Chapter 4 - Of Things Unexpected
Harry woke with a start early Sunday morning. He had been dreaming that the Dursleys had locked him under the stairs to prevent him from leaving. He had been screaming and pounding on the door when Remus had arrived, but to no avail: Harry could not be heard and Remus had left. He had then heard his aunt say, "Now, all we have to do is wait for Tom Riddle to come get him."
It was at this point that Harry had jerked himself awake. Shaking his head, Harry took in his surroundings. Recognizing the blurry furniture, he ascertained that he was in his bedroom, not under the stairs, and, thankfully, not with Tom Riddle.
Harry swung his feet to the floor and grabbed his glasses from his nightstand and put them on. He glanced at the clock and read that is was 7:23 a.m. Less than five hours. Harry's stomach flipped as he realized his time at Privet Drive was nearing an end. Excitement pulsed through him. Harry knew there was no point in trying to get any more sleep. He pulled on his bathrobe and headed down to the kitchen.
Aunt Petunia sat alone at the kitchen table, still wearing her flowered housecoat over her nightgown. She sat with both hands wrapped around her mug of coffee, staring vacantly across the room.
"Morning," Harry said, walking to the cupboard and grabbing a glass.
Aunt Petunia jumped, startled by the sound of Harry's voice.
"Morning," she returned, her mind still seemingly far away.
Harry raised an eyebrow at his aunt as he poured some orange juice into his glass. He placed the pitcher back in the refrigerator and walked over to sit at the table. He took a sip of his orange juice, eyeing his aunt; he noticed the dark circles under her eyes and wondered if she had slept at all.
"Are you all right, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked.
Aunt Petunia seemed to be startled to find Harry sitting next to her. She darted her eyes at Harry, then stared into her coffee cup. "Of course. I'm fine," she replied.
Harry thought she looked far from fine, but remained silent. Harry took a sip from his juice and glanced out the window. The clouds all seemed to have disappeared. The pinks and purples of the sunrise were nearly gone as a bright blue sky spread itself warmly.
"Have you got everything packed?" Aunt Petunia asked.
Harry broke his gaze from the window and looked at this aunt. "Nearly. There are just a few last minute things to pack up."
Aunt Petunia nodded. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had never had a normal conversation with his aunt before. Harry decided to take advantage of this opportunity.
"Aunt Petunia, I was wondering…" Harry began, waiting to see her reaction. There was none, so he continued. "I was wondering how Uncle Vernon knew that my godfather had died."
Aunt Petunia continued to stare into her cup. For a moment, Harry wondered if she had even heard him. But then, she spoke.
"I told him." She took a sip of her coffee and continued, "That – man – Dumbledore had written me before you came back. He said there had been … an incident. He said that you and your friends were lucky to have survived, but that your godfather was not so lucky."
"He wrote you about that?" Harry asked surprised.
"Yes," Aunt Petunia said, looking like she had just tasted something sour. "He was quite concerned about you. He always has been."
Harry shifted in his seat, surprised by this information. Harry remembered the howler Dumbledore sent Aunt Petunia last summer and wondered how many letters Dumbledore had written to Aunt Petunia over the years.
"W-was…was it him?" Aunt Petunia asked quietly.
"Pardon?" Harry asked, completely lost by his aunt's question.
"The incident…was it Voldemort?"
Harry was shocked. Not only had his aunt used the name that most wizards feared to speak, but she was also asking Harry about something in his life, about the world she pretended didn't exist.
Harry cleared his throat. "Yeah, it was Voldemort and his followers."
Harry saw Aunt Petunia shiver in her chair. Her hand trembled as she clutched her robe tighter around her neck. For the second time in his life, Harry saw his aunt as his mother's sister.
"Then no one is safe," Aunt Petunia whispered.
Harry nodded, staring at his aunt. He marveled at this side of his aunt that he had never known.
Uncle Vernon came into the kitchen, changing the atmosphere instantly. Aunt Petunia shot out of her chair, smoothed her housecoat, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Coffee, Vernon?" she queried, hurrying over to the coffee pot.
"Mm," Uncle Vernon said as he lowered his bulk onto his chair, glaring at Harry.
Harry, not wanting to become a target for his uncle, rose from the table and deposited his glass in the sink. He walked out of the kitchen and sighed, relieved that he had escaped so easily. He went up to his bedroom and sat on his bed.
Harry dwelled on Aunt Petunia's words. Then no one is safe. Harry felt a chill down his spine as he acknowledged the truth in her words. It was odd, indeed, to have Aunt Petunia be right about something in the magical world that so many wizards and witches had been denying. Of course, it wasn't just wizards and witches that would feel the wrath of Voldemort, but Muggles as well. Harry knew that. As Aunt Petunia had said, no one was safe from Voldemort.
