Harry Potter: Sectumsempra Chapter 03 | Seven Years of Chaos Book 2

Harry arrives at Susan Bones’ home with a new owl on his shoulder and far too many secrets sitting behind his eyes. In the warmth of a small cottage and the sharp gaze of Amelia Bones, he finds something he barely knows how to accept: a home that feels real, and an adult who is paying attention for all the right reasons.

But Harry does not come just for comfort. With Susan at his side, he makes a calculated move into the Ministry of Magic, turning curiosity into leverage and charm into a weapon. A chance encounter becomes an opportunity, and before the day is over, Harry is standing in the Hall of Prophecy, taking hold of a truth that has been locked away for years.

From crowded Ministry corridors to a Muggle fair where laughter finally breaks through the armor, this chapter is about two things Harry has never been allowed to have at the same time: answers, and a childhood.

Transcript

**Chapter 3: Bones Cottage**

“Harry!!” Susan squealed as soon as her best friend appeared in her front yard, holding a portkey, his trunk, and the cutest little owl she had ever seen. “Ooh, she’s so cute!” she cried, reaching out to pet the tiny black owl hopping around Harry’s shoulder.

“Where did you get her?”

Harry pushed his crooked glasses back up his nose and grinned at her. “She was a gift from Professor Snape.”

“I told you Severus was a softie,” Aunt Amelia called, leaning in the front doorway.

“Hello, Harry! I’m Susan’s aunt, Amelia Bones.”

Susan noticed Harry stiffen just a bit and remembered that he didn’t have the best experiences with family.

“Hello, ma’am,” Harry said politely. “Thank you for having me.”

“Ugh, please call me Amelia, not ma’am,” Aunt Amelia said with a laugh.

“I get enough of that at work.”

Harry gave her a shy smile as he looked up at her. “You work at the DMLE, right?

Susan said it’s amazing.”

Susan was about to interrupt, “I thought you hated—” but Harry turned and gave her ‘the look,’ so she fell silent. It was true that Harry had expressed his disdain for law enforcement many times.

“Are you interested in a career with us?” Aunt Amelia asked him. “I dunno, but I’d love to hear more about it,” Harry replied softly.

“Come inside! We’ll put away your trunk, and I can answer any questions you have over lunch!” Aunt Amelia said excitedly, waving Harry and Susan into their cottage.

Susan almost rolled her eyes at her aunt’s enthusiasm. Harry was such a Slytherin.

Sometimes she compared him to the other kids she was friendly with—Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbot, and Daphne Greengrass—but Harry was different from everyone else. He was something more.

She had known that the day she met him. He had been just a little thing, playing with magic in a library, but when he spoke, he could be mean and rude.

He looked like he might run away from Susan at any moment. She noticed the scars on his face and wondered how a kid could end up with scars like that.

Then she realized how scared Harry was of being touched and how much he hated not being in control. He never wanted to owe anyone favors.

Susan had overheard many cases her Aunt Amelia presided over while she drew and read in her office. If she stayed quiet, people often didn’t notice she was there.

She heard the Aurors and Wizengamot members speak softly about children whose families hurt them, labeling it as abuse. Susan always wondered what kind of family could inflict pain on a child.

Then she met Harry Potter, and it became clear to her that his kind of family could hurt a child. The thought made her sad, but it also filled her with a deep, burning anger.

She vowed that Harry would never be hurt again, not as long as she was around. Sometimes, that meant making sure Harry didn’t hurt himself.

He could be reckless, making plans that seemed to ignore the risk of his own life. “What are you doing?” she hissed at him as they stepped inside.

Harry gave her an innocent look, blinking owlishly before smirking. “I’ll tell you later,” he replied quietly.

“You’re going to tell me every ridiculous thing you’ve done this past month and every insane scheme you have planned,” she insisted seriously. Harry stuck his tongue out at her but couldn’t help grinning.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She grinned back and linked their arms together, purposefully ignoring Harry’s tiny flinch. ***Harry’s POV***

Harry was happy in Italy, enjoying his time with Draco at his house, but being with Susan was something special.

Her aunt’s cottage was smaller than Draco’s manor, which was tiny compared to Blaise’s villa, but it felt more like what he imagined a real home would be. Susan had painted her room a bright yellow, and she told him she chose the color even before she was sorted into Hufflepuff.

Her aunt let Harry use their guest room, which was a deep shade of blue. Susan said that next summer...

She’d make sure it was green. Even if she was joking, it was still a pretty nice offer.

Susan’s aunt was really chatty, just like Susan, but she had eyes that reminded Harry of Professor Snape. It felt like she was watching him closely, and he didn’t know why, but he didn’t like it.

On his first night there, Susan had stayed up late with him in the guest room. He filled her in on his summer so far—the beaches, the team duels in Italy, and flying with Draco.

Eventually, he shared the story of the prophecy. There was nobody he trusted more than Susan.

