Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Harry Potter aside from the books and a few other memorabilia, which I treasure (sigh). I do own this plot (as per fanfiction authors' copyright authority). I do own my computer. I do own a great deal of guilt for allowing Fugitive Prince to wither while this plot, and many other plots, took control of my body and put me up for adoption to the muses. Please refer to this for the following chapters, and for urges to spit at me when this story (or any other story) is updated while Fugitive Prince is not (double-sigh, if it's at all possible).
Summary: Karkaroff need a way to escape the Dark Lord's attention, and during the summer he finds it. Harry turns up missing just a month into the summer break, leaving a tormented Remus Lupin and moody Severus Snape to find him. What they thought they'd be dealing with: Death Eaters, magic, the occasional wacky muggle. What they didn't: huge white wolves, attacks on the Burrow, and an irritable Lord Voldemort. Well, maybe they counted on that.
The Lost Cause
By March Madness
Chapter One: An Unweeded Garden
HAMLET: O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, that grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature possess it merely. That it should come to this!
-Hamlet,
ShakespeareRemus followed after Harry the entire way the boy went, first down the terminal and through the crowds to the parked lot, and then into the muggles' car. He stared as the car slowly backup up and began to drive away, kept his eye locked until the sight drifted too far for even his wolf eyes to see.
Beside him, Moody gave a little grunt and tapped the ground importantly with his staff, slipping the bowler hat around to make sure it still covered his magical eye. Tonks looked at them seriously. They'd all seen the smile slip from Harry's face.
Remus was worried about his late best friend's only son, more worried than he'd ever been about a single person in his life. It went deeper than some attachment to "Prongs's kid" or "Padfoot's godson." It was honest worry from Remus's own personal attachment with the boy.
"Every three days, then?" he said first, breaking the silence between the three.
"We'll set up a schedule," Moody took up the conversation immediately. He began to walk out onto the street into the sun, the others following as they got out of the way of bustling muggles. "Week-block rotations. Check in a few days every week, completely random so they won't be prepared to meet us."
He looked around surreptitiously, then pulled out a Quick Quote Quills to dictate. "I'll take the first week, Tonks the next. Shacklebolt..." He ticked off a few more names. Magically, the quills came out with a calendar listing everyone's assigned weeks from that very week up to the day Harry was to return to Hogwarts. "That should cover the summer, then-"
"Moody," Remus cut in anxiously, eyes flashing, "am I not going to be allowed to see the boy?"
It was like everything had been planned without his notice. Moody sent a significant look over to Tonks, who sighed and stepped up to Remus, smiling with false brightness as she grabbed one of his forearms. "Remus, aren't you taking all this a little too lightly? Sirius is dead, but you're still acting like nothing's wrong."
Bewildered, Remus started to say something like "I am in mourning, but I've been in mourning so long it's no longer obvious," but Moody started on in their planned speech. "You're acting strange. All of us" the implied Order of the Phoenix "know how much he meant to you. The way you are now has us worried you going to have some sort of mental breakdown. It'd be best if you didn't see Potter for a while."
"The summer will give you both some time to yourself, some time to grieve properly," the witch picked up. "Gosh, neither of you have even done any sort of real grieving since it happened. Keeping it all bottled up inside isn't going to help."
"Potter's a strong lad. He's been through a lot and he'll get through this--we'll be there to make sure-"
"This is all well and good," Remus broke in with a certain viciousness, mouth dry and throat tight, "but haven't you ever supposed that it might be better for us to... grieve... together?"
Moody and Tonks exchanged looks again, as if both had expected this statement and were well prepared to deal with it. "But Harry's only fifteen," Tonks began slowly, "sixteen in a month. He's at a really delicate stage in his life, Remus. It's obvious that he was really attached to Sirius, so close that he'll probably substitute you as his godfather if you let him."
"And he doesn't need that," Moody added gruffly. "He doesn't need someone to mother him. He's grown up in the past year but what happened at the Ministry could completely unravel all that if he's allowed to wallow. He needs someone to make sure he's getting food, not to spoon-feed him. He needs someone to make sure he gets up every morning, not to share the day with. Potter can't be allowed to regress. If the Ministry hasn't shown how crucial the war is becoming..."
