The House(s) of Gryffindor

Albus Dumbledore was a good man. He had protected and guided the Wizarding world for many years, and thanks to Wizarding lifespan possibly many more to come. Which is why he so often had to make difficult decisions.

Was he proud that his idea to keep Tom away from the Philosopher's Stone had worked, yes. But the fact that young Harry had been attacked with no knowledge going into it was upsetting. He had meant for Harry and his friends to pursue the thief, for Harry to be the attacker rather than the victim. He felt bad that such things needed to be put on the boy's shoulders, but he would be better for it. Every choice he made regarding Harry and his life was for the boy's own good.

A letter landed on his desk. The old wizard picked it up and gently opened it, recognizing the elegant script instantly. His success in protecting the Stone had been too good, he himself couldn't even get it back to put back into Gringotts. Nicholas had noticed the fake and came knocking eventually, luckily Albus had spent many decades placing himself in the man's good graces, and twisting the story to make it seem like Albus not being able to get the Stone would mean nobody would be able to get it was easy. The letter was what he expected, Mrs. Flamel was writing to apologize for her husband's barging in. Albus smiled and set the letter down as he sunk into the armchair.

The other failure of that night. He hadn't gotten Harry to go through the challenges with his friends. It was his way to see what skills they had to complement each other with. Shame, Albus had left a good bread crumb trail, it should have been enough for Harry to jump at the moment things looked wrong. Harry was surprisingly cautious though, a trait he'd have to grow out of just a bit, nothing Albus couldn't accomplish. Everything was still going according to plan.

…….

Harry was slumped on the garden bench out in the lawn singing happy birthday to himself under his breath. No cards, no presents, and because of the guests he'd spend the evening pretending not to exist. Harry had never felt more lonely. He missed Ron and Hermione, he missed the twins and Percy, but by the lack of letters they didn't seem to be missing him. None of them had written to him all summer, even with mention of a possible visit to the Weasley's home this summer before they had parted at the train station. Something was wrong and Harry was inclined to believe it was something to do with him.

The hedge was staring at him. Wait a minute! Harry straightened up but the eyes were gone. A jeering voice floated across the lawn. Oh leave me alone! Harry thought as Dudley waddled towards him.

Like most interactions with his muggle cousin, Harry ended up punished for daring to have a bit of fun. When he was finally allowed to go up to his room to pretend he didn't exist all he wanted to do was curl up in bed. But there was already someone sitting on it.

Dobby was a house elf, apparently something worse than being the Dursleys’ nephew. Harry didn't know what to think about the creature, on one hand he could respect that he had broken rules to try and protect Harry, but he had also stolen Harry's mail and gotten Harry in trouble with the Dursleys. It was a few days later now, bars had been added to his window and he was receiving an all time low of food through his new cat flap. Pacing had proved ineffective after the first day, it only made him hungrier. He did the only thing he could do while hungry and tired, sleep.

His dreams were restless. Full of the Dursleys’ making tones, metal bars Dobby telling him that all of this is for his own good. And he always woke up when Professor Quirrell's burnt corpse started staring at him through the bars of his cage. But this time when he woke up someone was actually looking through the bars at him. Ron Weasley was at his window.

…….

Fred and George were appalled at the treatment of their youngest brother by the hands of people he lived with. Because that's what Harry was now, theirs. The bars on his window was more than enough for them to completely eliminate the family as Harry's, the only thing stopping Harry from being theirs beforehand, it was almost enough for Fred to go and curse them while they slept, but George was able to reason with him that getting arrested wouldn't help Harry. George's argument became strained when the only indication that there was a cat in the house was in Harry's door. Harry's door that was only locked and unlocked from the outside. But they kept moving, the soon they got the thing the soon they could get Harry far, far away from here.

Seeing the supposed uncle almost made them lose their cool completely. He had lunged forward, grabbing Harry in a bruising grip and forcing the Weasleys to yank Harry free. Fred pushed his anger at the Dursleys into making the car go as fast as he could, leaving the Dursleys hanging dumbstruck out of Harry's window. 

