The doorbell at number four, Privet Drive rang at precisely three
o'clock on a sultry afternoon in August. Harry Potter, a boy of sixteen
with unruly black hair and green eyes that were apt to take one by
surprise, lifted his head, mildly interested. His cousin Dudley's friends
never rang the doorbell; they were inclined to walk in without notice. More
often, though, Dudley could be found cruising the town in Dudley's new
American sports car, harassing passerby with obscene gestures and hollered
profanities. Harry's Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, had, of course, no idea
that their corpulent son was in a bad way with the police as of late.
Somehow, Dudley's pocket money had covered his last few traffic violations.
"Probably spending it on treating his friends," Aunt Petunia often gushed, pulling bills from her pocketbook and handing them over to Dudley. Harry was often forced to choke down the truth – though the bars on his window and the locks on his door were gone, so was the doorknob, and Dudley was bound to attack at any moment.
Harry crept out of his bedroom and hovered at the top of the stairs, just out of sight of his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. A strange thrill of excitement ran through him and he spun his wand in his pocket.
From his vantage point, Harry could see only his uncle's meaty hand turn the doorknob and open the door. Uncle Vernon's hand suddenly clenched and Harry could see his knuckles turning white. A soft, pleasant man's voice rose up from the doorway, but Harry couldn't understand what he was saying.
"Yes – of course," Uncle Vernon said in a very falsely polite voice. "Come in then." Harry could almost hear Aunt Petunia scowling. The door opened wider and Harry could see, against the bright afternoon sunlight, the silhouette of a formidable but poorly dressed young man. Harry nearly fell down the stairs.
It was Remus Lupin.
It took all the self-mastery Harry had not to sprint back to his room. He leapt up and jogged quietly back, grinning broadly. Hastily but silently he packed up his belongings. He slammed his Potions book shut with special vehemence. Surely against Snape's every wish, Harry had managed an Outstanding O.W.L. on his Potions examination. When the owl bearing his examination scores had come early in the morning not long after his birthday, Harry was skeptical, but he had toppled off his bed when he read the short analysis by Professor Marchbanks: "Sample potion effective but slightly potent. Demonstrates aptitude and knowledge with even the most difficult potions." Harry knew she was referring to the Polyjuice Potion and almost felt guilty, but the O in the score box was enough to ease his conscience. He had also received Outstanding marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures and Charms. He had mercifully received the necessary Exceeds Expectations mark for Transfiguration and gotten the same in Herbology. Despite the tumultuous events of the night of his Astronomy examination, Harry had scraped by with an Acceptable mark, but had received "Poor" marks in Divination and History of Magic. Harry strongly suspected that someone had intervened on his behalf to prevent his History of Magic score from being "Dreadful." Rifling through his closet, Harry checked for things he might need among the misshapen heaps of clothing. Coming up with only a quill and the tail trimmers for his Firebolt, Harry closed his trunk rather more loudly than he had intended, prompting Hedwig, who was perched in the windowsill, to squawk in surprise.
"Sorry, Hedwig," he prompted, pouring the contents of her water dish out the window. "Lupin's here, hopefully to get me out of here. You'll know where to find me?" He gave her a meaningful look and she seemed to straighten up. She nipped his finger reassuringly and flew out the window without a sound. Loud footsteps were coming from the staircase, and Harry flung himself on his bed and stared at the ceiling with what he hoped was a look of complete boredom.
"Boy!" snapped Uncle Vernon, flinging the door open. "Downstairs. Now!" Mistaking Harry's faked nonchalance for resistance, he stormed over and seized Harry by the front of his overlarge t-shirt.
"One of your kind is here," he whispered violently, "and you'll not do anything that would invite the neighbors to question us, understood?"
