Review Responses:

Eumageuma: Wow, my first reviewer, and nothing but positive feedback. Thank you so much:-)

T-chan: I love reviewers like you. Positive but constructive. :-) I went back and fixed some little things that you picked up on that I didn't in my quick edit. To answer you… Vernon told Harry that he'd been sleeping half a week because he really had been, and I fixed the other thing.

Petroselinum

Chapter Three: In Which Potter is Missing

"We may pretend that we're basically moral people who make mistakes, but the whole of history proves otherwise." - Terry Hands

Vernon stepped into his home with a happy smile on his face, feeling much as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He peeked into the kitchen for a celebratory snack when he was practically assaulted by his hysterical wife, who gave him a kiss on the cheek before withdrawing, much relieved.

"Vernon!" Petunia gasped. Her face was white and she was wringing her hands, and a few hairs of her impeccably neat hairdo had fallen out of place. "The freak escaped. I was so scared – thought you were dead or something awful. What if all that unnaturalness finally went to his head and drove him crazy?"

Vernon shushed her, giving her a gentle pat on the back.

"Shh, darling, shh, it's okay. I've taken care of it."

"He was speaking in tongues, Vernon, tongues!" Petunia was saying, but paused. "What do you mean, 'taken care of it'?"

Vernon gave her a proud smile.

"I got rid of the boy, of course."

"Got – got rid of the boy?"

"Why, yes! Now our troubles are finally over… Been wanting to do that for years." Vernon stood, striding over to the refrigerator and snatching some ham, cheese, lettuce and mayonnaise from inside of it.

"Wait, Vernon," Petunia said slowly as she watched him grab a loaf of wheat. "You… you got rid of the boy?" She repeated.

"Yes indeedy-do, my dear." He said jovially. He liberally slathered some mayonnaise on both sides of the bread.

"You… took him out of the… the house…"

Vernon was prying apart the ham slices, which were cut a bit too thin and ripping apart. Finally, he shrugged his beefy shoulders and slapped the whole thing on top of the gooey white sauce.

"Vernon," Petunia said, a bit louder. "Did you remember why we're keeping him?"

Vernon, who was trying to figure out whether or not to put lettuce before cheese, said absently,

"Of course, dear."

"Vernon, you're not listening to me!" Petunia whined, sounding much like Dudley winding up for a temper tantrum. "We can't take the boy out of the house, his teachers and his friends will come after us!"

Vernon froze. A bit of saliva was strung between his top and bottom teeth as his mouth opened, ready to bite down the oozing tower of a sandwich.

"What?"

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The Great Hall in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was decorated a bit plainly over the summer holidays, it must be said. In contrast to the lively school year banners and house colors, as well as the different seasonal decorations, the décor in the eating-place was simplistic. Banners with the school crest hung and rippled with invisible breeze to match the weather on the enchanted ceiling for the day, and the tables were bare and neat, lacking dinner placings and centerpieces in house colors.

Nonetheless, Hogwarts was uncommonly full this summer. The Order of the Phoenix frequently rendezvoused here when not meeting at Grimmauld Place, and currently half the staff and a few aurors were gathered, about to disperse on missions of various importance. The Head table was bare, and the absence of the Headmaster was painfully obvious. He was rumored to have locked himself up in his office, working on extremely important paperwork and battle strategies for the upcoming and inevitable war – or, as Severus Snape had pointed out before grouchily leaving the congregation, feeling sorry for a certain student. In payback, the Transfiguration Professor had tripped him rather obviously as he swept from the room. He'd limped out with as much dignity as he could muster and the people who had witnessed the scene were given something to laugh about in a time when good cheer was often absent.

As the laughter died down, the individual conversations resumed. Many were solemn and serious, or businesslike.

"Look at this, Tonks," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, leaning down to hand his companion (whose hair was now quite offensive in a tall, spiky hairdo that was a glaring shade of neon orange) the latest letter from Harry. She took it with interest, reading the slightly sloppy masculine handwriting.

To the Order, and All Whom This May Concern –

I'm perfectly fine at the Dursleys. They've been decent. Need some time alone. Next letter will come soon.

Harry James Potter

She gave a sad smile.

"Looks fine to me," Tonks said. "Poor kid must be really down."

"No, look at it closely. It's old, the ink is slightly faded. This wasn't written as soon as we're led to think it was." He said in his deep, slow voice.

Tonks flushed.

"Oh…"

Kingsley frowned at the young auror.