She’d been his friend even when he was wearing shabby clothes, and she had been a good friend all year. She even forgave him for putting her to sleep before he went to find Quirrell, which Harry thought was incredibly kind of her.

He wouldn’t forgive someone who knocked him out and left him in a corridor. Of course, no one had ever accused him of being kind.

"That's horrible," she said, covering her mouth with her hands after he finished. "Do you think that’s why Dumbledore hid you from everyone when your parents died?" 

That was another thing he liked about Susan—she was smart.

Hermione and Theodore were smart in their classes, but Susan was smart about people. "Yep," he replied.

"And it’s why he’s always watching me too." 

"But... but we need to hear the rest," Susan said, her brows furrowing in concern.

Harry grinned at her, pleased that he had already thought this through with a little help from Draco. "Here’s my plan..." 

She listened intently as he outlined it for her.

At the end, she didn’t scold him or try to talk him out of it. She didn’t act like he was too young to worry about it.

Instead, she just gave him a knowing look and nodded. "Let’s do it." 

Susan was a brilliant friend.

The very next morning at breakfast, Harry carefully peppered Susan’s aunt with questions about her job. "Susan said that the DMLE has its own floor!" he exclaimed, trying to sound breathless and excited, just like Susan.

“Absolutely, we do!” Miss Bones, who insisted they call her Amelia, replied with enthusiasm. “It’s a very large department with many different components.” 

Harry listened intently as she explained the roles of Aurors, Hit Wizards, and the Wizengamot.

He made a mental note of which departments were responsible for various aspects of the law. Apparently, Aurors were considered elite witches and wizards who specialized in tracking down dark wizards.

Harry carefully refrained from rolling his eyes at that. Hit Wizards acted as backup for Aurors, stepping in to assist during major operations.

Then there were the regular law enforcement wizards, akin to Muggle police officers, who patrolled magical villages. Harry couldn’t help but think they all sounded terrible.

He imagined that magical law enforcement was likely much worse than what Muggles faced. Sure, Muggle cops could beat you up, arrest you, and attack you for no reason, but they didn’t have magic.

Magical cops had countless ways to make your life miserable if they took a disliking to you. And Harry had never been particularly liked by any of them.

“I wish I could meet an Auror,” he sighed, perhaps a bit dramatically. “I bet they have loads of interesting stories about the bad guys they’ve stopped.” 

“Oh, Auntie!

I know! Can we go to your office with you tomorrow?” Susan exclaimed, just as they had practiced.

“Please, oh please? Harry could see the Ministry, and then we could go to the library until you finish work.” She gave her aunt those big puppy eyes that Harry could never resist.

“Pleaseee?” 

It seemed her aunt couldn’t resist either, as she laughed and agreed that they could tag along in the morning. “You have to promise to stay out of trouble, though,” she warned.

“We will,” they chorused, sharing a secret grin when Amelia wasn’t looking. “This—” Amelia said, sweeping her arms wide, “—is the Ministry of Magic!” 

“Wow,” Harry breathed, perhaps laying it on a bit thick.

“Amazing!” 

They stood at one end of a long, magnificent hall with a highly polished dark wood floor. The peacock-blue walls shimmered around them.

The ceiling was adorned with shimmering golden symbols that constantly shifted and changed, resembling a vast celestial notice board. The walls on either side were paneled in polished dark wood, featuring numerous gilded fireplaces embedded within them.

Every few seconds, a witch or wizard would appear from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh, while on the right, small queues of wizards formed in front of each fireplace, waiting to depart. Halfway down the hall stood a fountain, showcasing a group of larger-than-life golden statues in the center of a circular pool.

The tallest among them was a noble-looking wizard, his wand held high in the air. Surrounding him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf, all gazing up adoringly at the wizard and the witch.

Glittering streams of water cascaded from the tips of the two wands, the point of the centaur’s arrow, the tip of the goblin’s hat, and each of the house-elf’s ears, creating a tinkling symphony that blended with the bustling sounds of hundreds of witches and wizards in the hall. Harry couldn’t help but think that whoever designed that statue must have been quite foolish.

He had never seen a goblin look at a wizard in that way, and while Dobby had stared at him with wide eyes, he doubted that other house-elves felt the same fondness for wizards. “Come on,” Amelia said, drawing his attention away from the fountain.

“I’ll show you my office, Harry.” Harry and Susan followed closely behind her aunt, ducking his head low to avoid the curious stares. They hurried to a set of golden lifts, and Amelia seemed to know every witch and wizard in the vicinity, greeting them all by name.

“Morning, Melinda,” she said cheerfully to a younger witch waiting for the lift beside them. “How are you today?” 

“Busy,” Melinda replied, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment.

“The Minister has a meeting with the Heads tomorrow and…” She paused, glancing up and locking eyes with Harry. “And that’s…”

“Harry Potter,” she gasped, her eyes darting back to Amelia before quickly flicking to Harry again.

