Disclaimer: JKR – why did you do it? It's highly impolite to introduce a character in one book (and even title it after him), then kill him off in the next. I sooo wish HP were mine. I'd make a few changes around the place! g
Author's Notes: A huge thanks go to both Nicky15 and Wishweaver, who poked some holes in my paragraphs and reminded me readers cannot psychically absorb that which I do not clarify. ;-) And thanks for the amazing turnaround, too! I am, as always, indebted to you both.
All That's Left Behind
Chapter 4 – Hit the Road, Jack
"What does this button do?" Tonks asked as she pressed it. A distant chime rang inside Number 4, Privet Drive.
"It's a doorbell," Remus supplied as he suppressed a smile.
"It's foolish to push it if you don't know what it is, Nymphadora," Moody scolded. Tonks smirked devilishly, and Remus suspected she had known what it was, but couldn't resist teasing the old Auror.
"Press it again. I don't think they heard you," Alastor instructed after a pause, and rapped sharply against the door himself, in case they didn't hear the chimes.
Remus took a moment to look around him while they waited. He'd seen the Dursleys' house before, of course, but each time he did he was reminded just how plain it was. This was supposed to be Harry's home, and its most notable feature was how very unremarkable it was. On the exterior the house was so completely like its neighbors that, combined with the blood magic's natural Wizarding repellant charms, it was almost invisible to magical folk who weren't known by Harry personally. The first few times new Order members stood watch, they had to be escorted to Number 4.
Remus thought Tonks had summed up the Dursleys nicely once when commenting on what the inside of Number 4 felt like. Sterile. Unlived in. Uncomfortable to live in. He wondered if their home was as immaculate when Harry wasn't around to clean up after them.
The Dursleys reminded him of Mundungus after a drinking binge, when he was trying to pass himself off as sober. The additional effort it took to appear normal was painful for all to see, and only Dung thought he was fooling anyone. According to Arabella, the neighbors certainly weren't impressed by the Dursleys' pretentious behavior.
The Portkey had taken the three of them directly to the front porch, which was partially sheltered from the faint drizzle. Although more a mist than a real downpour, the rain kept everyone indoors, for which Remus was grateful. He would prefer to avoid a scene if possible. The key was to get Harry out quickly. Tonks pressed the button for the third time, and as the chime echoed again, Remus began to hear only faintly muffled voices.
"Boy! Someone's at the door!" Petunia Dursley's voice shrieked as if yelling to the other end of the house.
"He's in the shower," a boy's voice replied, just barely discernable above the din of voices and discordant music. His voice held a whining edge that immediately grated on Remus' nerves. Dudleyhe thought with distaste. Do the Dursleys listen to that noise all day? He wondered. It must be a Muggle television. I wonder what Harry thinks of that?
"Get the boy, then. He must not have heard," Petunia hissed angrily, practically on the other side of the door now. Remus heard the thump of retreating footsteps, exaggeratedly loud, as though Dudley were stomping as he went upstairs.
"Why don't they just answer the door?" he asked Tonks quietly. Her face had gone oddly still, her eyes glinting with anger and her lips pursed. "Tonks?" he prompted. Moody snorted disgustedly.
"They don't bother answering the door anymore when Potter's home. Not since last summer," he explained, his magical eye still directed at the door as his normal eye focused on Remus.
"But Harry hasn't had any visitors, has he? That's what Dumbledore instructed," Remus said, feeling guilty he hadn't taken a more active part as one of the Order's 'Watchers'. He'd only done it a few times, appalled by what little he'd heard of the Dursleys through the Weasley's Extendable Ears, and deeply uncomfortable with Harry's silence. Unless spoken to, Harry didn't say much at all.
"They don't answer the door while he's home, in case they're attacked. Harry's aunt and uncle actually sat him down to tell him they'd rather the Dementors," here Tonks mimicked Petunia Dursley's voice uncomfortably well, "take him and be done than risk anyone else in the family." The hairs rose on the nape of his neck. Surely they didn't understand what that meant?
"They said that to him?" he asked quietly.
"Remus, if that shocks you, then it's a good thing you don't listen in too often. Those Dursleys are a piece of work," Moody stated, shaking his head in disgust.
The sound of light footsteps quickly bounding downstairs kept him from replying. Remus' mouth went dry and his heart began to thump wildly in his chest. What if Harry was angry with him? What if he blamed him for Sirius' death? But that was foolish, wasn't it? Harry had been pleased to see him at the station.
"All tucked away?" Harry's muffled voice mocked clearly. While it held a note of bitterness, oddly there was also a touch of humor, too. An indistinct murmur gave Remus the impression that the Dursleys had indeed hidden somewhere in the house.
