Taking Care – Dursley Style

An eerie silence lay over Privet Drive this early July evening. Most of the inhabitants of the street – though Petunia Dursley would have said differently – were not very noisy people anyway, and the heat during the past day had made most of them drowsy and tired, leading to an early retreat into the safe coolness of their houses. The gardens were lying silent under the fading sunlight, green lawns showing small spots of dried brown as the only sign that this summer had so far been the hottest in the past fifteen years.

This did not very much help the teenage boy who way lying upstairs, in the bed of the smallest bedroom of Nr. 4, Privet Drive.

Harry Potter was having a lousy holiday so far, worse than any he had had before. Which meant something, because holidays had never been Harry's favourite part of the year. He knew that it was safest for him to return to Privet Drive, he knew that the protective magic placed around him was strongest when he was surrounded by his (last remaining) blood relatives, the Dursleys. But that didn't mean Harry had to agree with or even like the arrangement, he did despise them nearly as much as the Dursleys despised him. But there was nothing he could do about them, so he just had to accept that his summer holidays consisted of being locked away at Privet Drive, hoping for his friends and his godfather to stay in contact and tell him what was going on in the wizarding world.

The second war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters was only steps away from all that Harry knew. Voldemort had gained his own physical body back over a year ago now, and the fact that the Ministry of Magic under the leadership of Cornelius Fudge had denied this fact for the past year had surely made it easier for the Dark Lord to recruit and re-group his followers around him again. Albus Dumbledore was sure that Voldemort's strike would come, and from all that he had told Harry at the end of the past school year, it would rather be earlier than later.

There had been absolutely no Death Eater activity, nothing that could be linked to them in any way, during the past twelve months, and this worried not only Dumbledore, but everybody who belonged to the group of allies he had gathered around him. Fortunately there were not just a few wizards and witches who rather trusted Dumbledore than Fudge and who didn't really give anything about what the Daily Prophet wrote about Hogwart's headmaster getting senile and The Boy Who Lived being mighty disturbed. So at least the wizarding community would not meet Voldemort's second reign completely unprepared, and though Harry had never really gotten an insight into the concrete workings of the Order of the Phoenix (which was how Dumbledore's resistance group called themselves) he knew that they were constantly alert, searching for any sign of changes.

And as if the constant threat of Voldemort starting the war wasn't enough, Harry had other things on his mind which were not pleasant, either. Though one year had passed since the fake Professor Moody's portkey had taken Harry and Cedric Diggory to the graveyard where Voldemort had awaited them, the encounter was still vivid in Harry's mind. Especially at night, when he saw the older Hufflepuff boy die over and over again, every night. All this had happened because Harry had suggested that they take the winner's cup together. True, Harry had not known that the cup had been turned into a portkey, but that didn't change the fact that had it not been for him, Cedric would still be alive. If he had not competed in that stupid tournament, heck if Voldemort had not been hunting him ever since Harry was a baby, then Cedric would still be alive. It just wasn't fair that Harry had survived, had returned from the encounter with Voldemort relatively unscathed while Cedric had never had a chance to survive.

At the end of Harry's fourth year, shortly after everything had happened, most of his class- and schoolmates (except from the Slytherins of course) had not shown any signs of blaming Harry for what had happened, though he himself did that enough. They had listened to Dumbledore's explanation of Voldemort's return and had merely wondered why Harry had been able to survive where so many others would not have. But then the school year had been over and the students had returned to their own homes, where there had been no Dumbledore to back up Harry's story. No sign that Voldemort had returned showed in the paper and instead Fudge had not let one single opportunity pass to discredit Harry and use his connections to the Daily Prophet to let Harry publicly look like a disturbed boy with way too much fantasy.

Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had not been a pleasant one. Though most of his fellow Gryffindors, especially his team mates and friends, had stuck to him, the rest of the school had given Harry a hard time, especially the Slytherins. Supported by the Daily Prophet and its small comments as to why Harry was a complete nutcase, they had not left one single opportunity to taunt Harry. Not openly, and surely not in a way that any teachers could notice it, but their subtle teasing had been even worse than open accusations.

The Hufflepuffs, Cedric's housemates, had eyed Harry warily whenever he had passed some of them. Whenever Harry had encountered Cho Chang in the corridors, she had stared at him for a moment, then the tears had welled up into her eyes and she had turned around and left. Whatever romantic thoughts of the teenager kind Harry might have had towards her, this had definitely passed during the past year. There had not been many rays of light for Harry ever since Cedric had died. Ron and Hermione had stuck to him no matter what, even when Harry had lost his temper and had vented out all his anger and frustration on them. Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup again, beating Ravenclaw rather spectacularly in the last game of the season. And eight weeks before the end of the term, their Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Wilberts, had resigned from the post out of sheer frustration about the students and subjects she had to teach. A Ministry official before she had been added to the Hogwarts staff, Professor Wilberts had not expected Dumbledore's open dealing with Voldemort's return and the advanced Defence magic the headmaster had expected her to teach. The fact that Wilberts had resigned was not that positive as such, though in Harry's opinion she had not been a good teacher, but because Wilbert's replacement had come as a positive surprise. Against the Ministry's explicit advice and against the protest of Professor Snape and most of his Slytherin students, Albus Dumbledore had re-instated Remus Lupin as the Defence teacher, backed up by the school board governors who were luckily by now on Dumbledore's side, some of the few allies he had in the Ministry.

But that was already the majority of the positive things that had lightened up Harry's past year.

And now he was stuck again at No. 4, Privet Drive with his Aunt, Uncle and his cousin Dudley. It was four weeks into the holidays, the second week of July, and Harry had been cut off from the wizarding world for the entire time. There had been no owls from his friends or his godfather, but as Vernon had barred his window, this didn't surprise Harry. Vernon had been very explicit in making clear that this summer he would not allow any contact between Harry and anybody else from the wizarding world, afraid that the comings and goings of owls that had been going on last summer would have made anybody in the neighbourhood suspicious. Harry's own owl, Hedwig, had been perched into her cage for the entire time, and no arguing or shouting could convince Vernon and Petunia that she needed to get out from time to time. So all Harry could do at the moment was give his faithful pet an extra amount of owl-treats and let her fly around in his room for a while when he knew that Vernon and Petunia were in the living room, watching the evening news or a quiz-show. Hedwig didn't particularly like her situation, but somehow she seemed to understand that Harry was not the one to blame for it. At least that was what Harry hoped she did.

But at the moment, thoughts about his owl were far from Harry's mind, as were the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric Diggory, his miserable situation stuck with the muggles and even Lord Voldemort. In fact, there was hardly anything coherent on Harry's mind, as it had been for the past two days.

Harry hadn't really felt well ever since he had come back from Hogwarts, but at first he had blamed his lack of appetite and his general feeling of being unwell on the thought of two months with the Dursleys, and had thought that his headaches came from his scar, connecting him to whatever horrid mood Lord Voldemort was in now.

But during the last two days, Harry had realized that his feeling of being unnaturally hot had nothing to do with the extraordinarily well weather, and that Voldemort did not cause his headaches.

No, Harry was truly and utterly sick. He felt like shit, hardly strong enough to stand up on his feet and do his usual chores around the house. At the sole mentioning of the word food his stomach gave painful jerks, which was not really the best considering that he had to prepare all the Dursleys' meals.

Despite his aunt's urging not to be even more lazy than usual, and despite his uncle's shouting that he was just pretending to be ill to get off his chores, after this morning's breakfast Harry had immediately returned to his room and had fallen to the bed, feeling as if he hadn't slept in ages.