“Why do you have Harry Potter?”

Amelia offered a bland smile and a half-hearted shrug. “Harry is friends with my niece, Susan, and he wanted to see what we do in the DMLE.”

The witch continued to stare wide-eyed at Harry.

He flexed his fingers, briefly considering asking his magic to blister or shock her. But the reminder that Susan’s aunt was somewhat like a cop stopped him.

“Come along, Harry, Susan,” Amelia said as the lift arrived, ignoring the witch who was still gaping after them. She pressed the button for level two and explained who the witch was as they descended deeper into the Ministry.

“Melinda is the assistant to the Minister of Magic. She handles things he can’t be bothered with, like scheduling meetings, sending owls, and fetching lunch.

She’s also a terrible gossip.” She winked at Susan, who giggled. Harry felt relieved he hadn’t jinxed her, considering she was close to the Minister.

“Level Four; Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” the cool voice of the lift announced before the doors opened. A tall man with dark skin, a shiny bald head, and a single gold hoop in his ear stepped smartly into the lift.

“Madame Bones, Susan,” he greeted them in a calm, deep voice. “How are you?”

Harry, tucked away in the corner behind the man, was grateful not to be seen.

“We're well, Kingsley. How are you?” Amelia replied warmly.

“Just fine, thank you. I had a bit of business to take care of regarding that spat between the Goblins and Centaurs,” he said.

“Aah, yes, well, neither of them likes to share much, do they?” Amelia chuckled. “Just so,” Kingsley nodded before turning to Susan.

“Are you on your summer holiday then?”

Susan nodded. “Yes, sir.

We’re showing my friend the Ministry today.” Kingsley glanced around, his expression attentive. As the lift descended, Harry scanned the interior, searching for Susan’s friend.

Suddenly, he spotted Kingsley Shacklebolt. “Hello, young man.

Kingsley Shacklebolt,” he said, extending a large hand for Harry to shake. “How are you?” 

Harry hesitated, opting for a nod instead of shaking hands.

“Harry, and good, thank you,” he replied. Kingsley seemed like a decent bloke.

He took a step back, which Harry appreciated, perhaps not recognizing him—or choosing not to make a fuss if he did. “Harry, Auror Shacklebolt is one of the top Aurors in the country,” Amelia said.

“He could answer any questions you have about the job!”

Harry’s initial impression of Kingsley began to shift. He subtly tried to shuffle away from the man, only to find himself cornered.

“Er—do you like your job?” he stammered, looking down at his hands. He missed the way Kingsley raised an eyebrow at Amelia, who shook her head slightly.

‘Not now,’ she mouthed. “I do.

I trained with your father, you know,” Kingsley said. Harry looked up sharply.

Shacklebolt appeared older than his father did in the photos Harry had, stirring an uncomfortable realization that Kingsley was ten years older than his father had ever been. It struck him painfully that his dad had been training to be part of the DMLE before he was murdered.

“Was he any good?” 

Kingsley chuckled deeply and shook his head, his earring glinting in the light. “He would have been better if he didn’t spend all his time trying to prank the other trainees.”

Harry attempted a smile at that, but it only reminded him of all the ways Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas had pranked him.

“Oh,” he said, feeling awkward. “Level Two: Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” 

He felt a wave of relief wash over him as the lift doors opened.

His hands had started to shake lightly from being trapped in the small space with both Amelia and Kingsley. Shacklebolt.

Harry glanced around the expansive room, and an overwhelming silence fell, as if thirty pairs of eyes were fixed on him. "S-Susan," he whispered, reaching out blindly for her.

"I'm here," she replied softly, grasping his hand tightly and helping him regain his composure. "Is that—Harry Potter?" a wizard gasped, springing to his feet and hurrying toward them.

"Mister Potter! It’s such an honor!" 

Harry looked at him, trying to channel Professor Snape’s most disdainful expression.

"Thanks," he said simply, ignoring the outstretched hand. The first wizard seemed to break the spell on the other employees, who quickly crowded around him.

"Thank you for what you did, child," one woman sniffled, reaching out to him. "You’re a hero!" someone else exclaimed, also stretching out a hand as if to touch him.

Harry felt his heart race, his palms beginning to sweat and shake. "Th-thanks," he stammered, desperately trying to fend off a panic attack in a room full of magical law enforcement.

Susan shot her aunt a pleading look, tilting her head toward Harry. "Back to work!" Amelia ordered sharply, fixing a steely gaze on the nearest witches and wizards.

Harry thought Amelia must be a strict boss; immediately, people began to back away, though they still sent him insufferable smiles and worshipful glances. "Come on, kids, I’ll show you my office," she said.

Harry followed closely behind, taking deep breaths and shooting dark glares at the onlookers who stared at his forehead. They can’t even see that stupid little scar, he thought irritably.

They’re going to sound ridiculous when they tell their friends, ‘Oh yeah, I saw Harry Potter’s bangs today!’ 

