Harry Potter and the Junior Year Abroad
Welcome Home, Harry!
By Ishtar
Chapter Seven
Welcome Home, Harry!
The next day was, as predicted, filled with medical procedures. Tonks (disguised as an orderly this time) wheeled him down to the X-Ray department, which seemed to include a number of devices other than X-Rays, because this time they put him into a very large machine which made mysterious whirrs and thunks. The first time wasn't bad, because they put him in feet first for a while, but then they turned him around and put him in a very narrow space head first to listen to more whirrs and thunks. Then they told him to relax and left him there for what seemed like ages. He was very, very glad that he didn't suffer from claustrophobia.
The afternoon was occupied with a visit to a place called Physical Therapy, which, Harry decided, was populated by torturers. They unstrapped his arm and moved it around, made him do exercises with it, and then did the same with his knee, making notes on their clipboards and muttering things about "range of motion." As he had by now stiffened up completely, the experience was rather painful. They tested his uninjured limbs as well, so they'd have some grounds for comparison. They did compliment Harry on the shape he'd kept himself in, and asked if he was an athlete. He allowed as yes, he played a little football at school, and they said that he'd be likely to make a full recovery, but he wouldn't be playing for the next few months, and even then he should wear a knee brace for at least the next year. They prescribed a whole series of exercises that he should do when the swelling started to go down, and told him to get an appointment with a PT consultant wherever he was going to be living, for continuing therapy. Then they gave him a nice long ice down before they sent him back to his room.
Then there was more hospital food, which was beginning to make even Aunt Petunia's cold tinned soup seem a fond memory. The only thing they hadn't been able to ruin was the lemon ice.
He waited anxiously for the promised visit from Ms. Stone, who finally arrived just before the end of visiting hours. She was glowing in her approval of the Weasley family home as his new foster home, much to Harry's relief — so much so that he wondered for a moment whose home they had actually shown her.
The next morning, he was released from the hospital. After going through much paperwork, Molly and Arthur Weasley picked him up in a Ministry car at the hospital, and they went, much to Harry's surprise, to Privet Drive. Here the police inspector and an officer were waiting, and they escorted him past a furiously silent Aunt Petunia. He showed them the cupboard where he had slept the first ten years, and the police measured it carefully and took notes and a few photographs, paying particular attention to the crayoned words he'd written on the wall when he was six: H. POTTR'S ROOM. He'd been heavily punished for that, but he still thought it worth it — it was one of his first acts of rebellion, and he'd realized later that he must have magicked those words to the wall, since neither cleaning nor covering with paint had obscured them. And now someone else knew of it. He just wished been able to spell better back then. After the police were done, Mrs. Weasley also looked into the cupboard and saw the crayoned words. Sniffling, she hugged Harry so hard that he winced, and Mr. Weasley reminded her that Harry was still sore.
With his knee bandaged and braced, Harry was unable to climb the stairs to his bedroom, and the police brought his trunk down for him. He pretended to wiggle the "sticky" lock, and opened his trunk to reveal, as Tonks had predicted, the typical effluvia of a teenager's life. Right down to the realistic odour of stinky socks. The police inspector smiled at Hermione's picture fastened to the inside lid of the trunk, and the uniformed officer smirked silently when they found the stash of girlie magazines at the bottom, underneath the physics and history books. Aunt Petunia had stuffed the remainder of Harry's clothes in a cheap plastic laundry bag. Hedwig's broken cage was the only thing that was missing, and soon it was brought down and added to the pathetic pile of belongings that was the record of sixteen years. By the time they were done, there was a small crowd of neighbours gathered, attracted by the presence of the police car. The Dursleys had always been terrified of attracting just the kind of attention they were getting now; life on Privet Drive would be months returning to normal, if ever.
As Harry made his way back to the car, Mrs. Figg pushed her way through the crowd. "Harry! Harry, my dear boy!" She hugged him so ferociously that he winced. "I'm so sorry about what happened, Harry! Imagine that great lump of a boy going mad and attacking you like that! It must have been terrible!"
"It's going to be all right now, Mrs. Figg. I'm going to go live somewhere else for a while. But maybe I can come back and visit you?"
