The evening at the elegant Diagon Alley restaurant was lively and filled with indulgent dishes, from lobster bisque to chocolate lava cake, each course a testament to the family's refined tastes. Harry, ever curious, attempted to order Firewhiskey, earning a sharp look from Petunia. "You're ten," she said firmly, leaving Harry to sigh and settle for Butterbeer instead. Later, he tried sneaking a sip from Vernon's glass, but Petunia caught him mid-reach, her stern glare enough to make him sheepishly withdraw.
As the evening progressed, the much-anticipated gift-giving began. Petunia presented Abigail with a delicate gold bracelet, and Vernon followed with a sleek broomstick designed for children, causing Abigail to squeal in delight. When Harry's turn came, he stood and began unloading his five carefully chosen gifts onto the table. "I couldn't decide," he admitted with a grin, "so I got a few options."
Abigail gasped as she unwrapped the sky-blue frock shimmering with moonstone dust, the emerald dress adorned with silver embroidery, a set of elegant brooches, a matching set of bracelets, and a box of Sugarplum's finest desserts. "Harry!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder.
"You spoil her too much," Petunia sighed, though her tone held a trace of amusement.
Vernon chuckled, clapping Harry on the back. "He's a good brother, that's all."
Abigail threw her arms around Harry in a tight hug, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you, Harry. This is the best birthday ever."
As the family left the restaurant, Abigail's beaming smile said it all—her birthday had been nothing short of magical.
On the morning of July 24th, Harry had been surprised by the letter from Hogwarts stating his acceptance. It was quite the celebration that day. Then again a week later, Harry's birthday on July 31st was another grand affair. Much like Abigail's celebration, it was filled with joy, lavish dining, and heartfelt moments. Harry received three gifts from Vernon, an enchanted leather-bound journal, a sleek broomstick(though not built for Quidditch, it was great for leisure flying), and a magical chess set that animated itself during matches. Petunia gifted him a pair of tailored formal robes, perfectly suited for special occasions. Abigail, meanwhile, handed Harry a miniature silver phoenix charm that shimmered with animated fire at regular intervals.
Now, on the afternoon of August 4th, Harry just appeared in Diagon Alley to get some ice cream. He walked through the bustling street, leisurely strolling about gazing at the shops as he made his way towards the ice cream parlour, Florean Fortescue.
Just as he crossed Flourish and Blotts, he thought that he would see if any new advanced books had been stocked, and headed inside. As Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts, the familiar scent of parchment, ink and books greeted him. As he walked through the store browsing the shelves, from the corner of his eye, he spotted something large and red enter the store.
Harry turned to see that a family of seven walked in following their mother. Each and every single one of them were red heads. Before Harry could take in more details, an irritating, sneering voice rang in his mind: Red hair and a hand-me-down robe. You must be a Weasley.
Harry flinched. The voice was unmistakably Draco Malfoy's—or at least, what Harry imagined Malfoy would sound like. And it was a really irritating voice. It was quite the miracle that he had not run into him yet in his so many visits to the Diagon Alley. Did he not exist in this world like Dudley? Shaking his thoughts away, Harry turned his attention back to the family.
There was Arthur Weasley, his glasses perched on his nose as he looked around the shop, Molly fussing over the children, and the kids themselves—a lively, slightly chaotic group. Percy looked haughty and bookish, Fred and George had identical grins, Ron seemed like he would rather fight a troll than be in a bookstore, and Ginny who seemed to be following her mother around. Classic lore accurate Weasleys. At least so far, Harry thought.
For now he tried not to focus on the family and made his way to another aisle, trying to focus on books. Then a loud crash erupted behind him, which caught his attention. Harry turned to see a cascade of books tumbling from a shelf, a tall pile completely knocked over. In the center of the chaos was Ron, his ears red as he scrambled to fix the mess, muttering apologies under his breath while the twins immediately got busy teasing him.
Harry sighed, and walked over. Well it wasn't a bad thing to get connected with the Weasleys early. After all, Ron is supposedly his best friend for life, which he doubted would be the case this time around but still.
"Here, let me help," he said, crouching down and picking up a few scattered books.
Ron glanced up, startled by the stranger's presence. "Oh—uh, thanks," he mumbled, still clearly embarrassed.