Susan kept hold of his hand but released it as soon as Amelia’s office door closed behind them. He shot her a grateful look; he didn’t know how she sensed when he needed space, but it was comforting to be understood by someone.

“Those people are morons,” Amelia grumbled under her breath. “I should bring Alastor back for a day to scare them into using their brains.” 

Susan giggled and gave Harry a soft look.

“You okay?” she whispered. “Fine,” he whispered back.

Despite the confined feeling of Amelia’s office, it was a welcome relief from the crowd outside, and he could feel his pulse slowing to a normal rhythm. “Well, Harry, what do you think?” Amelia waggled her brows up and down as she took a seat behind her desk.

“Is this everything you ever imagined?” 

That brought a small grin to Harry's face, even if it was forced. “It’s definitely just as big as Susan said it was.

And you’re in charge of all those people out there?”

Amelia scowled but nodded. “Sometimes I think I’m in charge, and sometimes I feel like I’m babysitting.” 

Harry stepped over to her bookcase, examining the titles while keeping both Amelia and the door in his line of sight.

“It must be a lot of w—” 

He was cut off by a short, curt knock before the office door was unceremoniously thrown open. A man entered, bouncing on the balls of his feet and scanning Amelia’s office with excitement.

He was short and portly, dressed in a pinstriped cloak and a matching bowler hat. “Madame Bones!” he exclaimed, making eye contact with Harry.

“You didn’t tell me you’d have a visitor today!” 

Harry glanced over at Amelia, who huffed out an annoyed breath. “Harry, this is the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

Minister Fudge, this is my niece Susan’s friend, Harry Potter.” 

The Minister surveyed Harry with a look of both pleasure and trepidation. Harry decided he liked the man; anyone who seemed to both like him and be a little nervous around him had to have good instincts.

“Hello, Minister Fudge,” Harry said with a nod. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Fudge gave a weak chuckle.

“All good things, I hope?”

They weren’t, but Harry wasn’t foolish. “Of course, sir.

Lucius Malfoy says you’re the greatest minister we’ve ever had.” Lucius had shared a few insights about the Minister during their conversations, but that wasn’t one of them. He did mention that the Minister thrived on praise, which seemed spot on.

Minister Fudge straightened up proudly and gave Harry an approving look. “So, you know Lucius, do you?

Excellent!” He glanced around Amelia’s office before turning his attention back to Harry. “And what brings you here today, Harry?”

Harry gave a bashful smile and squeezed Susan’s hand sharply to signal a quick change in their plan.

“I wanted to see the Ministry and learn more about it,” he said, lowering his eyes shyly. “And since Susan’s aunt runs this department, she said she’d show me.

Isn’t it amazing how she’s in charge of all those people?” He looked up at the Minister with wide, innocent eyes. Minister Fudge grabbed the lapels of his robes and puffed out his chest importantly.

Harry thought he looked rather silly. “Well, Harry, the DMLE is indeed impressive, but as Minister, I supervise quite a few people as well.” He winked at Harry, who inwardly smirked; the man had taken the bait too easily.

“You do?” Harry asked breathlessly. “Wow!

Maybe one day I can see your office. I bet it’s amazing!

Mister Malfoy said you were brilliant. Do you have a lot of interesting things in there?” Come on, ask me, come on...

he willed him. “Well—how would you like to come see?” 

Got him.

“Oh! I dunno,” Harry glanced down at the floor again before peeking up through his fringe.

“I’m sure you and Madame Bones are too busy to give me more of a tour. This has already been a dream come true.” 

Harry heard Susan stifle a laugh, but he focused on Fudge.

“Nonsense!” Fudge exclaimed. “The next Lord Potter, eh?

You should be seeing—”

“...all there is to see of our government and meeting the right people!” Harry thought to himself that Fudge intended to drag him around like some prized show pony. “Amelia, you don’t mind, do you?

If I borrow your young charges here?” Fudge asked. Amelia shot a sharp glance at Harry and Susan, her expression reminiscent of Professor Snape's, as if searching for any hint of mischief.

“No, sir, that would be fine,” she replied, seemingly satisfied with whatever she found. “But if you’d be so kind to send them straight back here when you’re finished?”

“Of course, of course!” Fudge replied, a possessive gleam in his eyes as he looked at Harry again.

You can do this, he coached himself. You’ve pretended to be a lot nicer to a lot worse people before.

That was true, but he had no intention of using his body as leverage again. He didn’t mind cashing in on his fame to get what he wanted and needed, but if the Minister made one move toward him, Britain would need to hold a new election.

Harry allowed the Minister to lead them through the Ministry on his way to his office. Fudge stopped to chat with so many people that Harry lost track of their names.

He kept a firm hold on Susan’s hand, using it as an excuse to avoid shaking anyone else’s. “And here’s where the real magic happens!” Fudge announced, gesturing dramatically at his office.

“That’s real Gumwood,” he said proudly, tapping his desk lightly. “Nice, eh?”

