pick me up, and he must have told him that we can't do magic outside of school." The ramifications hit him then. "If Vernon started beating me, I wouldn't even be able to threaten him with magic. He could've killed me!"

Hermione shuddered, and attacked him with a 'Hermi-hug'. "Well... he's gone now." She gave him a gentle squeeze, before letting go. "Now, we need to find my parents."

Ten minutes later, a Vauxhall Vectra pulled out of Kings Cross station, two adults and two wizards tucked inside. The heater was going full blast, in an attempt to get rid of the chill. A Beatles CD was going, and when Harry began to sing along, he shocked all three Grangers.

"You know the Beatles?" Emma asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Unlike most people, though, I'm also an Elvis fan."

Hermione looked at him oddly. "Why's that odd?"

A chuckle from the passenger seat caught Hermione's attention. "As a rule, if someone's a Beatles fan, they don't really like Elvis. Like me and your mother. I'm an Elvis fan, while she likes the Beatles."

"Oh." Hermione looked baffled.

"So, where are we headed, Harry?" Dan asked, pulling into the traffic.

"Uh, Charring Cross Road, Mr. Granger." Harry replied politely. "When we get there, we'll need to find a secluded spot to park."

Emma looked over her shoulder. "Parking in London, Harry?"

"No, ma'am." Harry answered. "It's hellishly expensive to park in London, especially for three weeks. So, we're keeping the car at my place."

All three pairs of eyes fell onto him. He raised his hands. "What? Trust me." He smiled his 'Hi, I'm going to date your daughter and you'll love me for it' smile. Emma smiled back, and concentrated on the road, while Dan stared at him, recognising the smile for what it was. He gave a final glare, then turned round.

Hermione winked at him, before taking his hand in hers.

"So, Harry, Hermione said you live in Diagon Alley." Emma said, ignoring the glares her husband was sending the young man.

"Yes, ma'am, I do."

"Is it with your Aunt and Uncle?" Dan asked.

"Uh... no." Harry replied, suddenly nervous with the conversation. "They live in Surrey, sir. They don't particularly like magic, and they're... they're not very nice people."

"Oh." Dan turned back. "So, who do you live with?"

"It's just me and Hedwig, sir." Harry replied. Even Hermione didn't know this. She thought that he had a room-mate or guardian.

Emma pulled the car over to the side of the road, and turned off the engine. "You live on your own? An eleven-year old boy? Lives alone? In the middle of London?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"And we're staying at your flat for the next three weeks?" Dan asked, suddenly feeling the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes. Don't worry about it, though. I promise, you'll have fun."

Emma shared the same sinking feeling that her husband had, but decided to go along with Harry... for the moment.

The quartet entered the Leaky Cauldron, and passed through without incident. To Harry's amusement, and the Granger's amazement, he had miniaturised their car, and placed a stasis charm on it, to make sure none of the fluids leaked out. There had been a tense moment when Harry nearly dropped it, but quickly straightened it up.

As the passed into the Alley, Harry confidently led the way to an abandoned store, opposite Flourish and Blotts.

"Where's your flat, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry pulled all three Grangers close, and spoke softly. "It's hidden. You need to listen carefully to what I'm about to say, okay?"

Hermione nodded, and immediately began pondering what charm could be used to hide something.

Harry leaned closer, and whispered; "Harry Potter lives at 93a, Diagon Alley, London."

As soon as he said the final word, a doorway appeared behind him. The Grangers were stunned, as the door appeared to push the shops on either side of it out of the way.

Harry turned to Hermione and grinned. "It's called the Fideluscharm, Hermione. I've got a book on it upstairs, if you want." She grinned at him.

Considering we've only know each other for less than four months, he knows me too well.

Harry placed his hand on the door, sending a surge of magic through his palm. The door creaked open, sending chills down the spines of the Grangers. Harry turned around. "Sorry... it was just too great a cliché to pass up."

Emma and Dan laughed nervously, while Hermione grinned. Harry passed through the doorway, onto a set of polished wooden stairs. He looked down, seeing an envelope on the ground. He picked it up, and started to make his way up the stairs.

As soon as Harry opened the door to the flat, Emma and Dan were stunned. They were expecting the flat to be something a student would own, furniture barely held together with duct tape, packing boxes used as tables, that sort of thing.

Instead, the flat was sparsely, but tastefully decorated with brand new furniture. A pair of black leather couches sat underneath a long window, while a large television sat along one wall. A crimson throw rug covered a good portion of the hardwood flooring, while a wall to wall bookcase filled the third wall. There were five doors along the final wall, leading to the other rooms. In the centre of the large living room was a fireplace island, built in a sandy-coloured stone. At the back was a set of stairs that led into the fire.

Harry took the group of a brief tour, showing off the master bedroom, decorated in traditional Ravenclaw colours, while the two guest bedrooms were decorated in off-white. The combined kitchen/dining room was all light wood, with a series of cooking devices along one wall. The final room, the bathroom, was white tile, containing an obscenely large bathtub, a separate shower stall, a toilet cubicle and sink.

All in all, it was a very impressive home, especially for an eleven year old.

"Wow..." Hermione whispered. "This is nice, Harry."

Emma turned back to Harry. "You live here by yourself?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Who decorated?" Emma refused to believe a child had such good taste.

"Well, I did everything except the bathroom." Harry replied, looking down at his shoes. "I have many talents. I discovered that tiling is not one of them."

Dan laughed involuntary. "I know how you feel, son." He said. "I had to do ours at home. It's not easy."

Hermione looked at the bookcase, and back at Harry. He nodded, laughing as she dashed away. "That girl and her books..." He made his way into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. "Would you care for a drink?"

Emma shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. "Uh... coffee would be good."

Harry flicked his hand at one of the devices lining the kitchen wall, where a popping sound was soon heard.

Hermione had flopped herself onto one of the couches, absorbed in a book about household charms.

Harry entered the living room, passed a delicate china cup and saucer to the Grangers. "Hermione, want a drink?"

She nodded, without looking up from her book. "Do you have any Pumpkin Juice?"

Harry stood in front of her, a large glass of the sweet beverage in hand. She looked up, grinning at him. "You really do know me too well, Harry."

He grinned back, and walked away, grabbing the Grangers' suitcases, and headed into one of the guest rooms.

The Grangers had sat themselves down, impressed despite their earlier protestations. The flat was comfortable, and well adorned.

Harry entered, and dropped onto the couch next to Hermione, who was still engrossed in the book.

"So... Why do you live here alone, Harry?" Emma asked, looking down at her empty coffee cup. It really was the best she'd ever had, and she wanted more, but was too proud to ask.

Harry picked up on her glances, and vanished into the kitchen, coming out with fresh cups for both of them.

He passed them over, and then sat down. "That's quite a long story, ma'am."

Emma took another sip of the heavenly coffee, and settled back. "Indulge me."

