Harry woke in the late afternoon to find that he was still not alone in his room. He was both pleased and surprised when he saw who occupied the armchair at his bedside. "Professor Lupin!" he exclaimed.
His old teacher looked up from his book and smiled. "Hello, Harry," he said, marking his page and closing the volume. "How are you feeling?"
Harry stretched his arms and rolled his head gently. "Stiff," he said.
"Obviously," the older man said with a wince, hearing the popping sounds in most of Harry's joints. "Care to get out of bed?"
"Oh, yes, Professor," Harry said eagerly.
Lupin smiled. "Please call me Remus, Harry. I'm not your teacher anymore. Here, give me your hand – I'm not sure how well you're going to do after a week on your back."
Harry pulled back his covers, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and grasped Lupin's hand with his own. Lupin's grip felt very strong to Harry, but he supposed that might be because he was weakened himself. Carefully he stood up.
"Right. Now, easy does it… Let's head for that chair over by the window."
Harry looked, and nodded. The chair was less than three meters away. At first things were very awkward; Harry's legs felt like jelly and seemed to go anywhere but the place he wanted them to be. But some of his stiffness was working itself out as they went on; his joints cracked less as they neared the window, and his feet started obeying his commands. Finally he flopped down into the chair and stretched his legs. "That wasn't so bad," he said. "I wouldn't mind some more walking."
Lupin shook his head. "Rest first. You'll be sitting quite a bit today, at Healer Bigelow's request, but tomorrow you should do much better." He gave Harry the same scrutinizing look that Sirius had used. "You look well for someone who just had a brush with death," he said. "Sirius spent the last three days climbing the walls. He's sleeping now that he knows you're all right."
Harry shivered at the memory of their meeting earlier that day. "He cried when I first saw him. It scared me."
"Well, he loves you very much. He took his role as godfather very seriously from the moment your parents first asked him. Even when we knew you were on the mend he still wouldn't stop pacing. He told me that he had to see you awake before he could relax. It… takes a lot to make Sirius cry. I myself have never seen him do it. I imagine he did after he heard that your parents were killed." Lupin paused for a moment. "It's very good to see you, Harry."
"Thanks, er, Remus." Harry smiled at him. "It's good to see you, too." He sighed aloud. "I have a lot of people to talk to. Ron and Hermione, and I've never even met Professor Thornby or what's-his-name."
"You mean Ardoc Bellaton, perhaps?" Lupin said, looking toward the open door. A jumble of voices outside had become audible and was growing louder. "You may be meeting them any moment."
They sat watching the door, hearing the voices draw nearer. Their owners seemed to be arguing.
"…must check his health you interrogate him, Ardoc."
"The Blakes have a week's head start, and the trail is growing colder –"
"It can cool for five more minutes, and then you can have him."
"Be quiet, both of you! He may still be sleeping!"
Three figures appeared in the doorway, and stopped at the sight of Harry and Lupin sitting by the window. The lone woman had to be Professor Thornby; one of the men wore crisp white robes, identifying him as Healer Bigelow. He was a short, balding man with wings of snow-white hair above each ear. He had a large nose, red cheeks, and a congenial expression. He smiled broadly at his patient, and lines crinkled out all over his face.
Celeste Thornby was fair-haired and pretty. She was younger than most of the Hogwarts professors Harry already knew, but her steady gaze spoke of self-confidence.
The last man had to be Ardoc Bellaton, who was one of the tallest men Harry had ever seen, excepting Hagrid. His robes did little to hide his broad shoulders and thick arms. The hair atop his head was dark and wild, but his mustache and goatee were neatly trimmed. His face broke into a grin, making his square jaw even wider. He stepped forward with his hand outstretched. "Ardoc Bellaton, Mr. Potter. It's good to see you up and about at last. How do you do?" he boomed.
"Much better, thanks," Harry replied. Professor Bellaton enclosed his hand in a steely grip. Harry had the feeling that the older man was making an effort not to crush his hand.
"This is Fitzwilliam Bigelow," he continued, gesturing to the much smaller man.