"So you're saying that Harry's grown up enough that he no longer needs a friend, only a guardian?" Remus restated dryly, his stomach dropping with the implication. On reflex, he turned to stare off in the direction that Harry had disappeared to as if he could catch a last glimpse of the boy again. "You're wrong about that. He needs a confidante, especially so soon-"
"It isn't even all about Harry," Tonks interrupted. Stripes of subtle color flashed through her hair, indication of her worry. "You could get hurt in this, too. If you were allowed to go and see Harry everyday, what would happen? You'd go and become so attached to him that you'd never let him grow up. He wouldn't even be Harry anymore, just a person to indulge so that you'd never remember your grief. You'd do anything for him, you'd spoil him rotten, just to get over Sirius. Harry doesn't need to be spoiled--he even hardly needs to be helped anymore! If he were allowed to do magic, we wouldn't even need to check up on him because he'd be able to take care of himself."
They went on for a long time, Remus watching their mouths move without really listening. Tonks was obviously worried, trying to make sure Remus understood exactly what she meant, but Moody was altogether rough about getting his message across, grouchy face frowning often and a fisted hand shaking. The other hand was curled white around the top of his staff.
"The bottom line is that I'm not to be allowed to visit Harry at all this summer according to you," Remus summarized flatly when they were done nearly an hour later, all eyes on him.
"Actually," Tonks hesitantly replied, "according to Dumbledore."
"That means we're charged with making sure you get some quiet away from Potter," Moody clarified brusquely.
"This is crazy."
"It's for the best."
"And how would you know what's for the best?" Remus snarled, anger flashing across his face in a sudden rage. Tonks took a hurried step back, and just as instantly Remus calmed, his expression falling. He half-turned. "I'm sorry... this is just... too unexpected." He swallowed, wiping at his forehead. "I think I'd better go then, now that I know how things stand. Don't worry, I won't try to sneak onto Dursley's property--I probably won't see anyone until summer's over."
"Remus, please, try to understand-"
"I understand perfectly," he said in sharp tones, voice betraying his anger and hurt. "After all, I've spent my entire life ostracized. Why should now be any different? Why should I have ever thought it would be?"
"Lupin-"
"Goodbye." Without another word from either party, Remus apparated away.
...
The first few days at the Dursley's were normal enough: enough physical labor to keep his mind from wandering. If his uncle had known that making him keep up the house's appearance was a blessing, he'd probably have been torturously locked in a room or something instead. The only thing different was that the family now kept a large calendar hanging in the kitchen with every third day circled in horridly bright red ink.
When the car had pulled into the driveway, finding the calendar had been the first thing Petunia did. She searched until she found one large enough, and then sat hunching over it on the kitchen table, marking off the days she could be expecting "visitors" all the while muttering angrily under her breath. Harry, assigned the chore of cleaning a week's worth of dishes by hand, was given private audience for all her curses, but her anger only caused some small satisfaction on his part.
Harry glanced at that calendar now, two days after having unpacked everything. It seemed that all her stress and labor was for naught.
The doorbell rang again. Mad-Eye Moody was obviously at it, from his shouts that he could see them just standing there.
Vernon shuddered, face a ghastly pale. "I thought they said every third day!" he hissed to Petunia. She swallowed loudly, eyes darting back and forth between the door and the calendar she'd ripped off the wall to worry her hands at.
Harry smirked, head tipped to one side insolently. "Maybe today's the first day," he suggested sarcastically. "After all, even though they said every third day, they didn't say which day to start at."
"Trying to catch us off guard, are they?" Vernon bristled angrily, purposely ignoring Harry's tone. He couldn't very well do anything with an Order member just outside the door, ringing the bell again and threatening to break the wood down in a moment. "Ah, well, why don't we just indulge them this time? Once they come in, I'll be having a few words with him! I'll tell you that now!" He twirled at his moustache nervously.
The bell rang again, Moody shouting out his last warning.
"For heaven's sake, boy, answer the door!" Vernon bellowed, horrified.