"That would make an old lady very happy. You've always been such a good boy. Here," she pressed a bag into his hands, "I packed you some snacks for your trip to your new home. And you, you people" — here she brandished her string bag at the Weasleys — "you take good care of my Harry and keep him safe."
Hiding their grins, the Weasleys assured her that they would take care of him, and bundled all his belongings into the boot of the car. "Nice bit of character repair, that," muttered Mr. Weasley as the car pulled away from the kerb. "She'll probably spend the next couple of months telling anybody who'll listen about what a good boy you are and what a rotter Dudley is. By the time she's finished, no one will even remember about St. Brutus' Secure Centre." The bag contained apple-oatmeal biscuits, which were very good — no substitute for lunch, but a vast improvement over hospital food.
The car slid through the traffic into London with preternatural speed, the driver finding gaps in the traffic that wouldn't have let a bicycle through. Harry wondered what Quidditch team he'd played for. Soon they were at the dilapidated department store that housed St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The car waited on a side street while Harry and the Weasleys went in. A little more than an hour later, they were back on the sidewalk, Harry moving much more easily now that he was free of his bandages. He was still a little sore, but that was to be expected. The healers had been moderately disgusted that he had only ordinary Muggle-type injuries to deal with, and most of the time within the hospital had been spent trying to figure out if the assault by Dudley should be considered an "Artefact Accident" or a "Creature-Induced Injury." Harry was holding out for Dudley being classified as a Creature, but it had eventually been decided that the type of injury he had was most similar to a broom crash, so off to the Accident ward he went, where a dose of Healing Potion, as Mr. Weasley had predicted, rapidly sorted him out.
After that it was a quick hop to the Leaky Cauldron, where they unloaded Harry's things from the boot and dragged everything through the common room of the pub into the back room. By now it was the middle of the afternoon, and Harry's stomach was grumbling at the thought of food, but they didn't stop for a bite. Instead, Mr. Weasley slung Harry's laundry bag over one shoulder, took a pinch of ash from the jug next to the fireplace, and threw it into the fire. "The Burrow!" he cried out. The flame roared up green, and Mr. Weasley stepped into it and vanished. Harry really didn't relish the thought of travelling by Floo; his stomach didn't handle it well and after his first experience with it he was always afraid of getting lost again, but it was the fastest way to get where they were going. He waited a few moments to give Mr. Weasley time to clear the fireplace at the Weasley home, then took a firm grip on his trunk. He flung some Floo Powder into the fireplace, shouted "The Burrow!" perhaps a little louder than was really necessary, and stepped into the roaring green flames. He managed to keep a firm grip on his trunk as they spun through the Floo Network, seeing other fireplaces flicker by at irregular intervals. He had no idea where the trunk would end up if he lost it; probably someplace interesting like Timbuktu. After a time that seemed longer than it probably was, the large open fireplace in the Weasley living room materialized around him. He gaped. The room was full of people: the entire Weasley family, with the exception of Mrs. Weasley, who was still behind him at the Leaky Cauldron, and Percy, who was still not speaking to the rest of the family; Hermione, Hermione's parents, Arabella Figg (somebody must have gone to pick her up after he left Privet Drive), Remus Lupin, Tonks, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, and virtually every other member of the Order of the Phoenix, even the ones he didn't know well, except Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. Even Fleur Delacour was there, on Bill Weasley's arm. Floating above the crowd was a sign made of flaming letters. HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY! it read. And then it changed to read: WELCOME HOME! The room erupted in cheers and cries of "Happy Birthday!", "Welcome home," "How are you feeling?" and a random "Wotcher, Harry!" Stunned, Harry allowed himself to be pulled unresisting from the fireplace. A balloon floating overhead exploded, showering him with sweet-smelling yellow and white flower petals, and Mrs. Weasley stepped through the fireplace behind him, holding Hedwig's battered cage. Hedwig herself sat on the mantel, hooting with relief to see her Harry come home.
