"You should be so lucky," their mother chided, walking off to the kitchen with her husband while flipping through the journal again.
"You've got her wrapped around your finger," Ron said amazed, "and you've barely been here a week."
"Can you imagine what it'd be like by this time next year?" Fred said with a grin. "We really will be calling him 'Dad' at this rate."
"Nah," George said, "You're forgetting Hermione. She'd probably challenge mum to a duel for Harry's hand."
"You think we could sell tickets?" Fred grinned again, his eyes growing to the size of galleons.
"You're all bloody mental," an exasperated Ron said. "Come on out with us, Harry," he said changing the subject. "We could use another Chaser. These two need all the help they can get to get one past me."
The twins looked at their brother like he'd lost what sense he had and were determined to bring him down a peg or three. It didn't look like it was going to be pretty.
"Sure," Harry said, "I'll come. You guys go ahead, I'll grab my broom."
He just got back downstairs when he met Mrs. Weasley at the foot of the stairs.
"Er - Harry," she said uncertainly. "You've got a call in the kitchen."
Harry hadn't seen a telephone the entire time he'd been at the Burrow, so getting a call from anyone was rather unexpected. Plus, besides Gringotts and Dumbledore, who else knew he was here? It couldn't be Hermione; he hadn't even known a number to give her so she could call.
Following Mrs. Weasley to the kitchen, what he found wasn't a telephone at all - it was a head sitting in the fireplace wreathed in floo flames; Professor McGonagall's head. Harry was instantly wary; his first thought was that Dumbledore'd sent her. He relaxed a little though when Mrs. Weasley started puttering around the kitchen doing unnecessary cleaning, making sure to shoot suspicious looks at the floo from time to time.
"Mr. Potter, sorry for disturbing you during your break," his Head of House said, for once not sounding like he should be making better use of his time. "We at Hogwarts have been made aware of your current difficulties with Professor Dumbledore."
Harry thought 'difficulties' was a bit too forgiving but was willing to let her talk.
"Unfortunately," she continued, seeming rather perturbed with the situation. "It's not within my power to issue a refund for all the allegedly misappropriated funds," she said in a tone which clearly said she didn't doubt the alleged part at all. "Nor am I authorized to issue any sort of official statement on behalf of the school. Unofficially, I can say that I and the rest of the staff have found the headmaster's actions towards you to have been absolutely abhorrent."
He watched as the transfiguration professor looked away from him.
"I know Hagrid has taken this particularly hard," she said, choosing to look at the closest table leg rather than at him. "We both deeply regret any unwitting role we played that night, and I surely wish I'd tried harder to change his mind when he left you there, but can only say I thought he was merely enforcing the law."
Harry felt like he'd been punched in the gut. It'd been agonizing enough to piece together that Hagrid had been manipulated into taking him to Gringotts, but now McGonagall had been there the night he'd been left on the Dursleys' doorstep? Just how mangled up was the wizarding world? Would he next be learning he'd spit up on Madam Hooch's shoulder and Madam Pomfrey had helped birth him?
"While this may change your opinion of some of the staff," McGonagall continued, looking up at him again. "I can only hope it doesn't change your opinion of the school itself."
Harry wanted to say something but couldn't think of an empty platitude he could even remotely mean at the moment.
"To that end, if you're willing, I'd like to arrange an informal meeting with the students affected by the Hogwarts Hopefuls Scholarship Program."
This even got Mrs. Weasley's attention; her look changed from wary disapproval to curiosity.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Because it's changed my opinion of the school," McGonagall explained. "The school, and Professor Dumbledore, has gained a lot of goodwill in the last several years; goodwill it doesn't rightly deserve. You've been wronged," his Head of House declared. "Not only was the money taken from you, but the credit for it as well. And while I cannot give you the money back, I can give you the credit."
"I don't need the credit," Harry said, shaking his head. With the goblins reversing all the transfers Dumbledore ordered and them going after Hogwarts in order to get the money back there really wasn't anything to take credit for. Then again, McGonagall probably knew that.
"You may not need it," the transfiguration professor said, "but you deserve it more than he does."
Harry couldn't help but to agree with that. It would feel good to take something of Dumbledore's for a change, and even if it wasn't something you could hold in your hand or lock away in a vault, it'd still be something. Some part of his feelings must've shown on his face.
"I was thinking this Wednesday," McGonagall said, "in one of the Leaky Cauldron's private dining rooms, if that'd work out for you. I'd be supplying lunch as well."
"Harry already has plans for this Wednesday," Mrs. Weasley said to herself. "My floo's always available to him though."
He looked over at Mrs. Weasley curiously and got a little smile in return. Harry smiled back as he realized what she'd just done. She wasn't trying to be nosy or interfere, essentially saying he was free to come and go as he pleased, she just didn't want his plans with Hermione to be ruined. Maybe Molly was a friend after all. Still, it wouldn't hurt to be prepared.
"Thursday would be better," Harry said, earning him a pat on the head as Molly left the room. "I'd like Litigator Lichfield of Gringotts Bank to be there though, and he'd probably like to talk to you too."
"I don't really see what I could possibly contribute," McGonagall said curiously. "But if you wish, I'll give him a call. I shall see you then. Have a good day."
Harry wished her a good day and her head disappeared with a pop!
At times Harry wished all he had to worry about was Quidditch.
.....
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