"Understood," Harry almost snarled, bracing himself as Uncle Vernon let him drop back to the bed. He stomped out and Harry flew down the staircase. Lupin was sitting serenely on the sofa in the parlor. Aunt Petunia was bearing down upon him with a birdlike glare from the doorway, but he appeared not to notice how offensive she found him. It was a slight improvement from last year's attire, Harry noticed. Lupin appeared to be wearing robes that were slightly too large for him, and they were somewhat moth-eaten. They looked as though they had once been black. Harry realized with a pang of sorrow that they were probably Sirius' old school robes. He fought back tears and anger and composed himself enough to stride into the room. Aunt Petunia sniffed condescendingly and walked out, leaving Harry and Lupin alone. Harry sat down in the armchair across from Lupin and smiled his first real smile for several weeks.
"So," he said lamely, desperately trying to keep his gaze off of a tear in Lupin's robes that looked as though it had been made by a set of claws. Lupin appeared to notice and refolded his hands so that the tear was hidden.
"Look, Harry, I can't say as much here as I would like to. All I can say is that things have changed, and that you need to come back to where you were. I don't know how else to say it." His eyes flicked to the open window, and Harry got the very distinct sensation that Lupin had not come to Privet Drive unaccompanied.
"Did you come with –" Harry said, and Lupin interrupted him with a panicked look but a level voice. "Oh, just some of the guard have been around recently," he said, his gaze locked on Harry with an eerie, wolfish intensity.
"Ah," said Harry. "I'm ready, then." Lupin looked pleased.
"Already? Second-guessed me, have you?" Harry nodded and motioned toward the staircase. He stood and Lupin followed him.
"I don't want to make too much of a disturbance," Lupin muttered, looking around at the empty cage and Harry's trunk and broomstick. "You've still got that cloak, you know, the one your dad used to have?"
"I do," Harry said and put his hand on it.
"Get it out," Lupin said and took his wand out. "Locomotor trunk," he whispered, and the trunk lifted a few inches off the ground. "Make it look like you're carrying it," Lupin said, whispering "Silencio," to the cage and putting his wand away quickly. Harry grabbed the handle at one end of the feather-light trunk and grabbed the broomstick with the other. Lupin picked up Hedwig's cage, and to Harry's surprise, it didn't rattle. They made their way down the stairs as quietly and efficiently as they could. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia watched impassively from the hallway, their arms folded and impatient.
"G'bye then," Harry said through gritted teeth, trying to maintain some essence of normality without having to be completely civil. Neither responded. Lupin rolled his eyes and they made their way over the threshold. The door slammed behind them. Out of the corner of his eye, he vaguely saw something move, and something was thrown over his head.
"Probably spending it on treating his friends," Aunt Petunia often gushed, pulling bills from her pocketbook and handing them over to Dudley. Harry was often forced to choke down the truth – though the bars on his window and the locks on his door were gone, so was the doorknob, and Dudley was bound to attack at any moment.
Harry crept out of his bedroom and hovered at the top of the stairs, just out of sight of his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. A strange thrill of excitement ran through him and he spun his wand in his pocket.
From his vantage point, Harry could see only his uncle's meaty hand turn the doorknob and open the door. Uncle Vernon's hand suddenly clenched and Harry could see his knuckles turning white. A soft, pleasant man's voice rose up from the doorway, but Harry couldn't understand what he was saying.
"Yes – of course," Uncle Vernon said in a very falsely polite voice. "Come in then." Harry could almost hear Aunt Petunia scowling. The door opened wider and Harry could see, against the bright afternoon sunlight, the silhouette of a formidable but poorly dressed young man. Harry nearly fell down the stairs.
It was Remus Lupin.
It took all the self-mastery Harry had not to sprint back to his room. He leapt up and jogged quietly back, grinning broadly. Hastily but silently he packed up his belongings. He slammed his Potions book shut with special vehemence. Surely against Snape's every wish, Harry had managed an Outstanding O.W.L. on his Potions examination. When the owl bearing his examination scores had come early in the morning not long after his birthday, Harry was skeptical, but he had toppled off his bed when he read the short analysis by Professor Marchbanks: "Sample potion effective but slightly potent. Demonstrates aptitude and knowledge with even the most difficult potions." Harry knew she was referring to the Polyjuice Potion and almost felt guilty, but the O in the score box was enough to ease his conscience. He had also received Outstanding marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures and Charms. He had mercifully received the necessary Exceeds Expectations mark for Transfiguration and gotten the same in Herbology. Despite the tumultuous events of the night of his Astronomy examination, Harry had scraped by with an Acceptable mark, but had received "Poor" marks in Divination and History of Magic. Harry strongly suspected that someone had intervened on his behalf to prevent his History of Magic score from being "Dreadful." Rifling through his closet, Harry checked for things he might need among the misshapen heaps of clothing. Coming up with only a quill and the tail trimmers for his Firebolt, Harry closed his trunk rather more loudly than he had intended, prompting Hedwig, who was perched in the windowsill, to squawk in surprise.
