Title: Father's Day
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Blah Blah Blah, you know I don't own it.
Author's Notes: Thank you all for your reviews. I'm a bit floored to have so many when all I've done are two chapters. A few notes to a couple of my readers. First, Excalibur, thanks for pointing out the discrepancy. I have fixed it. Hopefully it should read better. To Kyp, no, you weren't the one I was berating. Rest assured if it were you, it would have been much harsher. To Heaven, of course I should have expected it, but I also reserve the right to rip that person's stomach out and feed it to my tarantula. That being said, if anyone else needs to comment on a discrepancy or error, please feel free to do so. I don't bite. Not hard, at least. And only on request.
Chapter 3: Razor's Edge
"Custody of my son, Arthur Ronald Weasley II shall be awarded to my best friend, Harry James Potter."
The phrase echoed in his mind, not really registering. A father - what did he know about raising children? Why did Ron do this to him? Surely there were people better suited to the task. And how could he raise a child with the job he had? He couldn't be seen dragging Artie around while he bounced around from one mission to another. There was too much danger. How could Ron ask this of him? Yet how could he refuse? He had given his word to Ron that he would take care of his family.
It was a thin line he was balancing on. If he refused to do this for Ron, he'd cheapen the friendship they shared. But if he did accept, he'd risk alienating Mrs. Weasley. Neither option was a good one.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the sound of light footsteps and the slamming of a door. Dumbfounded, he glanced at Artie's empty chair. Fred and George were staring at him, their eyes wide in awe. Mrs. Weasley looked furious enough to spit fire, and Mr. Weasley was rubbing his temples as if nursing a bad migraine. Charlie had taken a sudden interest in his shoes and Bill and Fleur had given each other guarded looks. Remus stared directly at him, as if asking him to challenge the contents of Ron's will. It turned out Harry didn't have to - Mrs. Weasley beat him to it.
"Are you sure you read that right, Remus?" Molly asked testily. "Why on earth would Ron give custody of Artie to Harry?"
Lupin gave Molly an apologetic nod. "I know it seems unusual, but that's indeed what it says." As if to prove his point, he handed the parchment over to Mrs. Weasley, who promptly grabbed it and began reading furiously. Mr. Weasley read over his wife's shoulder, the expression on his face indiscernible. Molly's eyes widened as they reached the part in question, casting a furtive glance towards Harry and then shaking her head noticeably.
"But Harry … Harry doesn't know anything about raising children! Artie needs to be with his family!" she exclaimed, her face reddening. "He needs a mother who will take care of him and … and who won't run away for years at a time and leave him alone!"
"Hey!" Harry shouted, his green gaze narrowing a bit. But as instantly as he'd voiced his protest, he immediately silenced. Wasn't that, in effect, what he had done? How could Ron have possibly overlooked that? Surely he knew leaving Artie with Harry would be detrimental to his son. Mrs. Weasley gave him a gaze that could have melted steel and threw the will back on the table.
"How could Ron have done this?" she wailed, shoving back from the table so forcefully her chair almost tipped over. In a fury of sobs she ran from the room. Harry stared at the table, unsure of what to say.
"I think I'm going to check on mum," Bill Weasley muttered under his breath. Fleur nodded and the two left the room.
"I think I'll join them," Charlie said, quickly giving Harry a doleful smile and rushing after his brother.
"We'll go find Artie," Fred and George said in unison before they disappeared.
Mr. Weasley let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temples with one hand and running other hand through his rapidly receding hairline.
"I guess that's that," he said quietly, slowly rising to his feet. He began to make his way towards the door, pausing momentarily beside Harry's chair. Harry glanced up at the older man, his eyes widened with shock.
"Please don't be upset with Molly, Harry," Mr. Weasley said quietly. "She doesn't really blame you. She's just been through a lot." He paused, and then almost as an afterthought, added, "I think Ron made the right choice."
And with that, he left the room.
Harry stared at the table, shock still flooding his body. He knew he should be concerned about Artie's reaction to the news, but all he could think about for the moment was what this meant for him.
"Harry," Remus said quietly, snapping the younger wizard out of his reverie. "Ron left an additional letter for you. Would you like to have it now?"
Harry nodded numbly. He could only assume Ron had left instructions on Artie's care, as well as an explanation as to why he'd made this decision. Remus held out an envelope to him, which he took. Slowly, he ripped it open, his eyes briefly scanning the messy text before he settled down to read.
Dear Harry,
If you've gotten this letter, then this means I'm dead. I'm sorry, mate. I wish I could have seen more of you. To tell you the truth, I resented the fact that you were gone so often, but after Artie was born I realized that you had done what you had to do to keep us safe. So no hard feelings, okay?
