Summery: Xanatos is in Britten on business when he stumbles across a silent green-eyed boy. Intrigued by the unusual boy he sends his aide, Owen to the boy's house. There, Owen is forced by magic into becoming a new daddy to the boy who lived. Harry, with his new father, goes to America where he will experience adventure and healing with some extraordinary new friends.
Rated: T (for now).
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Gargoyles; all belong to whoever came up with the idea and their affiliates, just borrowing for personal amusement, no money being made. I also don't own Harry Potter, which belongs to J.K Rowling and her affiliates, again for personal amusement and not for profit.
Authors Note: sorry about the ridiculously long wait. Won't make any promises
Pairings planned for the future so far:
Goliath/Harry (eventually, as in when he is much, much older)
A Voice that Doesn't Speak.
Chapter 12: The Weasleys.
According to Harry's map, the airport he had disembarked from was just on the outskirts of Devon. Ottery Saint Catchpole was located further into the area, a combination of a muggle and magical rural community. Harry would be sticking to the forested areas, skirting the village all together and coming through Ottery Saint Catchpole forest at the back of the Wizarding property known as The Burrow (1).
This name amused Harry, and made him think of that book, Lord of the Rings, that had nearly driven his father to tears of laughter one evening when he read it to him for a bed time story one evening, the more easily humored side of him of course.
Harry felt suddenly sad. He missed his father, and even Uncle David, despite the fact that the two men were still hunting his clan. Seeing his father those few brief times since he had went to stay with the gargoyles had always been somewhat stiff on his part. He had been so weary, so angry, and now that he looked back on it, he remembered the brief moments of pain in his father's eye, the regret through his mischievous smile. After those few visits, he would cling to Goliath all the harder as soon as he could afterwards, not that any of the gargoyles were aware of the visits, and the patient leader would sooth him, and take him for a glide around the city, always knowing that Harry loved the sensation of soaring above the clouds.
Harry wondered if all this magic learning would perhaps make it possible to perhaps fly or glide right beside the lavender leader.
Harry shook his head and turned his thoughts firmly back to the matter at hand. Hudson would say that when was going about doing something; one should focus their thoughts on that doing, especially if it was something different, and laminate over unrelated things when you aren't doing anything in particular at all. So he buried his regrets, sadness, and hopes to the back of his mind and focused on the map in his hands, as he sat up straighter on Bronx's back.
Harry was to stay with a family called the Weasleys for a day or so, and they would see him off with something called a portkey that was specially allowed given that one of his companions was rather nocturnally inclined. He had been assured by McGonagall that the wizard family was good folk.
His father had already acquired Harry's school things, though how, he decided not to question, and sent them on ahead when he showed him the deputy headmistress's letter.
Something he decided not to ask how he had.
Knowing that while his Owen persona was reasonable, his true self, the wily trickster, would not have just seen Harry off without some sort of scheme in mind.
He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop in regards to his father's insatiable mischief, which would not yield to even the strain of their relationship. The only thing that he had been firm upon, in both persona's, was that Harry not use a wand, despite it being on the list. He considered it a weak mortal crutch that would hinder him later in the future and potentially leave him vulnerable should it be taken from him. He had firm expectations on his child's use of magic, and would not yield in this matter. Harry had shrugged and not cared over the absence of some stick when he could access his magic just fine. It just needed some fine tuning and a great deal of concentration.
Hudson had agreed as well when Harry had told him his fathers words, he said a man with a sword should already know how to fight without one before it is placed in one's hand, whatever it meant.
Harry let out a breath of relief as Bronx approached what the letter had described as a building that was a strange, lopsided affair that defied several laws of physics and gravity that would otherwise have the place in a pile of rubble. His clan brothers would love this place, though his foster father and his uncle would likely be rather appalled that this was the residence of a family of powerful people.
Ooo ooo ooo
Bronx took in the property, noted the presence of gnome holes with disfavor. Bronx hated gnomes. For a non-flying gargoyle such as himself, they were a hindrance when trying to hunt, as ones foot would often get stuck in them, and the gnomes tasted rather foul, and screamed rather shrilly for his sensitive ears when they were about to be devoured. The gargoyle dog made a mental note to clear the area in the next few nights if they were staying longer then the one morning sleep.
Bronx felt the weight on his back shift as the boy slumped forward, giving into his exhaustion. The feline his pup dubbed Ariel that had been in his arms switched to perching on Bronx's head, making the gargoyle wuff irritably, but the irksome creature just got comfortable.
Bronx surveyed the marshy valley, with one last disdainful huff and padded up to the front door, leaving heavy gauges as he scratched on the ancient wood to alert the people inside, and then promptly stilled and turned to stone as the first rays of morning touched his flank.
This was how Bill Weasley, who was visiting his parents, sleepily found the exhausted pre-teen, perched upon a fearsome statue with a white cat waiting expectantly.
Ooo ooo ooo
The Weasleys, to say the least, were definitely not expecting the famous Boy-Who-Lived to be what arrived.
