Title: Jail Break
Words: 525
AN: You know, Jail break is one of my favourite AC/DC songs. But I don't own the rights to that song (I own a vinyl AC/DC record with Jail Break on it) I also don't own Harry Potter. This is actually a rewrite. The original version of this was complete and utter shit. Honestly. I hated it, so I changed it. And no one would have known the difference if I…hadn't…just told you. Hmmm. Need to work on my secret keeping techniques. And you, that's right YOU, need to work on your reviewing techniques – though your favouriting/alerting wrist action is exceptional.
It was interesting to note that Grimmauld Place never seemed to change. The creepy portrait of Walburga Black never ceased her wailing once she was awoken, Kreacher was always mumbling and muttering, Mrs. Weasley was always fighting some infestation or another, and Order members continuously traipsed in at all hours of the day and night.
Sirius was, obviously, still here and Remus, it seemed, rather liked keeping his best mate's company. Harry didn't mind, though, because it meant that he got a massive three way bear hug seconds after he stepped through the floo. Harry was having the air rapidly squeezed out of him, both men were unbelievably strong, but he didn't mind because these two men were family.
Harry wouldn't say father figures because Sirius would be included, and having the Azkaban escapee as a prominent figure moulding his life would be…not a god thing. Eventually, though, Harry was pried away from the two men by Mrs. Weasley. She reprimanded them for squeezing him to death, even though she did the exact same thing every time she saw him. He didn't call her on it though, because she was Mrs. Weasley.
You called her on things like that only if you had to. And Harry didn't have to. He needed Mrs. Weasleys cooking, however, so she could be hypocritical.
Harry, finally free of any hugs or attempts to kill him via air loss, took a deep breath of the clean(ish) air that Grimmauld place presented. The air at the Burrow was, unfortunately, now a toxic hazard. The twins had come home to grab some of their things from the attic and had decided 'hey, while we're here…' and experimented with a new invention for old times sake.
Stepping out of the fireplace, they all nearly died from smelling the air. It was so unbelievably rank that Mrs. Weasley had had them all turn around and floo to Grimmauld Place. Harry did not envy the twins one bit. After Mrs. Weasley gave them a tongue lashing, she was apparently going to make them not only retrieve the belongings of everyone but get rid of the smell as well.
Harry froze, one hand curled around the door handle, the only limp by his side. The twins would get all of his stuff. His trunk, his things from his wardrobe. And the twins, being the inquisitive little bastards that they were, might snoop. With his luck, they'd find the album. Or the letter under his bed.
Making an excuse, he left Ron and commandeered Hermione from Ginny. He explained the situation to her, and she understood exactly what they needed to do.
"Jail break." She whispered before shooing him away so she could plan. Harry obeyed obediently and trotted away, masking his worry as Remus and Sirius commandeered him.
"What are we doing?" Harry asked, and the two smiled at him, holding up the floo powder.
"Jail Break." They whispered, throwing the power in, dragging Harry into the flames, and then covering Harrys ears so he had absolutely no bloody idea where he was being pulled to. Or even what illegal activity he would be partaking in.