"Sorry, Hedwig," he prompted, pouring the contents of her water dish out the window. "Lupin's here, hopefully to get me out of here. You'll know where to find me?" He gave her a meaningful look and she seemed to straighten up. She nipped his finger reassuringly and flew out the window without a sound. Loud footsteps were coming from the staircase, and Harry flung himself on his bed and stared at the ceiling with what he hoped was a look of complete boredom.
"Boy!" snapped Uncle Vernon, flinging the door open. "Downstairs. Now!" Mistaking Harry's faked nonchalance for resistance, he stormed over and seized Harry by the front of his overlarge t-shirt.
"One of your kind is here," he whispered violently, "and you'll not do anything that would invite the neighbors to question us, understood?"
"Understood," Harry almost snarled, bracing himself as Uncle Vernon let him drop back to the bed. He stomped out and Harry flew down the staircase. Lupin was sitting serenely on the sofa in the parlor. Aunt Petunia was bearing down upon him with a birdlike glare from the doorway, but he appeared not to notice how offensive she found him. It was a slight improvement from last year's attire, Harry noticed. Lupin appeared to be wearing robes that were slightly too large for him, and they were somewhat moth-eaten. They looked as though they had once been black. Harry realized with a pang of sorrow that they were probably Sirius' old school robes. He fought back tears and anger and composed himself enough to stride into the room. Aunt Petunia sniffed condescendingly and walked out, leaving Harry and Lupin alone. Harry sat down in the armchair across from Lupin and smiled his first real smile for several weeks.
"So," he said lamely, desperately trying to keep his gaze off of a tear in Lupin's robes that looked as though it had been made by a set of claws. Lupin appeared to notice and refolded his hands so that the tear was hidden.
"Look, Harry, I can't say as much here as I would like to. All I can say is that things have changed, and that you need to come back to where you were. I don't know how else to say it." His eyes flicked to the open window, and Harry got the very distinct sensation that Lupin had not come to Privet Drive unaccompanied.
"Did you come with –" Harry said, and Lupin interrupted him with a panicked look but a level voice. "Oh, just some of the guard have been around recently," he said, his gaze locked on Harry with an eerie, wolfish intensity.
"Ah," said Harry. "I'm ready, then." Lupin looked pleased.
"Already? Second-guessed me, have you?" Harry nodded and motioned toward the staircase. He stood and Lupin followed him.
"I don't want to make too much of a disturbance," Lupin muttered, looking around at the empty cage and Harry's trunk and broomstick. "You've still got that cloak, you know, the one your dad used to have?"
"I do," Harry said and put his hand on it.
"Get it out," Lupin said and took his wand out. "Locomotor trunk," he whispered, and the trunk lifted a few inches off the ground. "Make it look like you're carrying it," Lupin said, whispering "Silencio," to the cage and putting his wand away quickly. Harry grabbed the handle at one end of the feather-light trunk and grabbed the broomstick with the other. Lupin picked up Hedwig's cage, and to Harry's surprise, it didn't rattle. They made their way down the stairs as quietly and efficiently as they could. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia watched impassively from the hallway, their arms folded and impatient.
"G'bye then," Harry said through gritted teeth, trying to maintain some essence of normality without having to be completely civil. Neither responded. Lupin rolled his eyes and they made their way over the threshold. The door slammed behind them. Out of the corner of his eye, he vaguely saw something move, and something was thrown over his head.