AN: See Harry Potter and the Goblet of Liars as the prequel to this. Mostly because I need to keep my mind off the woes of the world, and a couple reviewers were amazingly sweet about the idea of a sequel. Still fourth year. Now becoming much longer b/c my godson is adamant that I "fix it all". (And has his brother and cousin on board this crazy train with him. Yay?)
HP HP HP
Werewolf Remus Lupin was howling.
With laughter, that is.
"S-S-… Sirius Black… can't… use…" He wheezed, gasped, and then barked out, "A telephone!"
Lord Black, AKA Sirius Black, AKA Harry's godfather, and rescuer of two distressed Hogwarts students, threw down the handset of the phone. "It's confusing! It has all these numbers!"
Hermione Granger, observing this scene, tried very hard to stop laughing.
Harry Potter had given up trying. He was on the floor with Lupin, snorting and clutching his stomach. "S-stop!"
"You stop!" yelled Sirius, and pointed his wand at the offending object, and Hermione leapt to its defense.
"No!"
Sirius snarled, and flapped his suntanned arms like a demented butterfly. "You're saving that devil thing?"
"That devil thing is called technology! The wires in it connect to other wires, and those connect to my parents!" Hermione scolded him, hands on hips.
"We'll just make mirrors to communicate!"
"We?" said Lupin, sitting up. He, like Sirius, looked much improved after sufficient food and time in the sun. "Hold on, that was not we. That was two very vain Gryffindors who wanted to get around some rules. I told you about telephones back then, but no, you and James had to have something cool that also let you check your hair!"
Harry pushed up his eyeglasses, and perched on the edge of a cushioned bench. "Wait, you wouldn't use telephones? They're easy!"
"Save your breath, Harry," ordered Hermione, and sat next to him, blushing slightly as their bare legs touched. A month in the sun, with fresh tropical fruit, had removed all trace of pallor and malnutrition either might have suffered. That, and fish, seafood, sunshine... Really, Hogwarts had never been this good to Harry.
What was she thinking about?
Right. Wizards and telephones.
"Numbers are too difficult. Laziness, remember?"
"Well, why build an ugly sand lump if you can make a sand castle with magic?" whined Sirius plaintively.
Hermione's eyes met Harry's. Clearly, the adults had no idea what fun really was about. Salt! Sand! Sea! Sun! Rubbing on lotion because two English kids in the tropics were prone to sunburn!
Sighing, Hermione cursed her hormones.
"Want to leave them to it?" suggested Harry. "I haven't seen Hedwig all day."
"Well, this isn't exactly a great climate for a snowy owl. At least Crookshanks seems happy," she commented, "but that might be his being half-kneazle. It probably allows more flexibility in his metabolism and..."
Harry put two fingers to her lips.
She melted.
Stupid hormones!
"C'mon," urged Harry. "Before our new headmaster and new defense teacher start tossing hexes at innocent bystanders."
Harry had a very good point, as well as gleaming emerald eyes. He slid his fingers through hers. It was something to which Hermione had not yet adjusted. She wanted to call it unchaste, but how could hand-holding be unchaste? Those were only fingers, phalanges, nothing naughty! And yet, a shiver ran through her.
Oh, how can I think straight? I have to think straight! Someone needs to!
Wait, had they not left Hogwarts in order for adults to be in charge? Responsible? Thinking?
From the main room of Sirius's spacious British colonial (which didn't narrow down their location, what with the extent of the Empire in its prime), a loud zap-zing sounded. Lupin's laugh closely followed.
If I'm the most responsible one here, thought Hermione as Harry led her to the shady garden, then we are all in very deep trouble.
She decided the mature decision was to follow Harry. Logic dictated she remove herself from the quarreling idiots with wands. Really. It was logic.
Oh, I can't even lie well to myself!
The garden was terraced, cut into the slope, allowing them to wander through a wide variety of plants, shrubs and trees of both magical and non-magical nature. The very highest terrace had been transformed into a Scandinavian forest for Hedwig, courtesy Remus Lupin. It was odd to see spruce, fir, and lichen amidst the glorious tropical greens, but not as peculiar as Hedwig on a branch where her kind never ventured. She gave a soft hoot of greeting and dropped to a conveniently perch-shaped little tree, and groomed Harry's hair.