Harry nodded in agreement, playing his part perfectly.

Privately, he thought that if this were his office, he would choose a darker color scheme. It was just so bright right now.

After what felt like enough time spent buttering up the Minister—who, according to Mister Malfoy, would probably be a good ally—Harry nudged Susan pointedly. “Harry, do you want to go get lunch?” she asked brightly, interrupting the Minister as he began yet another story about some important family he knew.

“I know where there are some really amazing desserts in the dining hall!”

With that, Harry got to his feet and stretched out. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

Madame Bones will probably want us back soon.” Fudge appeared a bit disappointed by their act. “Oh, of course, yes.

You both should go get something to eat. I trust you can find your way back to Amelia’s office on your own?” After they nodded obediently, he gave them an indulgent wink.

“Just tell the elves in the dining hall to put your bill on my tab.”

Harry forced a laugh and eagerly thanked him again for the tour and all the stories he shared. “Of course, anytime, lad!” Fudge straightened up and looked down at Harry fondly.

“If you ever need anything, I dare say letters addressed to the Minister will find me.”

Harry smiled politely, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Mister Malfoy was right; Fudge enjoyed being Minister, and he was a complete fool.

“C’mon,” he whispered to Susan, quickly throwing his cloak over both of them as soon as they stepped into the hall. “I don’t want to be stopped a million times,” he explained.

“It’s quicker under here.”

Susan held his hand tightly, following him as he wandered around, a bit lost. “Oh, just follow me,” she huffed.

Harry blushed faintly but followed her as she turned this way and that, darting across hallways and down staircases. “Here it is,” she whispered, gesturing to an unmarked door.

Harry removed the cloak and knocked politely before opening the door. He stepped into what seemed like an absolutely ordinary, albeit larger than expected, office.

“Can I help you?” a bored blonde-haired witch asked without looking up from the book she was reading at her desk. Harry stood tall and replied, “I’m here to get a prophecy that was made about me.”

The witch sighed dramatically, as if he were the biggest inconvenience in the world, before finally looking up and gasping.

“Oh! You’re Harry Potter!” 

Susan giggled behind him while Harry tried to give her a polite smile, playing the part of the humble visitor.

“Boy-Who-Lived,” he said, trying to sound confident, but he worried it came out more like a grimace. “Yes, ma’am,” he added politely.

“And I’d like to get a prophecy about myself, please.”

The witch scrutinized him and Susan closely, her hands wringing together nervously. “I—I don’t know...

I don’t usually get kids down here... I’m not sure what the policy is for children and prophecies…”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Susan, who twisted her mouth into the tiniest scowl.

He turned back to the witch, hoping that Professor Snape's advice would work here, just as it had with Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore. Lowering his gaze to the floor, he tried to sound as shy as possible.

“Well, ma’am, my mum would probably have come with me, but she’s… she’s dead, you know? The prophecy is supposed to tell me why she died,” he sniffled a little for effect.

“I just don’t understand why anyone would hurt my parents.” 

He mentally crossed his fingers as he fabricated a lie on the spot. “And I know I’m awfully young, but the Minister said you’d be able to help me…” He peeked up at her, giving her a sad look, trying out Susan’s puppy-eyed technique.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait until I’m an adult since I’ll never have any parents to come with me.”

The witch stared at him, her upper lip trembling for a moment before she reached into her desk with a slight sniffle. “No need, dear, you poor thing.

Of course, you’ll have to come alone…” she rambled. “Here, sweetheart, just prick your finger on this needle,” she held it out to him.

“It only hurts for a moment. You want to let a drop of blood fall onto this parchment, okay?”

Harry doubted that a little prick to his finger would hurt, but he nodded and did exactly as she asked.

When he handed the parchment back to her, adding a shy smile for effect, the witch beamed at him. “It looks like there’s one prophecy linked to your magic, Mister Potter.”

"You'll have to come with me to get it; I can't touch it, of course." 

Harry nodded, trying to appear as if he understood.

"Right, of course." 

She led him, along with Susan who trailed behind, through another door in her office. They entered a room filled with towering shelves, each one covered in small, dusty glass orbs.

The orbs glimmered dully in the light cast by candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves. They followed her as she walked briskly down row after row of the sparkling spheres.

"Ninety-five... ninety-six...

here it is!" she announced. "Ninety-seven—Harry Potter!" She pointed at one of the small glass spheres, which glowed with a faint inner light, despite being covered in dust and seemingly untouched for years.

Harry cautiously stepped closer and noticed a small plaque beneath the orb that read: ‘SPT to APWBD Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter.’ 

"Go ahead, dearie. You're the only one who can grab it," she said in a hushed voice.

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Susan, who nodded encouragingly. He closed his fingers around the dusty surface of the ball.

He had expected it to feel cold, but instead, it felt warm, as though it had been basking in the sun for hours, the glow within giving it a comforting heat. Hoping for something dramatic to occur, he lifted the glass ball from its shelf and stared at it.

