A/N: this chapter is a little slow and sentimental: a comic bridge, if you like. Bear with me for now, it should pick up next chapter.

Lost: Small Boy, Answers to Harry

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Where was Sirius?

Harry sat on the chair with his knees drawn up to his chin and waited, but he could not stand the waiting much longer. Four-year-old boys do not know how to keep themselves entertained, and Harry's boredom was slowly overcoming his fear and obedience.

Without the jacket Sirius has draped over his shoulders, which had smelled of his father, cold was creeping up his limbs. Hunger, too, began to weigh down on him, though he quenched his thirst from the sink in the corner of the room. He could not remember when he had eaten last – before going to bed, before the man with the red eyes had come and hurt his mother. Sirius, who lived a life where fasting was a common practise (since there were much greater dangers in his lift than a little hunger) must have forgotten that children need to eat quite often.

Where was Sirius? Where was Andromeda, who was supposed to take him to Moony? Hours had passed, now, and no adults had come to claim him. A woman had come in with a baby, but he had carefully recited the excuse about waiting for his mother and she had gone away before long.

Harry began to reason out his options. Clearly, the person Andromeda had been delayed. Perhaps she was dead, like Mum and Dad. Harry tried not to think about Mum and Dad, because he knew that he would cry again, and he wanted to be brave. Mum had been brave, when the man had come into the house, she had not cried – she had just shouted, and then…no, he would not think about Mum.

Sirius had told him to stay in the room until Andromeda came: but she must be dead, so Harry would have to find Moony by himself. Perhaps, Harry thought, he might even have to find Dumbledore, although he would rather not, because he was afraid Dumbledore would still be angry about the throwing-up incident.

Besides, Sirius had not made him promise to stay in the room, so he was not really breaking any rules. With this assurance, Harry got off the chair, opened the door, and looked out into the corridor, as Sirius had done before he went away.

It was empty, and dark. Even the large room full of linen at the end of the corridor was dark. Harry quivered at the thought of walking through that darkness without anyone beside him. But after a few moments he pushed his glasses up his nose and stepped into the corridor.

He walked through the room full of linen, ready to run if he heard the sounds of a waiting ambush, but everything was still and silent. He could see the stair well in the distance, down which light seeped, warm and inviting, and he made a beeline for it. It seemed a great number of stairs for his small legs, but at the top he found himself in the mass of perfume displays and make-up counters which, from his level, looked like an unnegotiable labyrinth. But at least the muggle lights were on up here.

Not for long, however. As Harry debated the best direction to take, the fluorescent tubes at the far end of the room flickered and went out. Then the next farthest ones. Then the next. The darkness was getting closer and closer, and Harry, thinking of the impenetrable blackness he would have to face when all the lights were gone, forgot his restraint and began to yell his lungs out.

"HELP! HELP! I'M STILL HERE! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!"

At once the darkness paused, and then all the lights came back on. Harry paused in his yelling and took a deep breath.

"Who was that?" a voice floated over the displays, "who's in here?"

And after a moment, an elderly lady with her steely hair tied back from her round face emerged from behind the rows and her eyes fell on Harry. She stared for a moment, then said, "goodness! What are you doing here? Have you lost your mummy?"

"Yes," sobbed Harry, rushing in a stumbling run towards the friendly face, "yes, she's gone, and the Andromeda person, and Sirius too, they're all gone and I'm afraid the man with the red eyes will come back and I'm afraid of the dark and I'm afraid of Dumbledore just a little bit, and I wanted to find Moony but I don't know where to begin…oh, please, are you a muggle?"

"Well, maybe. I'm not sure I know that word," said the old woman. She offered Harry a handkerchief and he took it, "I was just about to turn out the lights, so I suppose you've been here quite a while."

"Hours and hours," Harry said, quickly wiping away his tears, embarrassed and relieved all at once.

"Well, it's no good calling her on the intercom, then. She must be worried sick about you by now. Do you know where your house is?"

"Not in London," he replied, "it's in the countryside. Sirius brought me here because he had to burn the house down. We had to escape through the chimney."

"Goodness," frowned the woman, "well, in that case, you'd better come home with me and I'll call the police and tell them you've been found. Are you hungry?"

"Very much. Sirius doesn't always eat because he fights people all the time, so he didn't have any food. And I'm cold, too. Sirius put my jacket on the pillow so that it would look like me."

"You don't say! Well, we'll tuck you up in bed and when you wake up everything will be sorted out," the muggle woman promised. She held out her hand and Harry slipped his small palm into hers.

