The next morning, Harry woke early, to the feel of Treacle Tart butting his hand with her head, begging for ear scritches, which he happily gave her. Her purrs made him feel all warm inside, and he petted her gently, and, as he rolled onto his back, pulled her onto his chest so he could look into her bright blue eyes while he scratched her head. She was so beautiful. And good.

They lay there for a few minutes, until nature's call forced Harry out of bed and into the bathroom. His ankle was much easier to walk on, now, and he had no trouble putting weight on it. The bathroom, though . . . he was still embarrassed about having to put his wet clothes on the floor yesterday, and remembering how Nelli had needed to help him in the shower made his face burn.

But there was no help for it now. He just had to try and do better in the future, and not disappoint Father again.

Father hadn't seemed angry last night, especially when they'd read together, and at dinner, when he'd asked the House-elves to serve up Harry's favorite, shepherd's pie. They'd even had treacle tart for dessert. And Tree had been so good at dinner, too, he thought as he washed his hands. As if his thoughts summoned her, she jumped up on the sink counter and brushed past his chest, tickling his nose with her uplifted tail and making him giggle. He didn't pet her while his hands were wet, not wanting to get her fur all wet and sticky, but scooped her into his arms after he had tried them on a towel, and went back to his bedroom, donned his slippers, and headed out to the sitting room.

To his surprise, Father was already up, in his favorite chair -- which was Harry's favorite, too, 'cause they read in it every night -- and reading a magazine. Harry liked to watch him read, the slight cant of his head, the tiny purse of his lips if what he was reading was complicated, and the small crease of lips if it wasn't. Today, his lips were pursed. Potions journal, probably.

Father's gaze rose from the magazine to look at Harry as he crossed the room. "Good morning, Harry," he said in a very calm voice. Harry was glad to hear it.

"G'morning, Father."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, s . . . yes, Father." Harry flinched. He wanted to hit his head, he was so stupid sometimes. How could he not remember to call his father Father? After all this time, too.

Father didn't make any mention of his stupidity, though, just got up and laid aside his reading. "Good. I'm glad you're up early. Let me call up breakfast, and we'll have a bit of a chat."

"A chat?" Harry asked.

"Nothing to be nervous about, Harry," Father said. "I just want to talk to you about what you can expect this morning."

"Yes, Father." Harry went to the kitchen and sat at the table where they usually had breakfast. "Where's Nelli?"

Father's expression darkened. "She won't be joining us today."

"She . . . she's not in trouble, is she?"

"No, of course not." Father spent a few minutes getting breakfast delivered to their table, and sat down as he gestured to the spread before them, of eggs, bacon, porridge, toast, juice and bananas. There was a bowl of sugar, a pot of honey, and a little pitcher of cream, too. "I want you to have at least some porridge and juice. You can have as much as you want of everything else after that."

"Yes, Father." Harry pulled the bowl of porridge closer, and looked up at Father, and then at the pot of honey.

"Would you like honey on your porridge?"

"Yes, please."

Father smiled and used a dipper to drizzle the amber liquid across Harry's cereal. After he put the dipper back into the pot, he touched Harry briefly on the head, brushing the hair out of his eyes. Harry tried his best not to flinch, and Father didn't say anything about that, either, but his eyes were sad.

Treacle leapt into Harry's lap. Harry reached for a piece of bacon for her.

"Harry . . ." Father said.

"Yes, Father?"

Father pursed his lips, like he was trying to think of what to say, but finally he shook his head slightly. "I would prefer if Treacle Tart did not learn to beg at table."

"She doesn't beg," Harry said, frowning. "She only takes what I give her."

"Now, she does. But she . . ." Father sighed. "She needs to be provided with her own food, perhaps in her own bowl. Away from the table."

Harry didn't understand. Ripper ate right from the table, sometimes licking from Aunt Marge's own cup or plate. And Fang, the only other pet he really knew, also got food right from Hagrid's table. "Why?"

"Because it's not polite to have animals eat from the table."

"Why?"

Father closed his eyes briefly. "Because it isn't."

"But Tree's polite. She is! And Fang and Ripper get to eat from the table, so why not Tree?"

