Early on Monday morning, Harry and Padfoot stopped at the gated entrance to the path that led to the door at Number 4 Privet drive. Padfoot leaned against his leg and whined, then resumed panting heavily. They had walked the few blocks from the train station, but it felt like they had traveled a great distance. Harry had placed all of his worldly possessions (and some of Sirius's as well) in the mokeskin pouch that Sirius had given him for his birthday a couple of years ago. On his back, he had a knapsack to hold the muggle money, a water bottle, a traveling dog bowl, some sandwiches, bacon treats for Padfoot, and other items that they'd need while they were traveling.
They had used the trip to practice working together in the muggle world by navigating turnstiles and ticket booths instead of apparating. It had been harder than Harry imagined, mostly because of the press of people on a Monday morning. Padfoot had yelped more than once when distracted passengers had stepped on him. At least they had a reverse commute. Now they were at the gate, the early morning breeze carrying the smell of bangers and mash along with the petrol of passing cars. Harry swallowed a bit of bile that had crept up the back of his throat.
They had all decided that it would be better if it was just Harry and Padfoot who arrived at Privet Drive. No need to stir up trouble with Vernon and Petunia by forcing their company with Remus and Professor O'Carolan if they could help it.
Harry wasn't sure, now that he was standing at the gate, if it was the best decision. Maybe threatening the Dursleys with a bit of werewolf menace wouldn't be such a bad idea. The only thing that comforted him was knowing that Sirius was by his side, even if the Dursleys just saw him as an overly large guide dog.
He sucked in a deep breath and made the hand motion to direct Padfoot forward, saying "Forward."
They walked along the path fringed with spent Albus Agapantha—their leaves rustling in the mild July breeze. Padfoot stopped in front of the step and Harry slid his foot forward finding it with the toe of his trainer, then said, "Forward" again while he motioned to Padfoot to continue forward.
On the front stoop, with dread pooling in his belly, Harry reached out and found the door. He rapped his knuckles hard on the wood, knowing that the doorbell always irritated Aunt Petunia. It wasn't really a kindness, but a bit of self-preservation to knock.
He could, of course, let himself in. He knew the door wouldn't be locked. But that would also irritate his Aunt.
He could hear her clipped footsteps approaching the door and held his breath—thankful that they had had the good sense to arrive after Uncle Vernon had left for work but before Dudley would be up. The front door was yanked open and a blast of air flowed over Harry containing the invasive spores of years of heartache, loneliness, and misery.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "And why do you have a dog of all things? You're not… he's not! No dog is living here!"
"Aunt Petunia," Harry started, his throat clenching as he did his best to maintain his temper. "Professor Dumbledore sent you a letter explaining. I have a guide dog. This is Padfoot."
"Right—a letter from that old fool… just to turn our lives upside down again. I never said it was okay. That stick thing was bad enough—announcing to the whole world that you're defective. As if! Here! A dog is a huge mess. I won't be cleaning up after it."
"He's a very well-behaved dog," Harry said, nudging Padfoot slightly with his knee to quell the low growl that had started when she called Harry defective.
Padfoot sat down and licked Harry's hand.
"Awful, hairy things. I don't want it in my house."
"Well, I suppose… we can just camp out here on the front lawn… where all the neighbors can see. After all, we don't have to be inside the house for the magic to work," Harry said slyly as he slid his travel sack from his back as if he were going to start getting settled.
He said the word "magic" a bit louder than was strictly necessary.
"Oh!" Aunt Petunia shrieked. "Language! Get in here. Just… you'll be cleaning up all his messes. I won't tolerate dog hair everywhere. And no dog messes in the backyard."
She grabbed Harry by the collar and hauled him inside. Padfoot managed to push against her legs and she let go.
"He licked me!" Petunia cried indignantly as she let go of his collar.
"Oh, well, he must like you," Harry said, turning his face so that she couldn't see him laughing.
He didn't waste any time lingering and motioned Padfoot to head up the stairs and then into his little bedroom. He closed the door firmly, set the travel sack down at the foot of the bed—taking care to make sure it didn't stick out the side, then collapsed onto his bed laughing.
"Gah! How have you managed all these years?" Sirius said. "She called you defective! It was all I could do to not bite her!"
"Hush, Sirius—you can't let her hear you speaking!" Harry sat up abruptly.
"Sorry, but seriously, she's horrid," Sirius said in a stage whisper that wasn't much better. "I always thought Lily was exaggerating."
"That was actually very civil. You're going to have to work on holding back if we're going to make it through these two weeks. If you think she says vile things, just wait until Uncle Vernon comes home."