"But I thought you said you'd die before letting one of them in," Harry countered innocently, stalling.
"Vernon, the Jones are watching us!" Petunia reported in a terrified voice. Without waiting for another moment, she ran to the door and threw it open, practically dragging Moody inside as she smiled tightly. "Ah, uh, sorry about that. Dudley had his music on so loud, no one heard you! Perfectly normal, those teenagers," she greeted him loudly, making sure all the curious neighbors heard her hurried explanation before she slammed the door shut.
Harry leaned against a wall, arms crossed as he waited to see exactly what these visits would entail. Moody looked him over and was satisfied enough to begin his inspection of the house. "Getting kind of skinny there, are you, Potter?" he commented absently as he walked around.
Vernon made a gagging sound deep in his throat. "It-it's the boy's fault," he practically quivered. "I-I mean Harry didn't feel like eating much, and he was already so skinny from that, uh, school of his."
Petunia nodded frantically, following as Moody stalked towards the kitchen. "We're so worried," she added in fawning tones. "He hardly wants to do anything anymore."
Moody turned back to look at Harry, who shrugged. "I haven't felt much for food," the boy answered carelessly, eyes flashing in a silent dare for Moody to order him to eat. "I heard from Hermione before leaving school that in my case, it would be understandable."
The Order member grunted without comment, did an inspection on the kitchen, and then began walking back to the front of the house. "Did some remodeling, eh, Dursley?" he commented idly as he walked upstairs. "Walls look better--that color last year was almost enough to blind me."
"Well, thank y--WHAT DO YOU MEAN LAST YEAR?" the man roared, face turning purple. He whirled around on Harry. "WAS HE HERE LAST YEAR?"
"Yes," Harry replied calmly, stepping around his furious uncle to walk up the stairs. "As a matter of fact, he was. There were about eleven of them--remember the night I disappeared? Didn't you wonder who picked me up?" He paused, and purposely spun to stare at Moody with mock horror. "I just remembered! That glass that you used to soak your eye in, did we ever clean it?"
Shrugging, Moody just kept walking. "Might have put it back in the cupboards-"
"WHAT EYE?!?"
"One of Moody's eyes is fake," Harry explained with fake worry. "When he came to pick me up with all those other people, it was sticky so I got him a glass of water. He plucked the eye out and let it soak for a few minutes, just to clean it up. I don't know if what would happen if the glass wasn't properly disinfected before being used again--you'd probably break out into horrible rashes!"
It just so happened that Harry had overheard Dudley complaining that morning about a strange rash on his inner arm. This rash, Harry knew, had actually come from Dudley rubbing some poison ivy all over himself on a dare the day before, but no one else knew. Dudley, when he heard about the 'glass-rash,' would probably be stupid enough to really believe himself infected with some magical disease.
He paused, thinking. "There's so many glasses in the house, it might still even be sitting in the cupboard. You'd better rewash them all, Aunt Petunia."
Vernon looked ready to explode, a moment Harry used to drop, "Oh, by the way, this wizard's name is Alastor Moody, in case you were wondering." In a stage whisper, he added, "But everyone calls him 'Mad-Eye' Moody. For the, uh, eye, and also because he's just stark raving mad. If everyone weren't so scared of him, they'd probably have locked him up by now." Satisfied, Harry turned around and hurried to catch up with Moody, who was exiting from his inspection of Dudley's room and who'd heard nothing whatsoever.
"Not your room, is it, Potter?" Harry shook his head. "Which one is, then? I haven't got all day." Moody turned to face the Dursleys. "I'm just checking the wards along the windows, case you're wondering," he informed them abruptly. Before either could say anything, they grimaced at the sight of Moody's magical eye spinning in his head to watch Harry, and then spin in all directions to take inventory of the house. "Where's your son? I thought he'd be here."
"D-Dudley, he's at... at the park," Vernon answered faintly, face ghost-white. Petunia whimpered, still staring at that rotating eye.
Moody snorted. "I've seen enough pictures of him to know he doesn't go there for play. What's he doing there? Beating up everyone smaller than him?"