Harry was still holding onto the handle of his battered trunk as he was surrounded by well-wishers. Somebody tripped over it and pulled it from his hand, dragging it away. Somebody else ruffled Harry's hair, and the room was filled with so many people talking at once that nobody could hear anyone else. Everybody wanted to hug him, or shake his hand, or hug him and shake his hand, and so many kisses were exchanged that everyone soon forgot who had kissed whom, and at one point Harry discovered himself being kissed rather soundly by Fred. As the two of them made appropriate faces of disgust, Mrs. Weasley announced that food would be served out on the lawn shortly, so could everyone please start moving in that general direction please? The thought of food erased any lingering embarrassment, and with Ron on one side of him and Fred on the other as escorts, Harry started making his way to the door.
Just then, the fireplace roared green again. "Capital, he's made it early!" cried Mr. Weasley. Before Harry could ask who was early, the tall figure of Albus Dumbledore materialized in the flames, carrying a number of envelopes and packets in his hands. "Hello, Harry," he said softly. "I am very happy to see you up and about. I hope you will give me a chance to talk to you in private later; in the meantime, may an old man come to join in your celebration?" Harry hesitated a moment, weighing his still lingering anger toward Dumbledore against the responsibilities that the aged Headmaster was facing, and the concern of his friends, who obviously wanted to see the breach healed.
"Of course, Professor! Come and join us." If anyone noticed that Harry's tone was cooler than his words, they didn't say anything, and Dumbledore joined in the general migration out to the yard.
Here Harry stopped in surprise again. A grand party table was laid out under the trees, with many seats around it, and it was laden with a bounty of good things to eat. How Mrs. Weasley had achieved this while she was picking him up that morning he didn't know, but his stomach rumbled loudly in appreciation. At the head of the table was an armchair which had been dragged out from the living room and positioned like a throne, with another WELCOME HOME HARRY sign floating above it. To the side was a smaller table with a stack of gaily wrapped birthday presents on it. Harry was escorted to the armchair by his "honour guard" and installed with due ceremony; there was a round of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" followed by demands for a speech.
Self-consciously, Harry stood. "Ladies and gentlemen, in circumstances like these, the best speech is a short one. And I have been tutored by one of the greatest. Therefore, all I have to say is: Let's Eat!" There was applause and general laughter, followed by cries of appreciation as the covers were removed from the dishes and good smells wafted out. Dumbledore tossed his flowing white beard over his shoulder so that he could do justice to Fleur's bouillabaisse without endangering it, to general laughter.
The mystery of the food was soon solved: while the adult Weasleys were picking up Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Fleur, Fred and George were cooking up a storm at the Burrow, while Ron fetched and carried ingredients and taste tested whenever he could sneak a bit. Hermione and Ginny could not cook with magic, of course, but the other three could.
"Wait a minute," said Harry. "I didn't know you two could cook." He looked rather dubiously at the chicken pot pie they'd just presented, as if he expected the chicken to pop out and start doing a tap dance on the table.
"Who do you think makes up all the batches of the candies we sell?" said George. "They're all based on our own recipes, or ones we swiped from Mum's recipe box. You have to know how to do a recipe straight before you can tamper with it. Cooking's a lot easier than potion making, come to that, and we were always better at potions than our grades showed."
"We could probably get jobs in a Muggle restaurant if we wanted. A good one," Fred added. "We wouldn't dare mess with your homecoming meal though, Harry, so you can eat without fear of anything happening."
George belched, and a series of multicoloured bubbles came out of his mouth and exploded with sharp pinging noises. "Well, almost anything," he said.
In additional to the five cooks at the Burrow, many of the guests (such as Mrs. Figg, Hagrid, and, surprisingly to Harry, Professor McGonagall) had brought covered dishes from home, so there was a wide variety of food, and Harry was determined, after two and a half days of hospital food, to try it all. Well, maybe all except Hagrid's cakes. He had experience with those. Ginny and Hermione were both particularly pleased if he praised something that they had made completely without magic.
Even with the vast amount of food there was, the many healthy appetites brought to the table did justice to it, and eventually everyone was reduced to groaning and patting their stomachs or, in the case of Ron, who seemed to be a bottomless pit, picking at the remains of the desserts. Fred and George seemed to have appointed themselves as Masters of Ceremonies, and leaped up to pile all of Harry's presents in his lap. There were general cries of "Open mine! Open mine!" and Harry started to open gifts. Halfway through tearing off the paper on the first parcel, when he suddenly stopped.