By now you've probably realized I asked you to take care of Artie. This wasn't an easy decision. Mum must be furious. Don't worry, she'll get over it. In truth, I've been a bit worried about her. Ever since Ginny moved out she's been a bit weepy. Started fixing up all of our rooms as if she was expecting us to come home any moment. It wasn't right. I think she's gotten so used to having children under her roof for so long she doesn't feel like she knows how to do anything else. I'm hoping this will change, not just for her sake, but for dad's too.
I know you've been really busy as an Auror, but there's no one else I trust more than you to do what's best for Artie - except maybe Hermione, of course. I know you have no idea what it's like to be a parent - that's okay. Neither did I, at first. It's the kind of thing you learn as you go along.
There's another reason why I chose you. Out of all of us, you are the only one who has truly missed out on the experience of having a family. Now that I'm gone, Artie is in the same boat. I think you'll be able to understand him better than anyone else - even Hermione.
Take care of my son, Harry. Help him become the kind of man I'd be proud of.
Your best friend,
Ronald Weasley
Harry closed the letter, his eyes drifting shut as he inhaled deeply. How was he supposed to say no to that? He couldn't - more importantly, he wouldn't. He had no idea what Ron was thinking appointing him the guardian of his son, but he owed it to Ron to not let him down.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, focusing his gaze on Lupin. Remus was staring at him with a small smile, his eyes glistening.
"Well, Harry, what's your answer?" he asked.
"I'll do it," Harry replied quietly, nervous chills running through his veins. Remus gave him a small smile, nodding.
"Good," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I was hoping you'd accept." Remus picked up the will and marked a notation on it with a long, feathery quill. After he had finished. The parchment spun around and disappeared out of sight.
"The will is now binding," he said. "I don't think the Weasleys will be able to protest it in court, but my hunch is that Arthur won't let Molly do that, even if she wanted to. Now, let's talk about your future."
"My … future?" Harry stuttered, his eyes widening.
"Of course," Lupin said matter-of-factly. "You're a father now. You have responsibilities now."
What had he gotten himself into?
"Now, I understand Minerva has been looking for a Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Ron was going to take that class, so he could be closer to Artie, but I'm sure she'll have no qualms with offering you the job.
"Wait a minute!" Harry shouted, his eyes widening. "I'm an Auror. Not a teacher!"
"I know," Lupin said. "Kingsley has agreed to grant you an extended leave of absence, with possibility of it being permanent."
"I'm an Auror," Harry protested, feeling the despair start to flood his body. "That's all I've known the past 11 years. You can't do this to me. There are still Deatheaters out there."
"I am not doing anything to you, Harry," Lupin said testily. "This is a direct order handed down from your superior. There are other people who can take care of the Deatheaters. You're not the only Auror out there. And you can't be expected to take care of Artie while you're risking life and limb in another country."
"But…" Harry started to protest, but his voice trailed off. Remus was right, and he knew it. Maybe some time off would do some good - he could make up his long absence to Hermione and the rest.
"It's only a year, Harry. If you decide you can't stay away, then we'll get custody transfer forms drafted. But I want you to give this a fair shot. This will not be easy. I'm sure you'll find that out."
Harry nodded weakly, staring at the table. He wondered once more what he had gotten himself into.
"Now, classes are set to begin in two weeks. No doubt you'll want to take Artie shopping for school supplies before then, and you'll need to decide where you're going to want to live."
"I thought professors lived at Hogwarts?" Harry said, a bit confused.
"Some of them do, but not all. I believe Ms. Granger does. But Ginny floos in from her manor…"
"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted. "Hermione teaches there? And Ginny?"
Lupin frowned. "I'm sorry Harry. I'd forgotten you'd been gone for so long. Yes, after Dumbledore retired Minerva took over as Headmistress. Hermione was hired to replace her. After Madame Hooch's untimely demise, Ginny was hired as a flight instructor."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Just how many of my old classmates are teaching at Hogwarts."
"Well, Snape is still potions master. I expect he'll be a bit disgruntled you got the DADA job, but that's nothing you're not used to, right? Then Neville has taken over for Professor Sprout - she retired two years ago. Trelawney is still there - frankly I think it's because Dumbledore requested Minerva keep her installed until the old bat dies. Filch is there, so you'll want to watch out for him. Hagrid, as you know, left after his marriage to Madame Maxime. I believe he still teaches the Care of Magical Creatures class, although he no longer is Keeper of the Grounds at Hogwarts. I think he floos using one of the larger fireplaces in the Great Hall. I think Grawp has taken over tending the grounds."