"Just the ones who're scared of him," Harry shouted the answer. "Everyone's smaller than Dudley, but most are smart enough to see how stupid he is."
"BOY!!!"
"My room's here, Mad-Eye," Harry informed him pleasantly, stressing the nickname. "Do you need to come over, or can you just check through the walls with that eye of yours?"
"It's pretty handy," Moody admitted, the eye swirling from where it was probably looking through the master bedroom. It moved, pupils expanding or contracting randomly. "Everything looks to be in order here."
Both wizards trooped down the stairs, muggles coming down a moment later with shaky legs and hands. Moody looked around again, taking a moment to double-check his work which moment made the Dursleys that much worse.
"I was wondering," Harry started, "why you even have to come over, Moody?" The Dursleys looked up hopefully, seeing some sort of salvation in their nephew. Harry continued carelessly. "I mean, you could just check through the walls and all with that eye of yours. We wouldn't have to know when--I'm sure this whole break in schedule is very stressful to my family. If you just walked by a few times a week, checking in on everything without telling anyone, I know they'd all feel much better."
"I-I'm sure that's not necessary, Harry, love," Petunia protested weakly, seeing the idea. If Harry got his way, his aunt and uncle would never know when Moody was checking on them--they'd have to be on their best behavior all day, every day, until summer was over. "We...um... we enjoy this op-oppor-opportunity to see a real wizard." She swallowed loudly, face sallow and hair limp. "Besides, I'm afraid that'd I'd get a little paranoid if I knew that at any moment, someone could be walking by looking through our house." She smiled a little too sweetly, a little too fake.
"It's an idea," was all that Moody said before turning around and letting himself out the door.
Harry, smartly, had turned and made his way up the stairs as soon as the Order member began to leave, and had shut the door to his room before anyone realized he'd gone.
...
The last day of his first week back (two visits by Moody later), Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at his work. All the weeds were gone from the entirety of the Dursley property, all the flowers and bushes and shrubs were perfectly taken care of and watered. The trees were managed, the grass mowed. Moody had been suspicious when he'd caught Harry hard at work and the Dursleys had nearly died of fright, but Harry had simply told the wizard that the work did him good and there was no more mention of the subject.
When he stepped inside the kitchen doorway for a quick drink, Harry was suddenly rewarded for his good behavior so far in the summer.
All of the Dursleys were sitting at the table in the kitchen, dressed in vacation shirts and there were dozens of bags packed along the hallway. Dudley looked like he could sing with joy at Harry's dumbfounded expression. Harry had to stare a moment at the horrid rash covering his cousin completely before realizing that something strange was happening.
"What's going on?" Harry blurted out, alerting the adults to his presence. They glanced up unhappily from what, Harry could see, was a vacation travel package. He pulled off his working gloves and shrugged his shoes off, stepping into the house. "Why are all those bags packed?"
"Ah, Harry," Petunia smiled nastily. "How good of you to drop in. And lucky, too. We were just about to leave--it would have been a shame to go without a proper 'goodbye' from you, but you've made it."
"Goodbye?" Harry repeated dumbly. "Goodbye where?"
"We're going on a vacation," Dudley informed him snottily, still very much put off from being infected with some magical weirdo's eye liquid. The spots all over his face looked very itchy, and Dudley had scratched hard enough to cause various, bleeding holes in his skin. Petunia had been on the verge of ordering Harry to clean every dish in the house, but that was changed when Dudley realized (from the glint in his cousin's eye) that cleaning every dish would only give that nasty Potter boy a chance to infect the whole household. Seeing Petunia slave away for hours in the kitchen and having his dishwashing privileges revoked almost made his summer happy.
Harry snorted. "I can see that, you dolt," he shot back angrily. "What I want to know is why I didn't know until now, probably minutes before you leave!"
Vernon answered this, face molded into some haughty, annoyed expression: his eyes were half-closed, his chin lowered enough to practically disappear in layers of fat, and his lips smirked. "I'm sure you'd love to know, boy. In fact, I feel you ought to know, just so you can think about what you're not going to experience." He paused for dramatic flair, the rest of the family grinning evilly. "We're going to Jamaica."