So he did. For the next hour, Harry told the story of his life up to that point, downplaying the cruelty of the Dursleys, until Emma was in tears. Hermione had long abandoned her book, and was now snuggling with Harry, after wrapping him in a firm 'Hermi-hug'.

"...which is where you picked us up." Harry concluded.

Dan shook his head. "Let me get this straight. Your parents went into hiding, using the same charm that you are now."

"Yes." Harry replied. "However, the difference between what my parents did and what I did is simple. They chose to trust the wrong person. My charm is secreted within myself. Had they done that, they would still be alive today."

Dan nodded. "Right. So, after they were attacked, the Headmaster placed you with your abusive relatives, then didn't check on your for ten years.

"You turn up at school, don't tell him that you've moved house. Then, when you're going home, and he finds out you don't live with the abusive monsters anymore, he tries to stop you from going to your own house. He then sends a letter to that big ape, to come and pick you up, telling him that you can't do magic outside of school."

He looked at Emma, who nodded slightly. "Why the hell are you going back?" He glanced at his daughter. "Why should we send Hermione back to school? It sounds like your Headmaster is an evil, scheming old man."

Harry held up his hands, stopping the diatribe. "I can understand what you mean, sir, but it's not like that. Professor Dumbledore's not evil. He really does have the best of intentions."

"'The road to hell'-" Emma started.

"I know." Harry interrupted. "But, Dumbledore's been a fighter against evil since 1914. For the last seventy-seven years, he's fought the good fight. His problem is that he's lost sight on the individuals. He concentrates on the big picture." He sighed, and leaned back on the couch. "He really is a great leader, and an excellent tactician. He just doesn't see the little people anymore."

Dan leaned back on the other couch. "I still don't like it." He muttered.

"Dumbledore's other major problem is that he sees the best in everyone. He can't believe that the Dursleys would abuse their own nephew. In the Wizarding world, children are held very dear. Child abuse simply doesn't happen here. That's why Dumbledore felt it was safe to leave me with the Dursleys. He believed the best about them."

Emma shook her head. "I can understand that, and it's nice that there's still people... dreamers, like that. But, that sort of person shouldn't be in charge of a school! If he's always giving second chances, people will never learn that their actions have consequences."

Harry nodded slowly. "I know. And he understands that the Dursleys are uncomfortable about magic. That's why he told them about the underage restrictions. He felt that it would make the Dursleys more comfortable, and therefore, make it safer and easier for me. What he doesn't realise is that the Dursleys would take advantage of the situation, and beat me more."

Hermione wrapped him in another hug, leaving him very emotional. He shook his head, and quickly squeezed her back. He stood up. "Anyway... it's dinner time." He stood, and headed into the kitchen. "Do you all like Lasagne?"

The affirmatives called back. He quickly heated up the oven and the stove, throwing the mince meat in to start to reduce down, while chopping onions and grating the cheese.

An hour later, the quartet were sitting down to dinner. Harry suddenly clicked his fingers, and went to the pantry, pulling out a dusty bottle of red wine. He passed it to Dan, who looked at it, and whistled lightly.

Emma quirked an eyebrow, and whistled when Dan passed her the bottle. "Harry, we can't drink this!"

Harry looked up. "Why? Is there something wrong with it?"

Dan shook his head. "Harry, this goes for something like two hundred pounds a bottle! We can't possibly accept this."

Harry shrugged. "I've got a couple of cases of that sitting in the pantry." He held out his hand, summoning the corkscrew from the rack. "Please, enjoy it."

The adults looked at each, and nodded slowly. "Will you be having any, Harry?"

"Nah." Harry replied casually. "I don't really like wine. The Goblins gave me some when I got emancipated." He shuddered. "Nasty."

Emma looked over at Hermione, who nodded shyly. They poured small measures in each of the three glasses, enjoying the smooth bouquet and taste.

Dan started to eat, moaning when he tasted the first bite. "Harry, did you make this from scratch?"

Harry nodded, taking up a forkful for himself.

Emma took a bite, and stopped chewing almost immediately. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we move in with you?" Emma asked, with a straight face.

Dan nodded. "And can you cook all the time?"

Hermione just grinned, taking a large forkful of her own. She chewed slowly, before swallowing. "Harry, this is better than at Hogwarts!"

Harry just blushed, and looked down. "It's only a Lasagne." He muttered. "I made a cheesecake for dessert."

Dan grinned. "Okay, we can sell the house in a few weeks, give the practice time to be sold..."

Harry's face shot up. Emma and Dan started laughing. "We're kidding, Harry." Dan said, scooping up another forkful. "But, this is good."

"Cooking for the Dursleys has to have some benefits." Harry muttered, drinking from his water glass.

The two adults looked at each other guiltily, before carrying on eating in silence.

After dinner, and having been unceremoniously shooed out of Harry's kitchen, the three Grangers sat on the couch, looking troubled.

"He's a good kid." Emma muttered.

Hermione nodded. "He's great." She said dreamily.

Emma looked and Dan, smiling gently. They recognised the signs of a school-yard crush when they saw it, and were secretly happy to see them on their book-obsessed daughter.

Harry came bustling into the living room, wiping his hands on a piece of kitchen towel, which he threw into the fireplace.

"So, do you guys have anything planned for tonight?" Harry asked, almost throwing himself onto the couch.

Emma shook her head. "Nope. Nothing. Why? Did you have something in mind?"

Harry grinned shyly. "I thought we could go and get a Christmas tree and decorations."

Hermione clapped her hands together in delight, closely followed by her mother, while her father grinned. "That sounds like an excellent idea, Harry."

As soon as Dan finished speaking, the group had grabbed coats and cloaks, and stepped out into the cold.

"You have got to be bloody kidding me!" A voice cried out from underneath a pile of green fern.

Hermione giggled, taking a large step back. "Harry?"

"Buggering bollocking shite..." He murmured. His head popped through the branches, his glasses hanging half-off his nose, and his hair adorably mussed up. "Hermione, sweetie?" He asked in a sickly-sweet voice.

Hermione's giggles had taken over, especially when she saw his face appear through the greenery. "Yes, Harry?"

He looked down at the base of the tree. "Would you Diffindo a bit off the bottom here? Then Leviosa it, while I get the pot in place?"

Hermione wielded her wand, the silver cutting beam taking a few inches off the bottom of the tree, then levitated the tree, while Harry grabbed the tree-stand, and forced it underneath. Hermione let the tree down, sighing in relief when it sat on it's own.

Emma and Dan had fallen onto the couch laughing at the spectacle. Harry tried to flatten his hair, put his glasses back on a came out from behind the tree, knocking pine needles off his sleeves.

He glared at the two adults, who'd been no bloody help at all. "Why is it an eight foot tree doesn't fit under an eight foot roof?" He bitched gently. "Can someone please explain it to me?"

Both adults shook their heads, before dissolving into laughter once again.

"Why did you have to get a real tree, Harry?" Hermione asked, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Wouldn't a plastic one have been easier?"

Harry took her hand, and led her to the middle of the living room. "Close you eyes, and take a deep breath, Hermione. Tell me what you can smell?" She followed his command, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply.