Harry didn't really know how high his fever was as nobody had ever cared to let him use a thermometer to check it, but he guessed that it was pretty high by now. Waking up and getting up had been an awful deal this morning. He had neither heard his alarm clock nor the first three times when Petunia had knocked on his bedroom door. Her shrill voice calling for Vernon and his uncle's appearance afterwards had barely been enough to rouse Harry, though his uncle had shouted and ranted for minutes. After a sharp slap on the back of his head, Harry had finally climbed out of his bed and tried his best to keep upright. The bacon had burnt, the toast had been black as well, Harry had spilt Vernon's tea and had knocked a bowl of cereal over Petunia's favourite blouse, the latter earning him a sharp slap on the face from his uncle. Normally, Harry would have easily dodged that blow, but somehow this morning his reflexes had not worked properly and the blow had knocked him clear off his feet.

So after breakfast Harry had immediately hurried back to his room, though hurried was probably not the best word to describe the way he had moved. Not with all his limbs and joints aching, his head thrumming, ears ringing and the sick feeling in his stomach. Managing just enough strength to crawl back on his bed, Harry had fallen down and immediately fallen asleep, not caring in the slightest whether Petunia and Vernon agreed to this or not.

That was why Harry was not thinking about anything this evening. He was still lying on his bed, one moment curled up in himself to fight of the shivers and tremors that wracked through his body, the next pushing away his blankets and trying to get as cool as possible in the summer heat. Harry still had not woken up, though his laboured breathing and the layer of sweat on his forehead was indication enough that his sleep was not content and untroubled.

"BOY! Get down here!"

Though Vernon was bellowing those words so loud that Ms. Carlson in Number ten surely had no problems hearing them, Harry only stirred faintly and turned his head to the other side.

Steps thundered up the stairs and a moment later the door to Harry's bedroom was ripped open and Vernon's bulky frame stormed into the room, over towards the bed that still held Harry.

"Lazy and ungrateful, that's what ye are! Didn't you hear me calling you down about ten times?"

Harry turned his head into the direction of the sound, but that was the only sign of recognition he showed towards the other presence in his room. Vernon's face grew an ugly shade of purple, signalling extreme anger and deep trouble for the one who had caused this. Which would be Harry, as always.

"BOY! Don't you dare ignore me and keep on with your stupid little show here. It's obvious that you're not sick, so don't pretend to be! Didn't I tell you not to give away our address to the other freaks?"

Through the haze in Harry's mind, some of the information trickled through, but it was not enough to make him wake up fully.

"Huh?"
"There is one of you...you freaks down there, saying he's come to take you with him. What's that supposed to mean?"
"Huh?"

"Don't you 'huh' me, understood? I want an answer, what did you give him our address for? Who is this?"

With an enormous effort, Harry shrugged his shoulders once and then allowed himself to sink back into his pillows.

"'on know. 'm sick."
"I give you sick if you're not up and about in ten minutes time, telling that freak to leave again. He's scared the wits out of Dudley and Petunia is just a bundle of nerves, and again it's all your doing. Now GET UP!"

But Harry only mumbled something incoherent and sank fully back onto his pillow, consciousness fleeing again. Vernon's face grew even angrier if that was possible, but as Harry didn't show any sign of waking up when he violently shook him a couple of times, and neither when he slapped his Harry's face non-too-gentle a couple of times, Vernon realized that his nephew would not wake to tell the other freak to leave again anytime soon. Vernon could clearly feel the unnatural heat that radiated from Harry's body, but while he'd not let being sick count as an excuse for his nephew, it maybe was the explanation that would get the other robed freak in his hallway downstairs to leave again. The air of that...that man, really. Coming to his house in broad daylight, demanding to see the boy and to even take him away for the day. Ministry of M...Vernon didn't even want to think about it. Those freaks now claimed to have an own Ministry as well? Where should this lead to? What if somebody saw the boy with that strange-clothed figure, people would start talking and in the end it would all fall back on his own family. No, Vernon could not let that happen. And when he told the other now that Harry was too sick to go wherever that man wanted to take him, he'd better accept it without making a fuss. Otherwise the boy would get a serious reminder not to hand out their address to his freak-friends. The Dursleys were normal and honourable people after all, thank you very much.