He looked up at all the expectant faces, down again at the package in his hands, and dashed off into the house to hide his sudden tears, scattering the presents as he went. Mrs. Weasley started up after him, but Mr. Weasley put his hand on her shoulder. "Let the boy be. This is likely the first real party he's ever had."
"No," said Remus. "He's had one other. But as I recall, he spent that one rubbing cake in his hair and enjoyed the boxes more than the presents. He'll be back out once he pulls himself together."
Harry returned a short time later and resumed the present-opening process. In a remarkably short time, he found himself possessed of a variety of useful (and not so useful) possessions. From Mrs. Weasley he received several pairs of jeans, obviously from a second-hand store, but also obviously much closer to a correct fit than anything he currently owned, and some new, brightly coloured T-shirts. Hermione and her parents had also opted for clothing — slacks, dress shirts, and a jacket - so his total wardrobe had approximately doubled. The twins had continued the clothing theme, but with a difference: they gave him a photographer's vest with several large pockets on the outside and about a dozen hidden pockets in the inside. The pockets were much larger inside than out, and the vest would allow him to carry a large number of small items without detection. "This one here, that's for your wand, Harry. See how you can just put it in like this, and nobody will ever know it's there, and you can just pull it out when you need it." The vest itself was not quite in Harry's usual style, but he could see that it would be very practical.
Bill and Charlie had teamed up to get him a watch which would automatically set itself for any time zone, and also had a little stopwatch in it. "Magic won't screw this one up like it does most Muggle watches," Bill explained. "There's a bunch of Swiss wizards who've been working on this for a long time now, and they've only just started releasing these in England. The importer's someone I know from my treasure-hunting days in Egypt."
From Mr. Weasley, much to his surprise, Harry received a shaving kit, complete with a razor that was guaranteed not to nick the skin, and cream that slowed the regrowth of the beard so you didn't need to shave as often. He looked up at Mr. Weasley in surprise and touched his own chin. "D'you think I really need …?"
"Maybe not yet, but soon enough," Mr. Weasley replied. "It's kind of a tradition … My father gave me a shaving kit on my sixteenth as his father did for him, and I've given one to each of my sons … whether they needed it at the time or not. Ron got his last spring. This is just my way of saying … welcome to the family, son."
This was cause for more tears, not just on Harry's part, and a Weasley family group hug with Harry squashed in the middle of it. Even Fred and George didn't offer more than token objections.
From his other friends, there was a wide variety of gifts. Mad-Eye Moody gave him a little wand which seemed to be made of ivory, but with a rainbow sheen. "Poison detector. Made from unicorn horn. Touch your food or drink with it, if there's anything there shouldn't be, it turns black. Keep it in one of those little pockets and use it, boy!" the Auror growled. Arabella Figg was back to the clothing theme, with a gift of socks she'd knitted herself, and Tonks gave him a little bottle of "Essence of Clover" potion, which came with instructions to put it on his glasses to help him see clearly. Fleur gave him a set of Never-Spill Potion Bottles in a travel case, and Mundungus Fletcher gave him a new cauldron which was guaranteed not to scorch potions brewed in it, and was undoubtedly counterfeit. The Hogwarts professors, perhaps predictably, gave him school supplies and study guides, although Hagrid gave him a book on unusual creatures of the Americas, which was curious. Fortunately, the book did not try to bite his fingers.
Possibly the most amazing gift, Harry thought, was from Remus Lupin. The rather largish package proved to contain a set of six leather-bound and extremely well-used books. "The Complete Combat Compendium of Curses, Hexes and Jinxes, edited by Clavius Carmarthen. You got me a set of Carmarthen?!" he exclaimed, slightly boggled. There were gasps all around. "How … where … my God! Even the school library only has four of these, and they're in the Restricted Section!"
"I must admit I didn't get them for you, Harry. They're more of a legacy. Check the bookplate."
Harry opened the first volume. "These books are the property of the Marauders," he read. "Beware! We solemnly swear that we are up to no good! And it's initialed, J.P., S.B., R.L., P.P."