Harry's eyes widened. "Grawp?"
Remus smiled. "Yes, well he's considerably more behaved than he used to be. Still loses his temper every once in awhile, but I think Hagrid proved that it was possible for him to learn how to live with wizards peacefully - though it was done on a much slower scale. No students have been harmed since he took over as groundskeeper, though quite a few I imagine have been scared straight after running into him."
The younger wizard shook his head incredulously, recalling Grawp from his fifth year. He had been gone a long time.
"You, of course, will be expected to arrive at Hogwarts on the train. Minerva will probably brief you once you arrive. Do you have any questions?"
Harry frowned, trying to think of anything that had not yet been addressed. One issue did weigh heavily on the back of his mind.
"Hermione," he said quietly, his gaze flickering back to Remus's. "Has she been alright?"
Remus sighed, his shoulders slumping forward a bit. "It's a bit difficult to say, Harry. She was definitely heartbroken after you left so quickly. I wasn't about to ask why, though I dare say she'll expect a good explanation. After awhile she finally pulled herself together and threw herself into her work."
"Has she … I mean … is she seeing anyone?"
Lupin gave him an odd look. "As far as I know, no. Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Harry said, shaking his head quickly. He tucked the answer back in the corner of his mind to analyze at a later date.
"If that's it then, I believe you have some business to attend to, as do I," Lupin said. Harry nodded weakly. In truth he was dreading returning to the Weasleys, but he realized that it was inevitable. The sooner he faced them, and Artie, the sooner he'd get the bad part over with.
Harry followed Lupin out the door and into the hallway. Remus took off in one direction, and Harry left in the other, heading for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were talking quietly at the end of the hallway. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether or not he should interrupt their conversation. But then Mrs. Weasley beckoned him over. Harry inhaled deeply, and then walked slowly over to the two, bracing himself for the yelling that was sure to come.
Arthur gave his wife a warning look, but Mrs. Weasley shook it off. "Harry dear, I'm sorry I lost my temper in there. Ron's … announcement came as a shock, that's all." She frowned, a pained expression coming across her face. "I'm sure you'll make a fine guardian for Artie."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, giving a light nod to Mrs. Weasley. His eyes scanned the hallway, but there was no sign of the others, or of Artie. Harry frowned.
"Where is …"
"I believe he ran off," Arthur said. "Took the floo network to the Burrow. You should be able to find him there. We were just getting ready to apparate there ourselves. Will you be joining us?"
Harry nodded. "I need to speak with him, I guess." Molly gave a slight nod, and together the three of them apparated back to the Burrow.
"Harry, glad you're back," Fred said the second he appeared in the Weasley's living room.
"We were afraid you had run off to Timbuktu," George added. "We were figuring out how we were going to jinx you."
Harry snorted, glancing up the long staircase that led to the upper bedrooms. He turned back to Fred and George. "Is Artie…?"
"He's up there, all right," Fred snorted. "Slammed the door in my face."
"Mine too," added George. "We thought we'd give him a chance to cool down."
The former Auror nodded. "Maybe. I think I'll go have a word with him."
"So you're going to do it, then?" Fred asked, his blue eyes twinkling with curiosity. Harry nodded. The twins grinned broadly.
"Wicked," George said. "Now we're going to have to supply him with enough dung bombs to last him 'til he's eighteen."
Harry's eyes widened; and the twins burst out in a fit of laughter. Shaking his head, Harry made his way up the staircase, trying to formulate what he'd say to Artie. Soon he was at the closed doorway. Hesitating for only a moment, Harry knocked on the door.
"Go away," called a muffled voice from inside.
At least he's talking to me, Harry thought. He hesitated for a moment, and then opened the door. Something came flying towards his head and Harry ducked as magazine smacked the wall over his head.
"I said go away!" Artie screamed, his face red with anger. He reached up to throw another magazine at Harry, but Harry sidestepped that one too, and the one after it. Finally, in a huff, Artie turned towards the wall, putting his back towards Harry.
Harry stood there at a loss. What was he supposed to say to the boy? Obviously Artie didn't like him. His heart fell somewhat when he realized that maybe Artie didn't want to stay with him. Maybe he'd been counting on his grandparents to take him in. Frowning, Harry crossed the room and took a seat on the end of the bed. Artie turned away, facing in the opposite direction from Harry.
"Um, I wanted to talk to you," Harry stammered. Artie didn't move a muscle. Sighing, the older wizard looked to the ground. "Look, if you want to stay with your grandparents, I'm sure we can …"
"I don't want to stay here," Artie interrupted, his voice terse. Harry's eyes widened a bit.
"You … don't want to stay with your relatives?"
