Leaving for the Burrow

“Harry! Get down here!” Aunt Petunia was screaming up the stairs. “Those, people, will be here soon! Get up, boy!”

Harry sighed as he placed the letters from his benefactor carefully into a tin box. He had hoped that reading through them again would give him some clue as to who the man was. In his second year, Harry had finally worked up the nerve to ask Dumbledore if he knew anything about it, but the man had simply chuckled and said that he had no idea. Then, at the end of his third year, Harry had been sure that the mysterious man was his godfather, Sirius Black. But Sirius had grudgingly admitted that this was not the case. Sirius had, however, become extremely curious about it, and gave Harry several ideas about who it might be: Remus, Arthur Weasley, and Dumbledore himself were all suggestions. It seemed, however, that none of his guesses were correct.

Harry wished he could remember more about the man. He knew, from things the man said in his letters, that he had met his benefactor once, when he was very young, and that the man was indeed a wizard. At first, before Harry went to Hogwarts, the man had been very careful to appear to be a relatively ordinary muggle. His letters mentioned nothing of the wizarding world. He and Harry simply wrote back and forth to each other about Harry’s life: his school, Dudley’s torments, his Aunt and Uncle, Dudley’s torments, the neighborhood children, and Dudley’s torments, were a few of their favorite subjects. And the letters were sent both ways through Mrs. Figg--never directly by owl. The gifts he sent Harry for his birthdays, with the exception of the enchanted book (which Harry hadn’t found out was enchanted until last summer, when Dudley had asked him why he was always reading that stupid book about the ancient Greeks), were ordinary muggle objects. For birthdays three through ten he had gotten the book, a teddy bear, a toy truck, a Batman action figure, toy soldiers, a comic book, a portable radio (which Dudley had stolen and thrown against a wall by the end of the week), and a photo album of muggle pictures of his mom and her school friends on their summer holidays. That album was still one of his most cherished possessions.

On his eleventh birthday, however, when Hagrid had come to take him to Diagon Alley, he carried with him a letter from the man, in which he revealed his identity as a wizard. Harry had then bombarded Hagrid with questions about him, but Hagrid only would say that the man was a wonderful person and Harry could trust him with his life. Ever since then, Harry wrote to the man (by owl!) about everything that happened at Hogwarts and at Privet Drive. Their relationship had been especially important during this past year at Hogwarts and so far this summer. The man understood his fears about Voldemort and his guilt about Cedric’s death. He could write to the man about the nightmares that had haunted him every night since the Third Task without fear that his friend would ever think that he was weak or cowardly. At times, Harry felt guilty that he was more comfortable confiding in this...well...virtual stranger, than in his own godfather. Harry adored Sirius, but he just didn’t seem to understand things the way this man did.

As Harry headed out the bedroom door with his trunk and Hedwig’s empty cage, he heard a tapping at the window. He turned to see Hedwig fluttering outside the window with a rather heavy-looking package in her beak. He rushed to open the window and Hedwig deposited the parcel on Harry’s bed before flying into her cage, where she sat contentedly sipping water from her dish.

Harry wished he could ignore his Aunt’s shrieks from downstairs and just sit down to open the package. But instead, he reopened his trunk and put the package inside, then stuffed the accompanying letter, by which he could tell that the mail was from his benefactor, into his pocket. Gathering his things in his arms once more, he headed down the stairs.

Harry couldn’t wait for the Weasley’s to arrive. His birthday was tomorrow and the Weasley’s were coming to pick him up and take him to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. He was overjoyed that, not only would he not have to see the Dursley’s again until next summer, but he would be spending his first birthday ever with people who truly cared about him. Harry put his things down in front of the couch and sat down across from his Aunt, Uncle, and cousin. They were glaring at him, as if daring him to blow one of them up or feed them trick candies.

“You’d better hope those...people...show up in a car...and in respectable clothing. I’ll have none of their funny business at my house again.” Vernon’s face was now a shade of crimson that would have been very flattering had it been on a dress. Unfortunately, it didn’t do much for Vernon Dursley’s appearance. Harry still thought he looked like an overgrown plum and had to fight hard not to laugh.

The minutes crept by at an achingly slow pace until, finally, Harry heard a very loud rap on the door and then a crash, followed by several confused voices.

“Ron!! What did you do? I thought we could avoid trouble if we didn’t bring the twins this year. I thought I could count on you to help me!”

“I didn‘t do anything Dad! I read to you exactly from the manual. I don‘t think you put that stick thing on the ’P’. You left it on ‘1’.”

