Thirteen Years Later
Harry breathed a sigh of relief once he finally passed the last of the outer laying cottages. Basking in the summer breeze and warm sun, the young boy leisurely strolled down the grassy knoll until he found a comfortable under the shade of a tree at the edge of the woods. He sat himself down at the foot of a tree and rested his back against the rough bark. It wasn't as comfortable as he would have liked it to be. But it was a far better situation than the one Harry was in earlier. Passed
Harry was an adolescent a few days shy of his fourteenth birthday. He had wild black hair that stuck in every direction and a pair of bright green eyes behind wire framed glasses. He was still short for his age and had a slim build and tanned skin. But the most peculiar feature of all was the lightning shape scar on his forehead. It was a scar that Harry had for as long as he could remember and one that made Harry easily recognizable to all that laid eyes upon him.
For Harry wasn't an ordinary boy, even by magi standards, but was famous. To all of Diagon, Harry was The Boy who Lived. When he was a little over the age of one, he ended the Civil War by miraculously defeating a dark magus whom went by the name Lord Voldemort. Not only was he able to defeat him, but was the only person ever to have survive the Killing Curse with nothing more than a scar.
The event made him famous, but in turn it cost him his parents' lives. Harry no longer had any memories of his birth parents. He knew of them only through stories told by their friends. And while at times he missed them wholly, he was grateful to be raised by people who loved him for him and not of his ill-placed fame, namely Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.
Sirius Black was his father. A comparatively young nobleman, Sirius adopted Harry and rescued him from the Dursleys when he was nearly three years of age. They moved out to the countryside, bought a few acres of land with old family money. The rest was split into large sums for various family members and went into donations for rebuilding Diagon's infrastructure.
After that, Sirius and Harry withdrew from the public eye. And the young nobleman refused to work any position in the ministry, regardless of his high social standard and reclaimed war hero status. From what Harry knew of his father, the man once worked in law enforcement as an officer and was aspiring to becoming an auror. His aspirations, and feelings toward the ministry in general, changed negatively after his subsequent arrest and release from prison.
The man used the last of his earnings to start a business in mass producing an invention created by Harry's adoptive father and biological father, the two-way mirror. More convenient and less of a mess, the enchanted mirrors quickly grew more popular than using the floo network for communication. There were stores located in all the major cities of Diagon.
Then there was his honorary uncle, Remus Lupin. Uncle Remus didn't live with Harry and his father. But he visited so often that he had his own room. Uncle Remus was the same age as his father and was the more reserve of the two men, often balancing out the wild nature of his father.
His uncle spent most of his time living on a reserve deep in the woods near the Black Mountains. It was also where he worked to maintain the peace between the few packs that made the reserve their home.
Harry didn't know much about his uncle's life, he kept most of his life private and only Sirius was privy to every secret the man held. Growing up, Harry never minded his uncle's reclusive nature. After all, it was all he knew of the man. It was only last year, that Harry discovered his uncle's greatest secret; and even then, that had been an accident. Despite the secrets, Harry loved his uncle nearly as much as he loved his father.
The trio lived in a homely, two-story stone cottage just the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. With a great field of grass behind the house and the entire property covered by large deciduous trees. Sirius had proudly called their home and property the Marauder's Den, in homage to the four boys that called themselves Marauders.
Harry loved living at Marauder's Den. He loved Godric's Hollow. The people were friendly and humble. He had genuine friends, both muggle and magus, and he loved living with his atypical father and uncle; when he visited. If Harry had his way he would be there right now kicking ball between his friends or challenging them to a race on flying broomsticks.
Unfortunately, at least for Harry, that was not the case. For the past few days the young boy was forced to stay in a bustling town called Little Whinging. Even worse, the boy was staying with his maternal relatives; the Dursleys.
The Dursleys were a shallow family that cared too much on how they appeared to other people. His aunt took the roll of a housewife in pride and often spied on her neighbors to gossip about with other neighbors. It was a wonder how she had any friends.
His uncle was a large, burly man that was the town's local blacksmith and owned the smith shop called Grunnings. According to his uncle, Grunnings had been in the Dursley family for three generations.
The Dursleys also had a son around the same age as Harry name Dudley. Dudley was a large, spoiled, boy that could do no wrong in the eyes of his parents. But Harry knew him as some bully terrorizing smaller children around the neighborhood.
