A/N: This story will start to resemble an acid trip very soon. I'm sorry if I confuse anybody by switching back and forth, but there's really not much to do about it. I was aiming for a style somewhat similar to Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels or Snatch, only with two or three plotlines instead of one. The L/J plotline doesn't necessarily go in order, but I give everybody ample evidence in each scene to show just the time period is.
Disclaimer: All the characters you see here that you recognise belong to the wonderfully talented JK Rowling and Warner Bros. and all of those fun affiliates, like Bloomsbury and not me. Thanks.
Next thing I recall
Well, I was hanging from a cliff
When an angel came to rescue me
And held me in her grip
She said, "Everyone who's ever loved you
Gets hurt in the end."
Then she smiled and said, "Forgive me,"
As she let go of my hand.
- Recognize by Better Than Ezra
Chapter Two: Weebles and Wish-Babies
"Remus!" Harry said in surprise. He stood up so quickly that he nearly pitched face-first from the cart; Pinchpocket gave him a severe look.
Remus looked up, startled. He had been rubbing his toe in the dust around the vault, drawing some inane figure or other. Immediately, he tensed up and drew his wand. When he saw that it was just Pinchpocket and Harry, though, he pocketed the wand and smiled. "Harry! Took your time getting here, didn't you?"
The ex-professor's hair was streaked with more grey than Harry remembered, and the patches on his robes seemed to have acquired patches. The werewolf's face was also an unhealthy grey colour, but he still smiled and pulled Harry into a sound hug after the young man had climbed from the rickety cart. "It was a really long will," Harry said ruefully as they broke apart. "I had no idea that I would inherit so much."
Remus's look froze slightly as they both heard the "Ahem!" noise from Pinchpocket. "Not now, Harry," Remus said out of the corner of his mouth. "Good morning, Pinchpocket."
"What are you doing here?" Pinchpocket demanded, outraged. "This is Gringotts property—we can't have you traipsing along the vaults like a common criminal, Mr. Lupin!"
How Pinchpocket knew Remus by name, Harry wasn't sure. Somehow, though, he wasn't too surprised that Remus was acquainted with at least one goblin. Indeed, Remus straightened his shabby robes and said sharply, "Albus Dumbledore himself owled you to arrange this meeting, Pinchpocket. Don't pull that one on me." To Harry, he said, "Hurry up and collect your money. We've not much time."
Harry did, pushing the Sickles, Galleons, and Knuts into a pouch in his backpack. He had planned ahead, budgeting out the money he would need for both the Hogsmeade trips and year-round birthday gifts and Christmas presents. On impulse, he threw a couple more Galleons than he had originally planned into his pocket, to exchange for Muggle money. Dudley would throw an awful fit if he returned the bike with an empty tank. His elbow twitched once as he closed the vault door and turned back to the goblin and the werewolf. Instinctively, he clutched at it.
"Something wrong with your arm there, Harry?" Remus asked shrewdly as Harry clambered back into the cart, still holding his left arm.
Harry opened his mouth to tell him about the strange twinge, but before sound could escape, Pinchpocket called, "We're off!" The cart started with such a lurch that Harry was forced to hold onto the side for fear of falling into the murky labyrinth of cart tracks. On the way back up to the Gringotts main building, he could have sworn that he saw a flash of fire, like in his first year. He would have to remember to tell Hagrid.
"Always liked the ride back," Remus said conversationally as the cart pulled to a stop and they climbed out. Harry's pockets jingled loudly, so he stuck both hands in them and followed his old mentor into the main foyer. Pinchpocket bowed to them both and wished them a rather frosty "Good day!" With that, Harry and Remus were left standing in the foyer while witches and wizards of all sizes scuttled about. Remus eyed a group of unsavoury looking goblins off to the left. "Anything else you need to get?"
Harry pulled the Galleons out of his pocket. "I need to exchange for some Muggle money, so that I can fill up the tank," he finally said. "I have to have the bike back by tonight."
"Not a problem, chap!" came a voice behind him so suddenly that Harry whirled and drew his wand. He immediately dropped it to his side the second he saw Tonks, resplendent with red-gold hair that was now down to her shoulders. "That's my job, actually."
"Tonks!" Harry said, blinking.
The witch nodded, a thick grin nearly splitting her face right in half. "Wotcher, Harry," she exclaimed. "You're taller every time I see you!"
Harry was pulled quite unexpectedly into a hug; had he not caught himself at the last minute, he would have surely taken a tumble onto the polished floor of Gringotts. "When did you get here?" He looked around, half-expecting to see Moody or even Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was disappointed; all he saw was his own reflection in the mirror behind him. When he looked back, Tonks was slowly growing taller. Harry was quite startled to see his own eyes blinking back at him. "Wait, what's going on?"