“Did I now? Drat. Did the muggles see? Oh, would you look at that. The car made it all the way down the street by itself. Clever little thing. And I thought muggle objects couldn’t think by themselves. Tut, tut. How clever. It did do a fair bit of damage though didn‘t it? It‘ll take a mess of spells to fix that, it will.”

At this, Vernon swooped to the door and threw it open, screaming at the top of his lungs, “WHAAAAT HAAAAAAAVE YOOOOU DOOOOOOOOOOOONE?!”
The bemused grin Mr. Weasley had been wearing quickly faded and was replaced by a look of a well-intentioned and scolded child. He began stuttering various sentence fragments in explanation. Ron took several steps backward and almost tripped down the porch step.

When Mr. Weasley finally found his voice, he said as calmly as he could, “You see, Mr. Dursley, we seem to have had some trouble with our vehicle. We are rather new to this concept of muggle transportation. You see, you didn’t like it last time we used the Floo Network to pick up Harry, and broomsticks are a little too conspicuous. Besides, these boys are not used to long broomstick rides. And of course, they can’t apparate, or we would have done so. It’s by far the most convenient way to travel. But as the boys aren’t yet certified...You see, we thought, my wife and I, that Ron and I could pick up Harry in a muggle automobile and simply drive him to the portkey we set up. We can’t bring a portkey here, for obvious reasons. But I’m sure you understand perfectly.”

Harry was fairly certain that his Uncle didn’t understand at all, but decided it would be unwise to say anything. Instead, he stood back and shot sympathetic looks at Ron, who in turn did the same to Harry.

Seeing that Vernon wasn’t likely to say anything soon, Mr. Weasley continued.

“Yes, well, it seems there is a bit of a mess down the street that I need to tend too. The muggles are starting to notice, if you know what I mean.” Mr. Weasley chuckled in a very uncertain way.

Uncle Vernon, whose breathing was very heavy by this point, grabbed what was left of the hair on his head with one hand and pushed Mr. Weasley out of the way with the other. He stumbled weakly to the curb and looked down the street. What he saw must have bothered him greatly, because he began muttering, “They’re stark raving mad. The whole lot of them,” and laughing in a very disturbing way. He stumbled back up his driveway and nearly fell into his car. He then proceeded to drive away as quickly as possible, leaving Harry, his family, and the Weasley’s very confused.

After a minute, it seemed that Petunia, too, had become very disturbed by all of this. She grabbed Dudley and ran as fast as she could back to the house, slamming the door behind her. Then, as an afterthought, she opened the door, threw out Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage, and slammed the door shut again. Harry heard her lock latches on the door that he didn’t realize they had.

“Well then,” said Mr. Weasley in an uncertain voice. “We’d best tend to the muggles then.”

Several spells, fainting old women, and Obliviate’s later, the three were on their way. Mr. Weasley had decided that, since Harry was at least somewhat familiar with automobiles, he should sit in the front seat and help out as best he could.

They drove along a country road for nearly half an hour until they came to a garbage dump. With Harry’s help and much protesting from Ron, Mr. Weasley safely parked the car and unloaded Harry’s things. Harry decided that it would be best for Hedwig to fly to the Burrow, since he was not sure how she would handle a trip by portkey. She nipped his ear harshly, but affectionately, and flew away.

When Harry turned around again he saw Mr. Weasley bent over double, searching the ground and muttering to himself. This went on for several uncomfortable minutes during which Ron brought Harry up to date on the world of Quidditch. Finally, Mr. Weasley jumped up with a triumphant, “I knew it! Get Harry’s things boys, and grab on.”

Harry stared for a minute at the presumed portkey, which appeared to be an old, very rusty spark plug. Then he held onto his trunk with one hand, while Ron grabbed Hedwig’s cage. As soon as they were ready, Mr. Weasley tapped the spark plug with his wand, and Harry felt the familiar tug at his midsection.

A minute later, the three landed with a bone-crunching thud on the Burrow’s front lawn. Mrs. Weasley was running towards them, followed by the twins, Ginny, and Hermione.

“Oh, Arthur! What happened? What took so long?” She began brushing dust off of her husband, then moved to give Harry a hug.

“I’d better explain later Molly. It’s rather complicated. Let’s get Harry all settled first.”

Harry felt himself being hugged again by Mrs. Weasley, then by Hermione. He looked around in ecstasy at the smiling faces around him. He was happier than he had been in a long time. This was where he belonged.

