Harry woke after eight hours of restful, dreamless sleep. His body felt miles better — all his injuries from the night before had been healed, and the Cruciatus shakes had gone. But his heart still had a raw, gaping hole in it; the kind that made it hurt to breathe, hurt to think.
Sirius and Remus were still there, but they couldn't stay long. "Albus won't let us stick around much longer," Remus said sadly. "He's already been by three times this morning to see if you've woken up yet."
"Merlin forbid I have people who care about me more than the war effort," Harry replied dryly. Remus bent to kiss his forehead, right over his scar.
"Don't you forget that, cub," he breathed. "Our first priority is always you. Always."
Harry's heart hurt for an entirely different reason. He'd never been someone's priority before.
Sirius transformed back long enough to give Harry a hug and promise to be in touch soon. "This changes our plans, but we'll figure it out. You won't be with those muggles any longer than you have to be," he assured. "Love you, pup."
"Love you too," Harry replied, getting one last hug from both men before Sirius became a dog once more, and the pair left the Hospital Wing.
Alone for the first time since it had all happened, Harry let out a shaky breath, tucking his knees up to his chest. He wanted to call his friends back from the dorm, to surround himself with noise and people so he didn't have to try and think. He wanted to never see another human being again, not until the hole in his heart was closed over. He wanted it all to stop.
The door opened, and Madam Pomfrey bustled in, giving Harry a soft, knowing smile. "If there was a potion I could give you to make it all go away, Mr Potter, I would," she told him gently. "Sadly, magic can only do so much. Time will have to take care of the rest."
A wave of her wand summoned a set of pale blue pinstriped pyjamas, and she held them out to Harry. "I want to keep you until at least dinner. Go ahead and shower, it might help. I'll have breakfast waiting when you get out."
She drew back the curtains on a bed a few rows down, and Harry's eyebrows rose at the sight of the real Alastor Moody sprawled unconscious in the bed. "Is he alright?"
"He will be," Pomfrey assured. "He's had quite the year, but it's nothing permanent. Go on, off with you, get out of those awful clothes."
When he stood, Harry looked down at himself, grimacing at the dirt and blood covering his clothing. Yes, pyjamas seemed like an excellent idea.
He tried not to take too long in the shower, though half the time was spent just trying to breathe, willing the tears to come and the dam to break so he could just get it over with. He hadn't properly cried yet. He'd come close, had some tears escape onto Draco's shirt the night before — but it felt like it was all building up inside and he just needed to release the pressure, only it wouldn't go. Eventually he gave up, shutting off the water and drying himself with a spell, staring into the mirror for a long time. He had a scar on his forearm, now, where Wormtail had cut him, jagged and ropey. It could join his scar from the basilisk, his scars from the Dursleys' care. Marks of a boy who was more weapon than child. At least in the eyes of some.
As promised, there was a steaming bowl of porridge waiting on his bedside table, and a fresh set of sheets on the bed. Pomfrey was gone, and the curtains around Moody's bed were drawn once more.
As he ate, Harry forced his emotions aside to start thinking on the more rational side of his brain. Voldemort was back. He had to prepare for the worst. He wished he had his notebook, or at the very least a quill and parchment; his brain was buzzing with thoughts, plans and ideas and questions. He remembered Remus' words from the night before; we can make plans as soon as you've had the chance to recover.
He wasn't alone in this. As soon as he could get to Seren Du, they could figure it all out. No doubt by then they would all have a better idea of where things stood. What Voldemort was planning.
There was a knock on the door, and it swung open tentatively. The trio on the other side made the hole in Harry's heart rip open a little wider. Fleur, Viktor, and— "Cho."
The Ravenclaw girl's face crumpled, and she dashed forward, throwing her arms around Harry's neck. "Oh, Harry!" Her eyes were red and puffy, making Harry wonder if she'd spent the whole night crying. "I'm so sorry," he choked out, holding her tight. "Cho, I'm so, so sorry, it's all my fault."
