You Just Can't Resist Meddling, Can You?

Leaky Cauldron, 8am, July 17, 1997

Harry stood under the shower, scrubbing til he was almost raw. He wanted to clean the stench and filth of Azkaban from his body. It's a pity, he reflected, that it can't be cleaned as easily out of my mind.

Once his shower was finished Harry transfigured the worn and tattered clothes, he'd been wearing in Azkaban, to a pair of faded jeans and a non-descript t-shirt. Once his business at Gringotts was concluded, he intended to disappear into the non-magical world forever. He wasn't going to call it muggle any more, partly because he didn't want to attract attention by using that word and partly because it was a wizarding word. If he was lucky he would be able to finish his business with Gringotts today, but given his usual luck, he wasn't counting on it.

As soon as he was dressed, Harry recast the glamour he'd been wearing when he's come into the Leaky Cauldron last night. The face looking back at him from the mirror was a solemn one with grey eyes and it was surrounded by shoulder length, golden-brown hair. Best of all, at least in Harry's opinion, that damn scar couldn't bee seen.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs that led into the taproom of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry found the place was almost overflowing with people who were laughing and drinking.

News of Voldemort's death must have reached them. Harry thought dryly as he did his best to avoid the grasps of several people who seemed intent in trying to drag him into their group and shove a drink in his hand.

Fighting his way through the crowd of people, Harry wound up near the bar, and wanting to get his suspicions confirmed, he shouted over the noise. "What's going on?"

"Haven't you heard?" Tom asked not looking up.

"No," Harry told him. "I've been in my room since I arrived last night."

Tom looked up to see which guest it was. "Oh, sorry, Mr. Cristo. They announced it last night. You-Know-Who is dead!"

"Who finally killed the bastard?" Harry inquired.

"Harry Potter!"

"You mean the boy who killed Neville Longbottom after he joined the Dark Lord, killed his master?" Harry sounded openly sceptical. "I thought he was in Azkaban. How could he kill the Dark Lord from there?"

"He was framed by a Deatheater," Tom told him, then handed over a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Here, read it for yourself."

The headline read: You-Know-Who Dead. FINALLY!!!!! Harry Potter Revealed To Be Innocent Of Murder!

Harry just skimmed the article, wanting to make sure that Fudge had kept his side of the bargain. He noticed that Percy's name hadn't been mentioned. Instead the traitorous Weasley had been listed as simply the Deatheater responsible for framing Harry.

While he was annoyed at Fudge for not owning up to the fact that it was his assistant who framed him for murder, Harry was fairly certain it was at Arthur Weasley's request and not out of any desire to make himself look innocent. He was reasonably certain the foolish man didn't want his wife finding out her son was a Deatheater from the pages of the Daily Prophet. Personally he couldn't see why she shouldn't find out that way since she, like the rest of her traitorous family, had been so willing to believe him capable of murder and not even being willing to listen to his side of the story. Mrs. Weasley should feel the same pain she gave him, by not even listening to what he had to say. He had thought of the Weasleys as the family he had never had, until they all turned on him. How could they think him capable of murder? How could they think he would kill one of his friends?

Harry shook his head, trying to rid it of these thoughts. Dwelling on the past did him no good, especially now. He was here to start on the path to his future. Folding up the paper, Harry pushed his way through the crowd to the empty courtyard in back. He stared at the bricks in the wall, mentally tapping the right bricks.

A moment later the archway into Diagon Alley appeared.

Harry stared at the crowded Alley in amazement. There had to be as many people here as had been at the World Cup in the summer before his fourth year. Sighing resignedly, Harry stepped through the archway and began pushing his way through the huge mass of people.

When he finally made it through the huge crowd, Harry was relieved to find the area around the steps and front door of Gringotts clear of any revellers. Grateful for that Harry nodded to the goblin that held the door open for him.

Inside it was fairly quiet but surprisingly enough there were several wizards in the bank conducting business. Not wanting to alert the wizards to his identity, Harry walked up to one of the goblins seated behind a desk and said, "I would like to speak with an account manager regarding my account."