The Burrow

“Harry, Ron will help you get settled in his room, then you can both come downstairs for lunch.” Harry nodded and returned Mrs. Weasley’s smile. He fought through the small crowd of redheads who were all trying to bid him “Hello!” and followed Ron into the comfortably disheveled home.

“You’re going to love tomorrow Harry. You just wait and see. We got you the best present! Although Hermione keeps saying you’ll like hers better, I’m not sure. Sirius’s got here yesterday. Did you tell him you were coming here? I was wondering how he knew...”

Harry was only half listening to his friend’s rants. Instead he was looking around him at the changes to the Weasley home. So many banners and posters just for him. ‘Happy Birthday Harry!‘’s that blinked different colors. A ‘Welcome Back Harry!’ that was floating in mid-air above the kitchen table, singing a rather shrill tune. He was especially surprised to see the small model of him on his Firebolt, zooming around the living room. This was all for him. He could hardly believe it. All this, just because he was having a birthday...

“Harry!!”

“What?” Ron’s voice had pulled Harry out of his reverie.

“I was asking, did you get a reply from your...you know...‘friend’ yet?”

Harry stared at Ron’s quizzical face for a moment, before he remembered the letter in his pocket.

“Oh, yeah, I did. Just this morning. I haven’t even had a chance to read it yet. He sent me a package too. It’s in my trunk.”

“Cool! Alright then. We can open the letter tonight with Hermione. You can open the package tomorrow with all the others...unless of course, you think it might be private...”

Harry shrugged. “I doubt it. But I reckon the letter will tell if it is or not.”

Ron opened the door to his room, and Harry was surprised to see an extra door at the other end. He simply stared for several minutes as Ron carried his trunk into the room and set it on the floor. Then Ron looked back and, following Harry’s gaze, laughed and said,

“That can wait until tomorrow. You’re going to love it! Come on, then. Lunch time.” Ron walked past Harry and, shooting him an evil grin, pulled him down the stairs.

Lunch consisted of a rather large and unusually shaped pizza, topped with pepperoni, sardines, chicken, potatoes, elbow macaroni, and pineapple. When Harry commented that he didn’t know wizards ate pizza, Mr. Weasley started to laugh.

“Oh, normally we don’t Harry. But fascinated as I am with all things muggle, I thought it would be nice to try this muggle delicacy. They’re clever they are, muggles. Who would have thought that you could pack so many different foods onto one dish? Amazing!”

Harry couldn’t help thinking that they had completely missed the point of pizza, but smiled anyway and said it was perfect. This made Mrs. Weasley blush, and then she pointed out to the twins what lovely table manners Harry had.

Mr. Weasley spent most of the remainder of the meal asking Harry about “compupers” and the “infonet”. He was fascinated by the way muggles managed so much communication without the use of Floo powder and fireplaces. When Hermione explained instant messaging to him (since Harry, after all, hadn’t had much experience with it), he nearly fell out of his chair. He spent the remainder of the time between lunch and dinner begging Mrs. Weasley to let him buy a “compuper”. She blatantly refused, saying she knew he would just enchant it.

After dinner, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, and Ginny went to play Quidditch. They eventually had to convince Hermione to play too, much to her dismay, because it was difficult playing in uneven teams. Harry, of course, played Seeker for his team, while Ron played Keeper, Fred Beater, and Ginny Chaser. The opposing team consisted of Charlie as Seeker, Bill as Keeper, George as Beater, and Hermione as Chaser. Harry noticed that, as bad a player as Hermione was, and as good as he knew Ron to be, Hermione was making quite a few goals. He looked at Ron every time this happened, only to see him blushing furiously.

The game lasted for nearly an hour, and they were ready to call it off for the night, and resume tomorrow, when Harry caught sight of the makeshift Snitch. He flew after it with such speed that Charlie didn’t even have a chance to follow before Harry had caught it.

They walked back to the house, tired and happy, while Charlie patted Harry on the back, saying,

“You know Harry, I bet you really could play for England after you graduated from Hogwarts.”

“Yeah Harry. Show ol’ Vicky how a real Seeker plays.” Ron added, earning him a glare from Hermione.

“Honestly. You are all so impractical. Play Quidditch? Harry is better than that. I bet he would make a great Auror.”

“Aw, ‘Mione. Why did you have to bring that up? No one wants to think about You-Know-Who now. You’re such a party pooper.”

“Oh, it’s alright Ron. Honestly. Let’s forget about it. Besides, now we can...” Harry gave Ron a meaningful look.

“Oh, right. Yes. Come on then, Hermione. We have something to show you.” The three friends walked more quickly up to Ron’s room.