"Well... I can smell the fire... I can still smell that Lasagne, which is making me hungry... Dad's aftershave... Mum's perfume... your deodorant..." She opened her eyes and grinned at him. "Pine. Got it."

Harry nodded. "I've always wanted to smell the pine needles at Christmas. The Dursleys used a plastic tree, which was white, and looked a bit pathetic. So, I decided when I got my own place, I'd have a proper tree, with proper decorations." He picked up the box of fairy lights, quite eager to see the reaction from the Muggle adults.

He opened the box, allowing the fairies to fly free, and find their own place on the tree, before they settled down.

"What the hell?" Dan asked, getting up and going over to the tree. "Are these actual fairies?"

Harry nodded. "Yep."

Emma got up, and joined her husband. "Isn't it cruel having live creatures adorn your tree?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "Fairies actually live for centuries. Every year, before Christmas, they make their way to a factory to be boxed up. If they're not sold by Christmas Eve, they leave the factory and decorate public Christmas trees."

"But... they're living beings..." Dan stammered. "And you're using them."

"Mr. Granger, trust me. They like being here." Harry reached out to the tree, holding out his hand. One of the fairies leapt off the tree, landing on his palm. "Unlike most beings, fairies don't actually eat food. They get their life giving energy from the ambient magic in a place. Right now, they're feeding off the magical energy that me and Hermione are putting out. Watch." He placed the fairy back in the tree, and closed his eyes. He started to glow with a pale white light, causing the fairies to glow brighter.

"That's why fairies willingly place themselves into boxes." Harry started to rummage in his bags, pulling out baubles and tinsel, and started to decorate his tree.

When the last baubles were on, Harry waved his wand, turning off the lights in the apartment, leaving the fairies' glow the sole illumination.

Emma stood up next to her husband, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He glanced over at Hermione, who was stood in the exact same pose as them, with her head on Harry's shoulder, while Harry rested his head against hers.

Emma smiled at her husband. "Give it ten years, they'll be stood in that exact same pose, but with rings on their fingers." She whispered.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN –

The "Talk"

"Harry?" Dan asked. The two young men were shopping on their own, while the ladies were doing... something that involved a lot of money.

"Yes, Mr. Granger?" Harry replied. He was peering through the window of Flourish and Blotts, sudden inspiration hitting him of what he could get Hermione for Christmas.

"I'd like to ask you a very personal question." Dan said, wringing his hands together.

Harry looked up, noticing the look that Dan was giving him. Oh, shit. The 'overprotective dad' skit. Just what I don't need. For christ's sake, I'm eleven! "I reserve the right to not give you a personal answer, sir." He answered politely.

Dan nodded, then blurted out his question. "What are your intentions towards my daughter?"

Crap. Crap. Crap. Didn't want to get into this right now."Why don't we head to the Leaky Cauldron, sir? Discuss this over drinks?"

Dan nodded, and led the way.

Nursing a FireWhiskey, while Harry partook of a Butterbeer, the two men carried on their conversation.

Harry took a pull on his drink, then leaned back. "Shall we get straight to brass tacks, Mr. Granger?"

Dan nodded, taking a sip of his FireWhiskey, before breathing rapidly, trying to get rid of the burning sensation. Harry took pity on him, and lit the remainder with his wand, burning off a good portion of the alcohol content. "That would be good, Harry."

"Okay, then. I like your daughter. She's my best friend. If I'm honest, she's about the only person in the Wizarding world that I'd consider a friend. Do I like her in a romantic way? I don't know." He gestured to himself. "I mean, I'm only eleven years old. Hormones are only now starting to kick in. Do I care for her?" He thought for a moment. "Yes, I do. She's very dear to me, sir. When we're both old enough, would I like to become involved with her? I'd say... yes, I would."

Dan nodded. It was very disconcerting to him to have this discussion with the most mature eleven year old he'd ever met. Harry acted more like an adult that he did sometimes.

"I understand that, Harry. I appreciate your honesty in the matter."

Harry nodded, then took another drink. "We do share things in common, sir. We both have an intense desire to protect your daughter. We both care for her a great deal. Neither of us wants to see her hurt." Dan nodded. "What happens in the future is very much up to Hermione. Right now, I'm happy to be her friend."

"Are you playing with her affections, Harry?" Dan asked, looking intently at him.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry looked thoughtfully at the older man. "Are you asking if I'm manipulating her, sir?" Dan nodded. "Well... I suppose the answer to that question would have to be yes."

Dan leaned back, his eyes narrowing to slits. "You're manipulating her?"

Harry nodded. "In a way... yes. In the same way that you manipulated Mrs. Granger when you first started dating."

"I'll give you a minute to explain that statement, Harry... then I'll become quite annoyed."

Harry simply shrugged, looking remarkably unconcerned. "When you first started dating your wife, sir, did you not do subtle things to improve her opinion of you? Spend a little longer in the shower than you would normally? Wear a better brand of aftershave? Not eat foods that would give you wind when you were on a date with her? Not laugh at fart jokes, even though you found them funny?"

Dan nodded slowly, finally understanding what Harry meant. "I suppose so."

"In that case, yes, sir. I'm manipulating your daughter. I'm toning down my bad habits, like leaving socks all over the house, or flicking spitballs at the telly when I don't like the program."

"I understand." Dan said slowly, taking another sip of his drink. "Do anything to hurt her and I'll kill you." He said politely.

Harry snorted. "You'd be third in line, Mr. Granger, after myself and Hermione."

Finishing off his FireWhiskey, Dan stood up, holding out his hand to Harry. The younger man shook it, before standing himself. "Come on, Harry. Bit more shopping to do." He suppressed a laugh as Harry groaned in protest.

After Harry picked up his gifts, moaning all the way about carrying heavy things, the two staggered back to Harry's flat, letting themselves in and flopping unceremoniously onto the couches. When the chime sounded, indicating that the ladies had returned, Harry swore under his breath, grabbing his packages and dashing into his bedroom, hiding them in cupboards, before casting wards over them. Just in case.

Emma came in, holding one small bag, followed by Hermione, breathless and pink-cheeked from the cold. Harry came back into the living room, stopping when he saw his best friend stood there. Damn, she looks cute!

Shaking off the thought, he went into the kitchen, preparing hot drinks for everyone.

Dan pulled Emma into their guest room, and sat down on the bed, after making sure the door was fully closed.

Emma looked at him curiously. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"I asked Harry what his intentions towards Hermione are." Dan said simply, waiting for the inevitable outcry from his wife. He got it.

"Oh, Dan, you didn't!" She cried, one hand flying up to her mouth. "Didn't you think? I mean, we're staying in this man's apartment, and you have to go and ask him that." She thought about what she'd said. "When did I start thinking of an eleven year old as a man?"

Dan chuckled. "Probably about the same time I did, when we first walked into his flat. It's the first time I've ever met a forty-year old child." He sniggered. "Apart from your father, that is."