The healer stepped forward, cheeks glowing, looking dwarfish next to Bellaton. "Pleasure to meet you, Harry," he said pleasantly, giving Harry's hand a gentle squeeze.
"And Celeste Thornby, of course," continued Healer Bigelow.
"Hello, Harry, and a very happy birthday to you," she said with a smile. "You were awake for our first meeting, but you probably don't recall it."
"Er, not really," Harry admitted.
"Ah, if you don't mind, Mr. Potter, I do need to look you over," Healer Bigelow interrupted.
The examination was perfunctory. After listening to Harry's heart, peering into his eyes, and asking what sounded to Harry like general questions, the healer seemed satisfied.
"Excellent. I don't detect any signs of lingering poison," he said. "You can go ahead and ask your questions now, Ardoc."
Professor Bellaton was disappointed to learn that Harry had never seen the 'Mortisons'. "I really don't think Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon knew what the potion was," Harry said earnestly. "They don't like me at all, but they'd never try to kill me."
"Well, they admitted that they got it from their neighbors, and that they never bothered to ask what it contained," said Bellaton. "I've spoken with them myself, and I happen to agree with you. They're stupid, but not evil."
Harry laughed in disbelief. "You spoke with the Dursleys like a real person?"
"Your aunt tried to sneak up on me with a frying pan," Bellaton snorted, "but I was quicker. Gave them quite a fright, and a lecture they won't soon forget. I couldn't believe it when they didn't even know about the Dark Lord or your connection to him. Terrified them out of their wits, I did, but it's less than they deserved. Of course, I look imposing to most wizards, too. I don't think they're keen on letting you back into their home."
"Like I want to go back," Harry said, filling his words with all the venom he felt. "It's not as if there's anything to look forward to – being on Dudley's diet, doing chores all day long…"
"You're in luck," Professor Thornby said. "You aren't going back, at least not for the rest of the summer."
"All right!" Harry exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. The adults all smiled, but Professor Thornby held up a hand.
"The headmaster has decided that it's too dangerous for you there now. The Death Eaters assaulted the wards around your house en masse, knowing full well that we would respond within seconds. If you have no objections, you'll be staying here until your term begins."
"Great! Anywhere's better than Privet Drive," Harry said.
"Very good. But you should know that you will bear close watching from now on," Professor Thornby said. "Voldemort has failed to kill you many times, and he is growing frustrated and angry. He's turning to assassins to do the job for him. The Blakes were only the first, and they nearly succeeded. Others will follow, and you mustn't take them lightly."
Reluctantly, Harry nodded, knowing that she was right. If assassins were trying to get to him, he wasn't the only one who would be in danger – Ron and Hermione could get caught in the crossfire. There goes my freedom, he thought. But at least I'm not going back to the Dursleys!
"I'm glad that you agree with the headmaster's decision, Harry," Professor Thornby said. "Well! Now that we have that taken care of, is there anything that you need or want?"
"Can I ask you something?" Harry blurted.
Professor Thornby blinked, but nodded.
"Why did Professor Dumbledore send you to get me? And how did you get Professor Binns to retire? And why is Professor Bellaton here?"
Bellaton broke in before he could say any more. "All excellent questions, which we plan to answer tomorrow. Professor Thornby and I have some things to discuss with you, but now is not the best time."
"Is there anything else?" Professor Thornby asked.
"I could use a wash," Harry said, quickly.
"No kidding," said Lupin, waving his hand in front of his nose. Bellaton, Healer Bigelow, and Professor Thornby chuckled. Harry kicked Lupin in the shin.
"I'll have the house-elves draw you a bath, and then perhaps you'll have –" Harry's stomach growled loudly. "- Supper," finished Professor Thornby.
"Come on, Harry," said Lupin, smiling at him. "What are you trying to maim me for? You have a much-needed bath to walk to."
**********
A golden crescent moon was sinking in the sky. Harry sat in his chair by the window, sucking on a quill, watching clouds move across its slender face. A blank piece of parchment lay on a polished board, which was balanced on the arms of his chair. Hedwig, sitting on the chair's high back, hooted excitedly. Harry turned away from the moon to look at the creamy paper. He had decided what to say, and it was time to get on with it.