"And which account might that be?" The goblin asked sounding disinterested.

Handing over a folded slip of paper, Harry said, "I would like this matter to remain confidential."

After taking a look at what was written on the paper the goblin gaped at him like a stunned shark. He quickly recovered and requested, "Give me a moment to fetch a manager."

He returned a few minutes later, accompanied by an elegantly dressed older goblin.

"If you'll follow me, sir." Harry was surprised by the slight hint of respect he could hear in the new goblin's voice.

The goblin led him to an impressive looking office.

Once the door was closed, the goblin gestured to the comfortable chair on the other side of the desk and requested, "Would please drop the glamour, Mr. Potter? I need to be certain of who I am speaking to."

Seeing no reason not to, Harry dropped the disguise.

The goblin gave a quick glance to the scar on his forehead before saying, "While I may not be the first, I want to thank you for ridding both our races of the Dark Lord."

"Actually you are the first," Harry couldn't resist commenting. Certainly no one who had been at Azkaban had thanked him. They had all been wallowing in their guilt and some of them, their stupidity.

This startled the goblin. Given the crowds outside, he would've thought someone in the wizarding world had thanked this brave young man. "Then again let me offer my heartfelt thanks."

Harry nodded.

Getting down to business, the goblin said, "My name is Ironknife Greeva. I am a branch manager for Gringotts. How may we assist you today, sir?"

Before Harry could say a word there was a knock on the door.

"Excuse me a moment, Mr. Potter." Greeva apologised. "Come."

"Sorry to disturb you, sirs," the goblin in the doorway apologised, "but Headmaster Albus Dumbledore wishes to speak with your client."

The goblins watched Harry's face take on a look of disgust as he commented, "I wonder how the old fool found me."

"Probably tracked you by your magical aura." Greeva told him. "It gives a more precise location than a point me spell. It's similar to what is used with the tracking clocks, but it requires Ministry or Wizengamot approval to use and you have to be a fairly powerful wizard to work it. Those who are aware of the Ministry's ability to cast this spell are generally also the quickest to learn how to mask their aura."

"Which means it would be pointless to deny I am here." Harry ground out between clenched teeth.

"We can ask him to wait," the goblin by the door offered.

A smile appeared on Harry's face at the thought of the great Albus Dumbledore having to wait. "I would appreciate that."

At Greeva's nod of approval, the goblin left, closing the door behind him.

"I'd better get down to business," Harry told Greeva. "I don't think Dumbledore is going to wait out there too long before he comes barging in here."

"He is a wizard with a rather inflated sense of his own importance though he doesn't flaunt it much." Greeva observed. "We goblins have also noticed that he is very good at talking people into doing things. Even things they don't want to do."

"I've had first hand experience with that aspect of Dumbledore's character." Harry commented dryly. "I came here today to get a listing of all my holdings."

Greeva looked thoughtful. "While I can provide you with a listing of the vaults and holdings from both the Potter and Black Estates today, that would not tell us if you are entitled to any other properties or vaults in either the wizard or muggle worlds. To find that information, you would first need to go through the Inheritance Ritual."

"I've never heard of this ritual. Then again I don't know that much about the wizarding world, other than what I've picked up in the last seven years. What does this ritual involve?" Harry asked curious.

"It would be easier to show you." Greeva got up from his desk and went over to tap a section of the panelling on his office wall. The panel melted away to reveal a small door similar to the ones in the vaults below the bank. Greeva ran a finger over the door in an intricate pattern and the door popped open.

The goblin pulled out a thin metal box about the size of a legal pad and after restoring everything to its original state, brought the box to his desk.

"After I say the spell to activate it, you place your left hand here." Greeva indicated the hand shaped depression on the top of the box. "It will draw a little blood and read your magical aura, then any estates or holdings, that you are entitled to inherit will appear on a list within the box. Until the document within is removed, you will be the only one who can open it after that since it will be keyed to your magical signature."