It was adorable, really, how the owl thought Harry's hair needed to be preened.
The magic-chilled air finally reminded Hermione that she was still in shorts, so she cast a warming charm on herself before joining Harry in stroking the owl's feathers. "What a beautiful girl," cooed Hermione. "And such a brave girl to be so far from home for Harry!"
Hedwig nibbled through Harry's hair, but Harry took Hermione's hand again, smiling at her. "Hedwig isn't the only brave one."
At the exact moment Harry's lips were about to touch hers…
The three of them evaporated.
HP HP HP
"Hello, Harry. Miss Granger."
Hermione opened her eyes. Her first thought was profane. Her second was more profane. Her third was violent. I am going to turn him into a garden gnome for this!
"Oh, come on!" yelled Harry, sitting up in a bed in, yes, Madam Pomfrey's infirmary at Hogwarts. "Kidnapping? Owl-napping?"
Hedwig gave a loud, angry screech of agreement from the bed on Harry's other side. Clearly, their former headmaster had gone far too far, and only the presence of his phoenix kept her at bay. If an owl could kill with a look, then Dumbledore would have required medical assistance beyond the healing power of any phoenix tears.
Hermione's mind leapt into action. She got to her feet, and marched to Albus Dumbledore with her fists clenched. Dumbledore had to have transformed something both she and Harry were touching, when one of them said the words, but the only thing she had touched was Harry!
That eliminated portkeys. Didn't it?
What remained? Apparition? No. Even a house elf could not apparate without rest for such long distances, and take three living creatures along, to her knowledge. Which, Hermione admitted, needed to be expanded on the subject of house elves, but nevertheless, she was quite certain the wily old man had done something very magical and complicated and devious and wrong.
Arms folded across her middle, Hermione seethed at Dumbledore, running through the encyclopedic database of her mind. Muttering under her breath, she sifted through every possibility. "Not a portkey. Not apparition. Not the Floo Network. Not…" Her mouth dropped open, and she inhaled a shriek of dismay. "You combined a tracking charm with a portkey so it would only work when all three of us were in contact!"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at her. "Very close indeed, Miss Granger."
Harry growled, and put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her away from their former headmaster. "What are we wearing that we had at Hogwarts?"
Hermione reviewed. None of their clothing remained the same. None of their shoes. None of their textbooks were suspect. Lupin had brought all-new ones with him, and bought them from the largest publisher of such in the world, a company named Puffin, based in the United States. Hermione had never known they existed, which once again proved the insularity of magical Britain and the flaws of that selfsame isolation.
Tears came to her eyes. She knew of only one thing.
Harry turned to her, nodded, and took off his eyeglasses.
"You," spat Hermione at Dumbledore. "You… You… faithless, conniving…" Lost for words (an occasion some might mark on a calendar), she took Harry's glasses and put them on the floor before stomping them. When that failed to shatter them to bits, she hissed a charm at them, one she'd learned from Lupin, who had learned it from a Swiss wizard. "Moleculo!"
Harry's glasses dissolved into, as indicated, molecules.
She followed it with a nasty little "Ventus!"
The wind she summoned blew away those molecules, and also fluttered the heavy velvet of Dumbledore's robes.
Hermione's magic was well-controlled. She saw to that. She studied it. She practiced it. She devoted herself to it.
All her years of discipline fell away. She raised her wand again.
"Hermione, no!"
Harry's arms around her violently re-directed her attention. The green eyes caught her gaze, and she read them like a book. A beloved, known, foundational book.
Harry needed her to calm down.
Harry needed her.
Oh no. I ought not have blasted his eyeglasses. After all, there must have been runes involved, micro-runes, are those possible, and if micro-runes were involved then we have a fascinating way to… Focus! We're not safe!
"Excellent," said Dumbledore.
Anger sent blood rushing to Hermione's face. It occurred to her, too late, that he had left them their wands. He wanted to watch their reactions. He was testing them.
She had failed.
Hermione loathed failure.