"Ripper?"

Harry swallowed, and unconsciously hugged Treacle closer to him. She did not protest, but butted her head against his chin. "Aunt Marge's dog."

Father's eyes narrowed, but he didn't ask any more about Ripper, and Harry was just as glad. He hated that dog. It was mean and it chased him and tore his trousers with its sharp teeth while Dudders laughed at him and called him a two-legged dog bone.

"All the same, Harry. Our family has different rules than those of the Dursleys', I dare say, and different from Hagrid's, too."

Harry pressed his lips together, but nodded. Father was letting him have Treacle Tart, even though he hadn't wanted to at first. And hadn't he just promised himself to be good and obey all the rules? He kissed Treacle on the head and let her down from his lap. "What kind of food should she have, Father?"

"We will . . . ah, we'll have to ask Hagrid, I suppose. You can find out from him today, all right?"

"But she's hungry now!"

"Harry."

Harry ducked his head. He shouldn't have yelled. "Sorry, Father," he said softly.

"Indeed." There was a pause, and Harry realized what his father was waiting for, so he lifted his head and looked Father in the eyes. Father nodded. "For right now, you can make her a little plate of eggs and bacon, broken up a bit."

"Okay." He started to slide off his seat, then stopped. "Can I get her a plate, Father?"

"May I get her a plate."

"Sorry. May I?"

"Yes, Harry. Thank you for asking, before you left the table."

Father's words made him feel warm all over. He liked doing things right. The cabinet where the little plates were kept was above the kitchen counter, and once or twice, he had climbed up there to reach it, but he was in a hurry this time -- he just knew Treacle was hungry; she hadn't much to eat yesterday, and she really wanted that bacon -- and so, at the base of the counter, he reached out his hand and Pulled. Quicker than thought, the cabinet door bumped open slightly, and a white dessert plate with tiny blue flowers on it flew into his hand.

Behind him, Father gasped.

Plate in hand, Harry turned around to see Father striding toward him, eyes wide. Oh. Oh, no. He'd done some freakiness again. Harry backed up a step, and another. He put his arms up to protect his head. "Sorry! M'sorry, I din't mean it! Please don't hurt me!"

Father froze where he was, his mouth hanging open like he wanted to say something but the words wouldn't come. "Harry," he whispered finally. "I'm not going to hurt you. I . . . I was surprised. I have not seen you do that before."

Harry slowly lowered his arms, chiding himself for forgetting that Father didn't mind magic, that Father would not beat him or lock him in the cupboard if he did any freaky things. "You do it, Father. With books and potions and all . . ."

Father was quiet for a long minute, and Harry could not tell what he was thinking. His dark eyes were very hard to read right now. Then he nodded. "Yes, but understand, Harry, I did not realize that you were capable of summoning objects."

"I never done it before," Harry admitted. One shoulder went up. "I was just in a hurry, 'cause Tree's hungry."

Father nodded again, this time with a slight crinkle around his eyes that meant he was smiling. "Very well," Father said. "Best get that plate together for her then."

Harry smiled back. "Yes, Father." He climbed back into his chair so he could reach the platters of food, and carefully broke a rasher of bacon into easy pieces for Tree to eat, then scooped scrambled egg onto the plate, too. After he'd set the plate on the floor and made sure Treacle had started in on it, he returned to his porridge, which had cooled considerably.

But Harry didn't mind. He liked porridge any way he could get it, even without honey, if Father had said no to that. He kept glancing down at Treacle, though, to make sure she was okay. He missed having her in his lap.

"Harry," Father said when he was about half way through his porridge. "Remember what we talked about last night, about needing someone better to watch you during the day?" He waited till Harry nodded. "Well, I spoke to Mrs. Weasley after you were in bed, and she is coming to be with you today, and with several of her children, I believe. Regardless, she will look after you today, while I'm in class."

Harry swallowed the bite of sweetened porridge he had in his mouth, and ducked his head again. He wanted to stay at Hogwarts! He didn't want to separated from his father. He didn't want to be with anyone else. But Father . . . he needed to work. And Harry didn't want him to think he was just a baby who would cry about being left behind.

