His love for Potions II

Chapter 5: Greg is helping out (a bit)

Mrs. Weasley seemed to think the children could be distracted from their plotting via chores, but Harry decided he was a little cross with her and immediately skivved off with Fred and George to test magic candy recipes they'd been working on, chatting amiably about his new idea for a lemon flavored one to cheer people up.

"We've been marketing yours to St Mungos children's department," George told him, passing him a purple thing to test. Harry eyed it cautiously. "Because we always hated drinking potions as kids. Who doesn't love candy? But they're taking a while to catch on, so we thought we'd try something aimed at parents instead."

"How's production?"

"We've been able to keep up with demand so far, since we're not in the Order, but it'll be tricky once we get back to school," Fred allowed. "That's where you come in, partner."

Which is how Harry found out that Fred and George were much more efficient than their mother at keeping him too busy to think about Voldemort.

#

"So," Harry asked Professor Moody, "If two students were fighting all the time, would you send them into the Forbidden Forest to collect spiders until they decided to change their ways?"

"Yep."

"Huh. He did a really good impression of you."

"He asked me for advice, Potter."

Harry decided to get out of that conversation pretty quickly.

#

Number 12 was beginning to look actually good, though apparently Harry's idea and Mrs. Weasley's idea of good had some divergence, since she kept finding things for the troops to do. Harry settled back into his room nicely once he cleared up that little misunderstanding with Mrs. Weasley. He found the way her eyes turned teary as she looked at his pictures on the wall really very alarming, and the hug was... well. It was a hug.

She speed-knitted him a bedspread in red yarn and Harry had to hide in his wardrobe for an hour, letting the small space sooth the part of himself that wanted to burst into tears. It felt like being back in his cupboard, all dusty and slightly lemon-scented. It was really nice. He made a mental note to never dust it.

#

"Kreacher," Harry said quietly, having found a moment when he wasn't surrounded by people. He knew how he'd feel if he'd been alone for fourteen years and then suddenly had all these people. He was feeling rather that way himself, and he'd only been alone at the Dursleys for a month.

"Kreacher has been ordered to be polite," Kreacher informed him. "So he cannot tell you how horrible you are, bringing awful magical things into his Master's house."

"I live here too," Harry said firmly.

"Kreacher wants to know how you defeated the Dark Lord."

"Well, I won't tell you unless you stop calling Hermione a - bad names. Not even under your breath."

"The master's godson," Kreacher informs thin air, "Has terrible friends, just like the master."

Harry sighed.

"I'll help you rescue a few things from the cleaning spree and tuck them away in the attic," Harry offered. "Clean, mind. Not covered in doxy eggs or anything else that's going to hatch."

And suddenly, they were in business. Even if Harry wasn't entirely sure this was a good bargain to have made. Still, he'd gotten into the habit of shielding Hermione from horrible, bigoted insults, and he wasn't going to stop now. Harry gave Kreacher quiet orders about taking care of the Potions lab upstairs, which Harry had kept locked because he could see two things vividly in his mind: Mrs. Weasley finding it, and Fred and George finding it.

Harry was almost busy enough to forget his hearing, but luckily he was living in a cursed house that kept the bad things in life firmly in the forefront of one's mind whenever one let one's guard down (which was mostly right before bed, lying in the dark). Harry reminded Sirius frequently and firmly to Occlude, but in an undertone, because he didn't want anyone thinking his godfather was really crazy and taking him away somewhere. Harry had suspicions about Mrs. Weasley, who already thought Sirius wasn't godfathering right. Sirius complained he was pants at Occluding, so they settled for breaking some awful old plates whenever Sirius got too frustrated.

Despite some effort, Harry cornered neither Professor Snape nor Greg in the time before his hearing at the Ministry. Greg seemed to be constantly wandering the house, aimless and silent, retracing his steps and walking in circles, pausing only to obey direct orders.

#

Harry had been wanting to talk to Professor Dumbledore at the trial, but he didn't have the chance.

He ended up making another short line in his dream journal, which had turned mostly into a 'notes about curse scar' journal, written in what he hoped was sufficient code.

One instance, brief, lunch after hearing. Talking to Ron, Hermione.

It wasn't that he thought there was a pattern, he was just preoccupied about Professor Snape, and taking notes about things made him think maybe later Professor Snape would think he wasn't completely hopeless.

There was really only one more interesting thing that happened that summer, but it was a doozy.

#

"Found it," Greg told Harry happily. "Come see."

"Found what?" Harry asked, following him upstairs.

"The cursed thing," Greg said. "Left it in my room because I didn't want anyone nicking it."

"Which cursed thing? There's loads."

"The one you were looking for," Greg informed him.

Greg held out a handsome necklace - a locket.

"Had to fight that house elf for it," Greg added. "But I didn't kill him."

"...thanks," Harry said faintly, eyeing it warily. Remembering the last time he'd picked up a cursed object in this house. "How'd you find it?"

"Found the part of the house where I was saddest. Took a while."

Harry stared at the locket for a minute.

"...we should talk to Sirius. He might know what it is. Maybe he'll want to keep it."

Sirius did not want to keep it.

#

What followed could only be called a comedy of destruction. Sirius tried smashing the locket, which broke his hammer. He tried melting it, which melted its chain and turned the fire an awful black color. He tried hitting it with spells, which burnt the floor and brought Molly Weasley down on all their heads, though Sirius hid the locket pretty quickly from her.

In the end, Harry stuck it in a box lined with woven spider silk and thistle pods, which at least made its aura a little less malignant.

Kreacher, who had been watching their antics for the past few hours, took it out of his startled hands.

"Kreacher keeps it."

"That can't be good for you, Kreacher," Harry told him firmly.

"It is Kreacher's duty. Kreacher keeps it."

"You keep it safe?"

"Kreacher keeps it."

Sirius dragged Greg and Harry down to the kitchen for chocolate, conversation, and a fervent discussion of why Sirius's house was so weird.