The Tenth Weasley - CH - 46

The end of summer brought with it a buzz of excitement in the Weasley household, as the much-anticipated trip to Greece for the magical circus finally arrived. With Molly having arranged for their bakery to be run smoothly in her absence by the trusted workers, there was nothing holding the family back from fully immersing themselves in the upcoming adventure. Even Harry, despite his lingering frustration over being wandless, couldn't deny the thrill of visiting a foreign magical land with his family.

The trip was not just for the Weasleys, but also for the Potters, who had somehow ingratiated themselves into the Weasley family’s plans over the past few weeks. Despite the awkward tension that remained between Harry and the Potters, Arthur and James seemed eager to push past the discomfort, bonding over their mutual fascination with magical travel arrangements.

“I still say we should have taken the Portkey,” James Potter remarked as they stood in the bustling atrium of the British Ministry of Magic, waiting to use the international Floo Network.

Arthur chuckled, patting the car key charm hanging from his belt. “James, where’s the fun in that? Half the experience is in the journey!”

Harry rolled his eyes at their banter, shifting awkwardly next to Ron, who looked equally unimpressed. “I don’t see why we couldn't have just Apparated,” Ron muttered. “It’s so much faster.”

“Too risky with such a large group, dear,” Molly chimed in, counting heads to ensure none of the children wandered off. “Besides, Floo travel will give us a chance to arrive right at the entrance of the circus without drawing too much attention.”

Ginny and Rose Potter were already whispering excitedly about the circus performances they had read about in The Daily Prophet, while Fred and George nudged Harry, talking about the pranks they could pull on Greek wizards.

When it was finally their turn, each family stepped into the grand marble fireplace, tossing a pinch of Floo powder and shouting “Athenos Magical Bazaar!” In an instant, they were whirling through the green flames, tumbling out into the bustling heart of Greece’s magical community.

The Athenos Magical Bazaar was unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. The streets were paved with shimmering white stones that reflected the golden sunlight, and various shops stood proudly, each bearing colorful canopies that shaded the wares beneath. Floating orbs of light hovered above the market stalls, illuminating displays of intricate spell-scrolls, exotic magical creatures in gilded cages, and sweet-smelling pastries that Molly immediately took an interest in.

“Stay close, dears,” she called over the noise of the busy street. “I don’t want anyone getting lost before we even make it to the circus!”

The Potters and Weasleys strolled through the streets, taking in the fascinating sights of magical Greece. Street performers demonstrated feats of wandless magic, making streams of water dance in the air, while merchants sold rare ingredients like Minotaur horn shavings and Gorgon scales. Harry found himself intrigued by a stall selling enchanted trinkets from ancient Greek wizarding history—bracelets said to grant speed and agility, and amulets that promised protection from curses.

“Come on, Harry!” Ron grabbed his arm, dragging him away from the stall. “The circus entrance is this way.”

As they approached the grand entrance of the magical circus, the sight before them took their breath away. A massive, golden tent stood tall, with flags from various wizarding nations fluttering in the wind. Enchanted banners floated in the air, displaying the circus’s star attractions: The Fire-Breathing Chimera Riders, The Acrobatic Veela Dancers, and the much-talked-about ‘Invisible Beast’ performance.

Fred whistled, nudging George. “This is going to be brilliant.”

As they stepped inside, the tent expanded magically to accommodate the growing crowd. The air smelled of roasted nuts, spun sugar, and a hint of dragon smoke. Performers in dazzling robes and masks walked on stilts, tossing spells into the air that burst into glittering fireworks. Harry caught sight of a half-giant juggling flaming clubs, while an enchanted orchestra played a lively tune in the background.

“You know,” Sirius Black said, walking beside Harry and James with a smirk, “I haven’t been to a circus since Hogwarts. I heard they have a Kraken in the water show this year.”

“A Kraken?!” Ron’s eyes widened. “We’ve got to see that!”

“I want to see the Veela Dancers,” Fred whispered to George, who snorted.

Harry, meanwhile, kept an eye on Charlie Potter, who seemed equally amazed by everything. Despite their strange relationship, Harry couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the ease with which Charlie slipped into his world. Charlie wasn’t even the one abandoned by their parents, yet he seemed so comfortable. Pushing the thoughts aside, Harry focused on enjoying the circus.