Harry didn't reply, stacking the books neatly and sliding them back onto the shelf. He didn't use magic because he didn't want to give out his powers then. He didn't want attention. Not yet.
As the books were restored to their proper places, Molly bustled over, "Ronald! What did I tell you about being careful?" she scolded, though her tone softened when she noticed Harry. "Thank you for helping, dear. Honestly, this boy doesn't know his own elbows from his knees sometimes."
Harry straightened, brushing off his hands. "It's no trouble," he said politely.
Molly gave him a warm smile, "Still, it's kind of you. Are you here for school shopping as well? You look about the age for Hogwarts."
Harry hesitated, should he tell them? What if they were different then compared to the books? Should he trust them? Then he sighed, it wasn't anything that serious. Wait.
Suddenly he remembered something and replied, "Yes, I will be going for my first year this time."
Molly's smile widened at Harry's response. "First year? Oh, how exciting! The trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies is always special. Isn't that right, Arthur?"
Arthur Weasley, who had been helping Ron clean up, stepped forward, his expression kind. He adjusted his glasses as he looked at Harry. "Quite right, Molly. First year is always memorable," he said warmly. "And what's your name, young man? You seem awfully familiar."
Harry offered a polite smile, "I'm Harry, sir. Harry Potter," he said.
The effect was immediate. The Weasley family froze, their reactions ranging from stunned silence to wide-eyed disbelief. Ron's jaw dropped as Fred and George exchanged identical looks of astonishment. Ginny gasped softly, and hid behind Percy, while Percy straightened his posture as if trying to compose himself.
Arthur blinked, his brows knitting together in a mix of surprise and admiration. "Harry Potter?" he repeated, as though confirming he had heard correctly. "Well, this is an honor. I—goodness, I don't know what to say."
Molly placed a hand over her chest, her face a mixture of maternal concern and awe. "Oh, you poor dear. After everything you've been through... You're so brave, Harry. So brave."
Harry smiled faintly, but there was an edge of discomfort in it. "Thank you, but I'm just… me," he said, hoping to steer the conversation to lighter waters. He glanced at Ron, who was still staring at him as though he had grown a second head.
Arthur blinked in surprise, then asked, "So, Harry, are you here alone?"
Harry smiled and replied, "I came by Floo on my own. I wanted to grab some ice cream, but I thought I'd check out the bookstore first. There is always something interesting here."
He paused and added, "I live with my mum, dad, and sister at the Dursley Mansion."
The reaction was immediate. Arthur froze for a moment, Molly's eyebrows shot up, and the Weasley children all turned to gape at Harry, their expressions a mix of shock and awe.
"The Dursley Mansion?" Arthur repeated slowly, as though making sure he'd heard correctly.
"Yes," Harry replied. "My mum, Petunia Dursley, and dad, Vernon Dursley, took me in after…" He hesitated for a brief moment before adding, "After my parents died."
Arthur exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Molly. "Well, I'll be," he murmured. "So the rumors were true."
"Rumors?" Harry asked, tilting his head.
Fred grinned, breaking the tension. "Oh, you know, whispers here and there about the Boy-Who-Lived living with the Dursleys."
George chimed in, "But no one could confirm it. Your family's like one of the richest in all of magical Britain."
"You're practically a celebrity among celebrities," Fred added with a mock bow, making Harry chuckle.
Molly quickly regained her composure and gave Harry a kind smile. "Well, Harry, no matter where you live, it's clear you've been raised well. The Dursleys must love you dearly."
Harry nodded, his smile softening. "They do. They've been everything I could've asked for. Mum, Dad, and Abigail—they're my family."
Ron, who had been staring at Harry as if seeing a legend come to life, finally blurted out, "Wait—you're saying you live at the Dursley Mansion? With them? And they're, like, raising you?"
Harry turned to Ron and nodded calmly. "Yes. I'm their son in every way that matters. But I'm still Lily and James Potter's child, too," he added, his voice softening slightly.
"So, Harry," Fred said with a grin, "does that mean you've got house-elves, secret tunnels, or—"
"Or, better yet," George interrupted, "a vault of treasure bigger than Gringotts itself?"
