"Bloody hell!" He imitated Ron's chief curse. With one ungainly move Harry threw himself onto the floor, where he sat tangled in his sheets, blinking at a very disgruntled Crookshanks. It blinked back at him before leaping off the bed-in a fashion much more fluid that Harry's- it's head almost as high as his tail.
Bemused, and trying very much to hide it, Harry lifted himself up from the floor, returning the pillow to Ron's head. Ron dodged the inadequate missile easily and continued downstairs, chuckling quietly to himself.
They had returned to Sirius's old house. Dumbledore had seen no reason to change their headquarters-if Harry had no problem with it. Sirius had left the house to him. Or rather, to Lupin and he, as Harry couldn't be the legal owner of anything because of his age. Harry had only known when Dumbledore contacted him the week after he had arrived at the Dursley's. Harry's heart had lifted almost instantaneously; the thought of having somewhere he could go during vacations, a wizard somewhere, had given him hope. Harry had moved into the room he had shared with Ron the previous summer at the end of June.
A rare smile graced Harry's face as he bent and picked up the blanket to make his bed. It crossed his mind how queer (A/N-i find it weird how that word is rarely used) a smile felt on his face. His happiness disapparated instantly as he remembered why he was so seldom joyful. He had lived in this place, after all; for all Harry knew he might have slept in this very room. The weight of oppression settled into him once more, and hunching his shoulders, he left the bedroom.
That's how it happened, nowadays. He would forget, for a few minutes, why he was so depressed. Then it would all come rushing back, crushing him. This load was with him always, haunting him, following his steps, echoing in his words. It was nearly the same with everyone-especially Remus. The last Marauder, Harry thought dully. Most of his thoughts were dull and censored; it was easier this way to avoid contact with thoughts and emotions that would hurt him.
Harry sighed and entered the kitchen.
Hermione glanced up as Harry entered the kitchen. Her heart ached instantly. Since he had arrived at the end of July, he had been in the same mood-alternately angry, depressed, and strangely, resigned. Hermione had wondered often why he was this way. The most she could do-and she did it willingly and frequently-was to let him know that she was and would always be by his side. Catching his eye, Hermione inclined her head toward the seat next to her. He nodded and made his way to where Ron and Hermione, the lone occupants of the room, were sitting.
"Good morning," she said warmly as he sat, slipping her hand into his. He nodded but continued to stare at the table, not noticing the scowl Ron aimed their way from across the table. Hermione, however, did, and she stuck her tongue out at him.
Ron, quite unlike Harry, had not failed to notice how Hermione was changing. She had grown quite a bit taller, naturally. But while Ron and Harry continued to grow vertically while maintaining their thin physiques, she had filled out quite nicely. Her hair had also gotten much less bushy.
"So...what're we doing today, then?" Ron asked. "I think we've cleaned enough of the house, honestly. It could take over our Defense Against the Dark Arts class."
"Well," said Hermione with forced cheer, "seeing as we've cleaned out the majority of the house, Dumbledore has decided we could do with a bit of learning; and he's decided we should continue with the D.A.! Don't worry, Harry," she added hastily, for at these words Harry had looked up sharply. "Professor Lupin will teach us, you don't have to."
"Er...It's not that, just...Dumbledore's here?" Harry asked rather quickly.
"Oh, yes, he arrived this morning. Took us all by surprise, he did. Right now they're in the den talking about something or other-decided to give us the kitchen to have our breakfast." Hermione answered, taking a spoonful of porridge as if to accompany her words. To her surprise, Harry slid off the bench and hurried out of the kitchen. Mouth slightly open, she turned to Ron, who arched an eyebrow at her. "Didn't even eat that time!"
Ron shrugged. "At least he bothered to come down, didn't he? Mind, I doubt he would've if I hadn't woken him up," he added, with something like pride.
Hermione gave him an amused look before turning to stare at the doorway through which Harry had gone. A small frown crossed her face as she thought, followed by a delighted smile as inspiration struck.
Harry hurried out of the kitchen and to the den. He doubted that it could be a coincidence-first his unusual dream, then Dumbledore's unusual appearance. He stopped at the door, hearing the murmur of voices inside. A debate arose in him-and ended swiftly. Bending down, Harry put his ear to the keyhole...
