A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. I really appreciate it. This chapter and the next might seem like a little bit of a slow start, so bear with me here ; )
Chapter Two: Lost and Found
Harry wandered the streets for a good few minutes, feeling very foolish dragging his trunk and Hedwig's cage behind him. It was raining harder than ever now, and it wasn't long before he was soaked down his skin. He supposed he could go to Mrs. Figg's, but he really didn't feel like explaining what had happened just yet. He was sure that someone in the order would figure it out soon enough, and then come looking for him.
Before Harry really knew what he was doing, he found himself back in the park. The hard packed ground had now dissolved into mud, and it took all his energy to drag his trunk through the park and up to the small gazebo that had been built while he was away at school. It was still so new it smelled of fresh paint, though Dudley and his gang had already carved their names into one of the wooden benches. Harry took his jacket out of his trunk, and slid it on over his damp clothes. Shivering, he pulled a sweater that Mrs. Wealsey had knitted for him years ago that was now many sizes too small, and bunched it together for a pillow. He lay down on the bench and shoved it under his head. Drawing his arms over his chest for warmth, he shut his eyes, and tried to force himself to sleep. If he was awake he would have to form some sort of plan, whether it be going home to the Dursley's and begging for their forgiveness, which was very unlikely, or going to Mrs. Figg and letting the order deal with itbut having to explain himself to them.Sleep sounded much better than action right now, and he was grateful when he felt the rain on the wooden roof above him gently lulling him to sleep.
His mouth was full of blood, it was running down his chin, soaking the front of his robes. His hands...though they were not his hands...were reaching out to something. His fingernails were dirty with blood, and one of his fingers was bent in such a way it had to be broken.
"I won't..." A labored croaking voice came from his throat, though it was not his voice. "You'll have...kill me..."
A spell zinged across the air, missing him by inches. A silent scream caught in his throat. A red bubble escaped from his lips and then burst, splattering the stone floor with blood.
Harry let out a strangled cry, and sat up so quickly he lost his balance and fell from the hard bench down onto the even harder floor. His heart was pounding in his chest so wildly he swore it would burst, and his upper-lip was damp with sweat. What had happened?
He had been dreaming...yes. He had been dreaming he was hurt and he was in trouble. He had been dreaming he was someone else...
"Harry!" A voice called across the darkness, nearly startling Harry into another scream.
"Harry, if you are here please answer me."
Harry scrambled up onto his feet. It had stopped raining, and he could see clearly across the park. Lupin and Moody were trudging across the muddy grass, their wands emitting a bright white light as they searched the space around them.
"Lupin!" Harry cried, so happy to see him he had forgotten he was probably in trouble.
Both men turned quickly, shining their wands directly into his face. Harry put up a hand, and squinted out at them.
"Harry!" Lupin exclaimed, sounding incredibly relieved. "Stay right there!"
Lupin ran across the lawn, which was no easy task as the mud nearly reached his ankles in places. Harry watched in silence, his happiness soon being replaced by dread. He was going to be in trouble, they weren't going to understand.
"Harry, what were you thinking?" Lupin said, as he ran up onto the gazebo and pulled Harry into a tight embrace. "You had us all worried."
"I'm sorry." Harry offered weakly, noticing that Lupin looked very old and tired compared to when he had last seen him at the station. That had barely been two weeks ago.
"Most of the order is out looking for you Harry." Moody said gruffly, joining them. "You're damn lucky Figg saw you leaving...what where you thinking boy?"
Harry swallowed a growing lump in his throat, and stared down at his mud caked shoes. He hoped they didn't think she was some desperate cry for attention, because it wasn't.
"My Aunt said I was being smart with her, and she kicked me out." Harry said, deciding he would rather not go into the whole story.
"Yes, we already spoke with her." Lupin said, running his hands through his greying hair. "Needless to say, you won't be going back there anytime soon."
"I won't?' Harry said, nearly swallowing his own tongue in surprise.
"We're sending you the Burrow." Lupin explained, as Moody began to gather Harry's things. "The Weasley's can took after you there, and we'll all drop in from time to time of course. We'll have to use Mrs. Figg's floo to get you there though."
For the first time in what felt like ages Harry felt his stomach squirm with happiness. Nearly a whole summer with Ron and Ginny, a whole summer away from the Dursleys...
"Can we go now?" Harry asked, unable to mask his eagerness.
"Yes, Harry." Lupin smiled, and patted him on the back.
Harry had been so eager to get to the Burrow he had nearly dove into Mrs. Figg's floo, and banged his head hard in the process. Moody had laughed, rather spitefully in Harry's opinion, though even Lupin had smiled.
"You'll be there soon enough." Lupin said, holding the jar of floor powder out to Harry.
Harry smiled when he loudly said "The Burrow!" and threw the powder down about his ankles. A moment later he emerged out of the Weasley's fireplace, greeted by a crying Mrs. Weasley and asmiling Ron.
"Harry!" Mrs. Wealsey exclaimed, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I was worried sick...Ron get his things for him."
Ron was so happy to see Harry he didn't even bother to scowl at his mother. Hedwig and his trunk were pulled from the floo, and by then Mrs. Weasley had let him go but had begun crying again.
"You've gotten her wound up." Ron explained in a whisper. "It's better to just let her finish now."
"Okay Mrs. Weasley." Harry said, loudly over her sobs. "I'm going upstairs now."
She nodded silently, but not before pulling Harry into one more crushing embrace.
"She's been like that all night." Ron said as they mounted the stairs. "She was really worried about you."
Harry had the feeling that this meant Ron had been worried too. At Privet Drive it had been easy to forget there were people who were still worried about him.
"I didn't mean to worry anyone." Harry said, following Ron into his bedroom. "My aunt threw me out, and I wasn't sure what to do."