Vernon slammed the door shut behind himself and stomped down the stairs, intending to tell the man in the hallway exactly that.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Nearly three days had passed since Sirius had been caught and freed again, and ever since then sitting still seemed to have become an off-concept for him. Remus bore his friend's excited attitude with as much patience as he could muster as he knew fully well what the recent developments meant to Sirius. He was free again, he could leave the house without getting in danger to be lynched or imprisoned and, most important of all, he'd soon be able to take care of Harry, just as he had promised James and Lily all those years ago. At least that's what both of them hoped, the Ministry still had not responded to Sirius' petition for custody.

For the first time in the past three days Sirius seemed to come to something akin to a rest this afternoon. There was no trip to Diagon Alley planned, and no other activities that would demand leaving the house and enjoying his newly-acquired freedom in full.

At the moment Sirius was sitting in the living room, a pot of coffee and an immensely high stack of parchments in front of him, leafing through what appeared to be listings of his family's property and the state it was in, along with fourteen years worth of Gringott's correspondence. Remus didn't even want to know what else was buried on his couch table, so he sat down on the armchair next to Sirius and gestured at the parchment Sirius was holding.

"So you really want to move back into your family's house?"

Sirius looked up at his old friend and shrugged.

"I don't know why not."

"Maybe because it's been abandoned for more than fourteen years?"

Again, Sirius shrugged, but this time a mischievous sparkle showed in his eyes.

"I've had a couple of protection spells around it, you know, the usual. Keeping it from becoming a ruin and stuff. As for the rest of it..."

Remus raised his eyebrows, guessing already very well where this conversation was leading.

"Yes?"

"...well, Remus, you know what happens to a magical house when it's abandoned for so long."
"I do?"

"Well, yes. Boggarts and pixies, all those nasty little pests that settle in and refuse to leave again. And the eccentric personalities the paintings develop when they're left alone for so long."

"A real problem, I see."
Remus sounded dry and completely impassive, yet he had to fight hard not to dissolve into laughter right there and then.

"Well", Sirius said, gesturing wildly around with his finger, "not a problem to somebody who has an expert on magical creatures at hand."

Remus crossed his hands across his chest and leaned back in his chair.

"And you know just such a person, do you?"
The mischievous look from his youth was fully back on Sirius' face and Remus didn't even bother do hide how glad he was about it. Freedom seemed to do a world of good to his old friend, and the times when Remus had to watch his mood-changes and his brooding helplessly seemed to be over at last. Remus just hoped they were over for good.

"Oh, as a matter of fact I do know an expert on magical creatures. The best there is, actually. He just has to agree to help me."

"And what makes you think he will?"
Sirius smirked in a manner that would have made every Malfoy proud.

"Oh, I don't think he'll have a choice not to. Not while I still have those wonderful pictures of his Halloween costume from our fifth year at school. I bet Harry would just love them..."

Remus paled.

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh yes, I would."
"You..."

Whatever answer Remus had been about to give was interrupted by a loud rapping sound from the window in the kitchen. Both men looked at each other, frowning. The owl delivering the Daily Prophet had already been there that morning, as had a Hogwarts owl with a letter from Albus Dumbledore. There weren't many other correspondents for Sirius and Remus, none except from Harry. And Sirius had sent a letter to his godson just this morning, a reply from him already would be far too early.

Grinning slightly, Remus pushed himself up and headed out of the room.

"Well, I'd better let that owl in. It would be a shame to rob you of your fan-mail."

Sirius didn't look all that happy at Remus' last sentence.