"During the summer between our sixth and seventh years, I found them in a used book store in London — a Muggle book store. The owner had no idea what they were or how much they were worth. I've no idea how they wound up there, but I talked the proprietor into putting them on reserve for me and then got James, Sirius and Peter to put up the cash for them. Unfortunately, they were in Sirius' house when things went to hell fifteen years ago, and he had the place so well warded I couldn't get in to get them. Otherwise, I'd have taught you some of this material when I was teaching your Dark Arts class. In retrospect, Sirius should probably have given these to you last year, and we'll never know now why he didn't. Perhaps he just forgot they were in his library. I reclaimed them when we cleared out Grimmauld Place, and now … well, Harry, I really think that you're the person who is going to be able to make the best use of them. So as the last of the Marauders, I pass them on to the next generation. Use them well."
Almost reverently, Harry wrapped the books back up in their protective packaging, and then pounced on Remus, giving the werewolf a ferocious hug.
Finally, and most puzzling of all, Ron gave him a wizard camera which would take moving pictures, and Ginny gave him a photo album to the pages of which he could stick the pictures. He could instruct the album to open for other people, or only for himself, and it also had sections that could be kept sealed if he so chose.
It was now early evening, and Mrs. Weasley hung fairy lanterns from the trees for light since no one seemed inclined to go indoors. "There is one present left, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I brought it with me, and once you know what it is, you can accept it or not. First, though, I brought some things that you and others have been looking for." He pulled three envelopes out of his sleeve, and they leapt from his hand to Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's. "The O.W.L. scores have been unusually late this year due to a debate among the Board of Governors as to whether certain exam scores should count — given the disruptions of last year. They have only been released today — that is why I was late this afternoon — and rather than send them by post owl, I decided to bring them along myself for you three." Hermione squealed and opened her letter immediately, the boys with somewhat less haste. "You will observe that the practical Astronomy grade is an A — due to the disturbance of the practical exam, virtually none of the examination papers was complete. Not even yours, Miss Granger. Accordingly, it was decided that everyone who took it would receive a grade of 'Acceptable', and anyone who wished to retake it for a higher grade will be allowed to do so."
"Secondly, we had never before had a case where a student was under actual attack during the course of an exam. Thus, for Harry's History of Magic exam, he has been given an A and has the option to retake it if he chooses."
Harry, who had been less than sure about his chances on the History of Magic exam even before Voldemort started in on him, smiled and shook his head. "Oh, no, I think I'll keep the A, thanks. I don't know how much better, if any, I would have done on my own, and I'd rather not have to study for it again, thank you very much." Hermione seemed to be mildly annoyed that he wouldn't take the option to have the test all over again, but Harry just smiled again. "Sorry, Hermione, but History of Magic isn't one of the ones I have to do spectacularly well on for my career track. So I'll just take the A and have done with it. Tell you what, you can take it if you're so keen … No? I didn't think so."
Dumbledore waited a few moments while the three students perused their exam results, with family members leaning in to look. Hermione had received almost perfect results, with Os in everything except Astronomy, where she had already decided to retake the Astronomy practical, and Defence Against the Dark Arts, where she had apparently inexplicably received only an E on the written, but an O on the practical.
Ron was boggling over his own grades; they were considerably better than he'd expected, especially the Potions practical, in which he had somehow managed an O, though he hadn't done as well on the written. Fred and George were hanging over his shoulders. "Hey, Ickle Ronnikin's got a brain! Who knew?"
Finally, Harry was pleased to note that he'd achieved the grades he needed for Auror training, especially the Outstanding required for the Advanced Potions class. "I did it! I can take Advanced Potions! Oh no!" as the horror hit him. "That means another two years of Snape!" His Divination grade, as expected, was abysmal, but he'd received Es in both Charms and Transfiguration written and practicals, O in Care of Magical Creatures written and practical, and an O with an asterisk next to it in the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical. "What's this?" He looked at the bottom of the page and turned white. "Oh. My. God."
"What is it?" asked Hermione, peering over at his page. She gave a little squeak and removed the page from Harry's suddenly nerveless hand, stood and read the asterisked note out loud.
"* If it were possible to give a grade higher than O, this student would have achieved it. The Board of Governors is recommending that a citation for excellence be added to his school record."
"I guess Professor Tofty liked my Patronus," said Harry weakly.
"I'd say he did! Congratulations, Harry!" There was another round of hand-shaking.