But the main reason of Harry's reluctance to ever visit them was their extreme infatuation over his fame. Every time Harry would see his relatives his Aunt Petunia would greet in an exaggeratedly polite voice and made sure she could be heard around the neighborhood.
At the tender age of thirteen, going on fourteen, Harry hated being called darling nephew, precious baby, and the worse of them all pumpkin. His Uncle Vernon would clap him on the back and call him tyke; not as bad as any of the nicknames his aunt uses.
His uncle used to bring Harry to his smith shop to learn how to forge weapons. Something the young boy thought he would enjoy until he realized he was being used to garner more sales from the surrounding towns and homesteads.
Oddly enough, the only one Harry could remotely tolerate was his cousin and that was because he hated Harry and his fame. Whether it was jealously for not being famous or anger for becoming second in his parent's eyes, Harry didn't know. And honestly, he had no interests in finding out. In his opinion, the less the two cousins converse with one another, the better.
And that was why Harry by himself, dozing lightly under the trees, a safe distance away from Little Whinging. It was better than being stuck in the house with a smothering aunt.
He really couldn't believe his luck; though shouldn't have been surprise seeing as his luck was never that great to begin with. His father had a business trip out in Macusa. Uncle Remus was still gone from his month-long stay at the reserve. The Tonks were currently vacationing at Avalon Island. Even Professor McGonagall was busy attending some transfiguration conference.
He couldn't spend time at Whitehall Castle as there was an assembly between the Sovereign's Council and the Wizengamot. Plus, his best friend, Ron Weasley, was busy with "princely duties". And lastly his other best friend, Hermione Granger, and her parents were visiting distant relatives all the way in Surda! Hence his stay with the Dursleys.
Just one more night. Harry thought desperately. One more night and then dad will come for me in the morning and we can go back to the Den. A wide smiled stretched across his face. Harry couldn't wait to see his own room, see his friends. Harry was so desperate he even missed their two-eccentric house-elves, one a cranky old grouch that mutters to himself and the other a hyperactive people pleaser with a tendency to maim as a way of helping. A lengthy tale for another time.
Harry couldn't wait to see his father. The man was going to get pranked horribly for leaving Harry at the mercy of the Dursleys for an entire week. The longest week of his life. Harry would much rather have spent that time sitting in Snape's potions classes.
Just the thought of the man, made Harry shuddered. "Maybe not." He backtracked. Professor Binns sounded safer, at least in his class Harry could sleep in peace without Uncle Vernon's raucous snoring.
In fact, sleep sounded very good to the young magus. Harry, once again, couldn't get much sleep between the loud snores of Uncle Vernon and Dudley echoing down the hall; he almost felt sorry for his aunt. So, Harry didn't fight it when his eyelids grew heavy and his body became laxed.
The rest of the afternoon was spent with the young boy dozing off and on, eating the small lunch he packed into a small bag, and watching the white clouds glide over the medium sized town. Sometimes Harry would pull out his wand and casted frivolous spells for some form of entertainment; he wasn't allowed to do magic in the Dursley household.
But cloud watching could only get an active teenager so far. Harry was once again bored with nothing to do. He refused to go back to the house on Privet Drive; his aunt was no doubt gossiping with her friend Yvonne. The town square was also a bad idea. If his uncle saw him from the smithy, Harry would be roped into "helping". The park was also no good, Dudley and his goons hanged out there. The less he saw of Dudley the better.
"Which leaves me right here, bored. Great." The boy muttered. He wished he had his friends with him in Little Whinging. Or the very least, that he could have brought along his flying broom with him. Harry wasn't allowed to, by both his father and aunt; an anomaly since the two loathed one another.
The last time Harry brought his broom it was nearly broken in half. Dudley claimed it was an accident, that he didn't mean to sit on the broom. Harry didn't believe him, neither did his father. So as a precaution, the broom stayed at the Marauder's Den. Uncle Vernon wanted Harry to leave his wand at the Den too, thankfully Sirius wouldn't hear of it and eventually Uncle Vernon dropped the matter, after finding all his clothes turned pink that is.
With nothing to do and not wanting to go back into town, Harry resigned himself to laying in the shade watching the clouds. "Maybe I should have brought a book." He could practically hear Hermione's smug grin…and Ron's appalled face.