"Fan-mail? What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"

"Haven't read the readers' comments page in the Daily Prophet since your trial, have you?" Remus grinned back before he opened the window. "There's a lot of people out there, single women around their thirties mostly, who are very touched by your story. 'A shame to rob the female wizarding population of such a strikingly handsome man for so long', if I may quote my favourite comment. I for one wouldn't be all that surprised if buckets of fan-mail started arriving by tomorrow."

"You're enjoying this immensely, aren't you?"

"Yes. It's like an early Christmas for me.""

Sirius wanted to reply something witty, but the words died on his lips when he saw just what owls were outside the kitchen window. One was easy enough to identify as Ron's owl Pig, a tiny little ball of feathers that fluttered excitedly around the room. But as unusual as it might have been for Ron to write to Sirius or Remus it was the second owl that had cut off Sirius' words. It was Remus' own owl Rasputin, and it shouldn't be here in Kent right now. Only this morning Sirius had sent him to Surrey, carrying a letter for Harry. But now it was back, the letter for Harry still securely tied to his leg.

Sirius stared at Rasputin for a moment, completely ignoring Pig's indignant screeching and fluttering, then he turned his eyes on Remus.

"Why is Rasputin already back? Why didn't he deliver the letter to Harry?"
Remus shrugged and climbed onto one of the kitchen chairs, catching Pig before he could throw down the contents of the shelves.

"I don't know, Sirius. Rasputin has never given me problems before."
Sirius pulled his recently acquired wand from the sleeve of his robe and turned towards the hall, ready to apparate to Surrey immediately. Only Remus' quick reflexes brought him to Sirius' side fast enough to prevent him from doing so.

"Sirius! What are you doing?"
"What does it look like, Remus? I'm going to look what's wrong with my godson!"
"You can't! Don't you remember what Albus said about lying low until you officially have the custody?"

Remus tried to put his hands on Sirius' shoulders and calm him, but the dark haired man would have none of that. He shrugged off Remus' hands and stormed into the living room, pacing angrily in front of the fireplace.

"Do you know what? I don't care what Albus says about this. He's not infallible, otherwise he'd not have left Harry with those muggles in the first place!"

"Calm down Sirius!"

"No! Listen, it's been three days since somebody checked on Harry. And then it was a Ministry official who didn't even look after him when the muggles said he was sick. And now your owl didn't get through to him. That's strange, isn't it?"
"Maybe he just wasn't home?"
"And your owl didn't wait for him like post-owls are trained to do? And where do you think did Harry go, sick as he was?"
"Sirius, it's just a flu-bug..."
Remus flinched as Sirius slammed his hands onto the table in exasperation.

"The muggles said it was just the flu. Now, I don't know about you, but from everything Harry told about them, I don't give much about what they say. I'm worried about Harry, all right?"
Remus sighed and wanted to run his hands through his hair. Only then did he realize that he was still holding Pig, who had calmed down remarkably since he had arrived.

"Listen Sirius, let's see what Ron writes and then let's think about it. We can check up on Harry, but you have to promise not to do anything rash."

"Excuse me for caring about my godson!"

"Sirius, I care about Harry as well, but you have to understand that doing something rash could convince the Ministry that you're not cut out for taking custody for Harry."

Sirius answered with the same indignant sound he always used to answer any accusation against himself, but he put his wand away and gestured Remus to open Ron's letter. Pig struggled a bit against Remus' efforts, but at last he managed to free the folded parchment and let go of the tiny owl which immediately flew over to Rasputin's perch and collapsed into the food-bowl. Remus chuckled, then unfolded the letter and read it out loud.

Dear Sirius,

you were gone so quickly from the courtroom that nobody of us had the chance to congratulate you. But Hermione and I were very glad that things turned out like they did, and that we could be of help. As was the rest of our family. Well, everyone except from Percy, but that is another story. As long as Fudge stays Minister, there won't be anything that could make that stupid git (Percy) doubt the idiot (Fudge).

But that's not the reason why I write you.