After a few moments debate Harry placed his hand in the handprint on the box. There was a small stab of pain then a green glow surrounded his hand and the box.

When the glow disappeared, Greeva said, "You can remove your hand. Now we wait. This could take a bit."

As Harry resumed his seat, he glanced at the door and asked. "Would Dumbledore know the purpose of that box?"

Surprised by the unexpected question, Greeva looked at the door and asked a question of his own. "Is he coming?"

Harry nodded. He could feel the Headmaster's magical essence moving closer.

Greeva quickly concealed his surprise. There hadn't been a wizard who could sense auras from more than a few feet away since the time of Merlin. "No he wouldn't. With the advent of magically binding wills about two hundred years ago, the inheritance ritual has become a thing that is rarely used these days and generally only in instances where there is no clear line of inheritance. We may start seeing it used more often though, now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone. A good many families were wiped out during the Dark Lord's reign of terror, leaving those with only the most tenuous ties to a family with a chance to inherit estates and monies."

As soon as he'd finished speaking, there was a knock on the door.

"Come," Greeva barked. When the goblin entered, he said, "Yes, Griphook."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but the head of the Wizengamot, Albus Dumbledore, would like to speak with your client. He says it is a matter of the utmost urgency."

Harry snorted at that.

"Dumbledore must really want to talk to you." Greeva commented unnecessarily. "By invoking his rights as Head of the Wizengamot, we are required to admit him now."

"Bastard no doubt wants to stop me from leaving the wizarding world." Greeva was surprised by how cold Mr. Potter's voice sounded.

"Since we can no longer delay his intrusion, would it be possible for us to conclude our business another time?" Harry gave the box a meaningful glance.

"Of course, Mr. Potter." Greeva was quick to assure him. "Come back whenever you want and ask for me. If I am unavailable, I will make this information available to one of the other managers. Now before Mr. Dumbledore comes in, is there anything else we at Gringotts can help you with today?"

"Yes. After I conclude my talk with Dumbledore, I would like to visit my vault to withdraw some money and get it converted to muggle currency."

"Very well," Greeva gestured to Griphook. "Bring him in and then wait outside to escort Mr. Potter to his vault."

#~#~#~#~#

"Hello Harry," Dumbledore greeted the younger wizard as he came into the office.

He was pleased to see the younger wizard wasn't looking quite so bedraggled this morning. Harry had managed to clean up and get some muggle clothes. The dark colours he was wearing made his slender form, the thinner almost elven-looking face and the streaks of silver-white in his hair that much more noticeable. Once he was back at Hogwarts his unusual looks would make him a highly sought after young wizard, even if he hadn't been the Boy-Who-Lived. Dumbledore felt a slight pang of guilt at the knowledge that those exotic looks were wholly due to his time in Azkaban and not to the normal process of growing up.

"Potter." Harry was quick to correct him.

Seeing the icy green eyes staring at him from an impassive face, Dumbledore lost his train of thought. "Sorry."

"You may call me, Mr. Potter." Harry repeated. "I am Harry to my friends and those I trust."

Dumbledore winced at the stated lack of trust, but knew he had no one but himself to blame. He had thrown the boy away at the first hint that he might be turning Dark. He, of all people, should have known better. "Maybe we should discuss this someplace else."

"If you think I'm going anywhere with you, old man, then you really are senile." Harry countered hotly.

"Then sirs," Dumbledore looked at the two goblins, "may I request some privacy? Mr. Potter and I have some confidential matters to discuss."

"I want them to stay," Harry quickly disagreed, "as witnesses if nothing else. Just say what you came to say then leave me alone."

"First, I would like to apolo..." Dumbledore began.

"Don't! Just don't! No apology can undo what you did. You threw me to the wolves... on Percy's word! He'd spent most of my fifth year along with the Minister, trying to destroy you, remember and yet you instantly believe him over me." Harry was just barely managing to hang on to his temper.

"Very well," Dumbledore straightened up and held out three small rolls of parchment to Harry.

Harry eyed them suspiciously but didn't touch them.

