Chapter Two

Five fifty in the afternoon; the sun was just setting, painting the sky with deep hues of orange, red and pinks. The people of Privet Drive were all beginning to settle down for the night and the Drive was bustling with cars and people heading home before it got dark, amidst the commotion, no one seemed to notice the small group of people hurrying down the road in a very tight knit formation. No one seemed to care that they were wearing cloaks and were holding what seemed to be long, thin sticks of wood, or that they muttering about how Muggle transport was becoming obstructive and a waste of time, or how the neighbourhood was far too pristine and perfect to be lived in by so many people. Indeed, no one seemed to realise that they were all headed towards the same destination, number Four Privet Drive.

Six o'clock. The Dursley family- including Harry- had just settled down to dinner; it would be too much to say that the atmosphere in the kitchen was a happy, or a tranquil one- but at least there wasn't any arguing or food being conjured at ninety mile per hour towards someone's face. The tense silence that had settled over the four diners was shattered when a knock on the door was heard. Harry, because of what seemed a regular job, rose from the table to answer the door, but his Uncle stopped him and sent his son instead. Perplexed, Dudley looked up from his shovelling and stared incredulously at his father, who merely asked him in a slightly more stressed tone to answer the door for the second time. Dudley's scream could have woken the dead, for standing on the door-step was the same group of people who had been seen heading towards the house but ten minutes ago.

Harry was the first to react, leaping from his chair with skill that would have shamed an athlete, he ran to the door to see what had cause his cousin to scream with such power. If he hadn't recognised who the people were at once, then he too probably would have screamed.

Standing on the threshold of the hall were five people: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Nymphodra Tonks, Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody and someone he would never have expected to see, his Potions master Severus Snape. Ron was the first to speak.

"Hallo Harry- your cousin can squeal a bit can't he!" Harry didn't know how top react. His gut reaction was to laugh, but his mind overpowered all other feelings.

"R…Ron, Hermione! What are you doing here?" his question was soon answered by a smooth, drawling voice- one which Harry had the least pleasure in hearing of all of the people assembled before him.

"Well, the break from school seems to have had an impact on you're sense Mr. Potter. I would have thought it would be obvious why we are here. Evidently not. We are your escort, you're coming with us." His Potions master raised his eyebrows before continuing. "Well, what are you gaping for boy, go and get your luggage! We can't stand outside all night you know."

This seemed to penetrate through the fog that had commandeered Harry's mind, in an instant, he opened the door wider for the company to enter and hared upstairs to his room. It wasn't long before the bellowing started, and it seemed that Uncle Vernon wasn't going to stop either.

"HOW DARE YOU ENTER THIS HOUSE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOME! YOU DON'T BELONG IN A NORMAL HOME: YOU DON'T BELONG HERE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE HERE! GET OUT, OUT I SAY!" The ranting and raving was cut short when a growling, gravely voice told Vernon to shut up, or he would be made to shut up- painfully. This however, just wound Petunia up into a frenzy; she yelled and screamed blue murder about how none of them were safe, how none of them should be here and how she wanted them out there and then or she would call the Police. A short sharp bark of laughter could be heard before the bubbling voice of Tonks piping up.

"And what would you tell them exactly? That your house had been invaded by a group of wizards and witches!" She did say more after this, but amid the screeching laughter and the yelling of Uncle Vernon and Petunia, it was drowned out: and Harry focused on getting his things together as quickly as he could.

When he was packed, with his trunk in one hand, cage and broomstick in the other, Harry heaved his luggage downstairs, hoping that the screaming match hadn't ended yet. He wasn't disappointed.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were all standing behind the table as if in hope it would provide some sort of barrier between them and the party that had arrived to take Harry away. Tonks was standing over by the sink, still giggling her little black soul out at the prospect of Petunia setting the Muggle police on a group of wizards and witches; Ron and Hermione were locked in a staring contest between themselves and Dudley- it was no surprise that they were winning, as Dudley couldn't seem to hold his cool under the stare of two wizards and witches. Moody was having a bellowing and threatening contest with both Vernon and Petunia, who kept shooting filthy looks at Tonks who couldn't stop laughing; and Snape was leaning in the doorway that linked the kitchen to the hallway with a definite and unhidden smirk plastered on his face. Looking at his expression, you would have assumed that he was watching a very bloody Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff instead of a potentially risky operation. Placing his stuff down behind him, Harry coughed lightly before asking tentatively asking.

"Who's winning?"

Snape turned his head so that his gaze met Harry's (and it did too, it seemed that Harry had grown quite a bit during the week that he had been at the Dursley's). As their eyes locked, Harry could have sworn that he had seen a glint of mischief flickering in those deep ebony eyes. It vanished as soon as it had appeared though, and Snape turned his head back to the kitchen; nodding his head towards Ron and Hermione, he spoke.