"I don't know what happened last night, but I know that's not true," Cho insisted, pulling back to look him in the eye. "Cedric cared about you so much, Harry. If he died helping you, or protecting you, or whatever he was doing — he would've wanted it to be that way."
That twisted the knife deeper in Harry's chest. "That's just it, though!" he burst out angrily. "It wasn't any of that! He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and they killed him for it!"
"I zink you should tell us what 'appened," Fleur cut in gently, a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Zen we can make sense of zis mess, non?"
Cho perched herself on the edge of Harry's bed, wrapping her fingers around his. Fleur took Remus' empty chair, and Viktor leaned against the bed opposite. "Vhenever you are ready, Harry," he murmured.
Harry took a deep breath, and began to talk.
He didn't tell them the details. He didn't feel the need to go into the specifics of the ritual, or the Death Eaters, or the strange Priori Incantatem as Dumbledore had called it. They weren't there for that. They were there for Cedric. "If I'd taken the Cup by myself, Cedric would still be alive. If I'd listened to him—"
"Yeah, and if he'd listened to you, You-Know-Who wouldn't be alive right now, but Cedric would still be d-dead," Cho pointed out, faltering on the last word. "If he'd stopped being so bloody Hufflepuff for five minutes." She choked out a laugh that was more of a sob, shaking her head. "Everything about that maze was designed to make you get there first. You said Crouch was rigging the whole thing. Cedric shouldn't have even been there, but he was, because both of you cared more about each other than some stupid competition. There was no way you could've known what would happen, and Cedric would hit you if he were here to listen to you blaming yourself."
"How can you say that?" Harry asked plaintively. "How can you sit here and comfort me and hold my hand when I'm the reason your boyfriend is dead?"
"Voldemort is the reason my boyfriend is dead!" Cho's dark eyes were burning, and she seemed to have surprised even herself by saying the name. "Don't cheapen his death by making it your own burden, Harry. It's not fair to either of you."
Harry wished he could believe Cho's words, but it didn't stop the guilt constricting his heart, so he kept his mouth shut. "What did Dumbledore tell the rest of the school?"
Fleur and Viktor shared a glance. "He said that Cedric's death vas the first casualty of a new var," Viktor relayed. "He said he vould explain more ven time had passed, and allow a period of mourning."
That was appropriately vague and dramatic for Dumbledore. "And… Cedric's parents? What were they told?"
"The truth, mostly," Cho piped up. "That their son was killed by You-Know-Who's followers, because he got in the way of them resurrecting their master. They… they'd like to come see you before they leave, if you're okay with that?"
Harry couldn't think of many things worse than having to look the Diggorys in the eye and apologise for being alive when their son was not. But he didn't think he had the right to turn them away, under the circumstances, so he said yes.
"When do you all head home?" He directed his question to Viktor and Fleur.
"After ze leaving feast," Fleur told him. "Madame Maxime wanted us to leave sooner, but… she spoke to Professeur Dumbledore and 'e persuaded 'er to stay." Harry remembered Dumbledore saying something about speaking to Hagrid and Maxime about a job, and he wondered if it was due to that.
"Ve haff no headmaster," Viktor added with a shrug. "But ve are the ones who steer the boat anyvay. Ve vill go home ven the term is finished." At Harry's look of confusion, he explained about Karkaroff's disappearance. "Ve all knew he vas a Death Eater. I suppose he vas too scared to face his old master."
"So what will happen with Durmstrang?"
"Our deputy headmaster is a good man," Viktor assured. "He vill take over."
The door opened behind them, and a small crowd of Gryffindors paused in the doorway. "Oh, you've got company. We'll come back later," Neville said apologetically, but Cho shook her head.
"No, no, it's fine. We were mostly done anyway." She hopped off the bed, turning to Harry with a solemn face. "Thank you, for bringing him back. I'll… I'll tell Amos and Caroline they can come up and see you in a bit."
"We will see you at dinner, 'Arry," Fleur said, kissing his cheek softly. "Get some rest."
