Summary: Harry's having an interesting summer. Even after visits from Dobby, falling ill, finding a family, moving house and being friendly to Snape of all people, it's nothing compared to what his second year of Hogwarts has in store for him. Who's opening the Chamber of Secrets this time around? What do his nightmares of falling out of windows mean? And is his brother really being too protective?

Rating: T at present, subject to change

Warnings: Slash and M-Preg references, future Ron/Harry slash

Disclaimer: JKR owns all … Why do I even bother?

Author's Notes: This fic in an AU (big surprise) beginning in the summer of CoS. No more notes for now, only that I have no idea where the idea sprang from, so don't ask. Enjoy!
Oh, and it's NOT a Severitus or Sevitus, just inspired by some of the plots that appear in them.

Mih Evas I: Fathers, Brothers and Monsters

Chapter One: No Smoke Without Fire

By Alexannah

"Fred, be quiet! You'll wake Mum!"

"Your whispering is louder than me walking!"

"Why on earth did I get you squeaky slippers for Christmas? I must have been mad -"

"Ron, shut up -"

"And just what is going on here?"


"George Weasley, watch your language! What are you three doing sneaking around in the middle of the night? … Are those your father's car keys???"

Harry groaned and rubbed his forehead. Three days he'd been stuck in this room. He'd just awoken from a strange dream where he was shut in a zoo. Well, he thought, at least it wasn't a nightmare about Voldemort this time.

He swung his legs out of bed and stopped, half-standing, with a moan. The moment he'd moved his vision had swam. Now he thought about it, his headache was more than just his scar prickling, and he shivered although it was warm.

Great, he thought. I'm ill. That's the last thing I need. Damn you, Dobby the house-elf.

Harry collapsed back onto the bed, his energy drained from him. His head was now pounding furiously and he grabbed his covers and pulled them up around him, burying his face in the pillow. Already he felt ready to go back to sleep.

At least sleeping will pass the time, he thought drowsily.

"Mum, this isn't going to work," Ron muttered, staring at the front of Number Four. "If they know we're wizards they're not going to let us in."

"Of course they will," Mrs Weasley said bracingly. "I know you said they're not fond of magic, but once we tell them you're Harry's friend -"

"Mum, they hate magic, and they hate Harry. It's got to be them that's stopping him from writing."

"Don't be ridiculous, they're his family." Mrs Weasley pressed the doorbell, and they both jumped at the noise it made.

The door opened, and they came face-to-face with an annoyed-looking woman wearing an apron.


"Hello," Mrs Weasley started. "I'm Molly Weasley, this is my son Ron, he's a friend of Harry's -"

"He's not at home," Petunia stated before slamming the door.

Mrs Weasley rapped on the door sharply and it opened again.

"Excuse me," she said, still polite, "but could you tell us when he'll be back -"

"There's no Harry Potter here. Go away!"

Petunia slammed the door again and they heard the chain being put across.

"Told you," Ron said.

"Albus, firecall for you."

Minerva ripped back the covers. "Albus! Wake up!"

"Eh?" Albus blinked. "What time is it?"

"Fire – call," Minerva said slowly and clearly. "In the living-room."

"Don't worry dear, I'll get it," he mumbled, pulling on a dressing-gown inside out and stumbling into the next room.



Albus darted behind the sofa as he realised who was in the flames. "What do you want? Lovely to see you, by the way."

Molly said, still with her eyes closed, "I'm worried about Harry …"

"Mrs Dursley?"

The woman stared at him, taking in his odd appearance. "Yes?"

"I'm Albus Dumbledore, I'm Harry's headmaster. May I come in?"

"What do you want?" Petunia glared.

Albus was slightly taken aback at the less-that-friendly attitude but continued nonetheless. "I've received some concerns from Harry's friends because he hasn't been answering letters -"

"What letters?"

"The letters they've been sending all summer," Albus replied, starting to get annoyed but trying not to show it.

"None have arrived," Petunia said in a tone that suggested that the subject was now closed. "Will that be all?" She was already closing the door. Albus put a hand out to stop her.

"May I see Harry?"

"Why?" she said suspiciously.

"Do I need a reason to see one of my students?" My favourite student, he added silently, then mentally scolded himself for admitting it consciously.

"He's … not at home."

Albus knew that wasn't true and said so. "I can tell where Harry is because of the wards I placed around this house eleven years ago, Petunia." He began to take out his wand.

"Not here!" she hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the house.

"Where is Harry, his room?" Albus asked as Petunia shut the door and pulled the curtains in the hall, as if afraid what the neighbours would think if they saw her with him.

"… Yes," she admitted, her eyes on his wand. "But it will do you no good – he's ill."


"Yes, ill. He's been in bed for about a week." She hesitated, before adding, "My husband tried to get him out to do his chores but he wouldn't even sit up."

Albus scrutinised Petunia for a moment, before nodding. His fingers tightened around his wand and he murmured a spell out of the corner of his mouth as she dug in her pocket.

"Second on the left, and you'll need these." She flung a fistful of keys at him. Albus caught them neatly, looked at them apprehensively, and began to slowly walk upstairs.

When he rounded the corner, listening intently, he heard the soft click of a lock and smiled. He'd been right: Petunia was doing a runner. Well, she wouldn't get far.

It became apparent what the keys were for when he saw the huge locks on Harry's door. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the cat flap at the bottom. What in Merlin's name was that for? He didn't want to know.

Albus unlocked the door and pulled it open, reeling backwards, a hand clamped over his nose and mouth. The first thing he did was open the window with his wand from the doorway, then he spotted Harry.

The boy wasn't even in bed: he was laying on the floor, his covers half-on him and half still on the bed. From the look of things, someone had dragged him out by the ankles and then left him there, and he hadn't even be well enough to get back in.

Those effing Dursleys! Albus could hear Petunia attempting to start the car outside and decided to deal with her later. He knelt down by Harry, examining him.

Harry seemed to be asleep. There was vomit on the floor next to him and he obviously hadn't been able to get out of bed to go to the toilet either. Albus cast a general Scourgify and gently lifted Harry onto the bed. Harry moaned in his sleep and an arm crept round the headmaster's neck. Albus gently eased him off him and felt his forehead.

"You've got a bit of a fever," he murmured. "Where do the Dursleys keep the medicine?"

After rummaging through the cabinet in the bathroom he decided he'd be better off with Poppy's potions and sent a note to her with the newly-freed Hedwig. He pulled up Harry's covers before tiptoeing out of the room. He had a pissed-off Petunia Dursley to deal with.


Next chapter: More Weasleys, bit of Minerva, the Dursleys' fate, and the first OC