Remus glanced around to check if they had picked up any stalkers and nodded to indicate that they should start walking toward the exit into Diagon Alley. "I'm afraid we have a bit of news," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth as Harry tried to keep up. "Bad news. You see, Blood Magic weakens when a wizard becomes of age. Dumbledore arranged for this meeting to happen this morning, so that you would have a perfectly acceptable reason to get out of the house."
"What he's saying is that Dumbledore set this up so that we can get you someplace safer," Tonks summed up for Remus. Harry noticed that her hair was very slowly going to black and that they were of an equal height now. Nobody around them seemed to notice, surprisingly. Of course, Harry had seen so many strange things in Diagon Alley that he doubted he would have noticed, either. A curious collection of hooting drew his attention to Eeylop's Owl Emporium. When he glanced back, there was a faint outline of lightning on Tonks's forehead. It was now starting to get very strange.
"Quick—in here," Remus said, tugging on Harry's arm to pull him into an alleyway. A narrow path was slotted between two very dirty brick walls. Harry wrinkled his nose just as his arm gave an almighty jerk. "Something wrong?" Remus asked.
Once again, Harry never got to answer. Three deep, black lines suddenly stretched across the brick wall on his left, causing him to step back in surprise. Of course, there was nowhere to step back to, so his back hit the brick wall behind him. As he watched, the three lines met and a doorknob appeared out of nowhere. This was immediately pushed open; Harry caught a glimpse of red and then George Weasley's smiling face. "Right on time!" he said cheerfully. "Good to see you, Harry—or is it Tonks?"
"That's Harry," Tonks said in Harry's voice, pointing at the real Harry. "I'm Tonks."
George just beamed and pumped Harry's hand. "Happy birthday, then! Come in, come in," he told the threesome in the alleyway. "Fred and I just got done with the final step. You'll like what we've cooked up, Harry, I promise." He jerked his freckled, red head at them all and stepped into the dark area behind the doorway. Following Remus's nod, Harry stepped in as well. Remus came in right behind him, and Tonks brought up the rear.
Harry blinked. They appeared to be standing in some sort of corridor, but he could see almost nothing except the shadowy lines of shelving all around. As far as he could tell, there were several oblong and strange objects on each shelf. He had no desire to get further acquainted with these objects. Quickly, he hurried his steps so that he was right behind George. "This is our storehouse," George explained as the corridor made a sharp right. "We purchased it with the profits we made in the last year. We keep all of our latest and greatest gag gifts here. Plus, some old junk. Memories of our youth, Fred likes to call them."
"And, you know," Tonks said from behind Harry, "the Order of the Phoenix."
George grinned back at her. "Well, yes, there is that," he said distantly. "Watch your step." Harry barely avoided falling flat on his face as a cat threaded between his legs. "Marco the Magnificent. An idea of Lee's that never quite pulled through. Here—right this way." Up ahead, Harry could see a thin bar of light near the floor, obviously a door of some type. George tapped it twice with his wand, and it glowed a brilliant blue that hurt Harry's eyes. "Constant vigilance, you know," he joked to Harry. "Lets Fred know I'm coming in so that he won't blow us up."
"That's helpful," Harry said uncertainly.
George just beamed again. "Oh, yes, dead useful. Glows red whenever Mum's around," he agreed, and pushed the door open.
It was like walking into some kind of mad toy store that had met up with a mad scientist's laboratory and had decided to mate. Harry felt that he might possibly go blind looking at all of the excruciatingly bright colours. A long, low table sat directly in the middle of the room, scarred and stained by potions and explosions. It was a blinding shade of green, possibly the brightest thing in the room. Shelving covered every wall, stocked to the beams with a wild assortment of different things. One set was labelled "Dangerous Chemicals" and carried jars of everything from poisoned dragon's liver to a bottle of dehydrated doxy eggs. Some shelves held brightly-coloured objects that looked like toys. Mixed in was the odd Muggle appliance. Boxes of fake wands, trays of Canary Creams, and even Skiving Snackboxes were piled into the corner.
Standing in the middle of it all and decked in blue so bright that Harry saw an afterimage, was Fred Weasley.
Harry nearly tripped again as Marco the Magnificent pushed his way between Harry's sneakers. "Like him?" Fred asked as Harry looked down. "Instant-Familiar."
"He's a robot," Harry said, startled. Twin LED eyes blinked up at the Boy-Who-Lived. From somewhere within the bowels of the machine, a clanking sort of purr emerged. "You built a robot cat?!"