Emma slapped him absently, while sitting on the bed next to her husband. She looked at him slyly. "What did he say?"

Dan sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Annoyingly, all the things I wanted to hear. I'm the father of a little princess. I'm not supposed to like anybody that shows an interest in her."

"That bad?" Emma asked, smiling sympathetically.

"He told me that he cares for her, wants to protect her, and doesn't want to see her hurt. When he's old enough, he wants to date her." He huffed impotently. "Then he said the worst thing of all..."

Emma stiffened. "What?"

"He said it's all up to Hermione." He slumped back, burying his face in his hands. "Why couldn't he be aggressive and nasty? I know how to deal with people like that! He's nice and understanding... damn it, the perfect son-in-law. And he's eleven!" He pouted. "I'm not supposed to like him, and I do."

Rubbing her husband's back, Emma smiled at him. "I like him, too, sweetie." She hugged him briefly. "I'm sure we'll get plenty of invites to dinner." She thought back to their first meal. "Especially if he makes that cheesecake again."

A knock on the door brought both adults back to the present. "Coffee." A voice shouted. Emma was on her feet and halfway to the door in the blink of an eye, desperate to get her hands on Harry's special blend of caffeine.

Hermione followed Harry into the kitchen, pathetically trying to glimpse what presents Harry had bought. She grabbed the teapot, as Harry fiddled with the kettle and coffee maker. She sat at the table, casually looking around, trying to see what he'd got. As soon as the coffee was ready, he took it to Hermione's parents, before coming back into the kitchen, and pouring water into the teapot.

"Had a conversation with your Dad earlier." Harry commented blandly.

Hermione looked up, blanching at the implication. "Oh, no." She whispered.

"Yes..." Harry looked up, smiling gently at her. "He asked me, in an ever so subtle way, what my intentions were towards you."

Burying her face in her hands in mortification, Hermione started shaking. Perfect... my one friend, and Daddy tries to scare him away.

A pair of gently callused hands took hers away from her face, as Harry knelt down in front of her. "Hey." He said gently. She was still looking down, not daring to meet his gaze. He reached out with on hand, lifting her face up with a finger under her chin, until she was staring directly into his eyes. "What's wrong?"

He couldn't hear exactly what she was mumbling, but did make out the words 'only friend... scare... away'.

He squeezed her hands gently. "I told him the truth, Hermione. I told him that I care for you. That I'll protect you." He leaned a little closer. "I also said I don't want you to get hurt."

She stared into his eyes, before shaking her head slightly, trying to end the spell that had her vision locked. "Thank you, Harry." She whispered.

"He also asked what I thought about dating you." Harry said, dropping the bombshell on her.

Hermione didn't think her blush could go any further. She was wrong, as all the blood in her body made a bee-line for her cheeks. "And?" She whispered, so softly Harry had to strain to hear her.

He smiled gently. "I said, when the times comes, I'd definitely want to. But, the final decision would be yours."

She sniffed. Bloody tears! "Why would you want to?" Hermione whispered. "I'm bossy, I'm a know-it-all, I'm controlling, I nag people to death, I can't cook, my cleaning skills are minimal, I kick in my sleep, I slurp my milk from my bowl when done eating my cereal, I burn cookies, I drink 4 cups of coffee with a 2 hour period of time, I have bushy hair, and I bite my finger nails at the dinner table."

Harry chuckled warmly at her. "Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?" He asked. "You're not bossy, you're assertive. You're not a know-it-all, you're simply intelligent." He looked away for a moment. "Frighteningly intelligent." He murmured, before turning back to her. "You nag people to death? Let's be honest, I need someone to nag me to death."

He looked blank for a moment, as he reviewed the list she had given him. "Uh... you can't cook. I love cooking. Cleaning skills? You can see from my home that I have more than adequate cleaning skills."

Hermione smiled at Harry as he countered each of her arguments. He was far too good at this. She had finally met her match. And she liked it.

"As for the coffee, you've seen me attack the jugs in the morning at school. I can drink it 'til it flows out of my ears." He reached up, and gently stroked the side of her head, running his fingers through her hair. "As to your hair, I love it. I don't think of it as 'bushy'. I think of it as 'untameable'. Like you."

Her heart melted at his sweet words. The two children heard a throat clearing from the doorway. She looked up to see her parents with sappy grins on their faces. Her blush intensified again as she saw their knowing glances. "How much of that did you hear?" She asked.

"All of it." Emma replied, beaming at her daughter. She looked at Harry, and scooped him into a hug. He squealed for a moment, before getting his feet back under him, and hugged her back tentatively. "You're a good boy, Harry." She gave a final squeeze, suddenly letting go when she heard a 'crack' from his back.

Harry couldn't help it; he moaned in pleasure when the last knot in his back suddenly cleared itself. He straightened up, putting his glasses back on the centre of his nose, after Emma's aggressive hug had knocked them off.

Dan held out his hand to Harry, one man to another. Harry looked down for a moment, then shook it. If he understood the gesture correctly, Dan was giving him tacit approval.

He took his hand back, shaking it to get the feeling back. "Who's up for dinner?"

The next few days passed in a blur of games, talks, excellent meals, and several hours of some old cartoon Harry called 'Thundercats'. He admitted, for all his maturity, he loved the silly cartoon, and had several video tapes filled with the comic adventures.

Christmas morning woke up the foursome at roughly the same time. Harry showered and dressed, then headed into the kitchen, the smell and taste of bacon sandwiches running rampant through his mind. While the bacon was cooking, he started preparing for dinner, peeling vegetables and leaving them in pans of water, ready to cook. He'd started on the Turkey the night before, and it was in the oven, waiting for him to start again.

After feeding the group, they trooped into the living room, and sat on the floor around the tree. Harry gingerly reached under the tree, and pulled out two identical, small wrapped presents, which he passed to the adult Grangers.

The two children watched as they unwrapped the gifts, to discover... pocket mirrors. They glanced at each other, not quite sure what to say. Harry immediately picked up on the subtle by-play, and came to the rescue.

"In case you're wondering, they're not just mirrors." He gestured to the wall above the television, where a large, rectangular mirror hung. "Think of them as the Wizarding world's equivalent to a mobile telephone." He stood, and went over to the mirror. He leaned in close, pressing what appeared to be a small button. "Emma Granger." He said firmly.

In Emma's hand, the mirror started vibrating. She looked down, to see a tiny flashing symbol in the bottom-right hand corner. She pressed the button, gasping in shock when Harry's head appeared in the mirror. She looked up, to see her own face in the mirror above the television.

"That's amazing!" She blurted out, to hear her voice echoed a fraction of a second later by the large mirror.

"It's like Star Trek." Hermione said, looking down at the mirror. "You know, those big viewscreens."

Harry nodded. "Cool, isn't it?" He gestured to under the tree. "There's one for you there, Hermione."