The champions and Cho left, and Neville, Ginny and the twins took their place at Harry's bedside.
"How are you feeling?" Ginny asked. Harry let out a long breath.
"That's… that's a really good question, Gin." He was simultaneously feeling a thousand things and also overwhelmingly numb.
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Neville looked earnest, and Harry managed a small smile.
"Turn back the clock twenty-four hours and make it all go away?" he joked. Where was Hermione's time-turner when he needed it?
"Mum went home, but she sends her love," Fred relayed. "She tried to talk Dumbledore into letting you come straight to ours for the summer, but he told her you needed to go to the muggles for a while."
Harry grimaced. "Not happening."
"Is that where you stayed last summer? With Sirius and Lupin?" Ginny wasn't daft, she knew Harry hadn't been with his muggle relatives. Harry nodded.
"I can't say where. But hopefully I'll be back there soon." He couldn't wait to be back in his room at Seren Du, in their little bubble of security.
"Good." Ginny's voice was firm. "I'm glad someone managed to get you away from those awful people. Neville filled me in on the whole Sirius Black thing, by the way. Hope you don't mind."
"Saves me having to do it," Harry said with a shrug, happy to have Ginny up to speed.
"So… if you don't mind us asking… what really happened last night?" George's question was tentative. "If you're not ready to tell us, that's fine," he added hastily.
"No, no, I can." Telling the other champions had been slightly easier than telling Dumbledore. Maybe it would get better the more times he said it; sink in a little deeper, so he could actually believe it had happened. So it wasn't all some awful nightmare.
Unlike with the champions, this time Harry tried not to leave anything out. Ginny buried her face in Neville's shoulder when he described watching Wormtail put the twisted baby in the cauldron and see it emerge as Voldemort. Even the twins were pale and grim-faced when he described the way their wands had connected, and he'd used the distraction to run.
"Bloody hell," George said in the end. "So that's it, then. He's really back."
"He's really back," Harry confirmed dully. "And he's got most of his followers with him."
"So what's the plan now?" Fred asked without hesitation. Harry blinked at him. "Mate, you're gonna be in the thick of it whether you like it or not, and if you think we're gonna stand by and watch you risk your neck, you've got another thing coming."
"He's right. Whatever you're doing, we want to help," Ginny said vehemently. "And if you tell me I'm too young I'll hex you."
"Hell, we're all too young for this," Harry pointed out with a wry quirk of his lips. "I… thanks, guys. We don't really have a plan yet. Need to talk to some people first. But once I know what's happening, I'll let you know."
"Whatever we can do to help, let us know," Neville said. "Gran, too. She doesn't think much of Dumbledore, but she's on your side."
When Harry thought about all the people he'd have to talk to, all the decisions he'd have to make in the next few weeks, it made his chest tighten uncomfortably. He pushed it away. There was time for all that later.
Ginny cleared her throat, drawing their attention. "What… what about Ron and Hermione?" At Harry's raised eyebrow, she continued. "They were up here last night too. They know some of what happened. But I'm not blind; you clearly don't trust them anymore. What are we supposed to tell them, if they ask?"
"I've got pretty good evidence that Ron and Hermione are spying on me for Dumbledore," Harry admitted, hating the words even as he said them. "If they ask, play dumb, act like you don't know any more than they do. And be careful; if they're watching me, they might be watching you as well."
Ginny nodded, showing no sign of sadness or disappointment that her brother was doing such a thing. Harry wondered if the twins had told her about their mother, yet.
Harry yawned, and Ginny immediately nudged him back into bed. "You should get some more sleep. We'll leave you to it. You'll be out for dinner, yeah?"
They said their goodbyes and left Harry alone once more. He ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip against a fresh wave of grief, and rolled over to bury his face in his pillow.
.-.-.-.
Meeting with Cedric's parents had been nothing short of awful, but Harry had made it through. He'd explained to them what happened — the truth, in case Dumbledore had seen fit to lie to them — and apologised over and over. Amos Diggory was quiet, but Caroline Diggory held him tight and insisted it wasn't his fault, that he'd done everything he could.