Once all the O.W.L. results had been discussed to everyone's satisfaction, Dumbledore cleared his throat gently, managing to quiet down the group much faster than Mrs. Weasley ever had. "I also brought the regular school letters for Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, and Mr. Weasley." The envelopes flew to their hands. Finally, he produced a much larger envelope. "This is for Harry. It is a special gift, and I hope he will accept it."
Harry, who had been perplexed that he had not gotten a school letter, took the parcel and opened it. There were a number of papers and brochures inside it, and a letter on creamy vellum on top.
Congratulations. You have been selected to participate in an experimental exchange student program between Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the United States Arcane Academics Council.
Eight representatives of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have been selected for this program, one male and one female student from each House. Eight students from the schools under the United States Arcane Academics Council, one male and one female from each school, will be attending Hogwarts as exchange students. If you choose to participate, you will be spending the upcoming school year in a rotation between four of the best schools of magic in the United States of America: Nokomis Institute for Higher Learning, Kingsdale, Minnesota; Salem Academy (of Witchcraft), Bridgewater, Massachusetts; Marie Laveau Institute, New Orleans, Louisiana; Emperor Joshua Norton Technical School, San Francisco, California. Please consider the materials in this package carefully. If you choose to accept, return the acceptance form together with your requested class list by post owl as soon as possible.
Please note that in view of the arrangements required for this exchange program, participating students have been given a one-time release from the restrictions on the use of magic while underage. For participants in this program only, the school year is considered to have begun on August 1, and they may therefore use what magic is necessary to prepare for their journey.
Chaperones will accompany both groups of exchange students.
Note that travel arrangements will be by Muggle means, and therefore program participants must have access to Muggle documentation such as passports. Students who have experience with the Muggle world are encouraged to assist those who do not.
Harry stopped reading and looked up. "So that's why no Ministry owls descended on me after I Stupefied Dudley?"
"It was purely fortuitous, of course, that the incident happened after midnight on August 1 instead of before, on July 31," said Dumbledore. "It could have been quite troublesome had it happened earlier. I was trying to get an earlier date, but given the difficulties I had getting the Ministry to agree to the program at all, I think I was doing quite well to have gotten August 1. In any event, for the rest of the summer you will be free to do magic as necessary. Under the supervision of a qualified adult witch or wizard, of course, of whom I see quite a few right here."
"It says here I need a passport. I don't think I have one. Is there time for me to get one?"
"Thanks to Hermione's parents, who have gone through the process of getting one for her, we have obtained one for you. It took most of the spring to do it, but I assure you it is quite legal and quite valid. All the necessary documentation is in place."
Hermione's father handed over an official-looking envelope which contained the document in question. Harry flipped it open and saw a photograph, which had probably been taken around Christmas, together with the necessary vital statistics, neatly typed. "We got one of Colin Creevey's pictures of you and convinced it to hold still long enough to have Muggle copies made," explained Hermione. "There are also copies of your birth certificate and things in there, so you'd better keep that envelope in a safe place. You'll need them when it comes time to get a drivers' license."
Harry looked down at the bundle of papers. "May I ask … why? Why this? Why now? Why me?"
"There are many reasons, Harry." Dumbledore rose to his feet. "If you will walk with me for a moment, I would like to talk with you privately. Some of your questions may be such that you might not wish to have the answers discussed in public. And some of them may be such that I might not wish to have them discussed in public."
Harry tucked everything back in the envelope and put it on the table. "If you will excuse us," he said to the group, rather formally. Then he walked off on the path that led down toward the river. Once they were sufficiently far enough from the rest of the group, Harry asked, quietly, "So everyone knew about this but me? Secrets again?"
Dumbledore sighed. "It's called a surprise, Harry. It must of necessity be secret from the person being surprised. Every single person who knew about this kept it secret because they wanted you to enjoy the surprise. And they have taken great pleasure in arranging this for you. Frankly, we also weren't sure we could get permission, right up until the end, given the difficulties we've had with the Ministry in the past. I did not wish to have to disappoint you if it fell through. Believe it or not, this was not originally my idea, although I did embellish it somewhat."
"Whose idea was it then?"