Nothing happened. Susan moved in closer, her eyes fixed on the orb as Harry brushed away the thick layer of dust.

"We did it," she whispered fiercely. "How do I hear it?" he asked the witch.

"If you’d like to listen to it more than once, you should place it in a Pensieve to hear the prophecy," the witch instructed, guiding them back through the vast room. "But if you only want to hear it once, then breaking it open is your best bet.

Just remember, you can never hear it again after that."

Harry gripped the little orb tightly as he and Susan made their way back to the second level where her aunt was waiting. He couldn't believe how easy it had been.

Now he would finally hear the whole prophecy and perhaps start to unravel what really happened on the night Voldemort killed his parents. He hoped Professor Snape would have a Pensieve he could use when they returned to Hogwarts.

He also wished that the Ministry Dining Hall would have plenty of options, because he and Susan were about to run up quite a bill. **Amelia Bones’ POV**

When Susan first told her about her new friend, Harry Potter, Amelia had felt pleased about their friendship.

Lily Evans had been a wonderful friend to her in school, and even though James Potter had been a bit of a troublemaker, at their wedding, Amelia could see how deeply he loved her and how committed he was to his family. The fact that he died trying to protect his beloved wife and son was likely a point of pride for him, wherever their souls might be resting.

But then Susan started writing about her concerns for Harry. "He hates being touched, Auntie," she wrote.

"The other kids are either horrible to him or terrified of him. I don’t think he sleeps much, and he won’t eat.

I think he’s used to being hated. Harry got into another fight.

Can’t you help him like you helped those other kids?"

Amelia read the letters and didn’t like the picture Susan was painting. She had tried to reach out to Albus multiple times to discuss Harry, but each attempt was met with resistance.

It almost felt like he knew what she wanted to talk about and was deliberately avoiding her. That seemed absurd, didn’t it?

Lily and James had died following Albus' orders. Surely, no one could care more for the child than he did.

She had almost convinced herself of that until Severus Snape appeared in her office. “If this were to fall out and you read it, then I have committed no act that the child can find treasonous,” he said as he handed her a document.

Amelia sat down with the parchment that evening, pouring over its contents. She spent hours at the Ministry, desperately searching for any mention of Harry James Potter in the files of the Department of Child Safety.

To her dismay, there wasn't a single trace indicating that Harry had ever been an open case in their department. She recalled something Severus had mentioned: “There are those who would be incredibly interested in his whereabouts.

However, those would be the very ones from whom the child needs to be shielded.” As she pondered the absence of any documentation regarding the orphaned Harry Potter, Amelia couldn't help but wonder if Albus Dumbledore was one of those individuals Harry needed protection from. Quickly, she pushed that thought aside, focusing intently on not revisiting it.

Her mind had to remain clear for her position on the Wizengamot, especially with a powerful Legilimens serving on the same court. Instead, her thoughts turned to Susan’s friendship with Harry.

Amelia worried that Harry’s medical history, filled with troubling injuries, might leave him too hardened, traumatized, or even mad to form a bond with her niece. Yet, she had told Severus she would take Harry for two weeks over the summer, and she intended to keep her promise.

Amelia Bones was a witch of her word. Then she met him, and her heart shattered.

Harry Potter was the fragile size of a child, perhaps nine years old, yet he carried himself as though he had already fought in wars. He regarded her with wary eyes, as if expecting an attack at any moment.

He pressed his back against the wall, scanning for every exit in the room before stepping inside. He kept a safe distance from Amelia, flinching at sudden movements and stiffening at any touch from Susan.

Despite his guarded demeanor, he was soft-spoken and unfailingly polite. Amelia found herself wondering if his politeness stemmed from a genuine desire to behave correctly or from fear of the consequences of disrespecting an adult.

“You look quite a bit like your father,” she said fondly on their first meeting. “Good afternoon there,” Amelia said, looking at Harry.

“Though you have Lily’s eyes.” Of course, neither Lily nor James Potter had ever sported a jagged scar that stretched down the side of their face. As she observed Harry, she noticed multiple silver scars across his hands and wrists, each one telling the story of a lifetime filled with battles.

James hadn't even lived long enough to see Harry reach double his years, yet Harry's scars hinted at a life that bore triple the pain James had ever known. “Professor Snape told me I could be a ‘James Potter miniature,’ but I don’t think he meant it as a compliment,” Harry remarked with a smirk.

Amelia chuckled, recalling Severus' long-standing rivalry with James. “Yes, well, those two took the Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry to new heights, didn’t they?”

“That’s so silly,” Susan chimed in.

“We have a good friend, Neville, and he’s in Gryffindor, right Harry?”

Amelia knew that Neville Longbottom had formed a solid alliance with Harry—after all, the entire Ministry probably knew it as well, thanks to Augusta’s boasting. She was surprised Augusta had allowed that friendship to flourish.