George frowned down at Marco the Magnificent. "He was supposed to be a dog, but yes, I suppose we did. He likes you."
"Dogs don't purr," Tonks observed. "Well, at least, not the ones I've associated with." Harry looked over and was quite unnerved to see a dog snout growing out of what looked like his face.
He wasn't sure if it was an achievement to be liked by a cat that was made of metal. The ones made of fur and bones and sinew had always liked him decently. Still, he pushed this from his mind as he looked at the twins. "So why are we here?" he asked. "Is something going on that I don't know about?"
"Always, Harry, always," Fred said seriously. He checked an ostentatiously orange pocket watch and whistled under his breath. "I would wish you a long happy birthday with lots of pranks and tricks, but we best hurry up. Right now, we're supposed to help you get to the Burrow safely."
Hope trilled in Harry's heart. "I'm going to the Burrow?" he asked excitedly. "Really?" He hadn't been to the Burrow since his fourth year, after all. Harry especially liked the place for all of the magical devices that the Weasleys employed on a day-to-day basis.
Remus cleared his throat. "If we hurry," he said urgently. He touched Harry's shoulder, drawing the young man's attention. "I am going to explain this once, and only once, Harry. You must listen and do everything I say if you want to get to the Burrow safely."
Harry felt that he was ready to do anything to see his second home again. Heart hanging from his uvula, he nodded eagerly.
"Wait, wait, wait," George said before Remus could begin. He rummaged in the pocket of his green overcoat and finally withdrew a package. "First, he'll need this. Registration—"
"License," Fred added.
"Some Muggle money—"
"And an ordinary road map," Fred finished, picking up a test tube from out of nowhere and adding a drop of clear liquid. Smoke started to come out of his ears. He waved at it irritably.
Hands trembling, Harry took the package from George and smiled at Tonks, who was staring queerly at the twins. Obviously, she wasn't used to each finishing the other's sentences. Or maybe she just wasn't used to seeing smoke coming out of Fred's ears. "Thanks," he told them. "You were saying?" he asked Remus.
"Tonks here," and Remus laid a hand on the Auror's shoulder, "will be heading back to Privet Drive, as you. She'll collect your things and Apparate to the Burrow, while you head to that way yourself."
Harry's brow crumpled in confusion as he handed the Ducati's keys over to Tonks. "But how am I to get there? They'll be watching the Floo Network for signs of me, remember? I can't Apparate and I don't have a broomstick—Wait, can I Apparate? I-I'm seventeen today!"
But Remus shook his head gravely. "It's too dangerous, unfortunately. You'll be able to train for your Apparation license once you reach the Weasleys'. I do believe Ron is in the process of doing just that. You and Hermione will start lessons this week."
"Oh." Harry looked down at the package so that he wouldn't have to meet Remus's eyes and let the older man see his disappointment about not getting to try the new ability. Carefully, he prised the tape off of it and unwrapped thick brown paper to reveal several cards and some bills. On top was a motorbike license, bearing a solemn picture of him. "Wait," he said. "Does this mean that I'm driving to the Burrow?" Struck by an idea, he immediately turned his pocket out and produced the ring of keys he had been given at Gringotts. "On…Sirius's motorbike?"
"The Beast." Remus sighed, probably missing Sirius just as much as Harry was. "We pulled a few strings last year and had it returned to the Impound lot. Hagrid's had it a good few years, but Sirius's will from Azkaban left it to you." When Harry finally looked up, he was surprised to see that Remus had a photograph in his hand. "I had this just lying around at home—it' s a picture of the Beast…so that you'll recognise it."
Harry took it and blinked rapidly several times. The picture had been taken in late afternoon, to judge by the long shadows that fell around four young men clustered around what appeared to be the largest motorbike Harry had ever seen. Sirius was seated on the leather seat, wearing leather boots that went all the way to his knees and a leather jacket to match. James and Remus were each leaning against a handlebar and waving. Stuck off to the side, Peter Pettigrew held up some kind of leather glove and waved as well. Harry felt sick inside, looking at the four who grinned so obliviously back. "Here," Harry told Remus, suddenly aware that even Fred's experiment had gone quiet while he looked at the picture. "It's yours."
"Keep it, I've got the original at home," Remus said. "I'm sorry it doesn't move…Put it in that photo album I've heard so much about." He balled one fist and pushed the side of it against his throat, making a strangled throat-clearing noise. Abruptly, the solemn look was gone and Remus just looked like himself. "Take out the map Fred and George made for you," he instructed.
Harry took out a piece of parchment that was only a little larger than the motorbike license. "Is this it?" he asked uncertainly.