The hours slowly crawled by and slowly the sun had begun its descent. The sky was now a pinkish orange color and the warm summer air began to cool. The surrounding trees were silhouetted by the setting sun and filled with the calls of birds preparing to roost for the night. Knowing sunlight was waning, Harry knew he had to go back to Privet Drive for dinner.
Reluctantly he pushed himself off the cool grass to stretched out his muscles. He sighed in relief as his back cracked in a few places. Releasing another groan as he stretched his limbs, Harry looked up to the branches above him and was startled when he saw a large black bat hanging upside down staring directly at him.
Harry had seen bats before, there were plenty underneath his school, but never has one been as close to a person as this one. He'd certainly never seen a bat stare intently at a person. How long had it been there and had it stared at Harry the whole time he rested? The young magus mentally shook his head at the absurd thought of a bat staring intently at a person.
However, to be sure, Harry took a few steps away from the tree. The bat's head followed his every move. His mouth went slack. Tentatively, Harry took a step further and his eyes bulged from its sockets when the bat crawled closer to him on the low hanging branch.
The nocturnal animal gave Harry a look that told the magus it was displeased or annoyed at him. He shook his head in disbelief. As far as Harry knew, bats didn't have the capacity to glare at a human. Yet this bat proved otherwise when it continued to glare down at him with its dark eyes. Harry didn't know whether he should be wary or intrigued.
Among the people of Diagon, bats were considered bad omens, loyal only to those that served the dark arts. That the bat had taken a sudden interest in Harry should have put the young magus at ill ease. If it were any other person they would have been mortified. His aunt, for example, was highly superstitious and would have passed out from fright.
The bat took off from its branch and circled about Harry's head before flying off into the forest. Harry shrugged off the bat's strange behavior and continued to walk up the hill. He was suddenly stopped by the same bat flying in his face making horrible screeching noises. "Argh! You crazy flying rodent!" Harry flailed his limbs, trying to deter the crazy animal from grabbing at his hair. He lost his footing, tripping over an ill-placed fallen branch, and fell onto his backside. The annoyed bat continued to make screeching noises and flew irritably around the dazed boy. Periodically the bat would fly to the tree line and back to the boy and gave a look that made Harry feel like he was back in his potions class.
He huffed irritably. "What do you want with me?"
Belatedly he felt foolish for yelling at a bat but he had no idea as to what the animal wanted with him in the first place. The irritated creature continued to fly in dizzying patterns and would occasionally dive bomb the magus.
His patience was finally spent, Harry pulled out his wand and sent stunning spells at the bat. To his utter annoyance, the bat evaded them all in a fantastic display of aerial maneuvering. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Harry swore he could see the bat making a snide face at the young magus. It swooped once more and made a tear on Harry's sleeve faster than he could react. "That's it!"
Angered and more than done with the bat's attitude, Harry chased after the flying animal straight into the darkening woods. He casted spell after spell but all missed their marks and would hit trees, rocks, or the occasional unfortunate squirrel. "Come back here!" He continued to chase the bat deeper into the woods until he could no longer see the tree line behind him. His mind was focused on only catching the bat like it was a snitch at a quidditch match.
"If only I had my broom." he muttered angrily. So focused was he on his pursuit, Harry failed to notice the dried riverbed a few meters from him until he was tumbling head over heels down the gritty slope. He landed face first onto the rocky ground and groaned. Slowly, Harry pushed himself up onto his knees and surveyed his wounds.
Thankfully, neither his wand nor glasses were broken. All Harry had were a few minor cuts and bruises; and one large bruise to his ego. He cursed angrily under his breath and wondered if the bat was having a laugh at his expense. He looked up ready to curse the bat but saw no animal in sight. Only he and the trees were present with no other animal in sight.
With the sunlight waning, Harry casted a Lumos to take in his surroundings better. Even with his wand-light Harry could find no trace or sight of the bat. It was as though the animal vanished into thin air; which given the way it was acting Harry wouldn't have been too surprise. "Good riddance." He muttered darkly.
But now he found himself deep within the woods, alone, with the sun setting. "Great, just great."
In hindsight, Harry knew he'd let his anger get the best of him. It was always a problem he had trouble overcoming. Even Sirius had warned him the dangers of giving in to one's emotions. It how he spent time in Azkaban. And Harry tried not to let them get the best of him. Apparently, Harry needed a lot more practice if a strange bat could get him to chase it into the woods at dusk.