"I don't want to stay anywhere. I hate grandpa and grandma. I hate Uncle Fred and Uncle George. And I hate stupid Uncle Percy. And I hate you too!"
Harry frowned, confused. He shook his head, wishing he could ask Hermione for advice. But Hermione wasn't speaking to him, and if he started asking Mrs. Weasley for help, it'd just reaffirm her belief that Harry was incompetent. He had to handle this himself.
"Well, I don't hate you," Harry said softly. "And your dad wanted me to take care of you if anything happened to him. So that's what I plan on doing."
More silence.
"I'll be teaching at Hogwarts this fall. Maybe we can get to know each other there," Harry frowned, trying to think of a way to get through to the eleven-year-old. "I could show you my broom."
"I don't want to see your broom," Artie grumbled. "I hate flying." Harry's eyes widened. Ron's son hated flying? What on earth was that about?
"Oh," Harry said, blushing brightly. "Well, um, maybe something else, then."
Artie sighed, his shoulders slumping forward as he shook his head. "Why are you teaching at Hogwarts? Why do I have to go?"
"I, uh ...," Harry frowned. "Well, I'm taking a break from my job at the Ministry. I was an Auror, you know. Professor McG… I mean Headmaster … Headmistress McGonagall thought I might enjoy teaching for a year." Harry frowned, deep in thought. "Is that why you're mad at me? Because I'm taking the job your father was supposed to do?"
"I don't hate you," Artie said loudly. "Now will you go away and leave me alone?"
Harry frowned. Just five minutes ago Artie had said he hated him. Now he didn't? What had he gotten himself into? Shaking his head, Harry sighed, rising to his feet.
"Well, look, if you need anything, let me know. Okay?" He said, fighting the feeling that this conversation had not gone at all how he planned. Artie just shrugged.
Stifling a sigh, Harry headed out of the room.
* * *
The next week seemed to pass by in a blur. Harry found himself pouring over the texts of his old DADA books, trying to formulate lesson plans. When he wasn't busy preparing, Mrs. Weasley constantly badgered him, offering him advice about parenting, or giving him books to read, or adding tidbits of wisdom she accumulated over the years. Two days before the term was scheduled to begin at Hogwarts, Harry found himself relieved to be going back to the school. It would be a welcome break.
Of course, Artie still avoided him whenever possible, and only spoke to Harry when he had to. Mrs. Weasley seemed to take some comfort in this, hinting several times that if Harry thought he couldn't handle it, she'd gladly take over.
But Ron had appointed him as Artie's guardian; and Harry wasn't about to back down from that. Besides, how hard could it be to raise an eleven-year-old? He'd already battled Voldemort. Nothing could be that bad.
Later on, Harry would come to realize just how wrong he was.
* * *
Two days before they were scheduled to leave for Hogwarts, Harry made his way to Artie's room. He knocked on the door reluctantly, and when he didn't receive a response, went on in. Artie gave Harry a sour glance and went back to reading his magazine, Which Broomstick.
So he hates flying, but he likes brooms? Harry shook his head, confused.
"Do you have to barge in like that?" Artie said sarcastically. Harry sighed.
"I came to tell you that tomorrow we need to go to Diagon Alley and get your school supplies. Mrs. Wea … your grandmother offered to get them, but I told her I'd rather take you."
"Why do I have to go?"
Harry sighed. "Because, they're going to be your school supplies. You need a wand, and I can't get that for you. And I thought we might stop by the pet shop and see about getting you an owl."
Artie's eyes widened and he looked away from his magazine and to Harry. "A real owl? Not one I have to borrow from you?"
The older man stifled a smile. He missed Hedwig, who had died two years ago of old age. He'd refrained from getting another one out of respect for his friend, but he knew just how important a boy's first owl could be.
"Yes, one of your own. I'll use one of the school owls if I need one," he said. Hesitating for a brief moment, he added. "We can see what brooms are out too, if you want."
Artie smiled at Harry for the first time.
"Of course," Harry said, relieved this conversation was going so well. "If you don't like flying, I suppose we could just visit Madame Maulkin's instead."
"No, it's okay, we can look at brooms," Artie said quickly. Harry arched an eyebrow as the younger boy realized his mistake. Frowning, he shrugged and said. "I have to learn how to fly one of those stupid things, anyways."
And here it had been going so well, Harry thought. Shrugging, he turned to the doorway and headed back downstairs.
* * *
The next day, after eating a hearty breakfast, Harry and Artie flooed to Diagon Alley. Harry offered to show the boy around, but Artie seemed nonplussed. It was hard for Harry to remember that Artie had been raised a wizard, so such things were of no great interest. Harry remembered his first trip to Diagon Alley in great detail. It was just another thing that he didn't seem to have in common with Ron's son.