After finding their seats inside the grand performance area, the show began with a dazzling display of flying pegasi, their wings shining under the enchanted lighting. Trapeze artists swung high above, defying gravity, while fire-breathing dragons soared through hoops in perfect synchronization. The crowd erupted into cheers, and for a while, all of Harry’s worries faded into the background.

As Harry wandered through the exotic animal exhibits with his family, he couldn't help but marvel at the creatures on display. There were winged horses, fire crabs that shot sparks from their shells, and even a shimmering phoenix perched gracefully on a golden stand. Ron was eagerly dragging him from one enclosure to another, pointing out creatures he'd only read about in books. Fred and George were busy taking bets with other children about which magical beast would win in a hypothetical duel.

Harry, however, found himself drawn to a peculiar enclosure surrounded by shimmering wards and warning signs. Inside, slithering lazily across a large rock, was a massive Runespoor, a rare three-headed serpent native to Africa. Unlike the other animals in the circus, this one wasn’t resting silently—it was arguing.

He heard hissing voices, distinct and filled with tension.

"You fool, if we escape now, we could devour that foolish zookeeper!" one head hissed, its eyes gleaming with malice.

"Patience, you imbecile," the middle head countered in a more measured tone. "We need to assess the wards first. Breaking through without a plan is madness!"

"We're wasting time," the third head grumbled, its tone thick with boredom. "I say we bite now and slither later."

Without realizing it, Harry responded in fluent Parseltongue, his voice effortlessly slipping into the sibilant language of snakes. "Perhaps you should observe the zookeeper's routine. If you act too soon, you'll be caught before you reach the exit."

The three heads snapped toward him, their eyes widening in surprise.

"A speaker?" the first head hissed in awe.

"Interesting," mused the second head, tilting slightly. "Perhaps this one could be useful..."

Harry grinned. "Maybe I can help, but only if you promise not to bite anyone. Escaping won’t be easy with all these wards."

The Runepoor heads continued their debate, occasionally asking Harry questions about human behavior and whether their zookeeper was "worthy of biting or not." Harry found the conversation fascinating, and it wasn't until he heard a loud gasp behind him that he realized he was being watched.

Turning around slowly, he found his entire family standing frozen in shock. Molly’s face was a mix of horror and disbelief, while Arthur's eyes were wide with astonishment. Ginny, gripping Ron’s arm tightly, looked terrified, and Ron himself had taken a step back, his freckles standing out against his pale skin.

"Harry," Molly's voice was shaky, "what—what was that?"

Harry blinked. "What was what?"

"You—you were talking to it," Ginny whispered, looking between Harry and the massive snake.

Harry's heart sank. He hadn’t realized that speaking Parseltongue was unusual—he had always been able to do it, and it felt so natural that he never questioned it. Now, under the weight of his family's wide-eyed stares, it dawned on him how wrong it must have looked.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly. "Son, Parseltongue is... well, it's rare. Very rare. And, um, mostly associated with... unpleasant individuals."

Harry frowned. "You mean Voldemort."

The entire family flinched at the name, and Ron looked ready to bolt.

"Harry," Molly stepped forward, her voice gentler now, "dear, did you always know you could do that?"

Harry shrugged, trying to downplay the situation. "I mean, yeah. I used to talk to garden snakes back at the Dursleys'. I thought it was normal."

Molly looked heartbroken at the mention of the Dursleys, and Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Harry, it's not a bad thing," he said carefully, "but it’s something you should be careful about. Parseltongue has a... reputation."

Ron, still looking uneasy, blurted out, "But you're not—you know, evil or anything, right?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, Ron. I'm still Harry Weasley, remember?"

Fred and George exchanged mischievous grins. "Blimey, Harry!" Fred said. "You could’ve told us earlier. Imagine all the pranks we could’ve pulled!"

George nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! We could sneak snakes into Percy's bed and you could tell them what to do!"

Molly shot them both a glare. "Enough, boys! This is serious!"

Ginny, who had been quiet all this time, finally spoke, her voice uncertain. "But... doesn't this mean Harry could be related to... you-know-who?"

The question hung in the air like a heavy weight. Harry stiffened at the thought, and Molly immediately placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "No, dear," she said firmly. "Harry is our son, and that’s all that matters."