Sirius paced back and forth in the tiny room a bit and gradually his rapid breathing calmed.
"Okay, but I need to use the bathroom—I suppose you'll have to take me in there as Padfoot, but could you leave me alone while I do my business?"
"Hmm. Yeah—but as long as Dudley's still sleeping. They are going to wonder what a dog is doing in the bathroom by himself."
"I can hear your cousin calling the hogs from here—can't you?"
"Yeah—okay, go ahead and transform."
Sirius transformed and there was the jangle of the harness, but then there was the familiar popping noise, and Sirius had clearly transformed back to his human form.
"What is this here?"
"Hush, Sirius! She'll hear you."
"Harry, what is this? Why is this here?"
"Shush. Really! I don't know what you're talking about. Describe it, please." Harry tried to use a soothing voice, but his voice broke in alarm at the thought of both his aunt and cousin breaking down the door because they could hear a man's voice in Harry's room.
"There is a cat flap on your bedroom door," Sirius hissed… it terms of noise it was an improvement, but still, it was loud.
"Oh." Harry had forgotten about the cat door. He stepped back a couple of paces and sank onto the lumpy mattress. "Uh. Yeah. That. Hey—at least the bars on my window are gone—thanks to Fred and George."
He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the window.
Sirius was by him in an instant, settling down on the bed next to Harry, his arm around his shoulders, drawing him into a side-along hug, his unshaven chin scratching across Harry's forehead until he planted a kiss on the top of his head.
"Okay. I see this is going to be harder than I thought. And I thought my family was bad. I need to pull myself together or I'm going to hex the lot of them inside out. I still might, mind you. But I promised I'd try." Sirius let out a long sigh and stood up. "I think this will be easier as a dog."
Padfoot's toenails scratched the bare wood floor of the smallest room as his harness jangled into place again and he padded to the door and whined softly.
Harry stood up and followed him slowly, then felt along his body to find the harness and leash, allowing his fingers to dig into Padfoot's warm, thick coat a bit before holding the harness to take him to the bathroom.
Harry listened at the door, confirmed that Aunt Petunia was washing dishes in the kitchen and Dudley was still snoring in his room, then motioned to Padfoot to cross the landing to the bathroom. He closed the door, careful not to catch Padfoot's wagging tail and then leaned against the door frame while he waited.
He turned to face the door when he heard the toilet flush and the water in the sink, then a few moments later the sound of the jangling harness and Padfoot's toenails on the tile. Padfoot scratched at the door.
Harry turned the doorknob slowly and opened the door a crack. Padfoot stuck his nose through then forced the door open, dragging his harness against the door so loudly that Harry jumped.
He started again when he heard a groggy, "What the bloody…Why is there a dog in our loo? Did he? Was he? Flushing?"
"Dudley, you're still dreaming. Go back to bed. I'm not even home yet," Harry said as he gathered up Padfoot's harness and leash and then walked back to his room and closed the door behind them.
Harry landed on the bed and stuffed his pillow in his mouth to drown out his laughter while Padfoot tried to lick his ear. He rolled over and made room on the bed for Padfoot to lie down next to him. Padfoot whined instead of jumping up and shook his harness.
"Oh, yeah. You should take that off now that we're here. Oh, wait. I should practice taking it off you, huh? In case I have to do it in front of them some time."
Harry sat up and felt for the buckles that held the harness securely on Padfoot's body and worked them loose. Finding all the buckles and figuring out how to undo them was fiddly work, but Padfoot was still, mostly. He licked at Harry's ears as he bent his head over the dog. Harry laughed, pushed Padfoot's wet nose away from the side of his face and attempted to dry his ear by rubbing it against his shoulder.
"I better go downstairs, Padfoot. Aunt Petunia won't let me stay up here for long. I have to start working on my chores. You can stay in here or you can run around the back yard."
Padfoot answered by trotting over to the door and scratching lightly at it.
"But Padfoot, you can't be in the way. Aunt Petunia won't allow it," Harry spoke sternly to the dog as he followed him to the door after carefully hanging the harness on the bedpost.
Padfoot whined in response and then yawned and shook his head sending a bit of spittle that landed on Harry's arm. He wiped it off and opened the door a crack to listen. Dudley was still in the toilet.
Harry walked across the hallway with Padfoot pressed against his leg. He didn't need to think about the distances as traveling around in the dark at Privet Drive was part of his muscle memory given how many times he'd snuck down to the kitchen to eat in the middle of the night. He trailed his fingers on the railing as he walked quietly down the stairs, mindful of the stair that creaked. Padfoot just ran down the stairs making a terrible racket with his long toenails, thumping tail, and heavy paws.