For one thing, while there was distinct characteristics of both parents, the boys long wild locks, left to lie loose under a headband with some sort of permanent sticking charm and the strangely sharp features, gave the pre-teen a slightly alien look. There was enough of something of neither parents that made the boy wholly himself and left him more inheriting his parents coloring and not so much the features, a drastic difference then how Albus Dumbledore had described the boy when he was an infant.
they had already been warned that the boy was mute, but the silence, combined with those expressive eyes and those pictures he drew...well, they were feeling somewhat surreal, and at times out to sea.
Further, after the boy had properly awoken and introductions were made, (though one sided as everyone obviously knew who Harry was, including his new name thanks to a letter he past around from his father) and after coming down from the cot that had been placed in their youngest son's bedroom some hours later, well after lunch, was one of distinct weariness.
Harry Potter, or Harry Burnett as he preferred, while polite when addressed, and not hostile, nevertheless wasn't the friendliest child one could expect, and he certainly had a highly protective nature when someone stepped to close to the gargoyle statue that had appeared with the child, still out on the front door step. In fact, the boy had eaten his late lunch and mid afternoon snack (with a wearily polite nod of thank you to Mrs. Weasley) while sitting up against the statue, sometimes sharing some of his chicken sandwich with the boy's familiar, an all-white feline that regarded the family with an air that reminded Mr. Weasley quite strongly of Lucius Malfoy.
Frankly, the whole statue situation stumped the Weasley's as well. Ron Weasley had proclaimed that the "unfriendly prat" in the garden thought that it might be some sort of portkey. The unfriendly prat comment was due to the fact that the two same aged boys had not hit it off as Harry had not liked being goggled at like some sort of circus entertainment and asked questions about his scar. Something he pointed out through displeased glares and pictures (which was interesting in itself) was rather noisy and rude of Ron, and the easy to anger red head had not taken the wisdom to heart, and thought that the green eyed boy was rather unfriendly and stuck up (in his opinion anyway).
Since the family had neglected at being informed exactly why the boy was leaving in the next evening for the castle and not by train the next day with the rest of the school aged brood, they were unaware of the statues true function, especially when Arthur explained that Harry had arrived through muggle transportation and that he already had the provided portkey for the famous boy, a cup normally used by the students at school in the great hall.
Percy Weasley couldn't help goggling later that afternoon when he happened to notice that their prestigious guest (anti-social behavior notwithstanding) had made some strange warbling echoic whistle that had caught his attention as he watched from his bedroom window, a sound that called no less than 11 owls within the area, two of which were the family owls, Errol and his owl Screech owl, a gift for having been made prefect, Hermes, and one he thought might be the Diggory owl and another, his little sister's friends owl from the Lovegoods. Others looked distinctly wild.
One of the wild owls, a scruffy barn owl, ended up being the lucky owl of the lot, and was given a letter that the boy had pulled out of his inner jacket, sending it on its way. The boy never said who the letter was for later, when asked, and Percy decided not to comment on it, and returned to polishing his prefects badge.
The greatest surprise for the family of red heads came when the statue out on the lawn shattered to smithereens upon the setting of the sun, while the boy watched on calmly from a safe distance and then proceeded to greet the monster that was apparently not a statue at all with a jubilant head scratch and a sandwich for the famished gargoyle.
Though Harry never said it out loud, he found the slack jawed looks of shock amusing, considering these were the people that had garden gnomes in their backyard and dishes that washed themselves. Still, his father, godfather and Goliath had taught him to be polite at the very least so he introduced Bronx to the shocked wizarding family and vice versa.
Bronx, understandably to Harry, didn't like the fact that there was so many magic wielding humans around him, his clan never having much in the way of good memories with such, and his pup, felt no compunction in growling his warnings having not been taught the finer points of good manners.
The unsurprising shrieks from the matriarch of the red heads and the spell casting that resulted only made Bronx more irritable and thus growled further, introducing little glowing eyes to the mix to express his displeasure.
Needless to say, it took both Harry and, surprisingly, the second oldest Weasley son, Charlie, a bit to settle both parties down.
Bronx, proving that he wasn't just some dumb animal, was the first to settle under his pups reassuring hands and the smell of the placating redhead, a smell that reminded the gargoyle of dragons, cousins to gargoyles, something that he had not smelled since he was a hatchling.
Dragons and gargoyles were believed to share common ancestry and the relations between dragons and gargoyles were that of amicable peace. In the old days, Hudson used to say, before humans began to really spread out, it was not uncommon for gargoyles and dragons to share the same cliffs and warrens, egg clutches of both species often laid together and raised as rookery siblings. Dragons also had a good scent of character and if his cousins could favor the human, then he was, for now, alright by Bronx.
That evening, while the Weasleys settled uneasily into their beds, Harry was up with Bronx, leaning against his steady warm hide and scaly smooth skin with Ariel perched beside him, and mused mentally.
'I can't say yet whether or not these wizards are worth knowing, but I can say for one thing that we will certainly be in for an interesting ride.'
And the ride would begin, for him, the following evening.
Ooo ooo ooo
A/N: (1) Description from Harry Potter Wiki.