Harry sat back down, pulling out more gifts for the older Grangers, a small collection of Muggle and Wizarding alcohol, various chocolates and fragrances, and Gift Vouchers to various stores in the Alley. Harry smiled sheepishly at Hermione's parents. "I'm sorry it's not something a little more personal."

The elder Grangers were stunned. Between them, Harry must have spent thousands of pounds. A case of the wine they had drunk on their first night along was worth almost £2,500! And he was apologising?

"Harry!" Dan finally managed to utter. "It's too much! You can't give us all this?"

Harry cocked his head. "Why not, sir?"

"It's too much!" Dan repeated, looking shocked at Harry's generosity.

Waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, Harry turned to Hermione, pulling a small wrapped box. "This one, I'm really quite proud of." He passed her the box.

Hermione was a bit nervous. After seeing the enormous expense Harry had gone to for her parents, people he'd known for approximately four days, she was dreading to see what he'd do for her. All of a sudden, she was terrified at the crappy present she'd bought him. It wasn't even in the same league.

Tentatively, she opened the parcel, to find a polished wooden box, about the size of a packet of cigarettes, or a bar of soap. She opened it, worried about what was inside. There was... something inside, but she couldn't make it out.

She looked up at Harry, who was watching her open the box. He noted her confusion. "It's a library trunk. The shopkeeper said it'll hold 30,000 books, all stored and available on instant recall." He reached over, and tapped it with his wand, where it grew to the size of a large bread bin. Inside was a series of tiny books, none larger than a postage stamp.

Harry closed the lid, then tapped his wand against an inlaid jewel. "Hogwarts; A History." He said in a firm voice. When he opened the box again, there was a single book inside. He reached in, to pick up a brand-new edition of Hogwarts; A History.

She looked up at him. It was an impressive gift. It wasn't too personal, yet catered to her favourite hobby. "Thank you, Harry." She whispered.

Harry smiled heart-stoppingly. "I thought this'd be good for when you're at home. At least this way, you can hide all of your magical books in case someone comes over." He cocked his head. "And it also contains a complete set of Hogwarts text books."

Hermione couldn't help herself. She gasped. "A complete set?"

"All subjects, all years." Harry replied. "I figured you'd appreciate it."

He'd spent thousands on her! She couldn't believe it. It was the best present she'd ever received! "Harry... I... I can't accept this. It's too much. You shouldn't waste your money on me."

Harry looked offended. "Hermione... first of all, it's not a waste. And please, don't think I'm trying to buy your friendship."

She quickly back-pedalled. "No, I didn't mean it like that. It's just... Harry, I know how much the texts cost. You shouldn't spend that much on me."

"I was looking for good presents for you all. I thought I did pretty well." He sounded dejected, depressed.

I thought they'd like them. Harry got up, and went into the kitchen, turning on the stove, starting to cook the dinner. It feels like being back at the bloody Dursleys. Why can I never get anything right?

In the living room, the three Grangers were stunned. As one, they stood up, and headed into the kitchen.

"Harry." Hermione called out. He turned round, trying to mask the tears in his eyes. Without thinking, Hermione wrapped him in a hug, squeezing him tightly.

Dan and Emma were quite shocked. Harry had come off to them as a confident young man. Now, they were seeing the scared little boy that lurked inside of him.

"Harry, you picked excellent presents." Emma said. "To be frank, better than anything we could have got for you. We were shocked, is all."

Hermione squeezed him, then pulled back slightly. "Harry, that's the best present I've ever received. It's perfect. I was just... It's a very expensive present."

Harry shrugged, sniffling slightly. "I just picked stuff I thought you'd like. Wasn't looking at the price tag."

Dan spoke up. "You did an excellent job at that, Harry. It's just way more than we were expecting. Please, don't feel bad. We were just..."

Harry sniffled again, wiping his eyes on a tea-towel. "If you don't want them, it's okay. You don't have to pretend to like them." Christ, I sound like a petulant child! Suck it up, Potter!

Hermione grabbed his hand, and pulled him back to the tree. The two adult Grangers followed, quite in awe of the young man. Hermione grabbed her present to him from under the tree, and thrust it into his hands. "Open it!" She hissed.

Quite intimidated, Harry complied. As soon as the paper came off, he grinned. "Quidditch armour! All right!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're a prat, Harry. Can you understand why we're shocked? One of those communication mirrors costs more than my whole present to you!"

Harry shrugged. "So? You picked a cool present, that you know I'll use." He looked down, rubbing the armour. "And you got the good one, too. Acrylic and dragon hide. Excellent combination for a seeker."

Dan looked up. "Does that really make a difference?"

"Does it make a difference?" Harry snorted. "A 25lb cannon ball approaching you at 80 miles an hour. Yeah, Quidditch armour's definitely a plus." He looked up at her. "It's a thoughtful gift, Hermione. I like it."

Dan and Emma shrugged, hoping the young man was now out of his funk. They held up a box, wrapped neatly in Muggle paper. "This is nothing like what you got for us, Harry." Emma said. "But, from what Hermione's told us, we think you'll like it."

Harry tore into the paper, flipping the lid off the box. What he saw stunned him. He looked up at Emma. "Where the hell did you find these?"

Emma grinned. "That would be telling, Harry. Do you like them?"

Hermione peered over Harry's shoulder to look in the box, where fourteen rather old-looking books were resting side-by-side. "Who's Ian Fleming?" She asked.

Harry look scandalised. "Hermione! I'm shocked at you!" He reached into the box, and pulled out the first of the books. "My god... it's a first edition!"

"They all are." Dan said, sitting looking rather smug.

Harry looked up, child-like adoration on his face. "Thank you." His mouth flapped for a few moments. "I don't know what to say."

Flopping down on the floor next to him, Hermione rapped him on the back of the head. "Who's Ian Fleming?"

"Only one of the greatest English writers of all time, Hermione." Harry replied. "He wrote the James Bond books." He looked down. "And now, I've got them all." He cackled. "This is brilliant. Thank you."

Dan and Emma grinned at each other.

Harry turned to Hermione. "Since you'll probably be taking your library trunk back to school, can I keep these in there? I don't want them to get damaged."

"Fiction, Harry?" Hermione raised her eyebrow, and looked down her nose at him. "I'm appalled. What would Professor Flitwick say?"

Without missing a beat, Harry replied. "He'd say: 'Can I borrow them when you're finished with them, please?'" Harry laughed. "He's as big a fan as I am."

"James Bond." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Boys and their toys."

"You know it." Harry replied, gazing down at the books.

Hermione pulled her parents to one side once Harry went back into the kitchen... with his box of Bond books. Every so often, she'd catch him staring at them, a glazed look in his eyes.

"Where did you find them?" Hermione asked her mother.

Emma peeked round the corner, seeing Harry engrossed with the vegetables, stopping to peer at his books. "We found them in a Charity shop a few doors down from the Cauldron. Cost twenty pounds." She glanced at Dan. "Considering what he spent on us, feel kinda bad about it."

Hermione glanced out, seeing Harry gently stroking the spines of the books. "I wouldn't. He'll be nursing a semi over those for days." She said absently.