Fred beamed proudly. "Sure is, mate."
"It works just like the Marauder's Map," George told him, and Harry was amused to see that Remus hid a chuckle in a cough. His smile disappeared when his arm throbbed hard once again. Quickly, he shook that out, but the pain only lessened the tiniest of bits. He forced that from his mind. The twins were still going on. "Most brilliant piece of work ever created, Fred and I do believe. Of course—"
"We're being entirely too modest, we know," Fred finished.
"That's right." George took the parchment and tapped it once with my wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said, and grinned. Nothing happened to the parchment, but George's grin only widened. "No, no, just kidding. What were the words to activate it, again, Fred?"
"'I swear that I need help,' works," Fred told him. "Of course, it may be just a fluke in the spell, but we've discovered that the map is also activated by the word, 'Egg-roll'…"
Remus coughed once again. "That's because that was the last thing one of you had eaten," he told the twins. "I do believe my friends and I managed to activate the Marauder's Map with the words 'Kidney Pie.'"
Muttering, Fred wrote this down on a clipboard that was just sitting off to the side.
"Anyway," George said, "Harry, all you need to do is to tap the map and say either 'Egg-roll' or 'I swear that I need help,' and it should work for you. It tells you exactly the way you need to go, and what you need to do next. Only time it doesn't work—"
"Romantic encounters," Fred filled in.
"And our Mum, naturally. Nothing beats that woman, I swear." George frowned thoughtfully down at the map. "Why don't you give it a try, Harry?" He handed the parchment back.
"Erm, okay." Harry took his wand out of his back pocket and tapped the corner of the parchment once. "Egg-roll." Immediately, spidery lines appeared in every direction from the point his wand had tapped. Bright green words formed, "Messrs. Fred and George Weasley are proud to present, A PERSONAL GUIDE TO LIFE."
"We really do need to rename that," George told Fred. "Frankly, the name stinks."
"An aid," the words continued across the parchment, "to the average bloke down on his luck." Although Harry personally didn't think that he was particularly down on his luck, as his luck had never been all that great, he didn't say anything. He did smile, though, as the words disappeared once more and reformed with, "Hi, I'm Duncan. I'll be your guide today."
"We've programmed Duncan to get you where you need to go," Fred told Harry. "Granted, this is an early prototype of what promises to be our biggest project yet, but it should work. If it doesn't, just call the number on the back and ask for Darryl." There was indeed a phone number on the back of the card. When he turned it over, he was surprised to see that Duncan now read, "HURRY!" in bold letters.
"Guess that settles it, then," Remus said grimly. "Just follow Duncan's instructions, Harry, and you should be at the Burrow by nightfall."
"Here," Fred said, taking something out of his pocket. "We've installed a tracking charm on this, as well as some other charms to monitor you. And don't give me that look, we're not babying you." Despite Harry's scowl, he handed over a silver pendant. It was a disk about the size of the pad on Harry's thumb, bearing an ingrained feather that had been painted red. The Order of the Phoenix amulet, Harry realised as he looked down at it. Fred and George had designed them the year before a tracking beacons—unbreakable charms that the other side couldn't use to their advantage.
"So I'm truly not going back to the Dursleys?" he asked the room as he slipped the pendant on with his free hand. With his other hand, he shook both Fred and George's hands, and then Tonks's.
Remus smiled and shook his hand as well. "You're not going back to your aunt's. Happy birthday."
*
"You're not going back to your sister's."
James Potter had set his jaw long before this comment was made, but now he tensed, ready to duck. This turned out to be the smart thing to do, for Lily Evans looked as though she was perfectly able and willing to throw a punch. Dozens of comments about never annoying a redhead flew to his mind as the green eyes that exerted so much power over him narrowed dangerously. "Oh? And who are you to say I'm not?"
They were sitting in Lily's apartment, both a year and a half out of Hogwarts. The remains of dinner dishes were sitting beside a yellow sign that had been posted on Lily's door, reading in bright red letters that the building had been condemned and that patrons had 30 days to excavate all personal belongings. All leases had been cancelled in light of the event. There had been a Quidditch game on the wireless, but that had been turned off in anticipation of the squall James was expecting from Hurricane Lily. He steeled himself now. "C'mon, Lils, you know that you'll just be miserable there."
It always frustrated James to no end: Lily was the cleverest witch he knew, a genius at Charms, and sensible enough to put up with what his crazy friends put her through. However, she still entertained the misguided notion that her sister would put her up until she could find a new apartment. Somewhere, she had picked up on the idea that her sister didn't hate her as much as she truly did. The notion of unconditional love had stuck with Lily through years of strife, against all reason. Petunia had hated Lily before the death of their parents; now, James knew for a fact, she and that awful new husband pretended Lily did not exist.