"They aren't intended to hurt you, Ha... Mr. Potter." Dumbledore told him.

Harry still didn't touch them. "What are they?"

"Two are from the Ministry. The first is basically stating that you have been cleared of all charges and the conviction has been overturned. The second states that they have provided monetary compensation for the time you spent in Azkaban. It also shows the monetary compensation that has been awarded to Sirius' estate since he too has been cleared. You are his primary heir and therefore have the right to that information." Dumbledore told him.

"As if money can make up for the damage that place did to me or Sirius." Harry muttered but they all heard him.

Wisely deciding to make no comment, Dumbledore indicated the parchment roll with the purple seal. "That one is from Hogwarts. You have been readmitted to the school and will be starting your sixth year classes on September 1st."

"Well, I won't be going back to your lovely school." The sarcasm in Harry's voice was so thick you could cut it with a knife. "I told you at Azkaban, I am leaving."

"I'm afraid you have no choice, Harry." At the icy green glare from the younger wizard, Dumbledore hurried on. "Per a decree by the Wizengamot, any under-aged wizard who is enrolled at a magical school must complete their education at the school where they started, unless their guardian requests a change of school in front of the Wizengamot and provides a good reason as to the need for the change."

"I was expelled by you, Dumbledork." Harry growled. "That means you kicked me out, so that decree doesn't apply to me."

Dumbledore looked solemn. "I'm afraid it does. Since you were proven innocent of the crime you were expelled for, your name has been put back on the rolls of those students attending Hogwarts."

"You just can't resist meddling, can you, old man?" Harry paused trying to regain his temper, then asked. "And what if I decide to ignore this decree? Which I'm certain is a fairly recent one, or Hagrid, would have been readmitted once it was proved he wasn't responsible for Moaning Myrtle's death."

Dumbledore decided to ignore the accusation of meddling, especially since it was true. And he certainly wasn't going to admit that the decree was less than twenty-four hours old. He was on shaky enough ground with Harry as it was. That decree was meant for one and only one person, Harry Potter. "Hagrid was too old by the time he was found innocent. While that does entitle him to get a new wand, at the time he was found innocent in your second year, he was no longer under-age so the decree didn't and doesn't apply to him."

He paused for a moment looking for the right words to answer Harry's question and avoid angering the younger wizard further. Young Potter had proven last night that he was a very powerful wizard, though Dumbledore didn't know how he'd gained this power. While he was fairly certain that Harry's basic character hadn't changed all that much, Dumbledore knew he was treading on very thin ice where the boy was concerned. Harry had never been one to intentionally harm another, and would only hurt those who had first hurt him and given that he had done a great deal of harm to the boy, though most of it had been unintentional, right now Dumbledore knew he was a prime target for the boy's rage. The last thing he wanted was that power turned on him the way it had been turned on Voldemort. He decided to tell him a partial truth. "You have no choice about coming back, Mr. Potter. When you first set foot on the Hogwarts grounds, you became subject to a binding magical contract that is intended to insure that you would complete your education there unless, as I said before, there is a request to change schools submitted to and approved by the Wizengamot. It will force you to return, since your name is on the roll of returning students for this year."

"You know that's twice now I've been told I'm subject to a binding magical contract and I've never seen either contract." Harry observed then glanced at Greeva. "I didn't know it was possible for minors to enter into legally and magically binding agreements and I know my Aunt who is my legal guardian, at least for now, didn't agree to it. So it can't be binding, can it?"

Surprised and yet oddly pleased that the most powerful wizard of the age trusted a goblin to tell him the truth instead of Albus Dumbledore, Greeva told him, "A minor can not enter into a magically contract, however, once you set foot on Hogwarts grounds, that constituted your aunt's acceptance of the agreement. Even if your Aunt never gave her vocal or written approval, by allowing you to go at all it was considered implied consent."

"So in other words I have no choice in this matter."

The comment was directed to Greeva, but Dumbledore answered it. "No, you don't, Mr. Potter, at least not until you turn eighteen or complete your magical education, whichever comes first."