Emma gasped. "Hermione Jane Granger! Where did you learn that phrase?"

Grimacing, Hermione looked up at her mother. "Uh... one of the boys at school was shouting it."

Dan tried to look stern... really, he did. But failed, especially when he saw the love-struck expression on Harry's face. "Much as I'd like to argue with you, Hermione, I agree. I think you should put them in your new trunk. He'll never concentrate if he keeps staring at them."

Hermione left the living room, when the adult Grangers heard a cry of protest in the kitchen. Hermione came in a few moments later, hair mussed, carrying the box of books. She had a silly grin on her face, which slowly faded as she locked the books away. She tapped the trunk with her wand, shrinking it back down to it's cigarette-sized form, and putting it into the pocket of her jeans.

A visibly upset Harry Potter came into the living room, pouting outrageously at Hermione. "Dinner will be ready in about two hours." He said sulkily. He picked up the Quidditch armour. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to my room and cry."

He disappeared, leaving Emma to look at Hermione. "Will he be okay?"

Hermione's silly grin returned full-force. "He'll be fine. I told him he could have the books back when we go back to school. If he behaves himself."

Harry's head popped out of his doorway. "Your daughter's evil, you know. For the good of humanity, she should be destroyed." His head vanished, and they heard the sounds of his cupboard closing. Harry came back into the room, discretely looked around for his new box of beloved books. "Hermione? Sweetie?"

Hermione looked back at him, fluttering her eyelashes. "Yes, Harry?" She asked in a sweet voice.

"You, uh... you wouldn't know where my books are, would you?"

"Yes, Harry." She replied, still fluttering her eyelashes.

"Any chance I could have one to read now?" He asked, pouting and giving her his 'puppy dog' eyes.

Resist! Resist! Oh... he's so cute... no, resist! Hermione's brain screamed at her. It was difficult, be she managed. Only just, though. "I told you when you can have them back. You'll just have to behave yourself."

He pouted, then flopped on the couch next to her. "You're evil!" He started to tickle her, sending her into a fit of giggles.

A flash of flames interrupted the tickle fight, which Harry was winning quite handily. Harry leapt to his feet, wand in hand, aiming at the interloper.

"Fawkes." He said softly. In the bird's beak was a package wrapped in brown paper, while a small note was attached to his leg.

Emma and Dan scurried back at the sight of a bird which arrived by fire. Harry took the package, and untied the note, glancing over at the Grangers. "It's okay. He's a Phoenix. They can travel from one place to another by flames. Makes them very hard to track, and very secure messengers." He started to open the letter. "Makes me wonder why he's here."

"Who's is he?" Hermione asked, tentatively reaching out to stroke the bird. Fawkes, being the disgusting flirt he was, allowed Hermione complete access. Shortly afterwards, all three Grangers were petting the bird, causing him to let out a trill of pleasure.

Harry was reading the note. "He's Dumbledore's familiar." He said absently. "You can't really 'own' a Phoenix. They come to you when needed. Fawkes joined Dumbledore during his war with Grindelwald back in the '40s."

The note was brief.

Dear Harry,

I would like to arrange a meeting with you when you return to school from your Christmas holidays. It has to do with why I would like you to return to the Dursleys during the summer.

There are also a few other things we need to discuss upon your return, notably what to do about Professor Snape. Since your proclamations, he has been unable to be as effective a teacher as required, and we would like you to drop your proclamations, so that Professor Snape is able to deal with the older, more unruly students. Since this is now taking up a great portion of his time, he is unable to support the younger students, resulting in a drop in the efficiency of their education.

I would like to thank you for the gift you sent me. Every year, I receive countless new books, but you are the first person to supply me with warm woollen socks in a long time. How did you know? I look forward to finding out upon your return.

The package that Fawkes is bringing to you is something that your father left in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.

A very merry Christmas, my boy.

Albus Dumbledore.

Harry snorted as he read the information about Snape. He passed the note to Hermione, who read it, and looked at him in confusion.

Hermione read the note, and passed it to her mother. Emma read it, and looked up. "What does it mean about Professor Snape?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "During our first Potions lesson, Professor Snape was really quite nasty. He asked me questions from the second year textbook, the fourth year text, and a NEWT level question. Basically, he comes across as angry, mean, and quite useless as a teacher. He doesn't teach, he just throws it at you. I also heard, unofficially, mind you, that he hold private lessons for the Slytherin students, so that they actually learn Potions. With the injunctions I placed, Snape can't give or take points from any student, nor can he issue a detention, until I've submitted my formal complaint to the Board of Directors."

"You haven't done that yet?" Hermione asked.

Harry smirked. "It must have slipped my mind." He grinned cheekily. "I was planning on making it last a little longer, to be honest."

Hermione smirked. "How much longer?"

"Oh... sometime around the end of my seventh year."

"And you say I'm evil." Hermione snorted.

"You are." Harry mock-glared at her. "You've hidden my books. An evil thing to do to a Ravenclaw." He turned to Fawkes. "Can you make sure you never bring him here without permission, Fawkes?"

The bird nodded, before launching into the air, and vanishing in a trail of fire.

"So... where were we? Oh, that's right..." Harry asked, before grabbing Hermione, and starting to tickle her again.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN –

The Return to School

Harry knocked on the door to Professor Dumbledore's office, waiting for the inevitable signal to be let in.

"Come in." Harry opened the door, and stopped in his tracks. In front of him were all four House Heads, as well as Professor Dumbledore.

"Is this a bad time, sir?" Harry asked politely, hovering in the doorway.

Dumbledore waved in a magnanimous gesture. "Not at all, Harry. Please, come in and sit down."

Harry sat in the hard wooden chair, gazing at each of the teachers coolly, before glancing over at Fawkes. "So, sir. What can I do for you?"

Dumbledore peered down his nose at Harry. "As I mentioned in the letter I sent to you at Christmas, my boy, I need you to reverse the proclamations you made against Professor Snape. It's making his job too difficult."

McGonagall sniffed. "Albus, we have yet to hear why he did this."

Snape snorted. "Does it matter? He's just as arrogant as his father! Always expecting people to do whatever he wants, whene-"

"Have you finished?" Harry interrupted, drawing rude glances from the other professors. "I will be happy to explain my reasons, but if Professor Snape is unable to control himself, I'll have no choice but to keep the proclamations in place."

Dumbledore raised his hand at Severus, indicating a need for silence.

Harry felt a tingle at the back of his mind, which he quickly slapped away. Without glancing at Snape, he pulled a Muggle notebook and fountain pen from his pocket, and made a brief note, after checking the time on his wrist watch.

"What are you doing, Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked.

Harry held up the notebook. "This lists the 134 attempts Professor Snape has made to penetrate my mind by Legilimency. Since this is illegal to do without express permission, even more illegal to attempt on a minor, and way more illegal to do to the Head of a Noble and Ancient family, I have been recording these attempts."

"Legilimency?" McGonagall asked, her tone going ice-cold. "You've been using Legilimency on students?"