Harry blinked a few times. "Jamaica?"
"Yes, Jamaica."
Dudley let out an excited squeal, jumping up from his chair. "Let's go now! I want to go now!" He eagerly stomped through the halls, touching the luggage as he went. "Come on!"
"I'm sure you already told Moody about this," Harry started, feeling like he was going to drown with shock.
But Vernon shook his head. "We're leaving that to you, boy. In fact, we're leaving you. Don't mess anything up, be sure to lock the door when you leave for that abominable school of yours, and," his eyes glinted, "make sure the lawn's kept."
Harry waited a moment longer, and then slowly backed out of the house. Shutting the door, he sank against it, feeling a certain betrayal towards his family he never really expected. It wasn't that they were leaving him. It was that they weren't even going to bother to tell him about it-
"Oh, brother," he muttered, suddenly remembering what Dumbledore had said about protection while living with a blood relative. As quick as he could, Harry slid his shoes back on and began running down the street to old Figg's house where he guessed the Order members were holing up during the summer.
...
The house still stank of cats even from a good distance and as he was running Harry realized that a good many of those cats were running with him to Figg's house. They followed him like shadows, getting to the destination fast enough to be sitting on the porch leisurely as he panted up.
He didn't even get inside before the door was burst open, Moody running out with his wand ready and robes flaring. "Where are they, Harry?" he yelled, head turning in all directions and eye going that much faster. "Where are they all? I'll teach them to-"
"It's-It's not Death Eaters," Harry gasped between breaths. He paused, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. "It's my uncle."
The door opened again, a few others spilling out. Tonks was there, surprisingly, and her hair was bleach white. "Not Death Eaters?" she repeated shrilly, then chuckled a few times stiffly. "Goodness, what a fright that was!"
"Then why are you tearing down the street like a hooligan?" another of the wizards who'd stepped out demanded hoarsely, one hand going to his heart. "Bout near had a heart attack!"
"Getting too old?"
"Hardly."
"Potter," Moody barked out, "what in the blazes in going on?" A few cats scrambled out of his way, staring back at him resentfully. One, however, purred loudly and rubbed against his shin, leaving long strands of fur smeared all across the bottom of his robes.
"Um..." Harry looked around at all the people in confusion. "What's all this? I thought only Moody was here."
"We're taking turns," one of the unknown witches supplied helpfully. "This week's Moody's, of course, because he's the big boss man."
A question that had been bothering Harry suddenly came to mind, and without thinking he asked, "Where's Remus? I, well, I rather thought I'd be seeing him this summer at least. He was at the station..." He trailed off curiously at the various reactions, some good some bad. "What's wrong?"
"Remus needed some time to himself," Tonks answered cheerfully, the white in her hair slowly streaking with other random colors. "The, uh, the things at the Ministry really affected him, too, Harry."
Harry swallowed, mouth dropping open a little. "Oh..."
"To be honest," the other witch continued, also smiling brightly, "we don't really know where he went. No one's been able to contact him for the last few days. But don't worry, we'd know if anything were to happen to him."
Again, the only thing he could say was, "Oh..."
"Enough of this, Potter," Moody snapped. "I want to know why you're running around like your britches are on fire." A few of the other members sniggered. Tonks's smile was still brightly plastered to her face.
"Right... well..." Harry swallowed again, and then forced the thought out of his mind like everything else, repressing any emotion he had. He managed a small smile--it was obviously what everyone else wanted to see. Just the expression made them all relax. He filed that piece of information away. "It's just that, my uncle just told me the family planned on going for a vacation in Jamaica, without me of course. I wouldn't think much about it, but Dumbledore said something about my aunt's blood being a major part of my protection." He paused, letting them absorb the information which they seemed to do calmly.
"Anything more you want to tell us?" Moody asked, eye stopping in its surveillance of the neighborhood to fix on Harry's face.
He shrugged. "I wouldn't have really bothered you with this if I didn't have a question. I was just wondering if all those protections would still be working when they all left."
"Blimey," one wizard murmured, getting elbowed sharply for his pain.