"I will not!" Lily protested. "Besides, it'll only be a couple of weeks until I can find a new apartment…" She trailed off, eyes drawn to the irrevocability of the eviction notice. "Well, there's not much else I can do, is there? Apartments are hard to come by in the wizarding sector of London."
James looked around at the greying, cracked walls and threadbare furniture. Lily had scrimped and saved in order to afford her very own apartment, and it had amounted to little more than a cubicle with mismatched furniture. The neighbours were loud enough some evenings that Lily had trouble sleeping, and the utilities were only working on a prayer and a few powerful spells. It reminded James strongly of the depiction of a Muggle dormitory on a college campus he had once seen on Lily's television. Still, she was patient and never complained, even though James knew that certain aspects bothered her to no end. "Do any of your friends need a roommate?" he asked desperately now.
Expression glum, Lily shook her head. Any warnings of the tidal wave of anger had dissipated. "Isabelle and Jill are already rooming together, and a third person would just make it even more cramped. Simone's getting married next month to that Russian bloke, and she still lives at home anyway. I figure, Petunia's the only person I have left."
Now James feigned a hurt look. "What am I, chopped liver?" he asked mournfully.
The green eyes narrowed once again. "I can't move in with you. We've been over this before—"
"Why ever not?" James interrupted, exasperated. "You wouldn't be moving in with me. It'd be kind of like the deal I have with Remus. I'll even charge you rent, if you want. In fact…" His voice trailed off as he looked over at her. Anybody could see the gears in his head working from miles away, and anybody who knew him well enough knew what was coming. Moments like these had been donned "James Moments" for a reason. Indeed, James burst out with, "You know what? Sod it all! Marry me and move in with me."
Lily's face was bland as she deadpanned, "If that's your only proposal, I think I'm going to cry."
"Oh, shut up, that was only try number four. And you agreed the first time, so why do I keep saying this?" James looked over at the binder in which Lily had secured most of their tentative wedding plans, even though most of the wizarding world didn't know they were engaged. "If you're worried about this arrangement being ethical, we can just get married next time Sirius is off at the same time as both of us. And you can snag Isabelle as a maid-of-honour—just buy her a cauldron or something."
Although Lily smiled at the suggestion, she still shook her head. "What happened to that grand wedding you've always wanted?" she teased.
Instead of answering, James crossed to the window and opened the dimity curtains Lily had saved up for. Down on the street, he could see several new graduates from Hogwarts skulking on one of the corners, trying not to be obvious as they made a drop. If James were on duty, he wouldn't have hesitated to get at least one of them in for questioning, but right now his fiancée was more important. He looked at the waste-infested sidewalks and scum-covered walls all around. The wizarding sector of London was little more than a slum. "You know what?" he asked, pulling the curtains shut. "Let's drop the pretence of a big wedding. I love you, you love me, we don't need a big, flashy ceremony with people we don't know showing up for the food."
Once again, Lily shook her head. "Only you could put it that tactlessly." She beckoned to him, not really wanting to remove herself from the couch. When James finally sat down, she leaned back against his chest and stared at the wall, thinking. "'Tunia will put up with me 'til the wedding, at least. That's not too long, and she's my only sister, right? She'd have to, wouldn't she?"
James rested his chin atop the locks of fiery ginger. "I don't want a big wedding," he said instead of answering her insecure questions. "I just…I just want you, all right? Most of all, I want you out of this dump. I know you're a capable witch, but…"
That was the thing, Sirius always said, with having two hotheads in one relationship. Very little was actually accomplished when both of them were being stubborn, and stubbornness on the part of one could mean many bad-tempered days of disquiet within the entire group. The pair of them unknowingly held the power to "make or break" the group, as Sirius put it, although it was getting considerably harder to keep the group in good spirits. Between the frighteningly high amount of close scares their group had already had, and the fact that there wasn't really an end in sight, there wasn't much to cheer up anymore.
Right now looked like one of those times that neither was going to give in. "James, it isn't like that! We can't—can't just get up and elope like…like…"
"A couple of runaway teens from the slums?" James filled in for her, tightening his arms around her. He twisted his head to meet her eye. "Why not? My family's flexible, and the only people you've got are that idiotic sister of yours and her ruddy husband. I know I said I wanted a big wedding, but what's the point? We'll get the group together, take pictures, say 'I do,' and be married."
He could see it on Lily's face that she wanted desperately to agree, but something was holding her back. "What about…what about the project?"