"They want to have a word with you. I'll take these." With the merest flick of his wand, Harry's luggage in all of it's bulky and generally stubborn entirety shrank, zoomed over and settled itself in Snape's hand. Turning on his heel, he strode towards the door in his trademark silent glide; with his hand on the door handle, he turned around once more to address Harry. "If Moody wants to know where I am, tell him I'm at the house." and with that, he left- closing the door behind him with a neat snap. Without further hesitation, Harry darted into the kitchen in search of his two best friends. He didn't get very far because as soon as he had stepped into the kitchen, he was soon shoved back out of it as a bushy mess attached itself to him, squealing as it did so. Harry would have greeted the human limpet that was presently clinging to his upper torso, but all of the wind in his lungs had been knocked out of him on impact- so all he could do was smile and pat the head of his attachment. Although Harry loved Hermione as a brother would a very dear sister and could put up with that, he was very glad that his "brother" didn't follow suit but only sent his friend a toothy grin and waved. Ron then walked up to Harry to clap him on the shoulder and greet him in a very deep and insincere voice.

"Hello Mr. Potter. I'm very pleased to see you, but I'm afraid I couldn't bear to lose my dignity and hurl myself at you at ninety miles per hour. I wouldn't want you to get any wrong signals now, would I!" He then grinned again before speaking in a more Ron-ish way. "Alright mate? Have a good holiday so far- hope this lot haven't been bothering you." He indicated to the three quivering Dursley's who hadn't moved from their position behind the table.

"No, they've been okay actually, it would be too brash to say that they have been nice, but they haven't been starving me either." Ron was going to answer, but the gravely voice of Moody cut in.

"Glad to hear it Potter, glad to hear it. Now, where's Snape got to?" His magical eye was whizzing around in every direction of the house, including under the floor. He then gave up his search and confronted Harry who quivered- he'd never been able to get over having to watch Moody washing it in a glass of water.

"Do you know where he is?" Harry nodded before explaining that Snape had gone back to the house- this just set Aunt Petunia off again.

"A mental house I'll bet. It isn't safe to have people like YOU around. Get out, Lord only knows who you'll attack if you stay here any longer. Oh heavens! What are the neighbours going to say about this? They'll think this family has gone down hill- and I swear Mrs. Butterby across the road has started rumours going around about him and that blessed scar of his!" She was pointing at Harry of course when she said this.

Evidently getting bored of staying in a Muggle household, Tonks suggested that they left before Petunia fainted and Vernon burst the vein that was bulging dangerously on his temple. This is what they did. Moody set a silencing charm on both Petunia and Vernon and just growled at Dudley (it was all he needed to do to get control over him)- he then cheerfully told the two now silent adults that the effects would wear off in half an hour and motioned that the rest of the party left. As the group stepped out into the open, Moody pulled out a battered tuna can from his pocket- Harry and the rest of the group instantly recognised this as a portkey and all placed a finger on it. Within seconds Harry felt a tug on his nasal areas and the twirling sensation in his stomach told him that they were off. It wasn't long before he landed with a thump on the hallway floor in the house that Snape had mentioned: number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

The rest of the evening seemed to zoom by: Harry was informed by an ecstatic Mrs. Weasley that his luggage had been taken up to his rooms and everything he needed had been unpacked; he spent about a quarter of an hour saying hi to everyone, but he realised that not everyone was there: Lupin was missing. He was told that Lupin was off somewhere recovering from the Full Moon that had occurred last night and that he would be home soon. When he had made sure that everyone (except the portraits) had been acknowledged, he went up to his room to make sure everything was safe and intact- and to check if Hedwig had arrived safely.

As he was checking his things, it wasn't before long that it began to hit Harry where he was. The last time he had been in the house- Sirius had been alive, miserable but alive. For the first time in his life that he could remember, Harry felt the gut wrenching feeling of loss. A small battle ensued between Harry and his feelings- he would not cry, crying is for babies and he'd done his crying weeks ago.

These battles had been a common thing to Harry- for the first few days of the holidays, he would just need five minutes on his own and he would instantly feel Sirius's absence. He would then cry, and the tears would be so hot that they would scald his cheeks as they leaked from his watery eyes. He would mentally beat himself up at being so stupid for falling for one of Voldermort's tricks and then start searching for something to take his mind off it: but it was no use and the cycle would start all over again. Now though, the tears were not as frequent and would only come when he wasn't on his guard.

Something soon distracted him from his memories- the tantalizing smell of Mrs. Weasley's cooking was wafting up the stairs and under the door. Seconds after, Mrs. Weasley arrived at the door and announced that dinner was ready. Taking one last look at his things, Harry left the room and descended the stairs to go to dinner.