"We'd, ah, have to talk with Dumbledore to know for sure," one of the other wizards answered hesitantly. "Until then," and he looked around at all the others, "why don't we just go and stop them? They can't really leave until we know the answer. Right?" Their heads all nodded.
Moody didn't look away or nod. "When are they planning to leave, Harry?"
"Ah, right now, I'm thinking."
"Now?" Tonks gaped. "And you didn't think to tell us about this sooner?"
"I didn't really know," Harry shot back defensively. "I wouldn't have known if I didn't sneak up on them, all packed up and ready to go."
"Right," the one wizard repeated stubbornly. "Let's go, then."
...
The house, as Harry secretly feared while the group of wizards and witches practically flew through the neighborhoods, was empty. The car was gone even though only about half the luggage in the hall had been taken out. "Really," Harry muttered to himself. "They must have seen I was gone and just took off." He frowned, and then looked around to realize that everyone was watching him with blank expressions. "Um, well, what now?"
"Now would be a good time to contact Dumbledore," Tonks suggested nervously, looking around the abandoned house. She giggled a little nervously. "Why don't you do it, Kingsley?"
The wizard who'd suggested stopping the Dursleys (who Harry now recognized as Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks's partner, which meant that maybe a few of the others had also shown up last year, but he couldn't remember any names for the life of him) shook his head firmly. "No way-"
"I'm not going to-"
"-but," Shacklebolt finished, "I suggest the wizard who was on duty at the time have that honor."
Moody grunted something that sounded like "pansies" and made over to the fireplace in the front room of the house with everyone following expectantly. He started a fire and spelled it, yelling "Albus Dumbledore" once it really got going.
"This might take awhile," the wizard informed everyone tightly. "Dumbledore's got a busy schedule, he might not hear us for an hour or so." The group shuffled uncomfortably, Harry with the knowledge that every minute meant the Dursleys got that much farther, which also might mean that every minute the house's protections got weaker.
"Well, why don't we all just sit down and relax?" Tonks suggested happily. "It's only midmorning yet, and I for one haven't had anything to eat. I'm famished!"
Harry glanced around the room uncertainly. "I could make something-"
"That'd be wonderful!" the witch smiled in what looked to be a dreamy manner. "Could you really, Harry? Pancakes sound so good right now."
"We're here to protect Potter, not make him wait on us," Shacklebolt chided.
"It's fine," Harry volunteered. He made a half-shrug. "Better than sitting around and just thinking." He left, feeling the eyes of every adult in the room on him.
The breakfast was fairly simple. As he started cooking, Harry suddenly realized that Tonks was probably just blurting out what everyone else had been feeling. They were all likely hungry. That in mind, he mixed out plenty of batter and pulled from the stuffed freezer a few packages of bacon. Everything started going at once with Harry expertly handling anything that came up. Pancakes cooked to the right level and bacon only sizzled so long, all taken care of with the ease of long practice.
Shacklebolt wandered into the kitchen sometime when the pancakes were almost done and the bacon was waiting to be eaten. Harry only caught sight of the man from the corner of his eyes and was startled enough to nearly burn his hand.
"Careful!" the Auror advised. Then he looked around with an impressed look. "These look like they've been cooked by a house-elf, Potter. I didn't know you could cook." He looked around at all the ingredients. "Home-made, too? Shocker."
Harry snorted. "Who else cooks in this house during the summertime?" he retorted. At the man's look, Harry added, "I guess it comes from a lot of practice."
"Ok." Shacklebolt wandered around for a moment longer before clearing his throat uncomfortably. "By the way, I thought you'd like to know that we got hold of Dumbledore."
"Really?" Harry turned around with a faint smile. "I'll be right out, then. Almost done in here, anyway." He hurriedly flipped the last of the pancakes. "Only a few more to go."
"Oh, you don't need to worry. He, uh, he didn't have much time. Busy schedule, like Mad-Eye said. Just came in, answered a few questions, and then took off again."
"Really?" Harry repeated, movements slowing down. He sighed. "I expected as much, to tell you the truth." He left the ambiguous statement at that, determinedly focusing all his attention back to the last pancakes.
"Aren't you curious about what he said?"