"So my godfather's timing is a little off. It won't change anything." James's chin was set stubbornly. "And if it makes him suspicious, he's probably already suspicious that we haven't tied the knot. Let's just drop the pretences and elope, all right?"
Lily's expression was no longer resolute. In fact, she looked almost broken, a look that tore at some unnameable part of James's middle. "All right," she agreed softly, not looking at him. "Next weekend. Isabelle will be in town, and Sirius shouldn't have to work." When she did look up, James detected the slightest glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "But you have to tell your godfather—and your parents."
"Deal," he said, smiling.
The haunted look flickered across Lily's face once again. "Why does he have to ruin everything?" she whispered to nobody in particular. James, having no answer, just wrapped his arms around her more tightly and sighed.
*
The Beast was tucked in between a fancy BMW and what looked to be an American car (the wheel was on the wrong side; crazy Americans) of some type, buried in the back of the Ministry Impound Lot. Finding the lot hadn't been terribly difficult; Harry had only to ask Duncan for directions. The trip had been almost too short, actually.
For one painful moment, he wished Sirius could be there to share the moment. Tonks was already speeding towards Privet Drive.
Remus had explained the trip hurriedly before they had parted at Diagon Alley. Harry was to collect Hermione from a prearranged point, where she had been hiding with her parents for most of the summer, and then the two of them were supposed to head for the Burrow at the fastest speed possible. Hermione's parents had already been whisked off to a tour of the Alps, paid in full by the Ministry of Magic. They believed their daughter to be in America, apparently. Only Arthur and Molly Weasley knew they were coming, for Ron and Ginny were off in Bristol visiting a cousin. They would be returning that evening, as well. Harry certainly looked forward to the reunion.
Right now, however, he was standing in the Ministry Impound Lot, open-mouthed. The Beast, as Remus had called it, was huge. Well, huge was a bit of understatements as terms went. "Gargantuan" was actually the word that sprang to mind, and Harry instantly knew that he had spent way too much time around Hermione. "Gargantuan," after all, was not a word that one heard in everyday conversation. Harry quickly shook that from his mind as he admired the gleaming chrome, brightened by the sun pouring down.
"Here you go, Mr. Potter, sir!"
The lot attendant, a wizard not much older than Harry with pimples that reminded him of Stan Shunpike, handed a small card. "Space 731," Harry read off of the card, his brow furrowing until he glanced under the motorbike. Somebody had stencilled the numbers "7-3-1" on the space—it was merely an ordering system so that the Ministry would be able to find the specific automobiles. They probably weren't too familiar with Muggle cars, after all.
"I hear that this belonged to the real Sirius Black," the lot attendant said now, obviously admiring the bike as well.
"It very well didn't belong to the fake one," Harry wanted to retort, but said nothing. Instead, he just nodded and selected the silver key that he had shown Remus earlier.
"You sure you're allowed to drive that thing, Mr. Potter?" the attendant asked as Harry inserted the key. "I mean, you look seventeen, but…"
Annoyed, Harry fished out the motorbike license the twins had forged for him. He was secretly pleased that they had thought this far ahead. "Proof enough for you, sir?" he asked curtly, irritated. The attendant was starting to remind him of Colin Creevey.
"O-of course, sir. Just show that card to Hank—he's working the gate. Sorry to bother you." And the attendant disappeared so quickly that Harry at first thought he had Apparated.
Shrugging to himself now, Harry swung up onto the bike and tried to reach the pedals. Although he had shot up in the past few years to a reasonable height, his feet came nowhere near the foot-pads. This puts a damper on things, doesn't it? his mind commented snidely.
His left arm twitched in reply. Ruddy arm.
Hoping that he wouldn't attract the attention of the pesky attendant, Harry leaned forward and tried to stretch out one last time. In doing so, he pressed his left hand against the gas tank and kept his right hand on the handlebar. Just as his chest touched his left hand, a terrible heat speared through his entire left side, wrenching a strangled gasp from him. He sat up in shock—and the pain left.
"Cor!" he sucked in a breath and stared at the offended limb, which looked exactly like his right arm. There was not a mark on him at all. "What on—" He cut off in yet another gasp: his feet had easily come into contact with the foot-pedals. In fact, the bike was perfectly sized now, no longer a huge monster. It looked just like any average motorbike. Harry blinked down at it slowly. Hermione would have some sort of explanation for this…
Hermione!
Harry started up the engine without trouble (apparently, they kept the vehicles on the lot maintained) and zoomed without pause towards the gate. Once he had passed over the card reading "Space 731" to Hank, as the attendant had called him, Harry was free to zoom off into the streets of London. Of course, he only stopped once, and that was to fix Duncan to the space between the handlebars.