"Harry," came Father's gentle voice. "Please look at me, son."

Harry obeyed, though he didn't want to. He didn't want Father to think he was upset or anything. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's all right," Father continued, still using his soothing voice, as Harry called it. "She . . . Mrs. Weasley has many children, as you know, and she is very experienced in watching after them. She will be very good to you. And, as I mentioned, I think she will bring at least Ron with her, so you'll have someone to play with. Won't that be fun?"

Harry made himself nod. "Yes, Father. But I don't know that place."

"No, Harry. You will all stay here, today, so you can get to know Mrs. Weasley better, and her other children, if she brings them, too. I asked if she could stay here for a few days or so, to let you get used to her here, before we ever go to the Weasley's house."

"Will . . ." Harry swallowed again. "Will you go there with me?"

Father nodded. "The first time, certainly. I won't make you go alone. I am, that is . . . I am concerned, Harry, about the level of supervision you've been experiencing since I had to start classes, and I want to make sure you're happy, too. The best I can."

Father was trying his best. Harry knew that. And it wasn't fair of Harry to try and keep his father all to himself. Uncle Vernon had to work, and other kids' fathers, and some of their mums, too, he remembered from day school. "Okay. It'll be okay, Father."

"I hope so, Harry. If it isn't, I want you to tell me. I want you to be able to tell me if anything is upsetting you. Will you try and do that for me?"

No one had ever wanted to hear from him before if he was upset. And he'd learned years ago that no one really wanted to hear anything he had to say about stuff like that, that if he tried, he would be punished. Sometimes, a lot. But Father seemed to be telling the truth. "I . . . I'll try, Father."

Father gave one of his thin smiles. "That's all I can ask." He nodded at Harry's bowl. "Finish up, please. Then I would like you to get dressed." He paused. "Do you need any help?"

"No! I can get dressed myself."

Father shook his head, that slight crinkle around his eyes. "I did not mean to impugn your ability to dress yourself, Harry. In truth, I was inquiring whether your ankle was well enough, or whether you required any assistance."

Oh. That was different. "No, Father. It feels fine today. Madam Pomfrey fixed it real good."

"She fixed it really well."

"Yep."

Father laughed softly and reached for his cup of coffee. "Finish your breakfast, silly imp."

Harry giggled and hurried through the rest of the porridge.

---

He was dressed for play, with his hair combed and teeth brushed, waiting in front of the Floo for Mrs. Weasley to come through. He had met her several times, of course, the week that Ron was here, and Charlie, but she had mostly been talking with Father, and what he remembered most about her was that she kept reaching for him like she wanted to smother him in a hug. She never actually did, he told himself. But the mere possibility still frightened him. He'd only let Father hug him, up to now. Father was the only one he knew would not hurt him.

"All right, Harry?" Father asked.

Harry nodded tightly, and gripped Father's hand in his own. Father squeezed back gently, and Harry was very, very glad that he didn't have to go through this alone. Father had classes coming up very soon -- in less than a half hour, actually -- but he had promised to stay until the Weasleys got here.

At that moment, the fireplace roared with green fire and Mrs. Weasley stepped out, her arm curled around a small girl with red hair. Well, she wasn't small compared to Harry, but compared to Mrs. Weasley . . .

"Good morning, Severus," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Molly." Father inclined his head slightly.

The bulky woman turned her gaze on Harry and smiled warmly. Harry pressed himself closer to Father's leg. "Good morning, Harry."

Father gave his hand another squeeze, and he mustered up his courage for manners. "G'morning, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for coming."

She grinned. "You're very welcome, young man. It's good to see you again." As the Floo flared again, behind her, to spit out Ron amongst a gaggle of other arms and legs and red hair, Mrs. Weasley said, "This is my youngest, Ginny. Ginny, say hello."

The girl, who Harry had noticed was staring at him with her mouth open, blushed a shade of red brighter than her hair. "Hullo," she said quietly.

"Hi," Harry said, and glanced up at Father, who nodded.

Mrs. Weasley turned to the fireplace, and said, "Ronnie you know already, of course. The other two are my twins, Fred and George. Boys, straighten your shirts, please."