Harry shook his head, not wanting to think any more on the subject. He busied himself with getting ready. He took a shower, made his bed, and gathered the rest of his belongings and piled them in his trunk. He cleaned Hedwig's cage and squeezed it in his trunk, wondering if she had already arrived at Grimmauld Place after delivering the letters to Ron and Hermione. After looking under his bed for the fifth time to make sure he had everything, he closed his trunk and looked around the room. The bright white walls, the narrow bed, the writing desk…none of it had been his. He would not miss it.
Harry glanced at the clock—11:30. He had done well in keeping himself busy to make the morning speed by. With one last glance around the room, Harry picked up one end of his trunk, dragged it out into the hallway, and down the stairs. He set it down in the front hall, and walked into the living room.
Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were all sitting, rather rigidly, and dressed in their Sunday best. Uncle Vernon sat in his chair, his moustache bristling, as he cast his eyes upon Harry. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were sitting on the sofa. Aunt Petunia looked rather pale as she twisted the fringe of her apron between her fingers in her lap. Dudley sat on the far end of the sofa, looking as though he was trying to hide behind his mother, an impossible feat. His necktie was tied so tightly, Harry thought it might synch his head right off.
Harry sat down in the empty armchair, opposite Uncle Vernon, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
No one made a sound. Harry looked from one Dursley to the next, expecting some kind of confrontation, but he was only met with stares. He thought they looked absolutely terrified. He decided to break the silence.
"I'm all set. Remus should be here soon."
If anything, Harry's comment caused them to look even more scared. He then remembered his comment last night, and realized they were probably expecting a full-fledged werewolf to come to the door. Harry smiled to himself and decided not to say anything more.
They sat for several minutes in silence. Harry listened to the birds outside, singing happily in the sunshine. Harry let his mind wander, casually glancing at his relatives every now and then. Uncle Vernon's face became increasingly purple, and the sound of his teeth grinding was soon added to the birds' singing. Aunt Petunia, on the other hand, was becoming paler by the second. Her skin looked shockingly white next to the dark brown blouse she was wearing. Dudley, for his part, looked green.
The doorbell rang, causing the Dursleys to gasp. Harry stood and walked to the door. When he opened it, he was surprised to see two people peering in at him. The first, of course, was Remus. He was dressed in one of his shabby suits: seams fraying, buttons missing. Standing beside Remus, was Mr. Weasley, Ron's father, dressed in a suit that was in no better shape than Remus's.
"Afternoon, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, shaking Harry's hand energetically.
"Hi," Harry said, standing aside to allow the two men to enter.
"Are you ready to go?" Remus asked, smiling at Harry.
"Yes," Harry said grinning.
Uncle Vernon cleared his throat as he stepped into the entrance.
"Ah, Mr. Dursley," said Remus, stepping forward and extending his hand, "I'm Remus Lupin, Harry's godfather."
Uncle Vernon's eyes flicked up and down Remus, taking in his run-down clothes. His gaze then moved to Harry, glaring.
Remus dropped his hand and turned to Harry. "You did tell them I was coming, didn't you?"
Harry shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Yes."
"Hmph," Uncle Vernon growled.
"Is there a problem?" Remus asked politely.
By this time, Aunt Petunia and Dudley had appeared behind Uncle Vernon.
"Not at all," sneered Uncle Vernon. "The boy has obviously tried to intimidate us with his lies."
Harry glared at his uncle with loathing.
"Harry?" Remus asked, raising his eyebrows.
Harry looked at Remus apologetically and said under his breath, "I told them you are a werewolf."
Understanding flickered across Remus's face. He clasped his hands together and nodded. "Yes, quite true. But no need to worry; the full moon is a ways off yet."
Dudley squeaked and bolted up the stairs. Aunt Petunia's hands flew to her mouth in horror. Uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.
"What are you playing at?" Uncle Vernon growled, clenching his fists by his side.
"Playing? Not at all," Remus replied smiling. "Arthur? Harry? Shall we be on our way?"
Harry nodded vigorously, grinning from ear to ear. Mr. Weasley, who had remained silent since greeting Harry, agreed. "Yes, let's go. Harry, do you have your wand on you?"
Harry sensed his aunt and uncle stiffen. "Of course," Harry said, as he always carried it with him.
"Good. Make sure it's handy." Mr. Weasley said, glancing toward the door. This made Harry feel somewhat uneasy. He had not taken the time to think of the precautions that had likely been necessary in making the arrangements for him to travel in broad daylight.
"Time to say good-bye, Harry," Remus said, nodding to the Dursleys.
"Right," Harry said, looking at his aunt and uncle. He knew there would be no heart-felt goodbye, not that he wanted one. "'Bye, then," Harry said nodding at his aunt and uncle.
Uncle Vernon folded his arms and glared at Harry. Aunt Petunia still looked affright, and seemed incapable of movement or speech.
Harry turned to Remus and Mr. Weasley, gave them a half shrug and picked up one end of his trunk. Both Remus and Mr. Weasley looked at the Dursleys with disgust. Remus walked over to the other side of the trunk and lifted it. He glanced at the Dursleys once more to give them another chance to say something to Harry; they made no such attempt.