Arthur nodded. "We’ll figure this out. Maybe Dumbledore will have some answers, but right now, let’s enjoy the circus, alright?"

The tension slowly eased, and the conversation shifted to safer topics, but Harry couldn't shake the unease gnawing at him. He had always thought of himself as just another Weasley—albeit an adopted one—but this moment made him question everything.


The heavy oak door of the Headmaster's office creaked open as Arthur and Molly Weasley, followed closely by James and Lily Potter, stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and lemon drops, and the soft whirring of the many silver instruments cluttering the shelves filled the room. The towering figure of Albus Dumbledore stood behind his desk, his usual twinkling eyes replaced by a heavy, thoughtful gaze.

Seated in the plush chairs before him, the two families exchanged uneasy glances. The tension in the room was palpable, and it wasn’t long before Dumbledore broke the silence.

“I must admit,” Dumbledore began, his hands steepled before him, “that recent revelations about young Harry’s abilities have raised... concerning questions.”

Arthur frowned. “Concerning? Albus, he's just a boy. A boy who's been through enough without us piling more doubts on him.”

Lily interjected, her voice sharp. “He’s our son, Albus. Parseltongue or not, we shouldn’t be treating him like some sort of... ticking time bomb.”

Dumbledore’s expression darkened, and he leaned forward slightly. “You must understand, Lily, that Parseltongue is not just an ability. It is... an inheritance. And one closely linked to the darkest wizard our world has ever known.” His eyes moved between the two families. “This cannot be a coincidence.”

Molly bristled, her motherly instincts on high alert. “Are you suggesting, Albus, that our Harry, my Harry, is somehow linked to Voldemort?” She crossed her arms, her face set with determination. “Because I won’t stand for it.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Molly, I fear we must consider the possibility that Harry is... not entirely who we believe him to be.”

James shot up from his chair, his face red with anger. “That’s your fault, Albus! You’re the one who insisted we leave him with Petunia. And look where that got us! We lost our son because of your judgment. And now you're saying what? That he's Voldemort reborn?”

Dumbledore's gaze was unreadable, but the weight of the implication was heavy in the air. “Magic, James, is a curious thing. Harry’s ability to speak Parseltongue... his exceptional talents beyond his age... they point to something extraordinary.”

Arthur Weasley’s calm voice cut through the rising tension. “Weasley or Potter, it doesn’t matter. Harry is a good boy. He's proven that time and again. And we trust him.”

Dumbledore sighed again, removing his half-moon spectacles and rubbing his tired eyes. “Trust, Arthur, is a precious commodity. I do not doubt Harry’s heart, but I fear what might be lurking beneath the surface. There are... darker forces at play here.”

Molly shook her head, her voice soft but resolute. “Harry is our son. We’ve raised him with love and kindness. That’s more powerful than any dark magic.”

James, still standing, jabbed a finger at Dumbledore. “No more of your theories, Albus. We want solutions, not suspicions. If you have a plan, tell us. Otherwise, we’ll protect our son in our own way.”

Dumbledore remained silent for a long moment before speaking again. “We need to watch him, closely. Guide him, ensure he is steered onto the right path. And... I would ask you, Molly and Arthur, to let him spend more time with the Potters. He must know his true heritage.”

Molly’s lips thinned. “We’ve never stopped him from seeing them, but Harry chooses to stay with us, Albus. He knows where he belongs.”

Lily, clearly torn, reached for James’ hand. “He’s our son, Molly. We love him, and we miss him.”

Arthur exhaled slowly. “We’re not keeping him from you. But we’re his family now, and that means something.”

Dumbledore finally nodded. “Then let us proceed with caution. Keep an eye on him, and if there are any further... anomalies, you must inform me at once.”

James scowled. “If you think we're treating our son like some ticking time bomb, you're mistaken. Harry’s not Voldemort, and we won’t let you treat him like he is.”

Dumbledore sighed, his expression heavy with weariness. “Very well, James. But remember, vigilance is key.”

As the families left the office, the tension in the air lingered. Harry’s abilities had opened a door none of them were prepared for, and while the Weasleys saw him as their son, and the Potters longed to reclaim him, Dumbledore couldn't shake the growing sense of foreboding in his chest.

As the door shut behind them, Dumbledore looked into the flickering flames of his fireplace and whispered, “What are you, Harry Potter Weasley ?”