It certainly didn't feel like it.
He tried to offer them the Triwizard winnings, but they refused to take it. Harry was left staring at the sack full of galleons, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with it. Send it to Gringotts and throw it in with the rest of his money? That seemed a waste. Were there charities, in the wizarding world?
Twenty minutes before dinner, Madam Pomfrey checked him over and declared him fit to leave. "Only if you want to, Mr Potter," she added with concern in her eyes. "It's no trouble to me if you want to stay another night."
As much as Harry was dreading having to face the rest of the school, the prospect of spending a night alone in the Hospital Wing was worse. Dumbledore had come by to visit not long after the Diggorys, and being alone with the headmaster had set him on edge. The night before had been fine, as Remus and Sirius had stood guard, but he didn't have that now. He'd much rather be in his dormitory.
He thought about skipping dinner, but his rumbling stomach decided that for him. He shook off the brief thought of going to the kitchens instead; he'd have to face everybody eventually. Might as well get it over with
As he walked from the Hospital Wing to the Great Hall, dressed in a fresh school uniform the house elves had fetched for him, several people stopped and stared at him walking past. He ignored them, keeping his head down as he entered the hall, whispers echoing in his wake. "Harry!" He looked up at the call that came louder than all the other murmurs of his name, seeing Cho waving at him from the Ravenclaw table. She wasn't alone; Viktor and Fleur were with her, and the twins, and Ginny and Luna, and Neville and Susan and Hannah, and a dozen other people who had become a regular presence in their hodge-podge social group over the last few months, including several of Cedric's Hufflepuff friends. Between Cho and Viktor was an empty seat, and Harry walked towards it, dropping down onto the bench. Cho leaned into his shoulder for a brief moment, squeezing his arm. "How are you holding up?"
"I should be asking you that," Harry retorted quietly. He looked around the group, all of whom were giving him encouraging smiles. "You guys didn't have to do this."
"Yeah we do," Cho insisted. "So let us do it. You're our friend, and you were Cedric's friend, and he'd come back and haunt all of us if we just left you to the wolves."
There were several people around the room who had dark looks on their faces as they stared at Harry, even from the Gryffindor table. It was a familiar sort of look; the look of people who thought Harry was dangerous, deranged, the next Dark Lord in the making. They probably thought he'd murdered Cedric himself.
"Thanks."
Cho smiled at him, reaching over to start piling mashed potatoes on her plate.
There wasn't much conversation through the meal; a few attempts at making summer plans, or relief at the end of exams, but nothing like the usual buzz of noise. Harry looked down the table, feeling like something was wrong. Someone was missing, but he couldn't figure out who.
Eventually, it hit him; there were most of the usual Slytherins in their group, but Cassius was missing. He craned his neck to look over at the Slytherin table, seeing the sixth year boy eating with his head down, surrounded by his year mates. He looked pale and wrung out. Harry's heart clenched. Had his uncle been in the graveyard too? Had he already drawn the line on Cassius' behalf?
"Susan," he called softly to the girl sitting a few seats over on the opposite side of the table. She looked up, frowning at the grim look on his face. He gave a pointed glance to Cassius. "We need a study group meeting."
Understanding dawned in her eyes, and she shook her head. "Neville already gave us the run-down, before dinner," she assured. "I'll owl you in the summer, we'll figure things out."
That didn't satisfy Harry, but he couldn't say anything further when they were surrounded by so many people. Susan gave him a pointed glance. "Not everything's all on you, Harry. Let me take care of this one for a bit."
Harry didn't have the energy to argue with her.
.-.-.
Announcing the return of Voldemort in the middle of the end of term feast was a bold move on Dumbledore's part, but Harry wasn't surprised. The headmaster had already practically declared war on the Ministry, threatening Fudge with the inevitabilities of his continued ignorance. It was a smart move, too; those who were against Voldemort would see Dumbledore standing for the truth and align themselves with him, encourage everyone to put the Ministry in his hands — because obviously they were too incompetent to keep running themselves, with Fudge in charge. Harry wondered if they'd forgotten who had endorsed Cornelius Fudge to begin with.