Dumbledore sighed. He could have done without this coming into the open. "Professor McGonagall, it is sometimes necessary to monitor the thoughts of some of the students, especially in Slytherin house."

McGonagall's head whipped to the Headmaster. "You knew about this?"

Harry was considering whether or not to reveal the six attempts Dumbledore had made to penetrate his mind, as far back as the Sorting feast in September... but decided against it. He didn't want to cause a revolution at the school.

McGonagall carried on. "Albus, you know this is illegal. Why haven't the students complained?" Her tone became frostier. "Or have they complained... and you've hidden it?"

Dumbledore sat back, deeply offended. "Minerva, if a student makes a complaint to me, I treat it with the utmost respect. I most certainly would not suppress of hide a student complaint... And I'm rather insulted at your accusation."

Harry cleared his throat, bringing the attention of the 'adults' in the room back to himself. McGonagall shot Dumbledore a 'We'll discuss this later' glare, before softening her expression back at Harry.

"You were asking me about the proclamations." Harry said politely. "Before I answer that question, I'd like to ask you some questions, if I may?"

The other three House Heads nodded. Harry turned to his Head of House. "Professor Flitwick. If, during your very first lesson, you asked me to explain the Accio charm, and I answered it correctly, would you award me house points?"

Flitwick nodded. "Of course I would. It's a fourth-year charm. But, I'd never ask you about that during your first lesson."

Harry turned to the Herbologist. "Professor Sprout, would you ask me about Mandagoria plants during your first lesson?" She shook her head. "And if you did ask me a question and I answered it correctly, would you award me points?" She nodded.

"Professor McGonagall. During your first lesson, you ask me questions about the Animagus transformation. I answer them correctly. Would you award me points?"

McGonagall nodded sharply. "I would. And I'd ask how you got that knowledge."

Harry grinned at her. "I'm a Ravenclaw, ma'am. We like knowledge." He turned to Snape. "Why did you not award me points considering you asked me questions from second, fourth and NEWT level potions?"

Snape snarled at him. Harry ignored it. After facing Voldemort's glare, Snape couldn't compete.

"Why did you instead take points from me, for being a 'know-it-all smart arse'?"

McGonagall's head whipped round so sharply, Harry swore he could hear the sound. "What? That's not what he told us."

Harry sniggered. "Of course it isn't. After all, how could the son of James Potter know anything?" He snorted. "And that's the problem with Professor Snape. He has not once yet looked at me and seen Harry. He only sees James." His tone hardened. "A man who has been dead for over ten years."

Snape drew his wand. "Your arrogance-"

"Severus." Dumbledore's smooth voice cut through Snape's. "Is this true?"

"Of course not!" Snape snarled. "He's lying! He's just doing it for the attention-"

"Put a sock in it, Snivellus!" Harry snapped. "I know all about why you hate my father, but I don't know why you're taking it out on me!" He took a deep breath. "I would be prepared to remove the proclamations, provided several conditions are met."

All five adults leaned back slightly at the thought of an eleven-year old setting 'conditions' on a professor.

"And what would those be?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry smiled evilly. "First of all, Professor Snape is removed as the Slytherin Head of House. He's biased towards them, which is why they have won the House Cup for the last eight years."

"What?" The other three House Heads stared at Snape, who squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

Harry stood up, and went over to the Sorting Hat. "Adrian, could I have the punishment book, please?" The Sorting Hat animated, and looked down at Harry.

"Of course, Mr. Potter. Are you well?"

"Not bad, Adrian. Thank you for asking. Yourself? Did you have a good Christmas?" Harry replied, picking up the heavy tome that had materialised in front of him.

"I did. I must say, Mr. Potter, it's the first time I've ever received a gift." The Hat smiled. "I feel like a new hat again. Thank you."

Harry chuckled. "I thought you'd appreciate it. Is it comfortable?"

"Oh, yes. Very." The Hat nodded, before fading back into it's normal static state.

Turning back, Harry noted the gob-smacked expressions on the teachers' faces. "What?"

"You bought the Sorting Hat a present?" Flitwick squeaked.

"Yeah. I got him some new lining. I thought after a thousand years, he'd appreciate it." Harry replied, moving back to his chair and sitting down. He opened the tome. "If you're not sure, this book contains a complete record of all punishments given to students, either detentions or point removals." He opened the book to Snape's section.

"Now... let's see. In the last eight years, Professor Snape has awarded Slytherin House over six thousand points. He's removed..." Harry looked back at the book, suppressing a groan. "He's removed a total of four points from Slytherin House." He looked up at Snape, glaring nastily. "Four points."

Harry turned the page. "In the meantime, he's awarded sixty-seven points to Gryffindor, while removing five thousand, seven hundred and nine, uh... eighty-nine points to Ravenclaw, while removing two thousand, four hundred and six, and he's given forty-one points to Hufflepuff, while removing three thousand, six hundred and eighteen." He turned to another section of the book. "Let's see... he's given nine detentions to Slytherin students, while he's given over a thousand to the other Houses." Harry slammed the book closed, and dropped it onto Dumbledore's desk.

"I don't believe that removing Professor Snape from his Head of House duties is unreasonable." He leaned back. "I also believe that Professor Snape should have his lessons monitored by an independent Potions Master, to ensure that his teaching methods are adequate."

Snape snarled. "How dare you question my teaching methods, Potter!"

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't know, Snape." He replied casually. "I've never seen them."

Flitwick looked at Harry curiously. "You've had Potions lessons for four months, Mr. Potter."

"Yes," Harry drawled, "but since I don't consider 'instructions are on the board, you have two hours' a teaching method, Professor, I can't really assess Mr. Snape's teaching method." He looked at Snape. "Don't get me wrong. You're a brilliant man, and an excellent Potions Master... but you absolutely suck as a teacher." He threw the final insult at him. "You're too petty."

"Mr. Potter." McGonagall snapped. "Please do not insult Professor Snape. It reflects poorly on us all."

Harry suppressed a grin at McGonagall's 'rebuke'. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm simply calling it as I see it. I mean, I'm eleven, and I don't act as immaturely as he does."

"Nevertheless." Flitwick added. "If you feel a need to insult Severus, please do it in private."

"Of course, sir." Harry grinned at his Head of House.

"Harry." Dumbledore spoke up. "Do you not feel that these measures are a little... strict? Everyone deserves a second chance." He sounded disapproving, as though trying to make Harry feel guilty.

Harry decided to go in for the kill. "Sir, what's that on Professor Snape's left fore-arm?"

Snape hissed at Harry as he covered his arm. Dumbledore looked shocked at Harry's knowledge. "What do you mean?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Professor Snape's already on his second chance, sir. You're asking me to give him a third chance. That, I may be prepared to do, provided he follows the rules I set for him."

"You are in no position to set me rules, Potter!" Snape snarled. "I am your teacher, and you will respect me!"