Harry chuckled lightly, his green eyes twinkling with amusement. "I couldn't say," he replied, his tone measured yet casual, "since we've mostly just been using the left wing of the Dursley Mansion. There hasn't been anyone to take care of the rest of the estate."
Fred and George exchanged intrigued glances, but before they could ask more, Harry continued, as if he hadn't noticed their growing curiosity. "The last few house-elves we had passed away years ago. And after that, well, there haven't been any elves."
He paused for a moment, glancing at their expressions, and then added offhandedly, "But we do have a full-sized Quidditch pitch on the grounds."
The reaction was instantaneous. Fred and George's jaws dropped, and even Ron, who had been quietly observing, suddenly looked like Christmas had come early.
"A Quidditch pitch?" Fred almost shouted, earning him a warning look from Molly.
"You mean, like, a real one?" George asked, his voice hushed as though he was speaking about something sacred.
Harry gave them a polite smile, his words still perfectly controlled despite their enthusiasm. "Yes. Full-sized, regulation standards. My dad keeps it maintained in case anyone ever wants to play."
Fred looked like he might faint. "That's it. You're officially the coolest person we've ever met."
George nodded vigorously. "Agreed. Can we come over sometime? You know, just to… admire the pitch?"
Harry smiled faintly. "You can come by anytime you want," he said, "as long as you play Quidditch with me."
Fred and George's grins widened, but before they could respond, Harry continued, "The thing is… I don't really have any friends to play with. I mean, I can fly well enough, but I don't know much about the game itself."
This revelation seemed to hit Ron the hardest. His wide-eyed stare quickly turned into an almost frantic excitement. "You don't know anything about Quidditch?" he blurted, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Harry shook his head lightly, letting a small, self-deprecating chuckle escape. "Not much, really. I've read a bit about it, but there's a difference between knowing and playing. It's not quite as fun on your own."
Fred stepped forward, his eyes practically glowing. "Well, that settles it, doesn't it? We're coming over. We can't let a full-sized Quidditch pitch go to waste just because you don't know the game."
"Exactly," George added with equal fervor. "We'll teach you everything. You'll be a pro by the time we're done."
Ron, clearly not wanting to miss out, chimed in, "Can we come over now?"
Harry's expression turned slightly regretful, "I'd love to, really," he said, glancing between Fred, George, and Ron, "but I'd have to ask Mum and Dad first. We actually might not be home today—we had some plans to visit another place." He gave a small shrug, adding lightly, "You know how family outings go."
He was not ready to have them come over to his house just yet. Yes the Weasleys were supposed to be good but were they the same in this world as well? Until he finds that out he wouldn't let them into his house.
The boys visibly deflated at the response, though Fred seemed ready to counter with some argument when Molly Weasley's voice cut through their discussion.
"What's all this talk about plans?" she asked, approaching with a curious look. Her gaze flicked between the boys before settling on Harry.
Fred, never one to mince words, jumped in eagerly. "Mum, Harry's got a full-sized Quidditch pitch at the Dursley Mansion!"
George followed with equal enthusiasm. "And we were going to go over to play, but…" He glanced at Harry with a dramatic pout. "They've got plans today."
Molly's brows rose at the mention of the Dursley Mansion, though her expression remained composed. She looked to Harry, her curiosity evident. "Is that so?"
Harry nodded smoothly, his smile faintly apologetic. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley. My family had plans to go out today, otherwise, I'd have loved for them to come by. Perhaps another time?"
Molly's lips twitched into a warm smile, though she seemed to be considering something. "That's very thoughtful of you, Harry," she said. After a moment, she added, "If you're not too busy tomorrow, you're more than welcome to visit the Burrow instead. It's not as grand as a mansion, mind you, but the boys could teach you a bit about Quidditch there. That way, when you play at your pitch, you'll know what you're doing."
Harry's eyes gleamed briefly at the offer, though he kept his tone neutral, polite. "That sounds wonderful, Mrs. Weasley. I'd be delighted to come by."
This was perfect, he could get the whole Scabbers—Peter Pettigrew situation dealt with if he could visit the Burrow. Well if it was the same as the book had mentioned in the first place. Harry thought.