The game had begun, and Dumbledore was setting up his pieces. Harry would have to start doing the same, soon. The prospect made his stomach squirm anxiously. Was he really going to take on Dumbledore, the Ministry, and Voldemort?
He didn't really have a choice. Someone had to end this cycle of war and death and misinformation. Someone had to put a stop to Dumbledore's quest for the Greater Good, before he brought the wizarding world to its knees.
He looked to the Slytherins during the feast, their drawn faces and solemn eyes. He hadn't had the chance to speak to Draco in the week since the task; all of them were being watched, now more than ever. He hoped Slytherin House knew they had options. He hoped they hadn't given up already.
The feast came to a quiet end, and Harry retreated up to the dorm with Neville. He hadn't spoken to Ron and Hermione since the night of the third task. They didn't seem to know what to say to him. Harry wasn't in any rush to speak to either of them; maybe if he was lucky, Dumbledore wouldn't see the need to have them spy on him, now that Voldemort was back.
Dean and Seamus had kept to themselves in the last week; Harry hadn't asked what they thought about Cedric, or Voldemort, or any of it. He was too scared of the answer. So they said nothing when Harry changed into pyjamas and sequestered himself away behind the drapes of his bed and his usual privacy charms. He was about to call it an early night, when the mirror began to vibrate beneath his pillow. He pulled it out, answering the call and smiling at Sirius' face.
"Hi, pup. Glad I managed to catch you. How was the feast?"
Harry's smile faltered, and he told Sirius what Dumbledore had said. His godfather didn't seem surprised either. "We suspected he might do as much. Setting himself up as the leader of the light again."
"What have you been doing? Where are you?" Harry hadn't managed to speak to his godfather since he'd left the Hospital Wing, the mirror going unanswered the few times Harry had been able to try it. Sirius grimaced.
"I'm in a place I never thought I'd have to go back to," he said, which gave Harry zero information whatsoever. "Moony and I have been gathering the old crowd — everyone who fought against Voldemort the first time around. And a few who weren't old enough the first time, but will happily join us for the second." There were voices in the background, and Sirius winced. "Listen, pup, I don't have long. There's a bit of a snag in our summer plan."
Dread rose in Harry's gut. "What do you mean?"
"Dumbledore wants you monitored this summer," Sirius told him. Harry cursed. "Yeah. He wants a 24/7 guard outside the Dursleys' house, ready to follow you any time you leave the property."
"I'm not staying with them all summer." If he was left to Uncle Vernon's hands after having Snape boss the man around the summer before, he wouldn't survive to see his fifth year.
"Absolutely not," Sirius agreed without hesitation, and something in Harry began to un-twist. "We haven't quite figured it out yet, but there's got to be a way to get you out of there without Dumbledore knowing."
"The guard will be outside the house, right? Why don't we just claim I'm being locked in my room all summer. Wouldn't be the first time." Something dark flashed across Sirius' face at that admission, but it was gone in an instant.
"That could work. Someone would notice when owls don't arrive, though."
Harry frowned; he hadn't thought about that. "I'll talk to the twins." If anyone was able to think of a way to circumvent magical supervision, it was them. "If it comes down to it, I can say the Dursleys have forbidden me from getting any post all summer. Again, not the first time. The twins will back me up, they know what my aunt and uncle are like." Ron did too, but he wasn't likely to say anything in Harry's favour these days.
"It gives us options. See what the twins think, and let us know. Severus will come to pick you up as soon as it's safe to do so. We haven't confirmed how strict the monitoring is going to be, yet, but it looks like it's just gonna be someone invisible hanging out by your house. Having a bunch of charms and the like over your house would be a dead giveaway."