Harry looked at Dumbledore. "If that's the case, sir, I'll be going now. I've got to get to the Owlery." He glanced at Snape, then back to Dumbledore. "I've got a letter to send to the DMLE." He smirked. "And you need to put an advert out for a new Potions Professor."

"What do you mean, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his hackles rising.

"Well, my letter to the DMLE will detail Mr. Snape's repeated mind-rape attempts. He'll be in Azkaban by the end of the week." Harry looked nonchalant. "And, unless you're willing to step in and teach Potions, we'll not have anyone instructing us."

Snape pulled his wand, and threw a curse at Harry, who let it hit him. Several deep gashes were along his arms. Flitwick quickly drew his own wand, and disarmed the Potions Master.

Harry shrugged, and pulled his shrunken trunk from his pocket. He enlarged it, and pulled out a camera, which he used to take photographs of his new injuries. He quickly put the camera way, re-shrunk his trunk, and slipped it back into his pocket. He then drew his own wand, gently dragging it across the injuries, healing them up.

"I have four witnesses to an unprovoked attack from a teacher onto a minor. As the Head of House Potter, I can declare a duel against you, Mr. Snape." Harry spoke icily. "What is your response?"

Snape glared at him. "I'll happily duel you, Potter!" He snapped. "Name your time and place."

"I said I could declare a duel, Mr. Snape." Harry replied. "Or, I could use my fame. I know you think I love doing that." He closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. "Can you picture the headlines? 'Ex-Death Eater attacks Boy-Who-Lived!'" He opened his eyes. "Has a catchy ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Harry." Dumbledore sounded both firm, and old and tired. "What do you want? If you know so much about Severus, you know why I have to keep him here at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded firmly. "Fine. He is to be removed as Head of House immediately. He is to refrain from giving the Slytherin students private potions lessons in their Common Room after hours. He is to have no unsupervised contact with any student, especially myself. Any punishments he wishes to give to a student needs to be confirmed with that student's Head of House before they are notified of said punishment."

Flitwick smiled to himself. It was very reasonable, considering.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, was less than impressed. "Mr. Potter. That is too harsh."

"Take it or leave it, Professor." Harry replied casually. "Personally, considering I could have his Mastery pulled, and have him either jailed or kissed, I think I'm being pretty reasonable."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Fine." He sighed. "Is there anything else?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Actually, sir, there is. I would like you to teach all Potions lessons for the next two weeks."

"Why?" Dumbledore asked warily.

"Sir." Harry said reproachfully. "I'm aware that you hold a Mastery in Transfiguration, but you're an Alchemist, first and foremost. I'd like to have some proper lessons. Maybe if Mr. Snape watches a master at work, he'll be able to do better. I'd like to actually learn Potions, not just be shouted at."

Dumbledore nodded. "Fine." He looked at the other House Heads, who shook their heads. "Thank you, Harry. Dismissed."

Harry nodded, and got up. He nodded at Sprout, McGonagall and Flitwick, and left the room.

Dumbledore turned to Snape. "This is your last chance, Severus. That young man holds far more power than you know."

Snape sneered. "He's an attention-seeking brat! His arrogance is far too out of hand. He should be expelled for threatening a teacher!"

Flitwick, calm, quiet little Flitwick, exploded. "You're lucky you still are a teacher, Severus!" He snapped. "I'll be watching you. If you're not careful, I'll recommend Mr. Potter does have you fired and in Azkaban! In all my years of teaching, I've never seen such a disgraceful display!"

McGonagall joined in. "Cursing a student, just because he disagrees with you? You're lucky I'm willing to listen to Mr. Potter." Her eyes narrowed. "Also, if you use Legilimency on any student, I'll have you in Azkaban before you can say 'Potion'!"

Sprout said nothing, just glaring at the Potions Master, before the three got up, and left the room.

"Albus, you can't be serious!" Snape snapped.

"I am." Dumbledore said firmly. "You are hereby removed as Head of Slytherin House. You are to have no contact with students unless authorised and supervised by their Head of House. You will not give any punishment unless authorised by that student's Head. Are we clear?"

Snape pouted. "Fine." He spat, before getting up and leaving the room.

Harry headed back to the Ravenclaw Common Room, a spring in his step, whistling a jaunty tune. He approached the Portrait Hole, wondering what today's question would be.

"Which of the Founders wielded a sword?" The portrait asked.

"Godric Gryffindor." Harry answered.

"Pass." The portrait opened, granting Harry access. As soon as he passed through, he saw Hermione sitting on one of the love seats near the fireplace.

"Harry?" A voice called from his left. He turned to see Cho Chang, with Marietta Edgecomb hovering in the background.

"What's up, Cho?" Harry asked, stopping.

"Why don't you come and sit with us, Harry?" Cho asked, smiling demurely.

"Uh... 'cause I wanna go and sit with Hermione." Harry replied.

"Why?" Cho was insulted. She'd spent hours on getting her hair and makeup right. She wanted to look good for the Boy-Who-Lived, after all.

"'Cause she's my friend." Harry replied in a slow voice.

"Harry," Cho began confidently. "she's a buck-toothed, bushy-haired little know-it-all! Why would you want to hang out with her, when you can hang out with me?"

Harry grinned, and leaned close to Cho, who felt her heart start to beat faster. Was he going to kiss her? When he was next to her ear, he whispered. "Because she, unlike you, is worth it." He straightened up, and walked over to Hermione, ignoring the second-year burst into tears behind him.

Hermione looked up to see Harry approaching, and smiled. "Hey, Harry. How did it go?" Behind them, Cho ran for the stairs to her dorm room, Marietta close behind her, slowing to give Harry a glare, before she chased after her.

"What's that about?" Hermione asked, looking after the two girls in confusion.

"Uh... that may be my fault." Harry admitted, a hint of shame in his cheeks. "They asked me to go and sit with them."

Hermione's face dropped, ever so slightly, before she masked her hurt. "And?"

"And I said I was coming over here to you." He pondered whether to reveal Cho's next words, then decided to go for it. "She then said that you were a buck-toothed, bushy-haired know-it-all, and I shouldn't hang out with you."

"Oh." Hermione was a little upset that the pretty second year had just dismissed her like that.

"Then I said something which... well, I can't say she took it the wrong way, 'cause that'd be a lie." Harry leaned close, and whispered in her ear. "I said that you, unlike her, are worth it." He leaned back.

I will not cry. I will not cry. Hermione said to herself. When Harry wrapped her in a hug, she started to cry. Okay, I will cry. Bugger it.

"Don't cry, Hermione." Harry said, unsure why she was crying.

She sniffled on his sleeve. "It's okay, Harry. These are good tears."

What the hell are good tears? Harry asked himself. Why are there good tears? Why can't girls ever be simple to figure out. "Uh... okay?"

Hermione pulled back, keeping her hands held in his. "You don't understand girls, Harry?" She asked mockingly. "I'm shocked. I thought you were really clever."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione, not even girls understand girls." He leaned back, waiting for the inevitable swat. "Seriously, what are happy tears?"