"Sirius Black's. When we started work on the concept, it was planned that he should be one of the chaperones. That way, the two of you could spend time in the United States safely and without attracting unwanted attention. Then when it was time for you to return, he could choose whether to return with you or to stay in the United States, losing himself in their wizarding community until such time as it was safe for him to return here. Originally he had intended for you to be the only one to go. However, that would have been too obvious, and with the Minister of Magic's irrational attitude toward you, we would never have obtained permission. So we had to expand the program into a full-fledged exchange between the American schools and ours. Then we slipped your name onto the list at the last minute. A necessary subterfuge."
"If I decide not to go?"
"Then you will attend Hogwarts as usual — I have your regular letter right here — and someone else from your House will go to the United States in your stead. I'm sure that Mr. Thomas or Mr. Finnegan would be more than happy to represent Gryffindor House to the Americans."
Harry snorted. "You fight dirty."
"On the contrary, I do not fight at all, if I can help it."
"Are there other reasons you want me to go? I mean, it would have been very easy for you to have let the whole project die after Sirius … died. I would never have known."
"Of course. I thought it a good idea when Sirius came up with it, and I still do."
"May I know some of your reasons?"
"One reason is that I believe it necessary for you to expand your education beyond what is taught at Hogwarts. As you have probably realized yourself by now, if you go up against the Dark Lord with only your Hogwarts education, you are likely to lose. He will know everything you know, and has years of experience on top of it. As the Americans say, 'Age and treachery will always overcome youth and skill.'"
It chilled Harry to hear Dumbledore say outright, and so succinctly, what he had thought himself.
The headmaster continued, "However, in America they do things differently. We have a proud thousand-year tradition. The American tradition is less than three hundred years old, but perhaps because they do not have the weight of history behind them, they look at things very differently and teach their students different aspects of magic. People from all over the world have brought their native magics with them, and they are encouraged to keep practicing them. They are willing to experiment in ways that we do not, simply because 'that's the way it's always been done here.' I do think that for those reasons, it is a good thing to open contacts with the Americans on a more regular basis in general. If this experimental program works out, assuming of course that we all survive the next few years, we may institute it on a regular basis to strengthen ties between the two communities. As for your specific circumstances, it is my hope that in America you may learn something that will enable you to fight against Voldemort successfully. Something he won't know how to counter."
"Such as what?"
"If I knew that, I would not need to send you, would I? No, I am acting on blind hope here. I do not know what you will find, and therefore I suggest that you keep your mind open and try as many new things as possible. As for you personally, I thought it good that you have a break — I know of your difficulties with Professor Snape, for example, and with Mister Malfoy — and while I believe you are more than capable of continuing to deal with them for a sixth year, there is no good reason why you should have to. In that regard, I think it possible that you may better be able to learn Occlumency from a teacher of your own choice in the Americas than from Professor Snape, or than from myself, given the breach of trust that now lies between us. And finally, there is the little matter of Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger."
"What about them?"
"Harry, ever since you came to school, the three of you have been a very tight-knit trio. Even when there have been differences between you, you have always come together again stronger than before. But you are always the dominant one of the three. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger may distance themselves from you temporarily, but it is to you they return, and not the other way around. While I am your Headmaster, I am also the Headmaster for every child who comes to Hogwarts and must look out for them — and I believe that it would do Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger good to stand alone for a time. Particularly Mr. Weasley. He has stood in the shadow of others for a long time. First his brothers, all of whom are extremely dynamic personalities, and now you. He would not be human if he did not experience some degree of jealousy, and as you will recall, this has already caused one serious rift between you. He needs to know what he is capable of on his own. And so do you. Indeed, if you do not go, I should prefer to send him in your place, transferring his prefect duties to you. This is something, needless to say, that I would prefer to remain between us."
"What about the DA?"
"We must see if the DA can survive on its own as well. No group is viable if it cannot withstand the loss of a single critical member. You have taught your core group very well, indeed. And this year we shall not have the difficulties with the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher that we had in the past, at the very least. During your second year, an attempt was made to institute a Duelling Club. While Professor Lockhart turned out to be less than the perfect person to supervise it, I believe the idea to be a sound one, and I would like to see the DA turned into an official club under the leadership of Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, with a certain amount of faculty supervision."
"You've thought of everything, haven't you?"