The door opened, and Harry opened his eyes wide in surprise.
"Remus," he breathed, and gave a small smile as he glanced at the others. "Is it time to go?" he asked quietly. Remus noted Harry's wand tip peeking out of his sleeve, being discretely held in place by a slightly bent wrist. Good boy.
Remus nodded and forced a broad smile on his face, determined not to show the shock and surprise he felt at his first good look at Harry in nearly two months. He had clearly lost considerable weight, and the rings under his eyes spoke of repeated sleepless nights. Even after just coming from the shower, he was almost sickly pale, but instead of being dull and lackluster, Harry's green eyes were bright and sharp.
"Get your things. We've come to take you," Moody instructed tersely, as Harry opened the door wide and invited them all in.
"I'm already packed," Harry replied, seeming content to dispense with pleasantries as they gathered around him in the hall.
"Who is it?" Petunia Dursley's tremulous voice called from upstairs. Remus noted the television didn't seem as loud, and realized Harry must have turned it down before answering the door.
"They're not from around here, and they asked for me. I'd stay out of sight for a while," Harry called out with a straight face, then turned to Remus again.
"Where to?" he asked.
"Grimmauld Place," Remus responded, hating to say the words. "I'm sorry," he began, but Harry shook his head. For just the briefest moment, Remus could have sworn he saw a flicker of relief on his face. What's that all about?
"Don't be. I'd rather be somewhere where I won't feel bad if it ends up being destroyed," Harry explained with a shrug. Remus cringed at the nonchalance of his statement. "I'll just get my things, shall I?" he asked, and at the sharp nod from Moody, quickly ran upstairs.
"Molly's going to pop a vessel when she sees him looking like that," Tonks murmured quietly when Harry was out of sight. "I'll help him with the trunk," she offered, heading upstairs.
Remus grimaced, knowing she wouldn't be the only one. Like last year, weeks of forced isolation had left its mark on Harry, and this time he suspected the damage went much deeper. No one should have to grieve alone, he thought ironically, considering his own desire for solitude these past weeks. But don't you think Harry could have used someone like Tonks to keep him company? his conscience nagged. Didn't she help you?
"Still want to go through with what we talked about?" Moody called softly just as Tonks was about to disappear around the corner.
"Oh yes," Tonks replied, glancing over her shoulder at Alastor with a predatory smile. "I've been waiting weeks for this," she said, and stepping out of sight. Moody's good eye glanced at Remus, and his lip curled into a vicious grin. When Alastor looked that cheerful, bad things inevitably happened.
"What are you talking about? Charming some of the Dursleys' things?" Remus asked anxiously, "Won't it be detected?" The last thing Harry needed was any more Ministry scrutiny.
"Relax, it won't be. She knows how to stay below the sensors – even ones as sensitive as these," Moody said, gesturing around him. Remus frowned thoughtfully, but didn't reply. He'd often wondered if the magical detectors on Harry's home were especially fine tuned. Evidently, they were.
As they waited, Moody pulled out a small, very old, stuffed bear from his pocket as they waited. Remus thought the Portkey to take Harry back to Grimmauld Place was inappropriately ironic. Talk about lost childhoods. Did Harry ever have toys to call his own?
Taking a few steps to glance in the lounge, Remus noted the family pictures on the mantle: Group portraits, vacation photos, a few favorite introspective shots of Dudley, intended to make him look more thoughtful than he was…
Harry was in none of them.
One picture on the mantle, showcased prominently, was of Dudley dressed in boxing gear. He looked a sight, sopping wet with sweat, his protective head gear compressing his chubby cheeks to the point he bore a striking resemblance to a chipmunk, sporting a shiner and grinning wetly through his mouthpiece. Placed around the picture frame were a few cheap trophies, obviously from local events, and several second and third place ribbons.
Drawings, obviously done by a child's hand, were also framed and clustered in a small collage on the back wall. Remus squinted and could see a neat scrawl with Dudley's name and a date underneath each of the childish drawings, obviously done in Petunia's swirly handwriting.
But there was nothing of Harry.
No photos, report cards, or drawings. If Remus hadn't known Harry lived there, he would have never guessed it. He noted the couch and several chairs and wondered, Where does Harry sit?
Remus crossed the hall to glance in the kitchen. A small table that seated four only had three placemats. Does he participate at all with the Dursleys? What about meals? His unease with what little he'd learned of the Dursleys increased with each passing second as they waited for Harry and Tonks to return.
"Lovely home the savior of the Wizarding world has, isn't it?" Moody observed, his voice steely. He'd been watching Remus take in the signs around him. "Those Dursleys are positively doting."
"What's on your mind, Alastor?" Remus prompted, knowing Moody didn't make leading statements.