Padfoot? More like clodfoot!
Harry wanted to hiss at Sirius to be more quiet, but now that he was in the hallway, he was hyper aware that Aunt Petunia could be close by. He held out his knuckles to trail along the wall to the kitchen. Padfoot was whining by the cupboard under the stairs and scratching at the door.
"Padfoot, what are you doing? Don't do that. Aunt Petunia will skin you if you scratch up the wood!"
Padfoot made a low growl and pressed so firmly against Harry's leg that Harry had to press back to avoid stumbling.
"I'll tell you about that later," Harry sighed. "Come on. It's time to do chores. Remember to behave. Don't make it worse for me."
"Are you talking to that mutt?!" Petunia shouted from the kitchen. "Stop lazing about and get in here. I need you to whip up the lemon curd."
Harry stiffened and turned toward the kitchen. He touched the doorframe with the back of his hand and then walked the few steps to the counter top. Padfoot walked next to him.
"No dogs in my kitchen. Out, out with you!" Petunia shrieked and Harry felt the tail of her dish cloth as it whipped against his leg. Padfoot stood his ground and growled at her.
"Aunt Petunia. Please. He's my guide dog. He belongs with me. He will be good, I promise."
"He's not guiding you now. He hasn't got his thingy on. He can go out in the yard."
"He wants to stay with me, though, while I work."
"If I find a single dog hair in any of our food, I'll… I'll… throw you both out!"
"Fine. We'd probably be more comfortable camping out in the yard anyway."
Petunia snapped the dishtowel and it snapped against Harry's arm, stinging. It was so out of the blue that Harry jumped. Padfoot growled.
"Easy, Padfoot, easy," Harry said in low tones, bending to put a hand on Padfoot's neck, feeling the rumbling of the growl.
"Don't you speak to me in those tones, freak," Petunia shrieked.
Padfoot stepped between them, his growl becoming more menacing.
"Don't call me that," Harry said in an even voice.
"I'll call you what I like," Petunia said, though her voice betrayed a tremble and Harry realized that she was afraid of Padfoot. "You are a freak!"
Padfoot barked and lunged, his jaws snapping while Petunia screamed.
"Mum? Are you all right?" Dudley called from upstairs and his heavy steps thudded down the stairs.
"That dog! He understood me!" Petunia shouted hysterically as Dudley came thundering into the kitchen.
Harry heard the pop and felt Sirius's hand on his arm.
"Sirius! Seriously?" Harry shouted, turning toward him.
"Hush Harry, I've got this. Obliviate!"
"Sirius, what are you doing?" Harry seethed, his voice breaking.
"Who are you?" Petunia asked, her voice sounding a bit slurred.
"Harry has a guidedog, Padfoot, who you adore and feed copious amounts of bacon. You will treat Harry with kindness and respect. You love him as a son…"
"Sirius, don't do that. That would be awful. Look at Dudley. I don't want that."
"Oh, right. You will not treat Harry as a son, but as a respected member of this family. You will forget that you saw me transform from a dog and back again." There was a pop and Padfoot's tail whacked against Harry's knee.
"Harry, let me get some bacon for that beautiful dog of yours! Please, sit down at the table. You must be tired from your journey. Would you like some tea?"
Harry stood for a second in stunned silence, then sputtered, "Sure, Aunt Petunia. That would be lovely." He walked over to the dining room table and found a chair to settle in, Padfoot's toenails clicking on the tile floor beside him.
"Dudders, dear. Put the kettle on, would you? That's a dear."
Harry was amazed to hear Dudley filling the kettle and settling it on the stove. He could hear him turning the knobs on the stove, but couldn't hear the gas igniting.
"Mum! It's not turning on!"
"Oh, here, dear. Let me get it. You need to hold it here until it lights."
There was a loud whooshing noise as the extra gas lit up and it sounded like both Petunia and Dudley jumped back.
Padfoot settled at Harry's feet, laying his head across his trainers, while Harry listened in amazement as Dudley learned how to make a cup of tea.
[break]
Harry felt as though he were living in an alternate reality when Uncle Vernon arrived home that night from work. He sputtered in disbelief as Aunt Petunia and Dudley treated Harry and Padfoot with more deference than they'd ever shown to Aunt Marge.
Aunt Petunia had actually whacked Uncle Vernon with a rolled-up newspaper when he had kicked Padfoot out of the way. Of course, Sirius popped up and performed the "Obliviate" charm almost instantly. Things were a lot more pleasant after that. Very strange, of course, but oddly pleasant.