"And what if I choose to ignore your 'binding magical contract'?" Harry inquired. "Will you send Aurors or members of the Order to fetch me, assuming they are brave enough to come?"

"You have no choice." Dumbledore repeated. "The contract will force you to comply."

Dumbledore wasn't really sure about that, but he could bluff with the best of them. The school might indeed consider the contract null and void in Harry's case, given that he, who in essence represented the school and all powers contained within it, had indeed snapped Harry's wand.

"Ah, so there is a legal version of the Imperious curse." Harry commented. "You just use it on children. I wonder if the parents of muggle-born children are told. I doubt it because if they knew, they wouldn't let their children within a thousand miles of any magical school."

Dumbledore's face grew stormy at the thought of the spell that insured magical children got a complete education being compared to the Imperious curse. "We do not use the Imperious curse on children."

"You don't." Harry just smirked. "What would you call a spell that forces a child to return somewhere they don't want to go? I suppose it does something to encourage them not to change their minds. That is coercion, Dumbledork. Look it up in a dictionary."

Dumbledore knew there was nothing he could say to change Harry's mind about the purpose of the spell that insured children completed their magical education so he didn't even try.

His face once more an expressionless mask, Harry resigned himself to spending one more year among the hypocrites of the wizarding world, before he could finally be free of it for good. He could probably break the spell, but that would mean going to Hogwarts anyway, since it was probably the source of the spell. The problem was that if the spell had existed since the Founders time, then it was probably woven into the other spells surrounding the castle, which would mean any attempts to negate it, might bring the castle crashing down. Thinking about it for a few moments, Harry decided to comply, at least for now. In a way it was a better solution for the long run, he wouldn't have to rush disposing of whatever property he had in the wizarding world and he would have a chance to make those fools at Hogwarts pay. Yes a much better solution all round.

Deciding not to let Dumbledore know he'd won so soon, Harry asked, "Where's Remus?"

"I'm sorry." Dumbledore hoped he looked puzzled by sudden change of topic. He hadn't expected this question so soon, but he should have.

"Where… is… Remus… Lupin?" Harry repeated a little slower as if talking to a small child. "He wasn't at Azkaban with you last night and he certainly wasn't at that farce of a trial I got, so where is he right now? And while we're on the subject, where's Hedwig? I know she wasn't killed by those fools in Gryffindor House, so where is she?"

Knowing he couldn't avoid the issue, Dumbledore just hoped that Harry wouldn't kill the messenger. "Remus didn't believe you were guilty of killing Neville Longbottom."

Harry snorted. "So someone in the wizarding world had some brains. At least Remus learned, unlike the rest of you, not to judge things by appearance."

"Yes," there wasn't anything else Dumbledore could say to that, given that it was the truth. "Anyway, he was looking for the proof of your innocence, when he was killed."

"How?" Harry growled sounding almost like a wolf himself.

Knowing Harry would get angry if he found out later that any details were withheld, Dumbledore told him what little they knew. "Remus was found dead the night after the full moon. He'd been stabbed with a silver knife."

"Which meant it was someone who knew he was a werewolf. Which would be just about everybody in the wizarding world thanks to Severus 'I can't let go of a grudge' Snape." Harry pointed out.

Dumbledore knew that accusation was true. Prior to Snape's telling the Slytherin's about Lupin's condition, only a handful of people had known about it. "We assumed at the time that it had been someone with a grudge against werewolves who that knew he was one. Anyway, now that you've been proven innocent, we must assume it was a Deatheater, trying to prevent him from learning or possibly revealing the truth. Once they go to trial, we'll know which one it was."

"I'll bet it was Percy." Harry closed his eyes, determined not to let Dumbledore see the pain he was feeling. He would be sure to try and capitalise on it. "Where is he buried?"

Knowing nothing could take away the pain of losing the last link to his parents, Dumbledore did hope this information might ease some of the sorrow. "I had him buried in Godric's Hollow. Next to your parents."