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"Oh, hello Shirley…Oh! What on earth is that?"

The old muggle woman stepped aside to nudge Harry into the door of the small flat. He looked around in wonder. He had never seen such a small, cluttered house, except perhaps the one time he had gone to stay with Sirius for the weekend. A second elderly woman, very tall and angular, was standing at a tiny kitchen sink folding pastries.

"His name is Harry, and I found him at the store when I was closing up," said Shirley. She bent down to talk to the small boy standing politely on her threshold, "now, Harry, this is my sister Belinda. Don't mind her manners, she hasn't got any."

Belinda puckered her mouth, "well? What are you going to do with him? Bell will be here in a few minutes, and how are we supposed to play cards with a pet getting under our feet?"

"He's not a pet, he's a little boy," Shirley scolded, "and I'm going to call the police and ask them if there are any children missing in the area."

She sat Harry down at a couch and gave him a blanket and a mug of tea, which was too watery and sweet. Three decrepit cats of various mouldy colours crept up onto the couch and sat themselves on Harry.

Shirley got off the phone before long and shook her head, "they say no children have been reported missing today – not of his description, at any rate. I suppose he'll have to stay the night and I'll take him back to the store tomorrow."

"You suppose! Where is he supposed to sleep? What is he supposed to eat? I certainly won't be cooking for him!" Belinda objected.

Shirley looked ready to reply hotly, but at that moment the doorbell rang, and Shirley rushed to answer it before the argument could continue.

"Bell! Darling!" she cried, ushering in a grizzled old woman whose wiry hair was beginning to escape from its hairnet. The new woman embraced her two friends and the three of them settled around the coffee table.

"And who is this?" squawked Bell with a smile when her eyes alighted on Harry.

"I found him at the store," Shirley said proudly, pouring out three cups of tea while Belinda went to rescue the pasties from the oven, "shall we keep him?" the two ladies laughed uproariously as if this was the funniest joke in the world. Harry hid behind the tea cup and absently patted one of the cats.

"Harry, don't be shy," Shirley patted his shoulder with one plump, wrinkled hand, "this is our friend Arabella Figg. She's tells the silliest stories!"

"Hello," said Harry quietly.

"Hello to you too, young man," Bell smiled at him and then turned back to Shirley, questioning her eagerly about the latest issue of Knit Weekly.

The conversation went on, and Harry seemed to be forgotten. He wolfed down the pasties which Belinda brought in from the kitchen and dangled the tea-bag in front of the cats' noses to see if they wanted to play mouse. Apparently, they didn't. He began to wonder if these muggles could help him at all.

"…yes, there was some terrible commotion down on the street while you were at work," Belinda was saying to Shirley, "a man fell over and had a seizure or something. But his two friends picked him up and took him away. He must have been expecting it because he was carrying a pillow. To cushion the fall, I expect."

The word 'pillow' met Harry's ears and his head jerked upwards, "carrying a pillow? What did he look like?"

Belinda frowned at this interruption, "oh, I don't remember. Dark-haired, I think – yes, he had an ugly pony-tail. And his mates were wearing the most awful, out-of-date clothes! The loonies they let wander the street these days, I don't know what this country's coming to."

But Shirley hushed her sister aside. She was looking at Harry's ashen face, "whatever's the matter, sweetie?"

Harry had dropped his empty tea-cup onto the carpet, "that was Sirius! They took him away, the d-death eaters took him away! He couldn't get a message to Andromeda – and now I'll have to find Moony and Dumbledore all by myself…But he said he'd come back…he said he would…"

"Oh, dear, now, look, it's alright…" Shirley began, bemused. But she was cut off by the crash of a second tea-cup. Everyone looked at the third woman, Bell.

"W-what did you say your name was, young man?" she asked faintly.

"Harry," the boy told her, "Harry Potter."

Arabella Figg blinked, "as in James Potter? Lily and James are your parents? I didn't have any idea that they have children!"

"Yes. Just me," said Harry. He didn't not want to tell Bell not to talk about his parents in the present tense.

Arabella Figg put her hand to her mouth, "you said – Andromeda? You're looking for someone named Andromeda?"

Harry nodded, "she is Sirius' cousin. I have to ask her a question to make sure."

Arabella Figg got to her feet and drew herself up to her full height, "Shirley, Belinda, it is our duty to help this boy on his way, as quickly as possible. We must depart at once."

"Where are we going?" Belinda asked, sounding alarmed and putting her tea on the table hastily.

"To the Tonks' house at number 107," said Arabella Figg, "come along, young man."

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TBC