Ron would have had had a laugh if he saw Harry right now and Hermione would of roll her eyes, sigh exasperatedly, and mutter something about the ineptitude of boys. With the use of his wand, Harry siphoned off the dirt from his clothes and skin and repaired the tears in his sleeves. He did nothing about his cuts and bruises as he couldn't remember the proper healing charms.
Harry turned back to the direction of Little Whinging when his wand-light caught something. Whirling back quickly, Harry saw a white smooth stone resting at the foot of a tree just above the riverbed. The stone was medium in sized with an oblong shape and glowed under the charmed light emitted from Harry's wand.
His curiosity piqued, Harry climbed up the slope until he was kneeling before the tree with the stone cradled in its roots like a nest. He placed his wand down next to him, wand-light pointed at the stone, and tentatively laid a hand on the smooth looking stone. He was surprised to feel a comfortable sensation of warmth.
But the warmth confused him. Harry couldn't explain it, but he knew the warmth was like the sun on a person's back or the heat of a campfire. It was different. It emanated from the egg, but it almost felt like it was emanating from the center of Harry's chest. It didn't make any sense to the boy.
In a way, the strange sensation reminded Harry of the subtle magical presence he sometimes felt in nature. The young boy paused. It was possible, however unlikely, that the stone under his touch wasn't a stone but perhaps an egg. Yet it was an egg he'd never read about in his textbooks. And Harry certainly never felt this type of magic when he was near other eggs in a class of his.
With some reserve, Harry picked up the egg and cradled it close to his chest and marveled at the smooth texture and color. He wondered who would leave such an object deep in the woods. Surely someone must have cared for it at one point, why leave it behind? Was the egg left by mistake or had someone left behind on purpose? Would they even come back later to look for it?
Harry had no clue what type of person left behind the snowy egg, be it either a poacher or merchant; both of which Harry didn't want to get on the wrong side of. Still, he continued to study the egg with rapt attention and basked in the warmth it gave off.
The proximity of it affected Harry's own magic; the warmth Harry felt earlier from within. Like an adrenaline rush, Harry felt his magic surge through his limbs to the egg and back, mixed with the magic of the egg, in a continuous loop.
He didn't know what his magic was doing or why the egg had such an effect on him. All Harry knew was that he suddenly felt protective of the egg and didn't want to leave it behind. The magus had no knowledge as to whether he was stealing the egg or not. But it felt wrong to leave it alone in the dark woods where anything could happen to it.
With his mind made, Harry decided to keep the egg and take it back to Little Whinging. The only problem was how he was going to sneak the egg passed his relatives. Aunt Petunia hated animals, or maybe the animals hated her, and never allowed Dudley to have a pet. And Harry was willing to bet that carrying an egg of an unknown creature into the house would count as an unwanted pet.
He wasn't perturbed. He wasn't going to leave the egg, he couldn't. Harry shifted the object into one arm, wand in the other hand, and carefully made his way through the forest back to town.
As it turned out, Harry had no cause to worry. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were in the living room listening to the radio while his Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen cooking dinner. "Harry darling, is that you?"
Harry rolled his eyes and barely managed to hold in a groan. "Yes, Aunt Petunia." He droned
"Good, wash up then come back down, dinner is about ready."
"Yes, Aunt Petunia." He took the stairs two at time, ran into his guest room and slammed the door shut behind him. "Don't call me darling." he muttered.
Gingerly, he placed the egg at the center of his bed and just stared at it. His arms missed the warmth it emitted and Harry was tempted to pick the egg back up and stare at it for hours. Unfortunately, Harry didn't have that much time before he was expected at the dinner table.
Sighing heavily, Harry went to the bathroom to wash his face and hands and reluctantly went down to the dining room.
Dinner was as a painful experience, at least to Harry. Aunt Petunia would talk to him in a simpering tone as though he was a toddler. Uncle Vernon would make comments about Grunnings and, with no subtly, explain how the customers missed their "favorite worker". Dudley ignored Harry altogether.
The entire situation felt wrong. He didn't care for their love for it was as shallow and fake as their personalities. Harry knew the sole reason why the Dursleys kept in contact with his father all these years was because of his fame and status. Before the death of his parents his mother and aunt weren't on speaking terms. Years of jealousy had led his aunt to believe that his mother was nothing more than a freak. Harry had the suspicion that had he not been famous and seen as a savior to all of Diagon, his aunt and uncle would want nothing to do with him.