"Yes, Mum," they chorused, and their was a bit of a scuffle as the twins -- who looked exactly alike, as far as Harry could tell -- tried to straighten Ron's shirt, twisting and pulling at him between them, while he pushed them away and cried out, "Gerroff! Do yer own!"

Molly sighed a little and looked at Harry again. "You'll have to excuse them, they're a little excited."

"We're a lot--" said one of the new boys, as they quit picking on Ron and came forward as one.

"Excited, Mum. It's not every day--" said the other twin, picking up as if they were talking from the same brain.

"You get to meet someone--"

"Famous!"

"This is Fred," Mrs. Weasley said, gesturing to the boy on the left. "And this is George."

"Mum!" said the one she had called George. "I'm Fred."

"Honestly! And you call yourself our mother . . ." The other twin sighed.

"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley shook her head and peered at the boys. "I'm sorry, Fred."

"Just kidding, Mum." The boy grinned. "I am George."

"Now that introductions are well under way," Father said, his words clipped and precise, "I believe I must make my way to class."

Harry looked up at him, wanting to ask him to stay, but knowing he should not. Treacle Tart chose that moment to twine in through his legs, and he smiled at her, bending to scratch her under the chin.

"Oi!" said Fred . . . or George. "You've got a kneazle!"

"You didn't have it last week," Ron said. "Where'd you get it?"

"Hagrid gave me her," Harry said, picking her up and showing off her white coat and cute little toes to the others. "Isn't she pretty?"

"She's a beaut, she is," said George . . . or Fred. "Lookit those eyes."

"Can I pet her?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded, hardly noticing that Father had stepped away, toward the door, with Mrs. Weasley. "She likes her ears scritched." He grinned. "And she likes bacon."

"She's got good taste, then," said one of the twins. "Bacon's the best thing in the world."

"After Quidditch," said the other twin.

"And pranks."

"Like dousing Percy--"

"With a Rainbow Hair Tonic. Nothing better--"

"Than seeing that prat with--"

"Stripey hair."

Harry's gaze darted from one twin to the other as they spoke. Following their conversation was a bit tricky, but he was soon able to pick out small differences in their tones and the way their mouths twitched around words. "Didya really do that to your brother?"

"Sure. Mum was a bit--"

"Put out by it, but--"

"Less than Perce was, 'specially--"

"Once we told her it'd wear off before the prat--"

"Had to be at school."

The four boys stood close together, with Harry still holding Treacle in his arms.

"C'n I pet her, too? I wanna pet her, too!" Ginny was right behind Harry, and he jumped, startled, when she spoke.

"Why don't we all head outdoors, now," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, from near the door. Father was there, too, arms crossed over his chest. "And I'm sure Harry will let everyone have a chance to pet his kneazle, if they are very kind with her."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said.

"Harry," Father said. "I am going to class now. Behave yourself for Mrs. Weasley."

Though his stomach did a little flip, Harry nodded, rubbing his chin along Treacle's head. "Yes, Father."

Father nodded in return. "I will see you at lunch time. Do make sure to check in with Hagrid this morning, if you can." He inclined his head slightly for Mrs. Weasley, and then he was gone.

"He's dark as a bat, that one," George said quietly.

"Charlie likes him all right," said Fred.

"Charlie likes dragons."

The twins grinned at each other, and then at Harry. "You gonna show--"

"Us around or what, Harry?"

"Outside," Mrs. Weasley said firmly and started to herd them toward the door. "Let's go."

Ron walked next to Harry as they made their way out of the dungeons and toward the Main Entrance. "We're gonna stay here during the days, Mum says, and go home after your Dad's done with classes. But just for a bit, and after that, you'll come to our place for days, 'cause there's stuff at home what won't get done by itself, Mum says."

"Yeah," Harry said quietly.

"Besides, the pitch we've got is easier to play on that the one here. And Mum says we wouldn't get a chance to play here, anyhow, not now that school's started up again."

"The pitch?"

"For Quidditch, you know. We've got one at home."

"A Quidditch pitch? Really?"

Ron grinned. "Yeah. We can play all the time when you're over."

Suddenly things didn't look quite so bleak. "That'll be brilliant!"