The next moment he was flat on his back, his ears ringing, nose smarting, curses streaming out of his mouth. The second bloody time today! He thought, wondering bitterly what had happened and why. Suddenly a small cough made him look upward.
Dumbledore stood before him in the doorway, an amused smile threatening to appear on his face. Harry scrambled to his feet. "Professor! I'm sorry, Hermione, she just told me you were here-I thought the meeting would be over...appears it isn't, though..." he craned his neck in a poor attempt to look over Dumbledore's tall shoulders.
A firm hand gripped his own shoulders and steered him inside the room. "Ah, but it is, Harry. And you-and your nose, of course-have my deepest condolences. Mad-eye Moody had just informed me you were standing outside the door, and we thought we'd offer you a seat," he waved his wand, "and some food, I daresay you haven't had breakfast yet?" He looked down at Harry, a twinkle appearing in his eye for an instant. Once so common, it was now an oddity to see it on the old, wizened face. Harry blushed pink and shook his head, rubbing his nose.
Harry sat down in his chair, feeling a bit foolish. Looking around, he saw that the meeting was indeed over; the assortment of witches and wizards seemed to have stayed around for some refreshments. In a corner, Kingsley Shacklebolt stood with his arms crossed, apparently giving a lecture to Mundungus Fletcher, who seemed recently awakened. A bit farther away a quite short, hyper man-Dedalus Diggle-was talking to a woman with waist- length, dark blue hair-Nymphadora Tonks. Harry noted with a bit of guilt that her hairstyle suited her well. Giving himself a sort of mental slap, he turned back to Dumbledore, who was...gone.
Even while observing all this, Harry couldn't help but think-Sirius should be here.
Harry stood and, frowning, looked for him. He found Dumbledore in what looked like a serious conversation with Mr. Weasley. Wondering if he should interrupt, and if he didn't what he would do instead, his predicament was suddenly solved when his stomach growled menacingly.
"Better get something for that, mate," advised Fred, coming up behind Harry and clapping him on the back.
"Yes, we have a bit of chocolate here," said George, offering Harry a piece of said candy.
Harry looked at it, then the Weasley twins, distrust evident on his face.
"No, tha-that's alright." He said slowly. He didn't trust the two boys since they had given him a ring that, put on for the first time, made him go mad with desire and chase Ginny for ten minutes straight. He had only given up when she had locked herself in a bathroom, yelling at him; and sounding very much like her mother. He had turned away, stricken with tears, when he had caught sight of Professor McGonagall downstairs. His cheeks flushed for the second time in as many minutes.
Fred and George scoffed. "Say, you're not still sore about the ring, are you?"
"Sixteen and never so much as kissed! We had to do something!" George added earnestly.
Harry waved them away. "Thanks anyway. I'll worry about my own love life."
"Or lack thereof, I hope," interposed Mrs. Weasley, hurrying over to the twins, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Following her came a shabby-looking wizard by the name of Remus Lupin. "I'd hate for Minerva to have to deliver another lecture. The woman should stick to Transfiguration."
Mrs. Weasley was, of course, talking about how Professor McGonagall had shouted at a despondent Harry for a quarter of an hour after his rather boorish but enthusiastic approaches. When she had finally realized what was going on, Fred and George were nowhere to be found. Obviously, the whole incident had been privy to many witnesses, who found it highly entertaining, for the most part. Mrs. Weasley had the exact opposite reaction, Disapparating instantly to the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes to give her sons a well-earned lecture.
Lupin winked at Harry and turned to Mrs. Weasley. "I doubt Harry has much of an interest in girls; after all, he is only a sixteen-year-old boy, with wild, uncontrolled hormones."
Fred and George snickered. "Right, well, we'd better get going. Business will be booming soon, with the school year so close," Fred said briskly, then turned to Harry. "Oh, and we're thinking of opening a shop in Hogsmeade," he added, with a roguish smile, before Disapparating.