Fred and George exchanged a victorious glance, while Ron looked as though Christmas had come early.
"Perfect!" Molly said, her warm smile deepening. "We'll expect you around mid-morning, then. I'll make sure the boys don't pester you too much." She shot a mock-warning look at Fred and George, who grinned sheepishly but said nothing.
Just as they began to part ways, Ginny, who had been lingering nearby, caught Harry's eye. He turned to her with a friendly smile. "You must be Ginny," he said, his tone warm.
Ginny's face turned a bright shade of red almost instantly. She mumbled something unintelligible, then spun on her heel and fled toward the back of the shop.
Harry blinked, watching her go with mild surprise. Internally, he found the reaction cute, though he kept his face neutral. Well at least she was the same as the books. Turning back to the boys, he asked, "Did I… do something wrong?"
Fred burst out laughing, while George grinned mischievously. Ron, however, looked a little awkward as he muttered, "Er, no. She's just, uh… shy. Around you."
Harry tilted his head slightly, feigning confusion. "Around me? Why would she be shy?"
Fred clapped him on the shoulder, clearly enjoying himself. "Harry, mate, she's got a crush on you."
At this, Harry felt his cheeks warm slightly, and he quickly ducked his head, pretending to be flustered. "Oh, I didn't realize… Should I apologize?"
George laughed harder. "No need! Just let her be. She'll come around eventually. Or not. Either way, it's fun to watch."
Harry smiled faintly, the act of being embarrassed convincing enough to keep the twins entertained.
His acting so far had been good enough to fool them. Just then Percy stepped forward, his expression measured. "Harry, I must say, I'm quite impressed with how you carry yourself. You're remarkably polite and well-spoken for someone your age."
Harry smiled and gave a small nod. "Thank you, Percy. There is no reason for me not to be respectful towards others. After all, my parents always stressed the importance of being respectful and well-mannered."
Percy adjusted his glasses, clearly pleased. "Quite right. It reflects well on you and your family. If you ever need any help navigating hogwarts, do let me know. I am the Prefect and I'll be there to help."
Harry bit back a grin at Percy's formality but nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for the offer."
Arthur, who had been observing the exchange with a warm smile, stepped in. "You know, Harry," he began, his tone more casual and fatherly, "it's not every day we meet someone from such a distinguished family who's so… grounded."
Harry shrugged lightly, his tone earnest. "My parents are good people, Mr. Weasley. They always remind me that it's important to stay humble, no matter what we have."
Arthur's smile widened, his admiration evident. "That's a wise lesson. Your parents sound like fine folk." He paused, his curiosity piqued. "If you don't mind me asking, what job does your dad do?"
Harry smiled and replied, "Dad owns a large number of businesses. Our business ranges from restaurants, lodges to everyday products to magical carriages. We are also the biggest supplier of potion ingredients." He paused for a moment before asking, "Well, Mr. Weasley, are you familiar with EverClean Cauldron Polish?"
Arthur nodded immediately. "EverClean? Of course! It's practically a staple in every wizarding household."
Harry smiled, "That's one of the products made by my dad's company."
Arthur nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "That's impressive, Harry. Quite a wide range of businesses. It must have kept your family busy over the years." He gave Harry a warm smile. "It's not often you hear about families so grounded in both business and humility."
Harry smiled back, feeling a bit awkward but trying to remain calm. "It's the way my parents raised me. They always say that success is something you should share, not boast about."
Arthur chuckled, clearly enjoying the conversation. "Your parents sound like good people. I imagine that sense of humility has shaped you quite a bit."
Harry smiled lightly, not wanting to continue that conversation. He continued conversing with Ron and the twins till the Weasley family left. As the door to Flourish and Blotts swung shut behind them, Harry exhaled softly. The plan was in motion, he will soon know whether this story followed the original plotline for the rat.
With that Harry turned back to the shelves and started browsing again to see if there was anything interesting. His fingers trailed over spines of the books as he browsed the shelves, his eyes scanning each and every title. His finger stopped on a thick volume titled Mastery of Transfiguration: Advanced Techniques.
Carefully, he pulled the book front he shelf, feeling its weight on his hands. Flipping through the pages, he quickly noted that the content delved deeper in the field of transfiguration than any of the books he had gotten before.