It certainly wouldn't surprise him. The Dursleys knew little to nothing about him, personally. All they knew of Harry was that he was the sole heir of two noble families and became famous for defeating Voldemort. They never asked what his hobbies were, which school was he was attending; Hogwarts. Or what house was he sorted into; Gryffindor. What the names of his best friends were or if he was interested in sports or was more of a scholarly student. They didn't even know his birthday! He was essentially a stranger to the Dursleys. Yet the Dursleys never hesitated to tell Harry all about themselves and their lives.
Finally, after a drawn out stilted conversation between his relatives and Harry, dinner was over and done with. After the dishes were cleared Harry made a desperate escape to his guest room. He said hurried goodnights to his relatives and closed the door before any of them could catch a glimpse of the egg. He sagged in relief and gave a soft smile at the white egg lying on his bed. Harry then changed into his night clothes and climbed into bed and moved the egg into his lap.
Harry didn't know why he was obsessed with staring at the egg or what made it so captivating to him. He sat there doing nothing but stare at the egg in his lap as the hours ticked by. He watched with avid interest when it appeared to glow while it was under moonlight. But eventually the urge to sleep was too much to ignore and reluctantly Harry placed the egg in a makeshift nest made of his clothes. He climbed back into bed and promptly fell asleep.
"Dudley, Harry, wake up! Breakfast is ready!" Aunt Petunia called out in a shrill voice.
Harry groaned groggily and hid his head under the pillows. The night went by too quickly in his opinion. Harry shot up from his bed and scrambled to the end. He rubbed away the crust from his eyes and sighed in relief. The egg was right where he left it, in the folds of his clothes.
Once he threw a few more clothes over the egg to hide it from plain sight, Harry made his way downstairs to join his relatives.
His Aunt Petunia was setting the table while Uncle Vernon sat in one of the chairs, face hidden behind the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. Harry greeted both his aunt and uncle and silently sat down across from his uncle. Harry would have offered to help his aunt serve the food but learned from experience that his aunt didn't like Dudley or Harry to do any chores while in the house, the smith shop was a different matter entirely.
The three family members were startled when Uncle Vernon angrily banged his fist on the kitchen table, the wood creaking horribly under his force. Uncle Vernon huffed and irritably threw the morning paper to the ground. "No good, meddlesome lizard riders." he muttered.
The statement satisfied Aunt Petunia's questioning stare and Dudley went back to staring longingly at the freshly made food.
Harry wasn't easily appeased. His uncle muttering the words "lizard riders" meant only one thing, Dragon Riders.
"Can I read the paper, if you're done with it?" he asked quickly. His uncle grunted which Harry took as a yes. The boy eagerly snatched the paper off the floor and turned to the second page; annoyingly enough Harry's upcoming birthday made the front page.
Last evening the Sovereign's Council and other high-ranking members said their farewells to former students, Fleur Delacour, Cedric Diggory, and Viktor Krum. All chosen are academically acclaimed honor students with Diggory and Krum being one of the best quidditch players of their schools; Hogwarts and Durmstrang respectively.
A truly momentous occasion, even celebrities were seen at the docks to say their farewells, including renowned singer Celestina Warbeck and the popular band, the Weird Sisters.
The three students are the first magus Riders to be chosen in over three decades and it is a first in all of history that all three Riders were chosen from our very own country-
"Harry darling, paper away." His aunt held her hand out for the newspaper in his hand. He reluctantly gave it to Aunt Petunia and settled into his breakfast. Dudley gave Harry a look like he was stealing all of Dudley's food. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes, Aunt Petunia hated eye rolling.
"Don't know why you're fascinated with the lot." His uncle grumbled. "Bunch of secretive codgers if you ask me."
There were some people that believed the Riders to be an intrusive force when it came to foreign policy. His uncle was of the belief that the Riders were a fanatical cult that were legally kidnapping young adults never to be seen again. There was even a group dedicated to abolishing the treaty between the Riders and Diagon. The movement only gained momentum within the last twelve years. Just as the Slytherin Crown was added to the Sovereign's Council.
Harry wasn't one of those people. Like so many of his class, he greatly admired the Dragon Riders. He thought they had the best job in the world and on top of it they had their very own dragon to fly on! It was something Harry used to dream of when he was a young boy.