She would have disapproved of a formal political alliance at such a young age, but then again, Harry Potter likely needed allies. And she was confident that Neville would grow to be as strong as his father and as kind as his mother.

“I think it’s stupid to be friends with people, or to hate them, just because of what house they’re in,” Harry declared firmly. “Susan would be my best friend even if she was in Gryffindor.”

That fierce loyalty struck Amelia with a pang of sadness; it reminded her of James' unwavering belief in his friends.

One was dead, one was missing, and one never deserved the love or loyalty of James Potter. She hoped that all of those in their 'group,' as Susan called it, were worthy of such faith.

Amelia couldn't help but smile at Harry's keen interest in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She noticed the way his eyes tightened when Kingsley Shacklebolt was introduced.

Kingsley certainly picked up on Harry's instinct to edge away from him, and she wondered what thoughts were swirling in Harry's mind. Amelia wondered why the Boy Hero of Britain seemed ready to either flee or fight during what should have been a simple conversation.

She certainly hadn’t expected to see the disdainful look Harry shot at the other members of her department, who had stumbled over themselves to introduce themselves to him. It almost made her laugh at the time.

She had never imagined that someone who physically resembled James Potter so closely could wear such a Severus Snape-like expression. But it was clear that Harry Potter didn’t have much fondness for law enforcement.

She couldn’t help but think that James would be disappointed by this; after all, he had been training to become a Hit Wizard before being forced into hiding. On the bright side, Harry had seemed genuinely pleased to meet Minister Fudge.

It wasn’t every day that the Minister of Magic gave a child a tour of his offices. When Harry and Susan returned from their meeting with Fudge, their eyes sparkled with excitement, and they looked thoroughly pleased with themselves.

Amelia wondered if Harry had political aspirations. She knew he had formed friendships with the sons of Lucius Malfoy and the Contessa Zabini of Italy.

Perhaps those families were shaping Harry’s ideals. One evening, she finally saw her chance to ask Harry about his future plans.

Susan was upstairs working on a summer assignment for Filius, leaving Harry to browse the bookcase. Amelia entered the sitting room and asked casually, “Have you thought much about what you want to do after school?” 

Harry stiffened slightly and turned his back to the bookshelf.

“M-maybe work in the Ministry,” he replied softly, glancing quickly behind her at the empty doorway. “But not in the DMLE, right?” 

Harry’s eyes snapped to hers, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

In that moment, he looked so much like Lily. “I just think m-maybe I could make m-more of a difference somewhere else,” he mumbled.

“Hmm,” she mused thoughtfully. “And what kind of differences would you make?” 

Harry shrugged, but a glimmer sparked in his eyes that reminded her of James when he was on a passionate rant about his own beliefs.

“Transfiguration. I’d start by getting rid of the idea that bloodlines matter.

And I’d make sure Goblins, Elves, Werewolves, and other magical beings have a voice in the Wizengamot. It’s ridiculous not to include them.”

Amelia smiled at Harry’s idealistic views on the future of the British Wizarding World.

“And I’d create a way to find Muggle-borns sooner and bring them into our world before they turn eleven.”

That caught Amelia by surprise. “Why?” she asked, incredulously.

Harry looked away, staring down at his hands, which were clenched tightly into fists. “Muggles are dangerous, right?”

“Are they?” she asked gently, recalling his extensive injuries.

Severus hadn’t mentioned that Harry was raised in the Muggle world, only that he had an unsatisfactory home life and needed sanctuary for the summer. But the diagnostic scan had spoken volumes.

Harry had no living Wizarding relatives, which left only Muggles. Merlin help those Muggles if Amelia ever found them.

She knew several members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who wouldn’t hesitate to seek off-the-record revenge for James Potter’s son. Regardless of Harry’s status as the Boy Who Lived, James had been one of theirs, making Harry one of theirs too.

No one in her department took it well when one of their own was harmed. “Yeah, they are,” Harry said firmly, answering her previous question.

“And kids who have magic shouldn’t have to be around them.”

“What if they want to? What if they don’t want to leave their families?” 

“Why wouldn’t they want to come to a place where they belong?

Where they’re special?” he replied. Amelia didn’t have a solid answer for him.

Muggles could indeed be dangerous. The Statue of Secrecy was in place to protect Wizards from them discovering their secrets.

But could she explain to Harry how children might feel attached to their families? “You have a lot of ideas,” she said diplomatically.

Harry shrugged again, and she thought this might be the beginning of something significant. Harry preferred to express himself with a simple gesture in conversations.

“I just think things should change.” Despite Harry's maturity, Amelia felt he should have some normal childhood summer memories. If she had died alongside her sister and her husband, and if Lily and James had taken in Susan, she knew they would have done the same.

One morning, on Harry's fifth day with them, she asked, “How would you both like to go on a day trip?” 