"Harry, my boy, you must stay here. It is for the best. You are not safe…"
"Safe?" yelped Harry, and two bright patches of red stood out on his cheeks, despite his suntan. "With you? Here? You must be mad! Mental! Beyond barmy! Even the Dursleys were safer than Hogwarts!"
"Now, now, Harry, calm yourself. Take the potion Madam Pomfrey…"
Harry looked at the bedside table, picked up the vial, and threw it across the room. Then he clutched his forehead and went to his knees.
"Harry!" cried Hermione, and wrapped her arms around him protectively, glowering up at their former headmaster. "I'm here, Harry, don't worry, he won't touch you, I won't let him."
She heard Harry whisper, "Expecto patronum."
Intent was the heart of a spell. Not power, not education, but intent. It was how accidental magic from children could wreak such havoc, as Hermione's once had, when she levitated an entire bookcase in an effort to get one book.
The silvery stag exploded through Hermione, giving her a warm jolt, and vanished quickly.
She twisted down to meet his gaze, then nodded. She concentrated on the message, and murmured a gut-deep, "Expecto patronum!"
Her otter flowed through Harry, the wall, and away.
"The distance is too far," said Dumbledore mildly. "He cannot be notified by patronus. As to distance, that is why you are in the infirmary. You had to be brought through a variety of… Ah, shall I say portals. Magic only travels a certain distance, even magic as powerful as mine."
Hermione smirked.
Harry grinned.
Dumbledore frowned, ever so slightly.
The teens sat down on a bed together. Hermione remarked, "I think we should see about contact lenses for you. They have disadvantages, of course, but eyeglasses break far too easily."
"True," replied Harry, also ignoring Dumbledore. "But the idea of putting things in my eyes freaks me out."
"I'm rather surprised there's no magical corrective surgery," continued Hermione in her best Good Girl know-it-all tone. "The non-magical world has been working on one for years. It seems rather involved, but everything I read indicates the procedure could be quite effective. There's a German ophthalmologist who seems far ahead. Based on his work…"
The door to the infirmary banged open. Professor McGonagall strode in, voice shrill, nightrobe clutched tight at the throat. "What is the meaning of this? What are these two doing here? Three, my apologies, Hedwig."
The owl hooted acceptance of the apology. Then Hedwig screeched loudly again at Dumbledore. The snowy owl's territorial screech frightened most intelligent lifeforms, but did not bother Albus Dumbledore.
"Albus, what did you… Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, you look quite well, other than being here. What do you last recall?"
"We were visiting Hedwig," said Harry with admirable circumspection, "and then wham. We woke up here. It was midday, but it's night now, so I don't know how long we've been… Well, y'know. Not aware of what's going on. I mean, years I didn't know what's going on, but just this minute, about how we got here again…"
"Yes, yes, I grasp your meaning."
Hermione bumped his shoulder with hers and they shared a smirk. Who needed wands when they had McGonagall?
Snape blasted into the chamber a moment later, billowing at full speed. "I was in the midst of a delicate decoction. What is Potter doing here?"
Harry cast Hermione a look of awe. She doubled her smirking. McGonagall was formidable. Snape was volatile, not unlike his potions. If any two instructors might unsettle Dumbledore, then those two could do it.
Harry mouthed, "You're brilliant!"
Hermione glowed.
"Severus, calm yourself, I assure you it is all for the best."
"Potter's presence is never for the best!"
"Miss Granger, did you come here willingly?"
"Harry's destiny lies in Britain."
"What educational institute permits such scandalous attire?"
"We must look to the future, and the role of Harry in events."
"I have never in my life been disappointed to such an extent!"
The still-open door to the infirmary beckoned. Leading Harry by the hand, with Hedwig flying silent reconnaissance, Hermione snuck out of the infirmary. It was the intelligent thing to do, and Hermione Granger was the brightest witch of her age, after all.
HP HP HP
"Oi! Mate!"
Ron Weasley's voice stopped them cold.
"What're you doing in such muggle clothes? Those are like knickers! Why's Hermione here? Oi, you're holding hands! What happened to your specs?"
Hermione saw, to her horror, that Ron Weasley was not alone.