*
"Where is he?" Hermione asked her guardian for the day, putting down another pair as her cards started smoking.
Remus Lupin regarded the cards on the table, and added two of his own, doubling the pot. "He'll be here. He probably had to stop for petrol."
Hermione had known that Remus was a patient man; she had, after all, spent most of third year sitting through his classes and listening to his lectures. He had lived in Grimmauld Place, as well. He was probably the best Defence Against the Dark Arts professor they had to date, exerting a degree of control that Hermione had seen unmatched in anybody except Harry and Professor Dumbledore, although Harry's control was that of a fledgling finally growing into his wings. After the disaster of his fifth year, that was what Harry needed to find, so his self-control was rigid and unbecoming at the moment. Remus's was much more lax than that, but it still annoyed her. She was, after all, anxious to reunite with the friends that she hadn't seen in a month.
"Isn't that kind of dangerous?" Hermione asked, trying to focus on the pot already spread over the table. The version of Exploding Snap Remus played was from his own days at Hogwarts, and was quite complex compared to the recently revised version. While she knew that she was losing horribly, it helped take her mind off the dangerous ride that she knew was coming. "I mean, him coming all the way alone?"
"He'll be careful," was all Lupin had to say about that. "Your turn."
Trying not to grumble at her mentor's extreme generosity of patience, Hermione selected a card from her hand and placed it on the table. She picked up another from the deck and tried not to wince as the card heated the tips of her fingertips. This hand was doomed to be a terrible one.
Lupin was not done talking. "Besides, I think I know a bit about Harry that you don't."
Hermione's head swung up curiously. She had been friends with Harry since Halloween of their first year, when nothing short of a mountain troll pushed them together. Ron was probably the only person who knew Harry better than she did. It was hard to imagine that somebody knew something about him that they didn't. "Oh?"
"Yes." Remus carefully placed three cards next to the one Hermione had set down. "Wizard or not, Harry's birth wasn't…normal." He paused, mentally assessing what he had to tell her, no doubt. It was hard for Remus not to think before he spoke, Hermione had learned. He wasn't at all like Ron, who was known to blurt things out without really thinking about them. "You see, Lily wasn't ever supposed to have children. Even wizarding cures couldn't fix her—she was as sterile as they came. Your move."
"Are you saying that Lily Potter wasn't Harry's mother?" Hermione questioned, now thoroughly confused. "But doesn't Harry have her eyes?" His parents would always be a sore subject with Harry, but Hermione had heard enough people comment on him to know that the origins of Harry's mysterious eye colour.
"No, no, he does. Don't get me wrong—she was his mother." Remus scratched the back of his head and put way too much interest in studying his cards. "It was a miracle, actually. One day, she couldn't get pregnant—and then there was Harry, loud and fussy though he was. One can say that Harry almost wasn't meant to exist."
"So he's a Wish-Baby?" Hermione asked slowly, her brow furrowing. "I've read about them, but they're supposed to be incredibly rare. When a witch or a wizard can't have babies, but they have one nonetheless because Wish-Magic makes it possible?" Remus nodded. "Wow. That's rough."
"Harry seems to be perfectly fine…wait, what do you mean by that?" Remus actually glanced up from his cards to look at her suspiciously.
Hermione cleared her throat nervously. "I mean, it's highly unlikely for any Wish-Babies to find… well, erm, true love, as it goes." She said this in a rush and continued hurriedly, "Of course, that's based heavily on several theories which run a little too closely to Divination for my taste, but…"
Remus interrupted her with a head-shake. "Will you move already? My cards are smoking."
"So is he?" Hermione asked even as she collected three cards from the pot, unable to lay any down. Immediately, her hand cooled down, providing pain relief to heated fingers. "A Wish-Baby, I mean?"
Remus flinched, but that might have just been from his cards, which were now smoking quite heavily. "That was certainly Sirius's theory. James would never say exactly. He was pretty quiet when it came to Harry—except for the day he was born, of course. Got sloshed proper. In fact, we all did." His eyes clouded over for the briefest of moments.
Hermione had personally never understood the strange habits of men and drinking, but she was hardly going to criticise a professor (even though he insisted that he was a retired professor, if anything) for his past. Instead, she watched him lay two cards down, carefully pondering what to say next. "But what if he is? That would explain a lot, wouldn't it? I mean, how he defeated Voldemort as a baby, and then why he keeps surviving. I mean, he's almost like a Weeble."
"A…a what?" Remus, for the first time Hermione remembered, looked quite lost. "I'm sorry, I could have sworn you said a…a Weeble?"