"Did you know? About this? About the Dursleys?" Alastor asked directly, nodding his head towards the lounge where all the portraits were. Remus frowned, shaking his head, then tilting it to the side.
"I suspected, I think. But I never realized the full extent of it. Not until just recently," he replied honestly.
"I think Albus did," Moody stated flatly, making the hairs on the back of Remus' neck rise.
"Why do you say that?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
Moody shrugged. "Call it gut instinct. Watch Albus the next time he's around the boy and see if you don't agree," he suggested. They both fell silent when Harry and Tonks returned with his trunk and Hedwig's cage floating behind them.
"I sent her on ahead," Harry explained to Remus' questioning look. That was probably for the best. Even magical animals like owls weren't keen on being Portkeyed about.
"Ready?" Moody asked and held out the stuffed animal for all to touch.
"Boy?" Petunia Dursley called from the top of the stairs. Ah, decided to put in appearance, did you? Dudley peered at them from over his mother's shoulder. Hardly the brave boxer now, are you, boy?
"Yes, Aunt Petunia?" Harry replied with no intonation at all.
"You're of age now. Don't come back next year," she said coldly.
Remus couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd forgotten that in the Muggle world, teenagers came of age at sixteen, not seventeen. Surely she was darker than a werewolf could ever be.
"That's fine," Harry agreed flatly, touching the teddy bear's ear. While it was clear he wanted to present a calm face to his aunt's cruelty, the faint spasm of muscle on his jaw and telltale red splotches on his cheeks gave him away. He felt a lot more than he was revealing.
Infuriated, Remus felt his own face twist into a vicious snarl. Glaring up at Lily's monstrosity of a sister, he was gratified to see her look of raw terror his expression caused her. Good. Since you don't have the decency to be ashamed, at least I can make you afraid. Lily would have loved your boy, had the positions been reversed.
The familiar tug of the navel landed them on the street in front of Grimmauld Place, and Moody quickly herded Harry towards the door. Remus watched Harry's eyes linger for a moment on the twisted silver knocker as he passed inside. No one needed reminding to be quiet. Tonks even paid special attention to avoid knocking into the umbrella stand as Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage floated behind her.
"Where's Kreacher?" Harry asked after Remus took him upstairs to show him to his new room. Tonks placed his trunk at the foot of the bed, and after an uncomfortable glance at the both of them, quickly excused herself.
Stifling a sigh, Remus turned to face Harry. He'd hoped to wait a bit before having this discussion, but knew it was a foolish wish. Of course this would be first and foremost on Harry's mind.
"He's dead," Remus replied, forcing his voice to remain steady. Harry set Hedwig's cage on the corner of his dresser and kneeled beside the trunk. He didn't make any move to open it, though.
"Oh?" he prompted, his hand idly playing with the brass lock.
This feels uncomfortably like a chess match, Remus realized as he pushed on.
"Whether Kreacher liked it or not, Sirius was his master. His actions, however indirect, led to Sirius' death. The dark magic which bound Kreacher as a house elf to the Black family had contingency clauses for betrayal built into the enchantments."
"Did Kreacher know that?" Harry asked.
"Oh yes. Dumbledore is certain he did. It took us a few days to find him, but… Kreacher won't be troubling us anymore," Remus said, his tongue thick in his mouth. He knew Dumbledore thought the house elf should have been pitied, but Remus never would. Harry nodded, clearly satisfied.
"Good," he replied. Remus held his breath. This whole conversation was heavy with dark undertones.
"Good?" Remus repeated questioningly. He kept his tone soft and non-judgmental. This was something he knew instinctively Harry would need to talk about.
"I won't pretend I'm not glad he's dead," Harry said as he sat on the floor cross-legged, leaning against his trunk. Although he didn't raise his voice, it trembled a little. He hadn't even noticed the room yet. Don't tell Molly, Remus thought distractedly
"I wasn't asking you to. I'm satisfied as well," he said, trying to reach the boy with his words. He squatted a few feet away from Harry, keeping him at eye level, even though it pained his knees to do so. It seemed important to not stand over Harry, physically or metaphorically.
Of course, that wasn't the only communication challenge he was facing. It felt like they were talking across a great chasm, and he had no idea how to draw Harry closer to him. He was so carefully controlled… and the more calm Harry seemed, the more nervous Remus became, especially considering his explosive behavior the year before. Perhaps it was a mistake to have him upstairs.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to give Harry a room upstairs. Molly, especially, had tried to get Remus to put Harry near his room on the main floor, as he was the only full time resident. Remus had disagreed, even though the stairwell proved an echo chamber for Mrs. Black's portrait. Being upstairs would place Harry close to the rooms his friends would be staying in when they finally arrived, and he'd thought Harry would rather have them nearby than himself.