"Hey, what's this about? Hermione, you're a girl!" squalled Ron in unflattering shock. "With things!" he added, pointing at her chest.
Ginny Weasley, who stood by his side, narrowed her eyes.
"Ron, will you shut up!" snapped Hermione. "We're not supposed to be here, these are perfectly normal clothes, and…"
"You're holding hands," hissed Ginny.
"Yes, we are," said Harry calmly, "and we need to go, so don't mind us, please, go back to whatever you were doing."
"I don't think so," growled Ginny, and Hermione prepared herself for a fight. The youngest Weasley was vicious, very like a weasel, in fact. She had punched a ferret. She could punch a weasel.
"Point me at them," whispered Harry. "I don't care which one I hit, I want out of here."
"That is a recurring theme with us," muttered Hermione. "We really need better defense skills. Hogwarts taught us nothing."
"Which means they don't have much, either."
Hermione beamed at him. "It is so sexy when you're logical!"
"It is?" said Harry and smiled goofily. "Wow. That's… I… Really?"
Boys, fumed Hermione mentally, while she blushed hot.
Hedwig screamed and flapped her wings in their faces. In her talons she held two wands, belonging to a pair of irate but wandless Weasleys, knocked to the floor and covered in owl-scratches.
"Brilliant!" shouted Harry.
Hermione started running. It wasn't easy, what with Harry holding onto her, and Hedwig's tail in her eyes, but it went very well, Hermione thought. At least, until she ran into a sparkly wall of something that made Hermione think grimly Oh, this is that bonum noctum charm in the seventh-year…
And with that, Dumbledore sent them once more into that good night.
HP HP HP
"I command you to speak!" boomed Dumbledore.
Hermione Granger made a very rude gesture in his direction.
Hedwig backed her up with a furious scream of avian outrage. Her wings beat at the inadequate confines of her cage, conjured by the man Hermione wanted to turn into owl treats, if she wasn't afraid he'd give the poor birds indigestion.
"Where is Harry Potter!" demanded her former headmaster.
Whatever Hedwig said in Owl, it probably translated to something even worse in English than what Hermione was thinking. Since her father had accidentally let slip some impressive profanities over the years, while watching sport, Hermione had as vast an indecent vocabulary as she had an academic one.
The question, of course, wasn't answerable anyway. Hermione didn't know where Harry was. She and Hedwig had taken the brunt of the spell. If Dumbledore didn't know Harry's whereabouts, then Hermione had no chance.
Not strictly true, but don't look! Can he read minds? I know I read that it's possible, mostly for the innately talented… Calm down. Study your toes.
Her toes were safe to think about. She pondered their number. Ten toes, yes, exactly correct. Nails in good enough condition, lacking polish, but then, she wasn't a nail polish sort of girl. They were tanned toes, thanks to all the island time. One toe was a wee bit crooked, of course, but only she noticed it these days. She had tried ballet and it had gone as well as most such things went for her as a toddler. She broke the toe pushing herself too far too fast.
Toes toes toes toes… I have ten toes!... Two feet, ten toes. Toes toes…
Where could Harry be?
He did not have his cloak of invisibility, since it wasn't something you stashed in your pocket at all times, but might need to be.
They were too young to apparate, assuming it could be done within the wards of Hogwarts, but it certainly wasn't possible through the wards.
His broom was on the island. He and Sirius raced each other daily, laughing their heads off. It worried Hermione, who feared Sirius saw Harry as James Potter, but Lupin assured her that it was good therapy for both. She hoped Lupin was correct.
Toes toes toes…
The Weasleys were nearby, possibly chasing them. Could Ron have saved Harry?
That little ginger brat better not… roared a part of Hermione she didn't know existed. Shocked, she scolded herself. Ginny was her friend. Well, maybe. Not really. No, any girl who looked at Harry Potter the way Ginny did was not a friend. All shiny-eyed and stupid-brained, as if he was some character in a fantasy, not a boy who laughed when he belched, dreamed of flying when he needed to focus on lessons, and left his dirty socks wherever they fell, rather than in a laundry hamper, as was proper.
Why do I like him, exactly?
