Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything else that J.K. Rowling created.

Warning: This story is AU due to the fact that I've ignored book five, The Order of The Phoenix because the end of book four was a much better place to start this fan fiction.

Take Backs

Chapter 7: Divulging the Truth

By Rhiane Raine

"BOY! Get up now and fix our breakfast!"

Harry Potter's eyes snapped open as he jumped out of bed. It was not that he enjoyed his morning wake up yells, but he had become accustomed to it over the years.

Quickly, Harry threw on the only pair of jeans that semi fit him and the one shirt that only swallowed him, rather than devouring him whole.

The fourteen year old didn't even bother to comb his hair or glance in the mirror as he passed by it. Harry knew that there was nothing he could do to improve his appearance. Had he looked, he would have seen an old sunburn stretching across his nose and cheeks as well as dark indentions underneath his bright green eyes. The raven black hair on top of his head was very messy indeed, sticking up in all directions.

On his way down the stairs, Harry folded up the sleeves of his blue tee shirt and tucked in the tail so that he would be "presentable".

"BOY!" bellowed Uncle Vernon just as Harry entered the kitchen. "So you decided to earn your keep, did you? You ought to be downright thankful for your Aunt and my generosity…"

Yet again, Vernon fell into an all too familiar tirade about Harry's lack of thankfulness.

Over the summer Harry had become more sullen. Rather than anger and impatience, he had become slightly numb in his feelings. His loss of temper had already arisen a bit of suspicion with the Dursleys during the first week of the holidays. When Dudley had insulted Harry's freakishness and not gotten the desired result, he complained to his parents about how Harry was deliberately ignoring him. A thirty minute long lecture from Uncle Vernon about exercising manners when someone important is speaking to you had no effect on Harry whatsoever. If it were a choice between yelling at Dudley in anger or ignoring Dudley in numbness, Harry would choose the latter as it was a sure way to irritate his relatives.

Truth be told, Harry wasn't sure he could feel much of anything anymore. Sure he felt guilty and horrible about Cedric's death and Voldemort's return in his mind, but his body felt no different. The knot of sickness that had resided permanently in his stomach was no longer anything but another part of his body that he had to carry around.

After his uncle had ran out of breath, Harry simply turned and began cooking despite the purple coloring of Vernon's face.

Mornings usually passed quickly enough for Harry as there was always a list of chores to keep him preoccupied.

While the Dursleys were eating (or inhaling in Dudley's case), Harry silently went to the backyard to start the day's yard work.

Harry opened the shed and wheeled out an old push mower. With a sigh, the fourteen-year-old boy took off his shirt. The sun had been up for at least three hours by the time Harry managed to cut all of the grass with the motor less lawn mower. He still yet had to paint the fence and tend to Aunt Petunia's award winning garden.

At noon Harry had just gone inside after completing what he privately referred to as "The Dursley's List Of Doom". The cold air felt good on the boy whose skin was too often exposed to dangerously hot sun waves.

Quite suddenly there was a booming bang on the front door, followed by a patterned series of smaller knocks. Harry sluggishly turned to gaze dumbly at the door from across the room as if it might answer itself. It was obvious to Harry that neither Aunt Petunia nor Dudley would be bothering themselves with the task anytime soon. So Harry therefore drug his aching body over to the direction of the emitted taps and raps. When he opened the door it was to see a shabbily dressed wizard standing in the middle of the doorway, wearing the most joyous expression Harry had ever seen him wear.

"Hello, Professor Lupin," Harry whispered, his voice sounding slightly gruff.

Remus Lupin's mouth went from a smile to a very worried frown. The werewolf looked at the space over his shoulder before rushing inside and slamming the door shut.

"Wha-," Harry began to inquire about his ex-professor's odd behavior. He was, however, cut off mid-word by the polite man who paid close attention to being respectful of others.

"What in Merlin's name have you been doing, Harry? You look positively worn out!"

The green eyed boy's face contorted into confusement which caused Remus to gesture to Harry's sun burnt and sweaty face along with the sweat that was soaking through the shirt Harry had recently replaced upon entering his Aunt's clean house.

Harry stammered, "Oh, I um…err…have err been out quite a lot, actually. Too much sun, you know?"

Remus raised a skeptical eyebrow in Harry's direction but said nothing.

A pang resounded within Harry for the first time since he had left the train station in June as he registered what the slightly panicky look of concern that his former teacher wore meant. The man ducked his head down into his hands while turning away from Harry to rub his eyes tiredly.

Remus turned back around to look at Harry, eyes darting side to side as he seemingly went over his options inside his own head.

"Harry, I need you to stay calm.-"

"-Why? What are you-"

"Padfoot is outside. He's waiting underneath an invisibility cloak. "

Confusion and suspicion swirled together in Harry's thoughts. Why was Sirius hiding under an invisibility cloak? Well, other than to hidefrom the ministry. Why didn't Sirius come inside? Why was Remus so worried about his sunburn? After all, Harry had done nothing for anyone to be alarmed about, right?

"Err, I would invite you to have a seat," Harry gestured to the sitting room, "but it seems that Dudley had already claimed it.

Sitting on the couch in front of the telly surrounded by mounds of empty junk food cartons and wrappers, was a very fat Dudley Dursley.

'The kitchen, then?" suggested Remus.

"Well, Aunt Petunia is in there watching her soap operas. We could use my room, though." Harry offered to Remus and the space between them.

Remus nodded. Harry turned and led them up the stairs. A wave of horror overwhelmed Harry when he realized that Remus would be seeing his room, but it was too late to change that now. He gulped as they approached the door that was lined with bolts, locks, and a cat flap; the door to Dudley's second bedroom.

Behind him, an intake of breath was heard from Remus. Harry closed his eyes as he turned the doorknob to reveal his room.

The wooden floor of the room was bare of carpet and plentiful of scrapes and dents where Dudley had thrown things about. The iron gray bars had been replaced on the outside of the curtain-less window. In the corner of the room was a single bed with an old worn duvet. Next to that was a bedside table with a corner chipped away. A shabby desk with three and a half legs was positioned in the opposite corner, covered in parchment, quills, and textbooks.

Harry waited with baited breath. It appeared that Remus was very interested in Harry's room.

The raven-haired boy looked at Remus with a feeling of foreboding.

"Harry?" His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his ex-professor's hoarse voice.

"Yes?" Harry replied warily, beginning to think that this conversation would be a tough one.

"Would you sit down? I have something… rather odd to explain to you."

"Oh, um, sure," Harry sat down on the end of his bed. Nervousness was creeping into his veins ever so slowly.

Remus glanced out the window before pulling out Harry's desk chair and seating himself. "The first thing I'm going to say is that I am about to tell you something unbelievable and I need you to promise that you'll listen to all of the facts and not be angry or disregard what I tell you."

Harry gave him a apprehensive look. When he saw that Remus was sincerely serious, Harry quickly nodded while preparing himself for whatever he was about to hear.

"Harry, your father's alive!"