"Goodness. Mrs. Weasley outdid herself," Harry commented as he finally took a good look around. His glasses magnified his widened eyes, making him appear owlish. Remus abruptly wondered how bad Harry's eyesight really was.
"Tonks, too, although it was mostly Molly," he clarified, honestly impressed at the pains they'd taken to brighten up Harry's room. It was almost an exact replica of the Gryffindor dorms, only with one bed instead of many.
Everyone had worked long hours trying to make Grimmauld Place feel more comfortable, but Molly especially labored tirelessly to make it feel more like a home. No one held any illusions about it being a temporary base, especially for Harry.
They'd tried to get Remus to let them fix up his room as well, but he hadn't felt it worth the trouble. Now, seeing their finished product, he reconsidered. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to let them have a go at it, he mused. After all, this was not just Harry's new home.
"Was Tonks in Gryffindor, too, then?" Harry asked, unsurprised.
"Oh, most definitely. Tonks idolized Sirius as a little girl," Remus said before he could stop himself. He couldn't seem to go ten minutes without mentioning Sirius. Stop that! he crossly reprimanded himself
Fortunately, Harry didn't seem to notice. He just sat on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest, looking around and taking in all the details of his new room. Watching, Remus swallowed a lump in his throat. Harry looked so small and vulnerable in those oversized clothes when he sat like that. On one hand, he wanted to reach out to the boy, but on the other hand, he didn't know if it was the right thing to do. Instead, he settled for folding his hands in his lap.
"Thank you for the gifts," Harry said with a soft smile after an uncomfortable silence, changing the subject.
"You're welcome. Have you been studying?" Remus asked, although he already knew the answer. Harry's grin, while spontaneous, was also a partial grimace.
"Yes. I've been studying quite a bit, lately," he admitted softly, his eyes sharp as he seemed to weigh what to say next. Remus nodded encouragingly.
"Is the rest of the house safe?" Harry asked. Remus grimaced.
"That depends on your definition of 'safe'. Most of it is habitable. Some of the rooms are even comfortable. There certainly won't be any more boggarts hanging about," Remus promised, remembering the one that got to Molly last summer.
That awful episode had spurred Sirius and Remus to scour the rest of the house from top to bottom. If Molly had been alone, she might have been driven mad. Harry's face reflected that he was thinking along the same lines.
"Same goes for the doxies, but just to warn you, Tonks has a soft spot for puffskeins," Remus continued, trying to steer the conversation to less troubled waters. "If you step on something soft and fluffy, don't panic," he advised with a shake of the head. Thank Merlin the place no longer reeked of Doxycide. His nose was particularly sensitive to it, and he'd sneezed for days after the last bout of spraying.
"I'd like to look through the books in the library," Harry asked hesitantly. Ah, thank Merlin. A topic I'm comfortable with.
"Of course," Remus replied with relief.
"That was suspiciously easy," Harry said with a frown. His eyes, though, weren't solemn. He's teasing me, Remus realized. Up one minute, down the next. The conversation was exhausting.
"Yes, well, that might be because the Order's already sorted through and separated out the Dark Magic books," he explained. Harry glanced at Remus but didn't say anything. What are you thinking?
"Are there any books left?" Harry wondered. Remus did laugh at that.
"About three is all, and even those were iffy," he replied jokingly and slowly stood. He could practically hear his joints creak as he did so. He reached out his hand to Harry.
"Come on. You can unpack later. Let's get some food in you. Molly's going to have kneazles when she sees how skinny you are," Remus said. Harry grimaced but accepted the hand, allowing Remus to pull him to his feet.
"Is she here?" Harry asked.
"She will be in a few hours," Remus said, choosing not to mention that she'd be late because of Ron.
The youngest male Weasley was still being slathered three times a day with Dr. Ubbly's Oblivious Unction, and according to Arthur, it was a battle to keep him still. Evidently, the salve didn't just affect the surface tissue. To nullify some of the deeper damage done by the brains at the Department of Mysteries, it occasionally manifested psychotropic characteristics.
"Thanks for coming to get me," Harry said softly as they headed downstairs. Remus felt his heart break.
"I just wish we could have gotten you sooner, Harry," he replied honestly. Harry shrugged, speeding up his pace when he spotted Tonks.
She was leaning against the kitchen door frame, watching them both come downstairs. Sighing, Remus found himself hoping she'd find a way to connect with Harry. He was beginning to think maybe too much time had already passed, and that his window of opportunity for reaching out to the boy was irretrievably closed. Perhaps, if he couldn't fill up the space left by Sirius, she could.
tbc…