"No, I have not. If I had thought of 'everything', we wouldn't be having this conversation. I believe your making this trip to be in the best interests of a number of individuals as well as in the interest of the school itself. Yet I can come up with just as many reasons for you not to go; you can come up with them yourself if you think about it. There were those who argued strongly against letting The-Boy-Who-Lived out of our sight for an instant. I will admit to having doubts myself, but after your little display at the end of last term, I saw the wisdom of it. We cannot keep you wrapped in cotton wool, and you are your own person, not a weapon or a hunting dog to be used as we wish. I am an old man, Harry, and far too used, perhaps, to getting my own way. Perhaps another good reason for you to go to America is to get you away from all of us who would try to control you, no matter how convinced we are that it is in a good cause." There was a moment of silence as Harry digested this. It was probably as close as he would ever receive to an apology, but he was not ready to acknowledge it. Finally, Dumbledore spoke again. "That is why the ultimate decision as to whether to go or not to go is yours. And for all the good logical and emotional arguments on either side, what it will probably come down to is this: would you really want to pass up the adventure?"
"Sleep on it, Harry. Send a post owl tomorrow to let us know what you decide."
By now it was fully dark, and Dumbledore conjured a ball of light to precede them up the trail back to the Weasley home. The dinner mess had been cleaned up, and Harry's presents had been brought inside and up to Percy's old room, which had been given to Harry. The older members of the party had moved inside for tea and Dumbledore went in to join them; the younger ones had stayed outside to sit on the lawn and talk while waiting for Harry to return.
Harry gave one of the fairy lanterns a poke to wake up the fairies and get some brighter light. He started passing around the brochures so everybody could take a look at them. "If I'm going to do this, I want everybody's opinions on what I should take."
"Wow, Harry, you're going to go in an AIRPLANE?" asked Ron, looking at the flight information. "I suppose you'd fall asleep and fall off trying to get a broom across the Atlantic, but do you think those things are really safe? How do they stay up?"
Hermione's attempt to give a lesson in elementary aerodynamics was soundly ignored.
Ginny was going over the class listings. "Hey, Harry, they're missing something. They don't have Defence Against the Dark Arts listed here."
"Really? Let me see that. Huh, you're right. 'Magical Theory and Practicum'? What the heck is that? And … this can't be right. Chemistry?"
"Chemistry is just like Potions," said Hermione, who had the booklet with the full class descriptions. "You learn how things react together and why. The Practicum description says it's about fixing spells to material objects. Like making brooms and things. That could be really useful … 'including wand-making — students will be expected to craft and enchant their own wands during the course of the year.' Wow."
"Why not just go down to the wand shop?" asked Ron.
"Probably because in America, the nearest wand shop could be five hundred miles away. The place is kind of big."
"Maybe we should ask Dumbledore about the Dark Arts thing, though." Before Harry could stop them, Fred and George dashed off into the house to fetch out the Headmaster, who brought his tea with him, and Ginny showed him the class schedule.
"Oh, the schedule is quite correct. The Americans don't put the stress on Defence Against the Dark Arts that we do. They've never had to live with a home-grown Dark Lord, you see. Many of them joined in the fight against Grindelwald a generation or so back, but for them it was a foreign fight, not one that threatened their homeland directly. Accordingly, they treat Defence Against the Dark Arts as an optional subject, so that those who are interested can pursue it and those who are not interested never learn more than the most elementary counter-jinxes. Those who do focus upon it, however, tend to be very skilled."
"Where's the list of options, then?"
"Look under 'Extra Curricular Activities.' You see where it says 'Duelling Club'? That's it. It's similar to your D.A. group last year, only with a bit more structure. In order to keep your hand in, Harry, you should participate in the Duelling Club in each school you visit. You will find your new books to be particularly useful, too, I think, and I am very grateful to Professor Lupin for providing them to you. There are some other options you may find interesting, as well, some of them specific to particular schools. I understand, for example, that the Vision Quest program at Nokomis is quite well-regarded. It will be the first school on the itinerary."
The discussion continued until well past midnight; only then did Harry realize that at some point Dumbledore had slipped off to return to Hogwarts, and that everyone else assumed he was going and would be vastly disappointed if he didn't. And so, in fact, would he. In the morning he sent off Hedwig with his acceptance.