"That's enough," said a voice, and at first Hermione thought it was Snape. It had that low, sneering, dungeon quality to it.
"I think you should tell me where Harry is," whispered Sirius Black against Dumbledore's ear. The invisibility cloak had slipped enough for his head to become visible. It disconcerted Hermione far less than she expected.
It discomfited Dumbledore quite a lot more than she expected.
"Yes, Albus, that's my wand in a very inconvenient location for you. Now, let's see what happens in this office when I try a little something I've wanted to do for ages…" With a happy malice in his tone that made Hermione very glad Sirius was on her side, Harry's godfather roared, "House Black magic to me!"
"You can do that?" squeaked Hermione. No wonder the pureblood old families held onto power. A muggle-born such as herself had no "house" magic. It was desperately unfair.
A mad light shone in Sirius's eyes, which wasn't terribly unusual, but at the moment did give Hermione a sick feeling in her stomach. So did the words he murmured.
"Audite! Imperium domum sangrus ad me veni!"*
Dumbledore smiled thinly. "Now, Mr. Black, you know and I know the wards of Hogwarts…"
"Yeah, keep out everything. You forgot something, Albie, old chum," crooned Sirius, whose wand was still out of Hermione's line of sight but not Dumbledore's backside by the older man's expression. "I'm inside!"
Dumbledore paled to the color of his whiskers. "No!"
"Oh, yes!" laughed Sirius, and spread his arms wide, or so Hermione assumed since his wand floated into view like his head had done.
Fawkes shrieked on his perch.
Magic struck.
Portraits of former headmasters emptied, save one, which strained against the frame. "You dishonor our family name and… Ack!"
Whatever held the former Headmaster Black in his portrait broke apart. The magic created a whirlwind, parchments and scrolls flying at lethal speed around the… soul? Hermione wasn't certain, but whatever it was, it all flashed too bright to bear.
Later, she would learn that Draco Malfoy, whose mother was born a Black, collapsed, screaming, as something snapped out of him with a noise like a bone breaking. At the moment, she only knew that a second, smaller whirlwind spiraled through Dumbledore's office, shattering odds and ends and Hedwig's cage.
As terrible as a snowy owl's scream could be, the one from Fawkes was much worse.
Wand now shoved into Dumbledore's throat, Sirius asked softly, "Where is my godson?"
"I do not know his exact location."
"Wrong answer!" yipped Sirius, as the tip of his wand began to glow. It was iridescent, like oil on water, and very pretty.
Hermione's logic re-installed itself.
That's a blood-magic summoning and that's not good that's not good that's really bad, that shimmery light is really very terribly bad! I know I read something about it somewhere…
The iridescence expanded to encase Dumbledore.
Fawkes flapped toward the headmaster, and ran into an irate snowy owl. Freed of her paralysis, both magical and mundane, Hermione obeyed both instinct and reason.
She opened the door and ran for it, the manic laughter of Sirius Black echoing down the corridor behind her.
HP HP HP
"Hermione."
The moving staircases of Hogwarts, long a bane of students, had locked up mid-move while she was trying to find the witch that marked the secret tunnel to Hogsmeade. With everyone stranded, she'd decided to do the sensible thing, and rest.
She mumbled, flipped over, and went back to sleep. Daylight came abruptly, brightly, colorfully in the tropics. This light was gray and reluctant. Ergo, it was not time to wake up.
"Hermione Granger your homework is late."
She leapt to her feet with a scream of horror, then glared at Sirius Black, who was rolling with laughter.
Then she looked at the sky.
"Sirius, what happened to the roof?"
Sirius hooted, yelped, and finally began banging a fist on the floor. At last, he wiped his eyes with a conjured cloth. "Oh, I blew it off. All that family magic. Lost my temper. Told the old duffer I'd do it, and he said I couldn't, and, eh, here we are! You slept through it, too. I'm impressed!"
Eyes narrowed, Hermione focused on her emotions to drive her intent to fuel her magic. Sore, scared, no Harry, humiliated, no Harry, hungry, tired, no Harry…
Wait, did he say there's no roof?!
I will swat him with a rolled up newspaper!