The voices in the background grew louder, and Sirius cursed. "I've got to go. Talk to the twins, and I'll see you soon. Love you." He didn't wait for a reply before ending the call, leaving Harry staring at his own tired reflection.
If Dumbledore's meddling stopped Harry spending time with his real family this summer, there would be hell to pay.
.-.-.-.
The first of July dawned bright and clear, and Gryffindor Tower was a flurry of activity as everyone packed up their trunks and made their way down to the Entrance Hall. Even more than usual, everyone was eager to get home. Even Harry, for once, though he had to hide his enthusiasm. He trusted Sirius when the man promised he wouldn't leave Harry to the Dursleys. They'd figure it out.
The hall was much more full than usual, with the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students getting ready to leave as well. Harry was a lot more sad than he thought he'd be watching them go; he'd made friends with a surprising number of the foreign students over the last few months, not just Fleur and Viktor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Boris and George kissing, and smiled sadly. Neither of them were serious about each other, and would part on good terms, but it was still unfortunate that things had to end.
Surrounded by people promising to keep in touch and owl each other, Harry squeezed his way through the crowd to find Fleur and Cho hugging each other tightly, both with tears in their eyes. Fleur beamed at him when he approached. "'Arry!" She released Cho and grabbed him, kissing both his cheeks. "We will see each uzzer again soon," she promised. "I am trying to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."
"And to see a bit more of Bill Weasley, too, I bet," he teased, remembering the outrageous flirting before the third task. God, that felt like months ago. Fleur's cheeks pinked.
"Zat would 'elp as well, yes," she admitted with a grin. Sobering, she pressed their foreheads together briefly. "You 'ave been a great friend to me zis year, 'Arry Potter, and I 'ope to be ze same to you in return. Eef you ever need me, I will be zere. Zis fight is for all of us." The fire in her eyes reminded Harry exactly why she'd been chosen as Beauxbatons' champion.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "I'll keep that in mind." He didn't want to lose touch with Fleur, or any of his new friends.
She hurried off to say goodbye to someone else, and Cho touched Harry's elbow gently. "Can I write to you? Over the summer?" she asked. "I… I've liked getting to know you better, this year. Ced was gonna invite you over to his for a bit, this summer. He thought you might want to get away from the muggles, y'know? I'd imagine you're probably not allowed to visit anyone anymore, though."
Harry hadn't been allowed to visit anyone but the Weasleys before Voldemort had returned, but he didn't tell Cho that. His heart ached for the future that might have been. "I don't know if I'll be allowed to get owls," he confessed. He hadn't had the chance to talk to the twins yet. "But if I can, I'll write to you, yeah? I've liked getting to know you, too. I'm glad we're friends, Cho."
Cho gave him a watery smile, and she hugged him. "We won't let him win," she declared vehemently, her voice a little choked. "We'll fight him. For Cedric."
She stepped away, and someone tapped Harry on the shoulder. He turned to see Viktor smiling down at him. "The Durmstrang ship is about to leave," he declared. "But I did not vant to go vithout saying goodbye."
Viktor wasn't the most tactile person, but he grabbed Harry in a brief, firm hug nonetheless, meeting his gaze intently when they parted. "Var is coming," he said solemnly. "And should you need the aid of Durmstrang, ve vill be happy to assist. As I said; our deputy headmaster is a good man."
Harry nodded. "I'll keep in touch." He cracked a smile. "Maybe we'll play quidditch against each other some day." Viktor chuckled, clapping Harry on the shoulder.
"I vould like that very much, Harry. Very much indeed." It was a pipe dream, a fantasy of a time when war was past, but they could hold onto it all the same.
"What's happening with you and Hermione?" Harry asked curiously. He didn't see the bushy-haired girl around anywhere. Viktor's smile faltered.
"She has promised to write to me, but things haff been… different, lately. I think perhaps she is not the girl I thought she vas." He eyed Harry knowingly. "She is not the friend I thought she vas."