The pair visited Madame Maulkin's and got Artie fitted with some fresh school robes, made a visit to Flourish and Blott's and several other stores, picking up Artie's various school supplies. Artie was less than thrilled when Harry made him go with him to Gringott's to visit his vault, and in protest the younger boy didn't speak to his guardian for a half hour.
After leaving Ollivander's with a fresh wand for Artie (Unicorn Hair, 10 inches), the two made their way to the pet store. Artie looked around in amazement as he wandered the aisles of cats, owls, rats, and various other animals. Harry followed, deciding that he'd remain silent and make Artie make up his mind.
Artie seemed to pay his godfather no mind as he poked and prodded at the various owls, searching for something Harry couldn't pick out. Suddenly, he stopped in front of a large cage that held a huge, black owl. Harry's jaw about dropped when he saw the price tag.
"Um, Artie, that one is 200 galleons," Harry stuttered, his mind racing.
The boy nodded, his red hair bobbing up and down. "I know. This is the one I want."
"And a fine choice it is, young man," the shopkeeper said, stepping up beside Harry. "That one is our rarest bird yet. She can go all night and never misses a delivery, she does."
Harry narrowed his gaze. "How is that different from your other owls?" But the shopkeeper seemed unable to answer this question.
"This is the one I want," Artie said insistently, looking up at Harry. "My father would have gotten it for me."
Harry closed his eyes. Somehow, he highly doubted Ron would have spent 200 galleons on an owl for his son, but he had no real way of knowing. He sighed, glancing into his drawstring bag. He had just over 200 galleons. He'd have to make another trip back to Gringott's.
Giving in, he nodded, handing the bag to the shopkeeper, whose eyes lit up at making such a hefty sale. Artie grinned as he grabbed the cage. When he looked away, Harry shook his head once more. What had he gotten himself into?
After leaving the Emporium, the two of them made their way to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. Artie asked for ice cream, and Harry, tired from arguing with the boy, granted him the request. He ordered a sandwich and watched the wizards and witches pass.
"So what are you going to name him?" Harry asked, pointing to the black bird that was pecking at a crust of bread on the bottom of the cage. Artie shrugged.
"I dunno," he said. "How about scarface?"
Harry spit his sandwich out, his eyes widening. He glanced at the younger boy quickly, who grinned.
"I was just joking. I think I'll call him Arnold."
"Arnold?" Harry asked, frowning. He'd never heard of an owl with such an ordinary name.
"Yeah, Arnold," Artie said, poking his finger through the bars of the cage. "I like it."
"Um, Arnold it is, then," Harry said hurriedly. He was just about to take another bite of his sandwich when he saw a glint of brown hair flashing in the distance. It was Hermione.
Harry jumped to his feet, muttering for Artie to stay put while he ran his way through the crowds, nearly bumping a few people over as he made his way in the direction of his friend. Artie followed behind him, seemingly ignoring Harry's request, but Harry didn't notice. The older wizard skidded to a stop a few feet from Hermione.
"Hermione, there you are," Harry panted between breaths. "We need to talk."
Hermione stiffened, the muscles at the corner of her jaw tensing as she set down the cauldron she'd been studying. Slowly she turned to face Harry, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"So you want to talk now, is it?" she said quietly, her eyes flashing with fury. "Nearly eleven years pass without so much as an owl, and suddenly the great Harry Potter reappears and he expects everything to be okay?"
"Hermione, I …" Harry stuttered, trying to interrupt, but the witch cut him off brusquely.
"No, you listen," she said, her voice growing louder. Harry winced. They were starting to attract a crowd. She continued, "I waited for you Harry. I waited every day for nearly five years, hoping that your letter would be in the post. I read the Daily Prophet every day, scared to find your obituary. And now you return, seven years later, with a 'Hey, Hermione' and you expect me to roll over and thank Merlin that you're back unharmed?" Her brown eyes welled with angry tears, but they remained unshed.
"I'm done waiting for you, Harry Potter. I have a life of my own now, and you're not a part of it. Now go away and leave me alone."
Harry felt his heart breaking, but he grabbed at her shoulder desperately as she began to turn away from him. A second later he realized his mistake.
Hermione spun around, her fist closed into a tight fist. The punch caught Harry right above his left eye, shattering his glasses and sending him reeling towards the ground. Stars flashed before his eyes. Somewhere in the background he could hear Artie laughing.
His former best friend stood over his body, angry tears streaming down her cheeks as she whispered her next words.
"Goodbye, Harry Potter."