To her shock, a newspaper conjured itself from thin air and did, in fact, smack Sirius on the backside.
Arms folded, Hermione said smugly, "Bad dog."
"Is that any way to treat your headmaster? And rescuer?"
"What rescue? I'm stranded, I don't see Harry, so this rescue is incomplete, as well as substandard. Harry does much better."
"Now, that's a rotten thing to say to a man," groused Sirius, and shook out his cloak. It was quite dusty. "Subpar rescues of distressed damsels. You wound me."
"I will if you don't stop mucking about and…"
"Oi! Hermione!"
She turned, and in concert with Harry, said, "There you are!"
Harry panted, hands on knees. "Do you…have…any…idea how…hard…it is…"
"When the staircases get stuck and don't connect?" finished Hermione.
"Oh, bless, how sweet," cooed Sirius, conjuring large fluttering eyelashes in mid-air. "Finishing each other's sentences!"
"Shut it," said Harry and Hermione together, then returned to their conversation as if the older man didn't exist. "Yes, I took a lovely nap, and you?" asked Hermione kindly.
"Well, I'm not sure exactly, it's been blurry. Ron grabbed me and we hid, then he bunked off to the kitchens, and that's the last I saw of him. Or Ginny. She's in a right state. Called me a few names, stomped off, the end. I'm knackered. I walked miles. And here I am." He squinted. "At least, I think I am. What's going on?"
"I haven't a clue," said Hermione cheerfully, "but if you jump straight out… No, that won't do… I am sorry about your eyeglasses, I should have thought."
"You did the right thing. A tracking charm portkey on my specs, that's low," said Harry. "Hi, Sirius."
"Pup of my heart," said Sirius, and apparated over to Harry, to envelop him in a hug. "I seem to have blown my top and the castle's along with it. Very pretty, if I say so myself. Like a giant soap bubble, and voila! The old ninny fainted."
Hermione gasped.
"Fawkes went up in flames and took the old ninny with him," Sirius continued blithely, ignoring the fact that Hermione was still stranded on the side-turned stairs to nowhere. "I've been popping around the castle for almost an hour, trying to find the pair of you, and that's it. We should go. Looks like a classic winter day for Hogwarts. Wonder if Filch owns a snow shovel?"
That said, Sirius grabbed Harry, and with a cracking noise, appeared next to Hermione.
More of Hermione's database-mind kicked on. "You can't apparate inside Hogwarts, it says so in…"
Sirius and Harry chimed, "Yes, Hogwarts A History. But," said Sirius, "I'm fairly certain you can't take the roof off it, either, and I did that, so let's see how far we get, eh? Let's throw some robes on you and find breakfast. I'm dying for a full English."
HP HP HP
An early meal in Hogsmeade was followed by a hasty departure to London, to avoid a swarm of Ministry of Magic officials and aurors hopping to Hogwarts at high speed. Once in London, she and Harry waited for Sirius to transfigure their clothing to something appropriate, per Hermione's standards. That done, Hermione guided Harry carefully to an optometrist known for same-day specs, and within ninety minutes, he had new eyeglasses. She liked the new frames. Of thin, flexible metal, they suited his face, did not distract from his eyes, and best of all, as Harry gloated:
"I'm normal! Something about me is normal, in stock, and normal! I have boring, normal-bad eyesight! They had me in stock!"
Hermione sighed. She missed her hold-all beaded bag. She missed the island. She missed being warm without having to wear wool. She missed automobiles, and red telephone boxes, and even British Rail, but mostly, she missed…
"Do you know, there are ancient Iron Age forges near where I grew up?" she chatted inanely at Harry. "They believe the iron was mined for over two thousand years. The town is first mentioned in the reign of King John. The name is probably derived from Crow's Lea, meaning a meadow full of crows, and…"
Harry kissed her.
Right there.
On the street.
Whatever street it was. She forgot.
He grinned at her. "Wow."
"Wow," she agreed weakly. She cleared her throat. "What was that for?"
"You're upset about something," said Harry, blushing brightly. "And, uh, you were doing that nervous going-on thing, and, uh, I meant to do that a while ago, and… Yeah, so…" He rubbed the back of his neck.