It didn't take a genius to see that Hermione hadn't been anywhere near Harry since the third task. He could imagine how that came across to others. "I'm sorry." Whatever Hermione was to him, Viktor had liked her a lot.
"Vat is it you say here? There are other fish in the sea?" Viktor said, shrugging. "I am young, there is time."
Harry hoped Viktor found someone who truly deserved the strong, incredible man that hid behind the awkward, surly exterior.
The other Durmstrang students called out to their stragglers, and Viktor clapped Harry on the shoulder once more before following, falling into stride beside Boris as they returned to their ship. Soon after, Madame Maxime gathered her students, and they too were headed home. Harry grabbed his trunk and headed towards the doors, joining Neville and Ginny in waiting for the carriages. The twins joined them soon after, George's hair mussed in a way that made Harry snicker.
"Shut it, Potter," George said good-naturedly, elbowing Harry in the side. "I've seen you look worse."
The carriages began to arrive, and Harry stifled a grimace when they ended up sharing one with Ron and Hermione. It was inevitable, when he was with the rest of the Weasleys, but he wished it wouldn't happen. He didn't know what to say to either of them — would they let him just back out of the friendship without issue, or were they still trying to keep hold of him on Dumbledore's orders? He felt like they would have already tried to make amends — again — if they wanted to continue being his friends over the summer. Perhaps they recognised a lost cause, at last. Or they just assumed Harry would be thrown in with them whenever Dumbledore decided what to do with him. As if he would go passively into anything like that.
But he couldn't make any moves until he had talked over his options with Sirius and Remus and Snape. He was playing a very dangerous game.
The seven of them ended up in a train compartment together, though conversation was stilted at best. Harry spent the whole journey looking for an opportunity to get the twins alone, but it didn't happen until the very end, when they were the last ones out of the compartment at King's Cross. "Hey, wait," Harry urged, grabbing George by the arm. He shut the door quickly, raising a privacy ward. School wasn't over yet. "I need your help with something."
He explained his predicament, and the twins' faces grew contemplative. "We'll figure something out," Fred promised. "Can't leave you with those muggles all summer."
"Could be a good one to add to our product line," George agreed, grinning. "I get the feeling you're not the only one who might need a decoy, these days."
All of a sudden, Harry had the most brilliant idea he'd had in a long time.
He threw his trunk open and reached inside, grabbing the sack of galleons he'd thrown in there. He held it out to George. "Take this," he insisted. Both twins stared at him incredulously.
"Harry, mate…"
"I'm serious. Take it." Harry forced the bag into George's hands. "I don't need it, I don't want it, and after Bagman screwed you guys over you could do with it. Consider it an investment in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. We'll need laughter now more than ever."
He glared at them both until they looked like they were no longer going to argue, and George stashed the bag away in his trunk. Harry grinned triumphantly. "Good. Just don't tell your parents where you got it, alright?" He was bundled in a crushing group hug.
"This won't go to waste, Harry," Fred promised, ruffling his hair.
Despite their lacklustre OWL marks, the Weasley twins were two of the smartest people Harry knew, and he had no doubt that they'd take the wizarding world by storm in the next decade or so. He was glad to know the Triwizard money would be going towards something worthwhile.
They caught up with the others on the platform, and Harry walked with the Weasleys through the barrier, unsurprised to find the Dursleys waiting on the other side. He said his goodbyes and strolled towards his scowling aunt and uncle.
"Come on, boy," Vernon hissed, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him towards the car park. "The sooner we get you home, the sooner we can get rid of you."
"We didn't want to come at all, but that awful boy insisted we keep up the charade. More trouble than you're worth, you are," Petunia told him. Harry refrained from pointing out that that awful boy was now a man in his thirties, smiling down at the empty owl cage sat on top of his trunk. He'd sent Hedwig ahead to Seren Du, not wanting to anger his relatives even more by making them transport a live owl.
Sirius' promise rang in his ears as he was forced into Vernon's car. He would be gone soon. He wouldn't be left with the Dursleys.
He could go home soon.