"I'll have to be sure to go visit their graves. It's about time I was allowed to anyway." Harry commented more to himself than anybody else. Burying the pain, at least for a little while, he asked. "Where's Hedwig? Did those fools from Gryffindor kill her after they destroyed everything else I owned, while the teachers stood by and watched?"

"No, Hedwig is alive." The Headmaster was quick to reassure him. "However... I don't know where she is. Miss Granger decided that she would keep Hedwig, but Hedwig must have decided she didn't want to change masters."

"You mean she knew that Granger had betrayed me and wanted nothing to do with her." Harry corrected him. "What did she do?"

"The first time Miss Granger tried to use Hedwig to send a letter, your owl bit her hand to the bone and raked her talons across Miss Granger's head. She took off and hasn't been seen since." Dumbledore told him.

"Good for her. I hope she is okay, but at least she like Remus is free of your world of double-standards." Harry was pleased by the news that Hedwig might still be alive. He hoped she would return to him now that he was free but if she didn't he at least took comfort in the knowledge that beloved familiar wasn't serving one of his two-faced former friends. "If there is nothing else we need to discuss, then I will see you in September."

Dumbledore looked a little sheepish as he said, "There is one other matter."

"What now?" Harry couldn't think of anything else the old bastard could want to do with or to him.

"We need to make arrangements for where you are going to be staying until the start of term." Dumbledore finally said.

"You will be making no living arrangements for me!" Harry got to his feet tired of dealing with the interfering old wizard.

"You are still considered a minor, Harry," Dumbledore backed up at the icy glare. "We have been trying to come up with a suitable wizarding family for you to live with for the next month and a half, since you no longer need to be hidden from Voldemort or his Deatheaters."

"I will not say this again." Harry growled. "You will be making no living arrangements for me! If I must live with someone, then it will be the Dursleys. At least I know to expect a stab in the back from them." Not to mention, Harry thought to himself, it will give me chance repay the Dursleys for their many kindnesses. "One more thing Dumbledork I want no contact with anyone from the wizarding world, unless I choose to initiate it. No letters. No packages. No nothing. If anybody sends me anything they will get it back with a very nasty hex attached to it. Do we understand each other?"

At the Headmaster's nod, Harry pushed past him and went out the door.

Dumbledore heard him say, "Griphook, would you please take me to my vault?"

#~#~#~#~#

Dumbledore waited in the lobby for Griphook to return with Harry. When Griphook came out of the vault area there was a tall, well-built wizard with golden brown hair with him, instead of a slender dark-haired one Dumbledore had been expecting. A quick check of the orb he was carrying revealed that wizard to be Harry.

Walking up to him Dumbledore softly commented, "Nice glamour charm, Mr. Potter."

The grey eyes just glared at him and Dumbledore found himself strangely grateful that wishes couldn't be made reality otherwise he might be lying on the floor, dead.

"I will just escort you to the Leaky Cauldron." Dumbledore told him. "I have made arrangements with the Ministry for a car to take you from there to your Aunt's in Surrey."

Harry said nothing. He walked up to a desk and requested that the wizard money be converted to muggle currency. He also requested a security pouch to hold it. A few moments later the goblin handed over a pouch and the requested muggle currency. Placing the folded currency in the pouch, Harry headed for the door, ignoring Dumbledore.

Wisely deciding to say nothing further, Dumbledore moved quickly to catch up with Potter before he disappeared from sight.

If anything the crowd in Diagon Alley had grown even larger. Harry couldn't help wondering how the Alley could contain it without exploding out into the non-magical world. He pushed his way through the crowd well aware of the fact that Dumbledore was following him.

#~#~#~#~#

Harry managed to get through the crowd and into the Leaky Cauldron a few minutes ahead of Dumbledore. If he could maintain that lead, he might just make it out the door into London and disappear before Dumbledore caught up with him. If he could have found somewhere to duck into that would get him out of Dumbledork's sight for even a few moments, he would have changed his appearance, but there were just too many people in the Alley for him to do that without being seen.