Ron nodded, accepting Harry's unspoken apology. Harry threw himself down on Ron's bed, and then jumped up again when he remembered that his clothes were damp.
"Don't worry about it." Ron said. "But you'd better get changed before mum get's upset about that too."
Harry laughed a little, and went back downstairs to retrieve his pajamas from his trunk. As he walked down the hall Ginny's bedroom door opened a crack, and she stuck her head out.
"Harry!" She whispered frantically. "What happened?"
"Nothing..." Harry began, but was soon silenced by a sharp hush.
"I'm supposed to be sleeping." Ginny explained in a whisper. "Ron and I were going to sneak out and look for you too. Fred and George were looking."
"It wasn't a big deal." Harry said. "I was waiting for my aunt to let me back in the house and I fell asleep."
It wasn't entirely the truth, but it wasn't a lie either.
"We all thought you'd run..."
"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley yelled up the stairs. "You had better be in bed!"
Ginny groaned quietly, and then smiling at Harry, she carefully shut her door again. Harry met Mrs. Weasley at the top of the stairs, the mere sight of him making her eyes water again.
"Please Mrs. Weasley, don't." Harry said, not wanting to be disrespectful but eager to avoid more hugging and crying.
"Try not to be so foolish Harry." Mrs. Wealsey said, cupping his chin in her hand. "You could have been hurt..."
"I know." Harry said. "I'll be smarter next time."
Mrs. Weasley sniffled, but let him go. She patted him on the shoulder, and then handed him a neatly folded square of purple fabric.
"Ron's pajamas." She explained. "I wasn't sure if you would have your things. Wear them for now, and I'll have Arthur bring your things up for you when you get home."
Harry nodded, and starting walking towards the bathroom where he could change. A sudden thought forced him to stop, and he turned to face Mrs. Weasley again, who was watching him with a motherly expression of worry on her face.
"Was Professor Dumbledore looking for me too?" He asked, pressing the pajamas against his damp jacket.
"I don't know Harry." Mrs. Weasley said softly.
Harry was almost positive this meant no. He nodded, and then retreated into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
When he came back out again Ron was sitting at his desk, furiously scratching across a bit of parchment with his quill.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, plucking up one of Ron's old copies of Marvin the Mad Muggle off of the small bookcase.
"Writing to Hermione." Ron said, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "I had better tell her we found you, before she comes here herself."
"Why did you tell I was missing in the first place?" Harry demanded, sensing a world-class lecture from Hermione would soon be in hand.
"She would have found out anyway." Ron said, still hunched over his writing.
Harry threw down the comic, and jumped over to where Ron was working. Ron put his hands up over the parchment, but not before one line caught Harry's eye.
...I bet he's doing it just to get attention...
"Yeah, I'm really doing this to get attention!" Harry shouted, his mouth slick with venomous words. "You can just go to hell!"
"Well you should look at what other people are writing unless you want to know to truth!" Ron shouted back.
Harry ran from Ron's room, and slammed the door behind him. He flew down the stairs, to where Mrs. Weasley was whispering to Tonks, who must have just arrived.
"Wotcher Harry" Tonks said, overly brightly.
"Hi." Harry said, reaching to shove his hands in his pockets before realizing he didn't have any.
"Um...I don't think Ron wants me sharing his bedroom." Harry said, hating the way both Mrs. Weasley and Tonks were starting at him.
"Nonsense" Mrs. Weasley said, her cheeks reddening with anger. "You would have thought that boy was raised by hags for all the manners he has."
"I don't want to share a room with him either...it's a little crowded." Harry meekly offered, hoping that Mrs. Weasley would understand.
"I'll make up the bed in Charlie and Bill's old room then." Mrs. Weasley said, rather stiffly.
She gave Tonks a significant glance when she thought that Harry wasn't watching, before disappearing up the stairs.
"Got into an argument, huh?" Tonks said, punching Harry lightly on the shoulder like Fred or George might have.
"Yeah." Harry said, sighing. "He thinks I ran away to get attention."
He didn't really want to tell Tonks, in fact he wasn't sure why he did.
"Did you?" Tonks asked, staring into his eyes.
"No!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. "I didn't even run away!"
"Alright Harry, calm down." Tonks said, desperate to hush him. "I just thought I would ask."
"I don't need attention." Harry said stubbornly, scowling at her.
Tonks shrugged her shoulders, as if to say 'don't we all?'. Harry ignored her, relieved to hear Mrs. Weasley coming down the stairs.
"You're all set Harry." Mrs. Weasley said. "You can go on up now. Sleep tight."
"Thanks." Harry said, grimacing as Mrs. Weasley caught him in another embrace as they passed.
As Harry was walking up the stairs his mind was swirling with thoughts, each more depressing then the last. Ron would probably never talk to him again, and Hermione would be on his case. Dumbledore hadn't even bothered to look for him, and now Mrs. Weasley was probably angry with him too. Tonks probably thought he was crazy...
"...no one has heard from him..."
Harry paused, his hand resting on the door knob to Charlie and Bill's bedroom. He could hear Tonks and Mrs. Weasley's whispers in bits and pieces, and although he knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, he was intrigued.
"...out looking..."
"...too early too tell..."
Harry back away from the bedroom door, and crept slowly back towards the top of the stairs. He cringed when the floorboards creaked noisily under his feet in protest. The whispers stopped, and Harry bolted into the bedroom, shutting the door gently behind him.
As he crawled into the freshly made bed, he couldn't help remembering his dream. Had it been one of those dreams? His scar hadn't hurt, and he didn't feel like he was in Voldemort's mind. Was it another trick?
Wishing he could talk Ron about it, Harry tossed and turned, until finally falling into a deep untroubled sleep.