Hermione leaned over and kissed him back.
Her toes tingled.
They grinned at each other.
"I miss being near my parents," she confessed softly, and blinked hard to keep back tears. "I know I can ring them, if Sirius didn't destroy the telephone, but I miss them, and I miss the way Mum always serves tea using her grandmother's set, and some of it is missing but that's not the point. It's that it was her grandmother's, and it's all right if we only have three cups, but we only have three, so you can't ever have tea with all three of us and match."
Harry's eyebrows rose, then rose more, then curled into a scowl. "Hermione. Matching teacups aren't what make a family."
"Did I mention it's incredibly attractive when you're logical?" sighed Hermione, grinning (she was certain) like a fool.
Harry flushed the color of a good red wine. Hermione giggled.
Wait, I giggle? Since when do I… Oh, his eyes!
"There you are!"
They turned to find a London taxi waiting next to them.
Remus Lupin smiled at them with wry amusement. "Hop in, let's not miss our flight!"
At a loss, they hopped in.
"Nice eyeglasses," approved Lupin calmly, and nodded to the driver. "Gatwick, please."
The trio held their peace until they were standing in front of what was, objectively, not the most aesthetically pleasing building in Britain. Hermione was quite familiar with it, as it was her parents' preferred airport, and it gave her a sense of homecoming. Also, ironically, homesickness.
The driver allowed Lupin to unload the luggage from the boot before zooming away.
"I thought only Heathrow had flights for… Er…" Harry waggled his eyebrows. "Y'know. Us."
"I hate Heathrow," said Lupin, picking up a small suitcase and handing it to Harry. "There you go." Hefting the large one, he nodded them forward. "Onward and so forth. Besides, Sirius won't think to look here."
"We're hiding from him, too?" groaned Harry a touch too melodramatically even for a teen. "What about Hedwig?"
"We are not hiding. We're teaching him the joys and benefits of the non-magical world," said Lupin pleasantly. "With his money, of course, but that's rather beside the point, isn't it? It's far less exhausting to be flown to a destination, and then find our way from there. I think Hedwig would agree, although I've left her travel arrangements to Minerva. Cheer up! The food isn't much, but I've always found it easy to sleep on planes. We have the best seats. His gold, my rules."
"Oh dear," mumbled Hermione. She called on her courage, and pointed out, "You do know what he's done?"
"Hmm. He left the island without a word, failed to mention the pair of you and Hedwig were not with him when he did so, and left me to find out most of this from Minerva." Lupin's smile was positively feral. "A few connections later, I found you outside Grimmauld, and we're off home. Now, if Hermione will be so kind as to unzip the outer section of this suitcase?"
Hermione did as ordered, and clutched a very normal, everyday, non-magical folder full of passports, and evidence of guardianship, tickets, and so forth and so on.
"He'll lose it," warned Harry as they stepped into line with Lupin.
"Ask me if I care," smiled Lupin a bit too happily.
Hermione flinched. Harry gulped audibly. He gave her that look. The one that said You do it!
"Um, sir? Professor Lupin?" she ventured softly. "I'm really glad we're not near the full moon."
"Is that relevant information?"
"It's going to be," grumbled Harry.
"You see, Sirius sort of rescued us from Hogwarts… After he blew the roof off it."
Lupin laughed, then stopped. "Wait. He… As in… No roof?"
"Not anymore, no," said Hermione, and Harry demonstrated with a hand flying into the air. "I have no idea if it vanished or if it landed in the sea, but it's gone."
They had their tickets and were ambling toward the appropriate gate before Lupin commented, "Suddenly, I feel no guilt whatsoever. You?"
Harry and Hermione, fingers entwined, shrugged identically. "No."
"Good. Let's take an extra day. Where would you like to go sightseeing?"
HP HP HP
*More or less Latin for "hear me, come to me, power of house blood come to me". I made all this stuff up. And, yes, even Google Translate probably has better Latin than I do.
I have in-laws in the UK. The "full English" is quite a meal. You simply do not arrive if only a bit peckish. You arrive after having walked at least from York to, say, Exeter.
On Crawley: I saw it was "fanon" for some. Good enough for me.