Dear Ron,
This is going to sound weird, but I need you to go off and read this alone, okay? It's really important. Don't tell ANYONE what I'm about to say here. I'm writing the same thing to Hermione, but you're the only two. Burn this when you're done, I'm serious. Are you alone yet? Okay, here goes. I'm not staying with the Dursleys any more this summer. Dumbledore reckons it's not safe for me there now. There's more, but I can't say it here. Don't worry about me though – I'm fine. You can keep on writing me, but I can't say any more about this until we can all talk in person. Hope you're having a nice summer.
Harry
Harry reread the letter. It would do. It was cryptic, but he thought he had made enough of a point of the necessary secrecy that his friends would understand. He pulled out another piece of parchment, and dashed off a second letter to Hermione, nearly copying Ron's letter word for word. He stuffed each parchment into envelopes with his friends' names on them. Hedwig fluttered down to rest on the chair's armrest, and held out her leg. "Drop them off as quick as you can, won't you?" Harry said to the owl as he tied on the letters.
Hedwig nibbled his finger affectionately. She hopped onto the windowsill and immediately soared off into the night. Harry watched her grow smaller and smaller until she was no longer visible.
A knock sounded behind him, and Harry turned his head. Snape stood in the doorway. It was the first time Harry had seen him since school had ended. He was dressed in his usual black, and his hair was as greasy as ever, but his expression was curiously blank. He carried a small cup in one hand. "If you have finished writing your letters, Mr. Potter, then Healer Bigelow thinks you ought to retire."
Harry nodded mutely. Snape's tone had been completely devoid of his usual icy sarcasm. He sounded almost… normal.
For a long moment, they stared at each other like a pair of strange cats. Harry suddenly realized that his bed was some distance away, and while he was walking much more easily, his legs were occasionally jelly-like. Better to ask for help than to fall on his face in front of Snape. "Um, Professor," he said uncomfortably, "I could use a hand walking across the room." His face heated, and he waited for the derisive comment he knew was coming.
To Harry's utter amazement, Snape said nothing, but set down the cup and walked over, proffering his hand. Harry realized that his mouth was hanging open, and he shut it hurriedly. He stood up, grasped the professor's arm, and they moved forward.
The silence was awkward. Harry felt as if he ought to fill it, and cast about for something to say. After all, Snape had come to his aid along with Dumbledore and Healer Bigelow. "So… are you going to stay here for long?" he asked. Ugh, he thought, what kind of a question was that?
"No," Snape replied, a bit of sourness creeping into his voice. "I will be returning to Hogwarts in the morning. There is still much to do in the village, and Madam Pomfrey will be needing some replacement potions."
To Harry's relief, they reached the bed as he finished speaking. He had not wobbled once. Harry pulled back his covers and sat down. Snape handed him the cup.
"Another sleeping potion?" Harry asked.
"Healer Bigelow's orders," Snape said curtly, sounding more like his usual self. "Drink."
Harry obeyed, and handed back the cup. Snape turned to go, but Harry, shocked at his own daring, spoke up. "Wait, Professor –"
Snape turned back around. Harry took a deep breath. "I wanted to thank you, sir, for saving my life. I mean – thank you for bringing the antidote." He looked uneasily at his teacher. Did those words sound as stupid to Snape as they did to him?
The Potions Master's expression was unreadable. "You're welcome, Mr. Potter." He gave Harry a considering look before turning away. "Nox." The lamps went out, and Snape left in a swirl of black fabric, closing the door behind him.
Harry lay back on his pillows, staring up into the darkness, wondering at the exchange. Dumbledore's words about recent events forcing people to reach understandings floated back to him. Snape was an ally, however horrible he had been to Harry in the past. He was in more danger than anyone, acting the perilous role of double agent. And he had helped save Harry's life, though there was no love lost between them.
Alone in the darkness, Harry came to his own understanding.
He was asleep within minutes.