Have you heard from Harry lately? I've tried to write him a couple of times already, but either Pig came back without a reply or he brought back my own letter. Now, Pig isn't the most reliable owl, but Hermione has written that she had the same problem.

Those muggles said that he was sick on the day of the trial, but I don't see why that should keep him from opening out letters.

We're worried that his aunt and uncle maybe intercept his mail (Harry always tells how strange they are), or that it maybe has something to do with You-Know-Who. Mum says she'll only sleep well again when she knows that Harry is fine and in the care of somebody from the wizarding world (I guess she means you).

He will come to you, won't he? I mean, with you being his godfather and all.

If you know anything more abut Harry, please let us know, we're worried about him.

Greet Professor Lupin from Hermione and me if you happen to see him.

Yours,

Ron

Before Remus had even put down the letter, Sirius had jumped to his feet and was on his way towards the front door again.

"Sirius, what..."

"That's enough Remus. Do you hear me? Enough. Nobody has seen Harry all summer, nobody has heard from him. And now it's enough. I'm going to make sure that he's all right and if he isn't, I'm going to take him out of there."

Remus quickly put away Ron's parchment and followed Sirius out, fully intending to stop his friend before he got himself into trouble.

"Sirius, if you take Harry before they have granted you the custody, it could cost you Harry! The Ministry..."

But Sirius only turned around, raised his wand and grinned.
"Fuck the Ministry!"
And before Remus could do anything to stop him, Sirius had apparated away.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

By the time Remus had followed his wayward friend and had apparated as close to No. 4 Privet Drive as the wards around it would allow, he could already see Padfoot rounding the corner of Magnolia Crescent and bounce up the street where Harry lived.

"Padfoot! At least wait for me!"

But the dog pretended not to hear him. As Remus broke into a run, the dog turned back into the form of Harry's godfather, who knocked non-too gently on the Dursleys' front door.

Panting and wheezing from his chase up the street, Remus reached Sirius' side before somebody in the house had reacted to his knocking. Remus glared at his old friend, who wisely chose to ignore him, but before he could give Sirius a piece of his mind about what he was doing here, the door opened and the two wizards came face to face with Harry's uncle, Vernon Dursley. Upon seeing their robes and the wand Remus still clutched tightly in his hand, a shocked frown appeared on his face, only to be quickly replaced by a look of seething anger.

"What do you want?"
Remus wanted to say something, but he should have guessed that Sirius would not have time for politeness.

"Where is Harry?"

"There is no Harry in this house! Leave, or I'll call the police!"

But Sirius was not the kind of person who was easy to get rid off, especially not when he was worried or angry. Or both, as he presumably was now. He pushed past Vernon into the house and also ignored Petunia, who had appeared in the kitchen door and upon his presence had started to scream.

Instead, Sirius came to a halt on the foot of the stairs and called out for his godson.

"Harry! Harry, are you up there?"
As he received no answer, Sirius turned around and gave Vernon a glare that would have made a mountain troll back away. Even Remus, who knew Sirius better than anybody else, felt the shivers run down his spine upon seeing that look.

"Where is my godson, Dursley?"
"You...you...you're that murderer!" Vernon seemed to have finally understood who was standing before him, but he obviously hadn't realized yet that this was not what Sirius wanted to hear. So Vernon found himself pushed up against the wall with Sirius holding him tightly in place on the scruff of his neck.

"I will ask you one more time, then I will get quite unpleasant. Where is Harry? What have you done to my godson?"

"U...upstairs. But we didn't do it..."
"Do what?"

Vernon flinched as Sirius roared so close to his ears, but after a moment he managed to bring the words past his constricted throat.

"It...he...it just happened. We thought it was another freakishness of his, I didn't want to get Dudley or Petunia infected...had to keep him away from them..."

Vernon sank to his knees as Sirius' hands suddenly loosened their grip on his shirt. Sirius stormed upstairs without waiting for another word from Vernon, and after disabling the phone and locking all doors and windows with a flick of his wand so that the Dursleys could not run away or call the authorities, Remus hurried after him.