"Um, sure, yeah! Definitely curious here." The pancakes flipped. Harry frowned at it.
"Since your family's only on vacation, they still technically live here and so there's no problem with the wards. No worries about Death Eater invasions and all that. I'm sure that makes you feel a bit more secure."
This time, Harry sighed. "Of course everything's fine. It's grand. You can go tell everyone out there not to worry about me, just tell them I'm 'secure.' That's why you're in here, right? Got picked as the one to go feel out that crazy Potter boy." He sighed again. "I was really looking forward to going to the Burrow, you know? For a minute, I really thought it was a possibility. It would've been great."
Shacklebolt looked around uncomfortably.
"Do me a favor and forget you heard me say that, ok? We can make up some happy conversation to tell everyone else and they'll be no more problems, I swear." Harry looked down. "Breakfast's ready, so you can even pretend that I have no idea you're in here spying on me. You can say I think you just came in to talk, and then you left to go get everyone else."
"Ah... well..." The Auror stumbled through a few more syllables and then gave up, turning around to walk out of the kitchen.
Harry bit his lip hard enough to draw blood inside his mouth, and then started pulling out plates for everyone to use. All his cooking ingredients went back into the shelves, the kitchen tidied up quickly. When they started piling in, he smiled brightly at them all. "Heard the news. No worries after all, eh?"
"Wow, Harry, this looks great!" Tonks grabbed a plate, nearly dropping it on someone's foot as she wobbled through the kitchen to pick up food. "That instant stuff, right? The easy kind to make?"
Harry grinned back. "But it still tastes pretty good, right?" He watched them eat a bit. "I'd join you, but I took all the best samples while I was cooking. Isn't that right?" he turned to Shacklebolt.
The Auror swallowed whatever he was eating and then nodded slowly, forcing a smile. "Thought you were going to eat everything, really."
"You can just leave the dishes in the sink. I'll deal with them when I'm in the mood, but right now I'm going to just scatter off to the park--most of the neighborhood's there, at least the ones my age, and I think a load of teenagers are better than hanging out with you oldies."
"Hey!" someone objected, chuckling. "We're not that old!"
"Right." Harry made a show of rolling his eyes, drawing a few more sniggers from the Order members. Only Shacklebolt seemed unamused, watching Harry seriously. "By the way, I'm stuck here at this house for the rest of the summer, aren't I?"
"'fraid so," Tonks joked. "But the good news is that, with your family out of the house, a couple of us can stay here all day instead of being a few blocks down."
"Great," Harry sighed with what everyone but Shacklebolt saw as mock disappointment. "Stuck with a bunch of old folks. I'm guessing that skipping down to the Burrow's not an option, is it?" He laughed before he got any reply. "Don't even answer that, I already know. Dumbledore's said it's too dangerous, isn't it? Well, I guess the most dangerous thing I can do now is jump off a swing, so if you don't mind, you're holding back my sense of adventure."
He walked out the back kitchen door, pausing at the side of the house just beyond the windows to take a few stiff, calming breaths and to keep that fake smile painted on his face. His head felt like it was going to explode, and all of his muscles were bound and tense. He couldn't take it anymore! And a few of them would even be living with them--he'd have to keep up this act all day, unless he could dodge them.
Words drifted to his ears and he quieted to hear the happy conversation taking place in the kitchen:
"Really, what were we all worrying about? That boy's happy as sin, now that it's summer."
"Strange, really. I thought he was supposed to be real close to Sirius, and now..."
"It's only being a teenager. Real resilient. He moped around for a week, remember? A week's a long time for a teenager, and he probably got over it. Don't bring it up, of course."
"Of course we wouldn't!"
"What did he say, really, in the kitchen, Kingsley?"
Harry held his breath. Shacklebolt had seen him behaving in two very different ways. The Auror could either confirm Harry's seeming happiness, or reveal that he was really just playing a game, being truly deeply bitter and still very angry. But Shacklebolt only made some noncommittal noise and said, "Same things that he said to the rest of you, actually. Jokes, mostly, about how much he could cook. He did mention the Weasleys, though."