"Now, Harry, I don't think it would be such a wise idea for you to go to Hogsmeade this year," said Mrs. Weasley, turning to him. "Even with Professor Lupin there and all, you never know who might be under He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named's influence. I know for a fact that Ron and Ginny will not be going. I'm glad they have a safe place like Hogwarts to go at al-"
Harry let her ramble on for the moment, and turned to Lupin. "You're going back to teach at Hogwarts?" he asked, astonished. "But Snape told everyone, they all know!"
Lupin gave a bland smile. "Yes, but considering the circumstances-Lord Voldemort's return, the deaths of the Trocks last weekend, Dumbledore hopes that most people will be busy learning how to defend themselves and not worrying about a poor, old professor. And although he also told me we need as many Order members as we can spare to look after the students, I think he just wants to keep an eye on me, see that I won't go after Lestrange and end up dead" he finished bitterly. Seeing the look on Harry's face, Lupin paused and wrinkled his forehead. "I'm sorry, Harry...that was...tactless. I know how hard all this is for you."
Harry ran his tongue over his teeth. No one knows..."Yeah. No, it's all right..." He glanced around again. "Say, I came in to talk to Dumbledore, but he's left again." He tried hard to keep disappointment and anger out of his voice.
"No, he's not avoiding you. But as headmaster of Hogwarts, Leader of the Order of the Phoenix, I daresay he's got a lot to be getting on with," replied Lupin. "Don't worry, he'll be back before term starts. What did you want to talk to him about?" he adds, attempting to make his voice sound casual.
Harry hesitated. "Nothing much. A dream I had."
Lupin nods tolerantly. "Right. Get some breakfast, then run up to the drawing room. We have a lot to get through."
Remus stared at Hermione. "No. It's out of the question."
Hermione looked at him pleadingly. "Please, professor. It would be good for him, I know it will."
"Hermione, you know that's impossible. The danger that could come from it-"
"And what about the danger from just staying in here, doing nothing?" Hermione would have continued, but the look on Lupin's face was so reminiscent of Harry's that she fell silent.
"Hermione...what if something were to happen...Harry's too important."
"Who would know? I've only told you and Ron. We could use Harry's invisibility cloak-or we could fly, there's some old brooms in one of the rooms-or...please, Professor Lupin! Tell them we're going to Diagon Alley or something."
Remus studied Hermione's face. Her proposition had some merit, and he was sorely tempted to take her advice; simply because she was the most sensible of the three of them, and he knew she was right, to a level.
"Please, Professor Lupin. Just a short walk, it doesn't even have to be a picnic. Just so we can get out of this house for a bit."
He stared at her, frustrated. "All right. Go pack a few sandwiches, and we'll go...to my old village. I'll have to talk to some of the others, to get them to come along." He swept out of the room, leaving an ecstatic Hermione and an astounded Ron to stare after him.
Satiated, Harry headed up to the drawing room. As he walked he looked straight ahead. Being in this house caused him a mixture of strange feelings. If Peter hadn't escaped on that awful night, Harry would be living here with Sirius. They might have walked up these stairs, laughing at something or other, safe and whole. If only...
"Harry!" Someone darted out of the room ahead. He blinked at the site of Hermione, in a worn traveling cloak, with her hair tied back and face shining. "Come on, Harry, we're all waiting for you to go."
"We? Where are we going?"
"Just come on!" she grasped his arm tightly and he allowed her to pull him into the room.
Inside his eyes narrowed at Ron, Lupin, Tonks, and a strange witch Harry felt he had seen before, all dressed more or less the same as Hermione. "What's going on? Where are we going-did something happen?"
"Everything's fine, Harry," said Lupin. "We just agreed-"Harry saw him glance at a pleased looking Hermione "-that a walk, and picnic would be a nice change. It will just be a short break before we go back to studying Defense Against the Dark Arts tomorrow."
"But...where are we going? Is it safe?" He looked from one adult to another. Tonks smiled at him.
"That's exactly why we're going! You worry too much, Potter, you need a break." She waved him over toward her. "Now, just put your arms around me from behind-don't be silly, come on-I'll be Disapparating, and you'll come along! Nice and simple."
And Harry, for a reason unknown, did exactly as he was told. His head buried in Tonks' long dark hair, he waited for something to happen.
"Ready? Lupin, Vance? All right, then...3, 2, 1-"