Satisfied with his find, Harry headed toward the counter.
"Ah, Master Potter," the manager greeted warmly as Harry approached. "Back again, I see."
Harry offered a small smile. "Couldn't resist. You have the best collection here."
The manager chuckled, already reaching for his ledger. "This is your third visit this month, and it's only the fourth of August. I think you have already read through all my stock here."
Harry smiled sheepishly, "I like to read."
The manager laughed loudly, "That I know very well, Master Potter. That'll be 13 Galleons."
Harry handed over the coins as he took the book. "Thank you," he said as he turned toward the door.
"Always a pleasure, Master Potter. See you soon, no doubt," the manager called after him, chuckling.
Once outside, Harry felt the sun warm his face as he navigated the bustling street of Diagon Alley. The aroma of freshly baked pastries and the hum of animated conversations filled the air. His destination was clear—Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.
The shop was lively, as always, with families and students gathered around tables enjoying their colorful treats. Harry stepped up to the counter, greeted by Florean himself.
"Harry! Back for more?" Florean grinned as he wiped his hands on a towel.
Harry smiled. "Yeah, but this time, I'll need a larger portion. Enough for four people, please."
"Coming right up," Florean said, quickly scooping a mix of flavors into a large container. Strawberry, chocolate, and a swirl of something blue and sparkling—Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the sight.
"Here you go," Florean said, sealing the container. "That'll be 10 Sickles"
Harry handed over the coins, thanked him, and tucked the container into his pouch, along with the book. Back on the bustling street, Harry slipped into an inconspicuous corner between two shops. After ensuring that no one was watching, he quickly Disapparated back to Dursley Mansion.
Harry appeared back in the backyard where Petunia had told him they would be before he had headed to Diagon Alley. And surely Petunia was in the pool with Abigail and Vernon was lazing on the chair. She was floating leisurely, while Abigail splashed around her.
"Brought dessert!" Harry called out, lifting the ice cream container from his pouch.
Abigail squealed with excitement, her eyes lighting up as she climbed out of the pool. Petunia glanced over with a warm smile. "You spoil us, Harry," she teased, stepping out of the pool and grabbing a towel.
Vernon raised an eyebrow, his tone curious. "What did you get this time?"
"Florean's finest," Harry replied, placing the container on the patio table. "Strawberry, chocolate, and a magical swirl of... something blue." He opened the container, releasing a cool, sweet aroma that immediately made Abigail grin wider.
As they began serving the ice cream into bowls, Harry sat down beside them, recounting his trip to Diagon Alley. "I ran into a family there—the Weasleys. They were nice. Big family, lots of kids."
Vernon paused mid-bite, his expression turning thoughtful. "Weasleys... Ah, yes. Purebloods, aren't they? Not much money in that family, though. From what I recall, Arthur and Molly ran off to marry against the wishes of Arthur's parents. Cost them the inheritance. Not that it would have made much difference—they were never particularly wealthy to begin with."
Petunia nodded, her tone softer. "They may not have much, but they're known to be one of the kindest families in magical Britain. Always willing to help others, no matter what they have."
Harry smiled, feeling a small sense of relief. The Weasleys were just as he remembered from the books—kind-hearted and genuine. "They did seem really nice," he said, his voice genuine. Internally, he felt a flicker of gratitude that this part of the story hadn't changed in this universe.
Abigail, who had been listening intently, looked up at Harry with curious eyes. "Did you make friends with them?"
Harry chuckled softly, reaching over to ruffle her damp hair. "I did," he said. "And don't worry—you will too. I'm sure you'll like one of them." His mind briefly flickered to Ginny.
As they savored their ice cream, Harry casually mentioned, "Oh, and they invited me to visit their house tomorrow. The Burrow, it's called."
Petunia's smile widened, her maternal warmth evident. "That's lovely, Harry. You should go. It'll be good to spend some time with friends."
Vernon, surprisingly, nodded in agreement. "A respectable pureblood family, even if they aren't well-off. It's a decent connection to maintain."
Abigail's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Can I come too, Harry? Please?"
Harry laughed softly, reaching over to ruffle her hair again. "Not this time, squirt. I'll check it out first, and then I'll take you next time. Deal?"