Hermione actually giggled, remembering the rift between wizarding and Muggle worlds. "Yes, that's exactly what I said. Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down." When she could hardly bear to keep Lupin in the dark any longer, Hermione giggled again and explained that Weebles were a children's toy for Muggles. She had owned one as a child—it had been a gift from an American uncle. "The base, you see," she said as she laid two cards on the table, "is really heavy so that even if the toy falls over completely, it has no choice but to overbalance again and stand up properly. Of course, the base is also rounded so that it wobbles about rather amusingly."
Remus gave her a slightly worried look. "I really have to wonder about Muggles these days," he said at length. "I still don't understand how Harry's being a Wish-Baby makes him a Weeble, also…"
Hermione sighed. "It's just the way that Weebles bounce back, Remus. It's an expression. My uncle uses it."
"Oh."
The grandfather clock in the hallway tolled four o'clock, making Hermione jump. Even though she and her parents had stayed in the safe-house for over a month, it still didn't make her used to that wretched clock. "So," she said, trying to distract herself, "how does Harry being a Wish-Baby make you sure that he'll make it here safely?"
Before Remus could even hope to answer her question, there was a loud pattern of knocks from the entrance hallway to the small safehouse. "That's Harry," Remus said, relief written over all of his features. "One minute!" He hastily stood up and hurried out of the room, leaving Hermione to her confused contemplation. Why had Remus avoided her question like that?
*
Harry stood on the doorstep of the house, which looked not at all unlike any of the houses on Privet Drive, and tried not to fidget nervously. Although his calves and toes were numb from the vibrations of the Beast, he was actually quite jumpy. He hadn't seen Hermione since the end of sixth year, after all. What if she wasn't there? What if Voldemort had got here before Harry managed to? Hermione was one of the only people he could still trust at Hogwarts. She had been part of the D. A. from the beginning, not to mention one of Harry's best friends. Hermione just had to be there.
"One minute!" came a male voice from inside, and Harry froze. He knew that Hermione's parents had left for the Alps earlier that day, so that couldn't be her father. What if this was a trap? He reached for his wand, but before he could even get a grasp on the wood, the door was flung open by none other than his old Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
"Remus!" Harry said, quite surprised. "I thought you were back in Diagon Alley!" He stepped inside when Remus held open the door for him, and looked around at the prim, ordinary decorations. This was a safe house, so he knew that there wouldn't be pictures of family and whatnot that usually crowded entrance halls. Still, the rather boring water-colour paintings of different fields startled him. He couldn't imagine Hermione living in a place that was so much less than stimulating.
"My main job today is to make sure that everything runs smoothly. Hermione and I have been playing cards while we waited." Remus nodded to show that Harry should follow him, and took off down another hallway, this one covered with the same style of paintings. That led into a plainly average kitchen, complete with a table, Hermione, and a deck of smoking cards. "Safe and sound, just like I promised you, Hermione."
"Harry!" Hermione sprang up from her chair and wrapped Harry in a quick hug that nonetheless made him tense up. "I was worried! What took so long?"
Harry gave her a shrug, trying not to let his grin destroy his face. "Stopped for petrol." Why Remus would give Hermione a "Told you so" look, he was not sure. Still, Duncan had insisted before he entered the house that they did not have much time, so he cleared his throat. "Are you ready to go? I'm kind of anxious to get to the Burrow."
Hermione seemed to brighten at the thought of going to the Burrow, just like Ron had always brightened at the thought of bothering Hermione after Quidditch practice. "I've got all my stuff right here!" And then she disappeared from the room so quickly, Harry had at first thought that she had Apparated. She reappeared instants later, dragging behind her a trunk that had be filled with new schoolbooks. "Remus says that he is going to fly my trunk to the Burrow while we take the more conventional route," she informed Harry quickly.
Harry turned to Remus, one eyebrow raised. "Is it a race, then?"
A spirit of the old Remus showed in the ex-professor's grin. "If it is, then may the best man win. First, however, I need you to help me carry the trunk out the backyard. I need to disillusion it." Obligingly, Harry grabbed one end of the trunk and hauled it out what he supposed was the back door. Remus took very little time in changing the trunk. As Harry watched, he pulled an Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and pulled that on over his head. "Tonks and I took the liberty of borrowing this. You'll get it back at the Burrow."
"I don't mind," Harry said, finding it to be true. "Don't hit any sparrows on your way out." With that, and a wave towards where he supposed Remus to be, he headed back into the house. "Let's go," he told Hermione in the kitchen. "We've got a long way to go, and not that much time to do it in."
"Okay," she said brightly, and followed him out of the front door.