Mr. Weasley nodded to Remus and Harry, putting his hand in his suit jacket pocket. Harry knew Mr. Weasley was wrapping his fingers around his wand. Harry glanced to Remus, and noticed his hand in his pocket as well. Harry shifted the trunk into his left hand, so his right hand would be free should he need to grab his wand from his back pocket.
Mr. Weasley opened the door and peered out. He stopped, as though waiting for a sign Harry could not see, then stepped outside.
Harry glanced at this aunt and uncle as he and Remus followed Mr. Weasley through the door. Harry pulled the door shut with his free hand and followed Remus down the garden path with the trunk between them. They paused at the sidewalk, allowing Harry to look back at the house. He could not decipher his feelings.
"You all right, Harry?" Remus asked.
"Yeah," Harry said turning away from the house. "This is just really weird."
Remus nodded. "I imagine it is."
They continued walking down the sidewalk. Mr. Weasley walked ahead of them briskly, glancing up and down the street continuously. As they reached the corner, Harry noticed a tall, thin woman with graying hair pulled tight into a bun. She was wearing a frilly blouse and skirt that would make Aunt Petunia proud. She seemed to be waiting for them. As they approached, the woman winked at Harry and said, "Wotcher, Harry!"
A smile spread across Harry's face as he realized who the woman was. "Hi, Tonks," Harry said. Tonks, a member of the Order, was a Metamorphmagus, which meant she could change her appearance at will.
The group of four continued down another street, and then turned into an alleyway. Mr. Weasley, Tonks, and Remus looked in all directions, and then nodded to each other. Tonks threw her arm up in the air and with a BANG, a bright purple triple-decker bus burst into view in front of them and screeched to a halt.
"Welcome to the…" began a young, thin man that Harry knew to be Stan Shunpike, conductor of the Knight Bus.
"Out of the way," growled a voice on the bus from behind Stan. Limping into view was Mad-Eye Moody.
"So far, so good, Moody," Mr. Weasley commented, indicating for Harry to get on the bus. Harry nodded, set down his end of the trunk, and stepped into the bus.
"Over there, Potter," Moody replied, indicating a group of chairs near the back of the bus. Harry stepped over several overturned chairs and sat down. Harry looked around, noticing that there appeared to be no one else on the bus.
Moody seemed to have read his mind, "Had to tip 'em a few Galleons to give us a little privacy." Harry nodded, feeling nauseated as always by Moody's magical, spinning eye.
Harry waited for the others to join them, feeling Moody's magical eye staring at him even though Moody was facing the front of the bus.
Remus spoke quietly to Stan at the front of the bus, and then came and sat beside Harry. "They've agreed to take us straight to Grimmauld Place, no stops. All I had to do was threaten Stan with an eye to match Moody's," Remus said, winking at Harry.
Harry laughed. Tonks and Mr. Weasley positioned themselves on the two upper levels of the bus, while Moody sat at the front. BANG. The bus jerked from the alleyway, causing an entire row of fences to jump out of the way. Harry clung to his seat as the bus jumped from one roadway to the next. After being thrown from his chair twice, Harry wondered why he should bother getting up off the floor at all.
BANG. The bus came to a stop and Harry rolled several feet toward the front of the bus. He pushed himself to his hands and knees and took a deep breath, thankful he had taken Remus's advice and not eaten anything for breakfast.
Harry felt a hand at his elbow to help him to his feet. "Here we are, Harry. We'll have to walk a few blocks," Remus said, ducking down to look out the bus windows.
Remus turned to face Harry. "Tonks and Mad-Eye will go ahead to make sure the way is clear."
Harry nodded as Tonks walked past him, looking obviously shaken. "I say we fly next time, eh Harry?" Tonks said, rubbing her elbow.
Harry grinned. Flying was definitely a better way to travel than the Knight Bus.
Tonks and Moody made their way out of the bus and down the sidewalk. Mr. Weasley followed them out of the bus, and stood just outside the door with Stan.
Harry glanced around nervously, wondering how they would know when it was safe to go. He would never know, for Mr. Weasley had just popped his head into the bus and said, "It's time."
Remus and Harry stepped off the bus and picked Harry's trunk up off the pavement. They followed Mr. Weasley down several streets. Finally, Harry began to recognize the grimy fronts of the houses lining the street. They stopped in front of two houses; to the left was number eleven and to the right, number thirteen.
Harry took a breath, then thought to himself: Number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Instantly, a battered door squeezed itself out between the two houses, followed by a stretch of grimy walls and windows.
Harry followed Mr. Weasley up the stone steps and paused as Mr. Weasley glanced around and then tapped his wand on the door. The sounds of locks turning and chains clinking met Harry's ears. His stomach was beginning to knot. He was back at the Black household, but everything had changed. He realized he had not prepared himself for this at all. Harry had been so eager to leave the Dursleys that he had not allowed himself to think about this place. But now here he was facing the battered black door with the silver serpent doorknocker. Harry's breathing became quick and strained. The door opened and Harry felt himself being ushered into the dark, cold hall of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.