"He's best friends with one of their sons. It's natural that he'd want to go and hang out."
"Can that be arranged?" Shacklebolt asked, a small underscore of desperation in his voice.
"Definitely not this summer!" someone answered, taken back by the question. "Why would you even ask?"
"It's just that Potter seems a little lonely here, or at least I'd be in his position. It's also obvious that summer's never a good time for him--remember how casually he accepted the Dursley's abandonment."
"There's no lost between them, that's for sure."
"Summer's supposed to be a fun time. Out of school. No worries-"
"I seem to remember tons of summer assignments."
"-No real worries, then. Sleeping in, overeating, forgetting to eat because you're having too much fun. All we've heard about so far is him working. He needs a break from this break! I just thought that we might be able to get him to enjoy himself for a while at least. The kid's going to be primed to have a nervous breakdown in a few years."
"Well, it's a great idea, but we just can't, Kingsley, and you know it. We can't even bring any of his friends here. The protections only cover Harry! Imagine what would happen if Hermione Granger came to visit--the Death Eaters would track her in a second once she left her own blood protection, and they'd track her straight to here. The same goes for practically every other Hogwarts students, for crying out loud! I'm sorry, but he's just going to have to wait until school starts again."
"It's sad, but it's true. Let's not even bring this up, Kingsley. We don't want to get his hopes up--he was joking before, but if we start talking, he'll take us seriously. I don't want to disappoint that kid, do you?"
...
Harry didn't stay to hear the answer, unfortunately. He'd already taken off for the park, but while heading there, had decided to take a short detour. The decision was made almost bitterly. He was deliberately breaking one of the rules for him this summer ("Rule Number Three: Make sure someone knows where you are or where you're going at all times") and he hoped they all got ulcers trying to find him.
He even secretly wished that something would happen, some emergency for him to just react in to get all this energy out. He felt like he was going to explode with anger, and once that explosion took place there would be nothing to keep him from spiraling into oblivious depression.
...Sirius...
Harry walked through an alley, vaguely noting it was the one where Dementors had attacked him and Dudley last year. That meant it was close to Figg's house. Harry looked around suddenly and caught sight of a cat not too far away, cleaning itself without seeing him yet. He ducked and crept away, making sure not to draw its attention.
...Remus...
He'd never really been allowed to just wander around before. When he was young, the Dursleys hardly let him leave the house, especially after a bad episode where he got lost and had to be brought back home by some policemen. Petunia had nearly wept at seeing him because everyone else in the neighborhood was outside their doors, watching and sure never to forget the incident.
So he didn't really have any idea where in the world he was going. Technically, he was going in the direction opposite the park, making sure to avoid cats and Order hideouts, but that was the only directions he knew of.
The streets all mazed around with a certain order that he understood immediately, and he followed what he figured to be a main street to its end. It let out into another, busier street, and across the way was a shopping center. Almost gladly, Harry made his way through the sprawl of stores and got lost in the paved sidewalks and crowds.
...
"Sir, he isn't at the house even though many others-"
"Of course he isn't there, you idiots! Both of you! Weren't you watching? He just walked along that way. No, put your wands away. We're just following right now. We can't do anything in broad daylight! Watch what he's doing..."
"He's going... shopping?"
"Why would he go-"
"Shut up! Hmm. Shopping... It would seem so. Stay here and follow him. I'm going back to watch those others at his house. They'll be noticing him gone soon enough, and it'll be the perfect chance to sneak in. Make sure they don't see you or any of the others! Don't follow me, either of you, but stay here and keep an eye on him."
"There he goes. He's a nut, that one."
"True. Look at him. Don't know why he even wants to follow this boy around. Wacko. Trying to sneak around. Ha!"
"Why does the Dark Lord want him alive again-"
"You don't ask questions, idiot! You just follow orders. We're going to have to make up some excuse not to be hanging around here tonight--He's summoned everyone to a meeting."
"Maybe by then, we'll know what this wacko's up to."
"Better hope so. Lord Voldemort wants to know what this traitor's up to, and if we can't find out we'll be killed just like him."
"Yea, that's just the kind of news that motivates me to do my best."