"Come on, Tonks," He said, though patiently. "You should be able to pick up on this stuff by now. Well, we need to check this out…"

"Check what out, Kingsley?" Said a new voice. Both aurors turned to see Minerva McGonagall stride toward them.

"Ah, Minerva," He greeted deeply, extending his hand. She shook it and gave him a smile. "Marvelous stunt you pulled."

"Oh, yes, yes," She replied modestly, a faint blush coloring her face. "It was no matter. But what was it I overheard you saying to Nymphadora?"

"Call me Tonks, please, Professor." Tonks said, a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

"We were just looking over Potter's latest letter to the Order, Minerva." Shacklebolt said. He tugged the note from Tonks's hands and held it out for McGonagall, who picked up her spectacles from where they hung on her neck from a gold chain and set them on her nose. She adjusted them once and read over the letter, the corners of her mouth turning downwards.

"Well," She said suddenly. She pulled off her glasses and they fell onto her chest. She brandished the parchment as she spoke. "It seems that we might need to go check on Mr. Potter after all."

---------------

Where it was busy in Hogwarts, it was quite the opposite in the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. The place was bare and bodiless. Almost.

Remus Lupin sat alone at the kitchen table. Before him were boxes and boxes covered with dust and filled with even dustier belongings. Things that hadn't needed to be touched for years now needed to be sorted and distributed as requested. Why? Because it said so in the will.

Remus had no intention of sharing the will with Harry, of course. Harry would know when he was ready… Remus just didn't think Harry could handle the proceedings at the moment. He had thought of owling the boy to ask him, but decided against it. Harry needed some time alone, to think things through.

Remus sighed, pulling a hand through his salt and pepper hair. When he brought his hand down, he saw strands of it between his fingers, and groaned inwardly. It was bad enough being prematurely gray, but if he started going bald…

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed. It rang deep and low, echoing through the eerily empty house. Remus counted the gonging bellow of the clock, imagining the tarnished gold pendulum swinging slowly back and forth.

"Seven, eight, nine, ten…" Remus breathed as the clock's noise ended. "Ten o'clock…"

He couldn't see the sky from here in the kitchen due to the fact that it was a basement sort of room, but he could imagine the black night sky speckled with pale stars. Maybe the Dog Star was up there… but Remus digressed, not feeling up to getting so philosophical tonight. His last remaining best friend was gone. No need to read deeper.

He looked down and sighed a world-weary sigh at the paper in his hands. It was one of the only things that looked to have at least been touched lately. It was horrible to think that people needed to keep up to date wills because they could perish at any minute. But who was he to talk? He'd just revised his own the previous evening.

He picked up a pen and was about to make a note about giving the portrait of Mrs. Black, should it ever come off of the wall, to Narcissa Malfoy (so that it could haunt her), when the fireplace flared green. The werewolf looked up, surprised.

A tall, sallow-faced man had stepped from the fireplace, and was imperially brushing soot off of his black robes. His greasy black hair fell down in front of face as he did so, and he straightened he cast a condescending sneer toward the only current resident of Number 12.

"Lupin." He stated with a curt nod of his head.

"Severus." Remus responded, blinking in surprise. "Erm… Do take a seat, and excuse the mess…"

Snape's lip curled as he glanced at Sirius' possessions, and he took a seat in a chair opposite his fellow Order member.

"I need to see your files of collected information against the Dark Lord. To regain a position within his inner ranks I need to reassert my loyalties and bring him a specifically useful report."

Remus nodded grimly. With a wave of his wand, a large file appeared before him, and he was about to begin sifting through the magical contents when a red and gold feather floated down in front of him out of nowhere. He paused, and it lit aflame in a brilliant lick of fire, starting at the stem of the feather and working its way toward the tip. In the small pile of cinders the Phoenix feather left behind, an imaginary finger smudged away ash and wrote a hasty, succinct message.

Potter is gone from Privet Drive.

Remus stared at the words with wide eyes even as a silent wind captured the ash and swept it from the table.

"Well?" Snape snapped impatiently. "What did it say, man? Stop gawking like the village idiot and speak!"

"Harry… is gone. He's not at Privet Drive. He could be anywhere." Remus said numbly. He turned to face his former schoolmate. "How's that for a useful report?"

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Author's Note: Don't worry about the note being short, everyone. More will be explained to Remus and Snape (and thus, the people reading), but at the moment it was just a hastily given message until more could be said. Presumably, they're off searching for our favorite hero. :-)

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