Abigail pouted but nodded reluctantly. "Deal."
The conversation drifted to lighter topics as the family finished their treat. Harry felt a quiet sense of contentment. Despite the complexities of his life, moments like these gave him a grounding he deeply appreciated.
The next morning, around 10 AM, after breakfast, Harry stood in the living room, ready to leave for the Burrow. He wore a casual shirt and trousers. He had also gotten some treats(which he had bought from Diagon Alley early in the morning) in his pouch.
Petunia was the first to approach, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "You look handsome, dear. Be polite and thank them for inviting you."
Vernon gave him a nod from his armchair, his tone gruff but approving. "Enjoy yourself. And remember, you're representing us as well."
Abigail stood by the door, still a bit pouty. "You better take me next time," she grumbled, crossing her arms.
Harry chuckled, ruffling her hair. "I promise."
Harry stepped into the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder. Tossing it into the flames, he called out clearly, "The Burrow!" The green flames roared around him, spinning and tugging as he traveled through the Floo Network.
Moments later, Harry stumbled out of the Weasley's fireplace and into their cozy living room. As he steadied himself, a loud shout erupted.
"Harry Potter has arrived!" Fred and George bellowed in unison, jumping off the couch with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Ron, who had been sitting between them, grinned widely. "Took you long enough! We were starting to think you'd gotten lost in the Floo."
Harry laughed, brushing the soot off his clothes. He glanced around, taking in the living room with wide eyes. The mismatched furniture, the family clock with its many hands, and the warm, lived-in feel of the Burrow perfectly matched what he had read in the books.
Mrs. Weasley bustled in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Harry, dear! Welcome to the Burrow! I've made some snacks for you. You must be hungry after your trip."
Harry chuckled at that. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said sincerely. Reaching into his subspace pouch, he pulled out a rather large box of treats. "I brought something for the family too."
"Oh, that's very thoughtful of you, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said, her face lighting up as she accepted the box. "I'll set this aside for later. The children will love it."
Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs. Percy appeared first, looking mildly curious about the commotion, followed by Ginny, whose cheeks turned red the moment she spotted Harry. She quickly ducked her head, avoiding eye contact as she moved toward the kitchen.
Harry smiled inwardly but decided not to press her just yet. Instead, he joined the twins, Ron, and Percy on the couch, where they started chatting about Hogwarts, Quidditch, and other lighthearted topics. Mrs. Weasley soon brought out a tray of delicious homemade snacks.
He was just waiting for the moment to confirm whether or not Scabbers was here. Because the Sirius situation was the same as the story so he had hopes that the Scabbers situation would be too. Even though Vernon and Petunia had tried a lot to clear out Sirius's name it wasn't helpful because there was too much evidence against him. And Harry was hoping that he could catch Pettigrew here.
The moment arrived sooner than Harry had anticipated. During their lively conversation, Ron suddenly stood up, brushing crumbs off his lap.
"Hang on a sec," he said, heading toward the stairs. "I need to grab something."
Harry watched as Ron returned a few moments later, holding a small cage in his hands. Inside was a scruffy-looking brown rat.
"Scabbers hasn't been eating properly," Ron explained, showing the rat to Mrs. Weasley. "I think he's feeling sick. Can you take a look, Mum?"
Mrs. Weasley leaned in, inspecting the rat with a motherly concern that Harry couldn't help but admire. "Well, he does look a bit thinner. Perhaps he needs a tonic from the apothecary. I'll make sure to get one next time I'm in Diagon Alley."
Harry's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the rat's paws gripping the bars of the cage. One paw was missing a finger. His heart skipped a beat. The story… it really is the same.
Feigning curiosity, Harry leaned forward. "I've never seen a pet rat before. Could I have a closer look at him, Ron?"
Ron shrugged, opening the cage and handing Scabbers over. "Sure, but careful. He's a bit jumpy today."
Harry gently cupped the rat in his hands, his magical senses on high alert. As he studied Scabbers, there was no doubt in his mind. The rat's features, coupled with the distinct magical signature of a human, confirmed it—this was Peter Pettigrew.
How do I proceed from here? he wondered. Should I confront him now? Or wait and gather more information?