As the three walked in and Ron began to shut the door, he noticed Ginny standing in the doorway.

“Go away Ginny. This is a private meeting.”

“No. That’s what you always say. Go away Ginny. Go out and play Ginny. You’re too little Ginny. Well I’m tired of it. Hermione’s my friend too. It isn’t fair that you keep her all the time and send me away.”

Harry, however, got the distinct impression that something other than Hermione was keeping Ginny there. But, being the average teenaged boy, he had no idea what it was.

“Ron,” he said at last. “It’s alright. She can hear this too.”

Ron looked absolutely appalled at this, but let his sister in the room anyway, and shut the door behind her. Ginny, blushing furiously and smiling rather nervously, sat down on the floor between Harry and Hermione.

Harry pulled out the letter and unfolded it, then turned to Ginny.

“Ginny, I assume you know a little about my friend here?” She nodded.
“How he’s been helping me?” She nodded again.

“Well, I got this letter from him this morning, just before I arrived here, along with a birthday package...”

“Yeah, yeah, Harry. It’s ok. She gets it.” Ron huffed, still obviously annoyed. Harry began to read aloud.

----Dear Harry,

Glad to hear that you’re doing rather well, considering everything. I’m delighted to know that you will be spending your birthday with the Weasley’s. I’ve heard through a network of mine that they have a wonderful surprise for you. You’ll love it. Believe me. In fact, I wish I could be there to see your face. I guess I’ll just have to rely on your description of it later.

In answer to your question, I am doing alright, just very busy. If I seem inaccessible at times, especially lately, rest assured that Hedwig will find me when I return from my errands. And stop worrying about me. Just take care of yourself. Owl both Sirius and myself if what you told me in your last letter ever happens again. This is especially true, considering the gift I have sent you. Incidentally, you may want to open that in private. (Hmpf! said Ron) I would tell you to say ‘hello’ to your friends for me, but there is no need, since they are listening. (Ron turned very red at this.)

In answer to your other question, no, for the last time, I will not tell you my name. But since, my boy, you are so intent on taking the mystery out of life, I will make up a name for myself. You may call me Tiros.

Now then, you should probably get to bed, since you have likely been playing Quidditch all day, and you will have a full day tomorrow.

Goodnight then Harry, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger...would I be correct in also saying, Miss Weasley? (At this, Ginny blushed still deeper.)

Your Friend,
Tiros----

* * * * *

“Tea, Severus?”

Severus absent-mindedly accepted the cup that the Headmaster was holding out to him.

“Come. Tell me. What’s troubling you?”

Severus turned his head slowly from the window he had been staring vacantly out of to look at his friend. He took a sip of his tea before balancing the cup and saucer on his lap.

“Tomorrow...tomorrow is his birthday.”

Albus simply nodded and smiled, waiting for the Potions Master to continue.

“The Weasley’s planned a surprise for him. He knows part of it of course. He knows he’s getting a small party with the Weasley’s at least.”

Dumbledore simply smiled again.

“He doesn’t know that they invited some of his other friends. Other Gryffindors, Remus,...even...Black” Severus spat out the last name with such venom that the Headmaster winced. But he quickly regained his composure and allowed his younger friend to finish.

“I suppose Arabella told you also about the gift they are giving Harry?” Severus asked, a ghost of a smile brushing his lips.

Albus chuckled. “Yes, I have heard. It will mean a great deal to him. Though I hope it won’t make him feel too self-conscious.” Suddenly, the old wizard’s face grew solemn. “Arabella also told me what you sent to him, Severus. Are you sure that was wise? You have made such good use of it in the past. It has helped you. And you will need it now more than ever...”

Severus shook his head fervently. “No, Albus. He needs it more than I do. If you only knew half of what that boy tells me...Besides that, you’re not a bad substitute as far as I am concerned. I usually end up telling you anyway.”

The older wizard smiled up at him. “Yes, you do.” Dumbledore sighed and his smile faded into a look of concern. “My door is always open, Severus. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re alone in this.”

“I know.” The two friends sat in silence for several minutes, sipping their tea. Finally, Severus stood and placed his empty cup on the Headmaster’s desk.

“I have to finish the lesson plans. I’ll bring them by in the morning.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Alright then, Severus. Good night.”

“Good night, Albus.”


****As for the name Tiros, in Elvish (yes, Tolkien’s Elvish, though I’m not sure which race. Sorry.) means:

Tir--watch or watch over
Os--fortress

Therefore, Tiros means “watchful fortress” (?). Uh, anyway, it seemed to fit him. At least I thought so...