Harry rolled down the window, yelling out, “See you next summer!”

The Weasleys roared with laughter as Harry settled into his seat, grinning wildly.

“Can you teach me how to remove the lock on Hedwig's cage?” Harry asked when they had calmed down, “She hasn't gotten to stretch her wings this summer.”

“Of course,” George said from the passenger seat, handing Ron a hairpin. Once the snowy owl was flying happily beside the car George settled back into his seat as Ron asked Harry to explain what had happened this summer.

“Well that's fishy,” Fred said after Harry told them about Dobby. “Definitely dodgy,” agreed George. “House-elves can act odd sometimes but never really that frantic.”

“Oh, there are house-elves at the school, right?” Ron remembered.

“Yup,” Fred confirmed. “If Dobby was wearing a pillow case then he isn't a Hogwarts elf,” George mused. “A dark family's elf maybe,” Fred continued, “they’re rumored to be nasty to their help.”

“Do you think someone sent him to mess with me?” Harry asked.

“Sounds like something Malfoy would do,” Ron scoffed.

“It does,” Fred agreed. “But if he was punishing himself he wasn't there on his master's orders,” George finished.

There was a moment where the only sound was the wind brushing against the car before Ron spoke up, “I'm glad we came to get you, we were getting worried when you didn't answer our letters. I thought it was Errol's fault at first -”

“Who's Errol?” Harry asked

“Our owl; he's ancient. It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Percy's owl, Hermes. But he wouldn't lend him to me and told me that you weren't answering his letters either.”

“Percy's been acting oddly this summer,” George said, frowning. “He's been sending a lot of letters and hiding up in his room.” George glanced at the compass. You're going to far west. Fred shifted east a bit. “We think he's not even up there most of the time.”

They landed soon, outside of the most wonderful house Harry's ever seen. There were chickens in the yard and the entire house looked like it was held up by magic, it probably was. Harry was perfectly content just staring at the lovely place but soon the Weasley was marching across the yard towards them, looking remarkably like a saber-tooth tiger.

“So,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

“Morning, Mum,” George said in a tone that gave away his fear. His very well placed fear, mind you.

…….

Percy hadn't been too surprised when he'd gone downstairs one morning and found Harry at the kitchen table. He was more worried about the look in the twins’ eyes. They looked dangerous in a way not even their mother could pick up. The only reason Percy could was because he was there when it first happened. Before Lee was their friend, before Gryffindor was their home away from home, he'd picked up something of the twins and Percy had returned to the common room to find Charlie physically restraining the twins to prevent them from mauling the poor boy. They had figured out eventually that the twins were so used to sharing everything, even their own thoughts, that they had developed an odd sense of possession. So when something they considered theirs was taken without permission they had visceral, often violent, reactions. It was what made them such good beaters.

As time went on the boys learned to reign in their instincts, but Percy could see it simmering beneath the surface. He'd found the time to pull them into his room between his trips to Diagon Alley and his letter writing. They'd settled on to his bed as Percy sunk into his desk chair. Fred busied himself pampering Hermes and George fiddled with his nails.

“Want to talk about it?”

They didn't, but they would. And Percy had a feeling he wouldn't like it.

“Harry is being abused.”

Fred didn't turn from where he was spoiling Percy's beloved owl; his mouth pulled into a grim line. He did flinch at the pained gasp Percy let slip.

“That's what it'd be called, when a person is starving and locking someone up right?” George stated, barely bothering to make it a question.

Percy had to take a moment to reel in his desire to storm downstairs and check Harry for injuries.

“That is correct,” he forced out through his rage, “why don't you show Harry the paddock later. I'm sure he'll enjoy it.”

The twins took that as permission to scurry out of his room and back downstairs. Percy sighed as they left. He might as well look into legal methods of keeping his youngest brother away from those horrid muggles, he shouldn’t have let him go with them at the beginning of summer anyway.