Handing over the room key and enough Galleons to cover a night's stay, Harry turned, intending to head back through the door into London. However when he caught sight of the group of red heads near the door, he froze like a deer caught in the headlights. He hadn't expected to see the Weasleys here.

They must be looking for me. Harry thought, noting the way they were checking all the entrances to the pub and everyone who came through them. He also noted that not all the heads in the group were red. There was a bushy brown one in among the sea of red. Awfully brave of Granger to come here looking for me. I never took her for a fool before.

#~#~#~#~#

Molly continued to scan each new arrival. She was fairly certain that she would be able to pick Harry out even if he were wearing a glamour charm. And if she missed him, Hermione had been certain she wouldn't.

She needed to find him. She had to apologise for all the nasty things she'd said to him during his brief trial. She also had to make up somehow for her son's betrayal of one who had been thought of as family.

When Arthur had first told her what Percy had done, she hadn't wanted to believe it. No son of hers would ever serve the Dark Lord. Arthur had to be mistaken. Percy couldn't be a Deatheater. It was only after she had seen Arthur's memory of Percy's confession at Azkaban, that she had broken down and started crying. She mourned the loss of her son who chose the Dark over his family and the Light.

She had also spent a large part of the morning prior to Arthur's firecall about Dumbledore's request for a car for a trip to Surrey from the Leaky Cauldron, trying to figure out how she was going to repair the damage she and her family had done to their relationship with Harry.

Despite what those of her children who had been there had told her about how angry Harry was at the wizarding world, Molly refused to believe that the relationship with her unofficial seventh son was completely destroyed. Harry Potter had been a very loving child and she was certain she could make him understand and forgive them, given enough time. She was hoping she could convince him to spend the summer with them given that he no longer needed to be hidden at the Dursleys.

She was starting to get a little worried when Dumbledore came in from the Diagon Alley entrance and went over to talk with a man with shoulder length golden brown hair. The discussion appeared to be heated then the younger man abruptly started heading toward them with Dumbledore walking along beside him.

Once the pair was close enough. Molly softly asked. "Albus, where's Harry? I thought you'd found him. Arthur said you called for a car to take someone to Surrey."

"Hello Molly," Dumbledore greeted the woman as if he were surprised to see her. "This is a wonderful surprise."

When the man with Dumbledore tried to push past him, the Headmaster put out a hand to restrain him. This earned him a glare from the grey-eyed man.

Speaking in a low, raspy voice, the man told the Headmaster, "If you are going to stand here and chat, then I will be leaving. I have things to do and can find my own way to where I need to be."

Molly glared at the young man and told him. "You should show Albus Dumbledore some respect, young man."

"I've learned the hard way, madam that respect should be earned not given. I've also learned that one should not jump to conclusions without all the facts." The grey-eyed man countered with an icy stare. "Something I would have thought you would have learned by now, especially given your son Percy's actions."

Shaking off Dumbledore's hand and leaving Mrs. Weasley in stunned silence, the stranger headed for the door.

His hand was on the knob when Hermione tugged on Mrs. Weasley's arm and hissed, "Harry!"

Moving quickly, Molly grabbed the stranger's arm before he could get out the door. "Harry!"

The crowd in the pub fell silent, looking for Harry Potter's trademark black hair and the scar.

All the patrons heard the man at the door tell Mrs. Weasley, "My name is Edmund Cristo, not Harry Potter. Which is a good thing considering how fickle the wizarding world happens to be. He is saviour one moment and villain who must be destroyed the next." The man turned his attention back to Dumbledore for a moment. "I don't need an escort, or any more of your interference in my life. Heed my warning, old man. It is the only one you will get."

(AN: To everyone who guessed the Count of Monte Cristo, your house has been awarded 10 points. Also, based on JK Rowling's books, I interpret the legal age to work magic as 17, but the age you are considered a "legal adult" to be 18, given that Mrs Weasley could prevent her twins from joining the Order still. If they were "legal adults" she couldn't have prevented them from joining. Some of you are probably going to be upset that Harry seems to be meekly going back to school, but believe me when I say he is not meekly doing anything.)