“Ooh, where to?” Susan replied, her smile wide with excitement. Harry glanced at her, his green eyes slightly narrowed, before ducking his head.

“There’s a Muggle fair in London. I thought we might go.

There should be food, games, and rides. We can portkey to the London Wixen Collection Area and then walk to the fair?”

“Can I wear my Muggle clothes?” Susan asked, bouncing in her seat.

“Of course,” Amelia laughed. “We’d make an odd group in our robes.” She turned to Harry and noticed his tightly coiled muscles; he looked ready to flee at any moment.

“Harry?” she said softly. “Do you want to go?

We can do something else if you’d prefer.”

Harry jerked his head up quickly and offered her an unconvincing grin. “Yeah, it sounds brilliant.”

“Do you have Muggle clothes you can wear?” Amelia inquired, having mostly seen him in Wizarding robes.

Harry nodded. “Yep.

Professor Snape took me shopping, didn’t he? We got a lot of clothes, and some of them still fit.”

Amelia felt a deep sense of gratitude that Harry had found a mentor, or perhaps a friend, in Severus Snape.

Severus was a good man—honorable and brave—who followed a strict code of ethics, even if it was his own personal code. “Excellent!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

“Then we’ll go after lunch.” 

Harry seemed more nervous than usual, but she brushed it off. He had probably never been to a fair and was unsure of what to expect.

“Wow!” Susan squealed when they arrived at the fair that evening. “This is brilliant!” 

Amelia laughed at her enthusiasm and the ease with which she took in the sights around them.

Amelia noticed that Harry seemed to have picked up on some Muggle slang. He stood there, his hands trembling slightly as he eyed the throngs of Muggles crowding around them with suspicion.

After a moment of thought, Amelia made an impulsive decision. She pulled the two kids off to the side and crouched down to their level.

“Hey, do you guys want to see a cool spell?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Susan nodded eagerly, while Harry glanced at her wand hand before meeting her gaze.

“What kind of spell?” he asked, curiosity piqued. Leaning closer, Amelia lowered her voice to a whisper.

“We can make it so the Muggles don’t even notice us. They wouldn’t be able to bump into us or anything.” Harry’s eyes widened just a bit, a flicker of interest shining through.

“Really?” he breathed. “They couldn’t touch us?” 

Amelia nodded, her smile unwavering, even though her heart ached at recognizing the root of Harry’s fear.

“I can do it to Susan first so you can see how it works.” When Harry nodded in acceptance, she quickly cast a notice-me-not and redirection charm on her niece. “Watch,” she murmured to Harry.

They kept their eyes fixed on Susan as she dashed through the crowd of Muggles. Not a single person seemed to notice the fiery little redhead dancing among them, nor did they come any closer than twenty centimeters to her.

Susan laughed brightly, her voice ringing out in the midst of the crowd. “Come on, Harry!

This is amazing!” 

Harry glanced up at Amelia, a hint of concern in his expression. “How will we order food or get on the rides?” 

Leaning in closer, Amelia whispered in his ear, “Can you keep a secret?” 

Harry nodded quickly.

“Magic,” she winked. A look of what she would almost call respect crossed Harry’s face.

She realized that the best way to earn the respect of James Potter’s son was to bend the rules just enough. “Brill!

Will you teach me those spells?” he asked eagerly. Amelia agreed, and they both shared a smile, excitement buzzing in the air around them.

Amelia explained what she was doing as she placed the charms on Harry and then on herself. “Let’s go!” A twinge of guilt tugged at her conscience as she confounded and charmed the Muggles into letting them on the rides and selling them food, but then she caught sight of Harry.

He had never looked more his age or more like Lily. His eyes sparkled with excitement as they indulged in greasy snacks and played games.

He laughed and whooped loudly with Susan on the roller coaster, and Amelia realized that this was the first time she’d heard him laugh genuinely happy. Laws be damned, it was worth it.

For the rest of the summer, Amelia dedicated herself to creating as many childhood memories for Harry as she could. She took the kids to a water park, where Harry stubbornly refused to swim shirtless.

They enjoyed ice cream at parks, and Harry helped her teach Susan how to climb trees—he was surprisingly skilled at it. They also visited malls, and when Susan begged to go to a Muggle cinema, they did that too.

Amelia showed Harry the beach where his parents had gotten married and taught them both how to build sandcastles. She noticed that Harry carried his camera everywhere, documenting each moment they shared.

It made her smile to see Susan pressing her face next to his for photos, and she often found herself playing the role of photographer for the two of them. By the end of those two weeks, both kids seemed more giddy, relaxed, and childlike than they had when they first arrived.

As she waved them goodbye, watching the Hogwarts Express take them back to school, she felt a sense of satisfaction. Just before they boarded the train, Harry surprised her by quickly wrapping one arm around her in what could almost be called a hug.

She considered flooing Severus to let him know how everything went, and she also thought about arranging for Harry to come back next summer. He was a little rough around the edges, but overall, he was a good boy.