Sirius ripped open all the doors on the upper floor in search of his godson's room, and finally he reached a door which he had to unlock by magic, guessing correctly that this was where the Dursleys had kept Harry in quarantine. He unlocked the door, ripped it open and took a step into the room, stopping dead in his tracks. Remus hurried down the hall towards him, but before he reached the door he heard Sirius exclaim a loud profanity and storm into the room. By the time Remus reached it, Sirius was already kneeling next to the small bed, completely shielding it from Remus' view.

The room was unbearable hot, which was no small surprise as the window was closed and barred. Nobody seemed to have bothered to let some air into it for the past days. Harry's owl was sitting in her cage, screeching loudly at the sight of Sirius and Remus.

"Sirius, what's wrong?"

Remus went over towards the bed, determined to finally answer the question what the heck was wrong with Harry, but he too stopped dead in his tracks as he got his first look on the teenager.

Harry was lying on the bed, slumped down and unmoving. His hair was matted and sweaty, clinging to his forehead as if he was lying like that for days by now. Harry was awfully pale, only his cheeks were flushed with an unnatural heat that could only mean he was suffering under a dangerously high fever. There was an evident bruise on the left side of his face, but what worried Remus even more at the moment were the small pustules that covered his entire face and neck, practically every bit of visible skin and surely the skin beneath his clothes as well.

Sirius turned around to face Remus, worry, panic and helplessness evident on his face.

"Remus, what's that?"
Remus knelt down next to the oblivious teenager and gently ran a hand across the teenager's forehead.
"I'm not a doctor, Sirius, but I'd say it's Dragonpox."

"What? But Remus, he's nearly sixteen!"

Remus slowly turned around and nodded.

"That's why we should get him to a doctor immediately, he's burning up. Merlin only knows when those blasted muggles have last deemed it necessary to look after him. Take him to the bathroom and see if you can get some liquids into him, then take him downstairs. I'll pack his stuff and be with you in a moment.

You've had Dragonpox, didn't you?"
Sirius nodded as he put his arms under Harry's knees and shoulders.

"Yes, when I was five."
Remus nodded shortly.

"Good. Get going, I'll be along shortly."

Sirius picked up Harry's lithe frame and left the room while Remus rose to his feet again and opened the lid of Harry's trunk with a flick of his wand. Harry didn't seem to have unpacked most of his stuff during the past weeks, so all Remus had to do was levitate some books and parchments into the trunk. When he was finished, Remus levitated the trunk and Hedwig's cage out of the room and down the stairs where he found Sirius standing and glaring at the cowering forms of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Harry's aunt and uncle kept as far away from Sirius and the sick teenager who still lay lifelessly in his godfather's arms. Remus could see that his old friend was close to hexing Harry's relatives within an inch of their lives, but at the moment they really had something else to think about.

"Did he drink something, Sirius?"
Not turning his glare away from the Dursleys, Sirius nodded.

"Two glasses of water. I didn't want to give him more, I didn't know how much he could keep down. He didn't wake up, though."

Remus nodded.

"All right. Let's bring him home, and then we'll call a doctor and tell Albus that we've taken Harry."

Sirius nodded, but made no move towards the door, growling lowly in his throat. Petunia shrieked and cowered even farther behind her husband.

"Sirius! Let's go."

Remus grabbed Sirius' shoulder and gently turned him towards the door. This pulled Sirius out of his stupor and with another concerned glance at Harry's fever-flushed face he hurried out of the house, Remus following suit. They didn't talk much as they walked quickly down the street, trying to reach the end of the anti-apparition ward as fast as possible. As soon as they had reached the edge of Magnolia Crescent, they hid under a group of trees near the road and apparated away, Sirius holding Harry tightly while Remus took a secure hold of the teenager's trunk and Hedwig's cage.