The newspaper, for once, had gotten it right. It was one of the greatest historical moments in Diagon's history. Every year two or three eggs are sent all over Alagaёsia and Haldórer from the land of the Dragon Riders. Very rarely would a magus be chosen by a Rider as their magic and the magic behind the Bond were exceedingly different. For the most part one magus would be chosen to be a Rider once in a while, sometimes two. But this year was different.
For the first time since the treaty, all three dragons chose a magus as their Rider. It made for a grand celebration in all the major cities; the likes of which haven't been seen since the end of the Civil War. Even more spectacular, one of the Riders was a schoolmate of Harry's. Harry knew Diggory in passing as one of the popular students that gotten along with nearly everyone at school; even some of the Slytherins. With the inclusion of the three newly chosen, there were a total of eleven Riders that were of magi descent.
Harry could only imagine what it would be like to be a Rider. He'd never one in person before. His father had and described the Rider as an honorable man that always kept his word.
After breakfast, Harry rushed up to the guest room and quickly changed into a new set of clothes. He knew he should have gotten washed, but was too excited to care. His father would come in an hour or so and Harry wanted to leave as soon as possible. He packed away his used clothes into his bag but stopped when he saw the egg lying on his bed. Harry nearly forgotten about the egg.
"What am I going to do with you?" he muttered. His father would more than likely accept the egg into the house and even keep it as a pet; so long as whatever it was wasn't dangerous. His aunt on the other hand would not be as forgiving. How would he explain to her that he smuggled in an egg, which possibly belonged to a person of questionable morals, and kept it for the night?
"Harry, darling, your...father has arrived." Despite his current predicament, Harry smirked. It was no secret that Aunt Petunia and his dad hated one another. Their arguments were practically a local legend. His aunt once chucked a frying pan, with deadly accuracy, at his father's head.
Shaking himself from past family squabbles, the boy focused back to the problem at hand. Looking from his dirty clothes to the egg and back, he had an idea. Harry decided to take one of his dirty tunics and wrap it around the egg before carefully pushing it into his bag. It gave the bag an awkward shape but at least his aunt was none the wiser.
He eagerly ran down the stairs and into the living room. His aunt was on one side of the room. She sat at the edge of her seat, her arms were crossed tightly over her chest with thin lips. Uncle Vernon had already left for his work. On the other side was his father. Still in business clothes with bags under his eyes, his father leaned against a wall with an equally stone face.
His father was a tall man with straight black hair to his shoulders and gray eyes and usually he had a wolfish smile on his face that meant he was up to no good. There was no smile today.
Both looked in Harry's direction and Harry felt as though he was standing trial before the Court Judge. His aunt gave Harry a strain smile, one that he tentatively reciprocated. Harry walked further into the room and his Aunt Petunia stood up from her chair. She quickly approached the young magus and wrapped him in a tight hug. Reluctantly, Harry embraced the thin woman.
She leaned back at an arm's length and studied Harry's face. "Remember should you have any trouble, any at all, you are more than welcome to come stay here-"
"Harry is just fine where he is, Petunia."
Aunt Petunia pursed her lips and blew air through her nose. "Nevertheless, don't hesitate should the occasion arise, okay my darling?"
"Er, yeah...thank you." Harry fumbled awkwardly.
His aunt beamed at him and patted him gently on the cheek. She then glared at his father and said. "Be sure to look after him, Sirius."
"I have done so for the past twelve years, Petunia." His father said pointedly. "My son is in good hands." The woman gave him a look of disbelief and the older magus rolled his eyes. "Ready to go Pup?" he asked kindly.
Harry beamed at his father and had to control himself from running up to man. "Yeah dad, I'm ready." he replied. Harry said his farewell to his aunt and shouted a goodbye to his cousin upstairs.
He stood next to his father and gave him a mocked glare when the man ruffled his hair. Sirius gave Harry a quizzical look and shifted his eyes from the lumpy bag to Harry's face. His heart racing, he gave a minute shake of his head and relaxed when his father left it alone; at least for the time being.
Sirius grabbed a handful of floo powder off the nearest shelf and lead Harry into the tall fireplace. Harry gave one last grin, in what he hoped was reassuring, to his fidgeting aunt.
"Until next time, Petunia. Marauder's Den!"
The duo vanished in emerald flames.
