Wanderings With Werewolves
Summary: Harry Potter died when he was eight years old. The world grieved and moved on. Now, almost a decade later a desperate Order finds him. But he refuses to speak about his past. The Wizarding World is getting ready for war once again but all Harry wants to do is go home. He bids his time knowing the person who raised him with love will come and rescue him. After all Remus can do anything…
Category: Alternate Universe, Slash, Romance, Humor
Rating: PG-13
Ships: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black; Harry Potter/Cedric Diggory
Warnings: Child Abuse, Slash, Yaoi and extremely bad writing.
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Kingsley watched the crowd milling around the burnt husk of the house.
Even though it was a hot day, the press was as unrelenting as the heat. Kingsley took a deep breath and walked over to a man in a blue police uniform. Someone in the know yet subordinate enough to gossip.
"Hello," Kingsley smiled at him. "Isn't this the Dursley's house?"
"You know them?" asked the now interested officer.
"Not them…their child. You see-,"
"Yes, a pity. Fine lad. The neighbors speak kindly of him. A nice boy apparently; good manners and always helpful."
"So he really is dead?" Kingsley's voice cracked slightly at the last word.
The policeman looked at him sympathetically.
"Yes, the whole family dead. Gas leak during the night. House blew sky high in the early hours of the morning. They probably didn't feel a thing," He said hoping to comfort the man.
Kinsgley was not comforted.
They both watched the house for a few more minutes. The stench of smoke still lingered. The bodies or what was left of them had been transferred to morgue hours ago.
"I should go," Kingsley broke in unexpectedly. The man in blue looked at him in sympathy.
"Hey, you gonna be okay? Sounds like were close to the boy."
"No I wasn't actually. But he still was just a boy." The words "Just Harry' were whispered under his breath.
"Yeah, it happens all the time. I see it a lot in my line of work."
Kingsley thanked the man and started walking down the street. He had just confirmed what half a dozen other ministry officials had been tasked to do. Harry Potter was indeed dead. Dead in a muggle household accident.
The policeman watched him go. His figure was one of the very few moving away from the accident site.
"Hey Sheppard. Who was that?" A voice asked behind him.
The red haired policeman turned around in surprise. "Oh hey, Chief. Looks like he was a friend of the family's," He replied, nodding towards the house. "He seemed pretty torn up about the kid."
"Yeah, shame about him," grunted the Chief.
"What was his name again?"
"Dudley. Dudley Dursley. The press is going to have a field day about this. It was a picture perfect family. Father, Mother and their son. The Suburban dream."
"No other family?"
"Nope, at least not here. Grandparents all dead long ago. The mom and dad each had a sister. One is dead and the other is going to come up here tomorrow by train."
One of the firemen gestured toward the chief and he hurried away leaving Sheppard alone. The policeman turned towards the road to watch the strange, sad man walk away. To his surprise the man was nowhere to be seen. It would have taken some time for him to duck around a house and that much time had not passed.
"Huh," Sheppard shook his head in bewilderment.