A/N: Welcome back everyone. Last chapter, as I updated it on both sites, as this is cross-posted to both and Archive of Our Own, I've realized that the sites claim there is, somehow, a nine word difference between the two versions. I have no clue how this happened, but it is an interesting fact. I moved into college yesterday, so let's hope I can keep up with my posting schedule. Hopefully, it won't be affected overly much. In any case, ladies/gentlemen/all others, please enjoy, chapter 2.

Chapter 2 - Quite the Get-Away

Harry's return to consciousness was abrupt. His nose was invaded by a very familiar smell, and his eyes flickered open. The sight he saw matched what he thought he smelled, and Harry sighed as he realized he was in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Quickly taking stock, Harry reached out to the table he knew would be holding his glasses, donning them quickly. Pushing up on his arms, Harry noticed someone was seated in the chair next to his bed. Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat next to him, gently smiling over his steepled fingers.

"Well, Harry, this is not how I expected to meet with you this evening." His eyes sparkled with gently concealed mirth.

"I do suppose you are wondering what occurred to have you here, in the tender mercies of Madam Pomphery." Harry nodded slowly.

"It started with my arrival at the house of your aunt and uncle, slightly earlier than I had expected to arrive…"


Dumbledore knocked genially at the door of Number 4, Privet Drive, dressed in a neat, magenta, three-piece suit, complete with top hat and cane. Petunia Dursley opened the door slowly, then practically slammed it shut. Dumbledore's cane quickly wedged itself in between the door and the frame, levering it open again.

"Petunia, my dear, it has been quite a while." Dumbledore's small smile never flickered as Petunia glared at him.

"I'm quite sure your nephew has told you that I would be coming for him today. I am slightly early, so I must apologize for interrupting what must surely be a tearful goodbye, but-"

"He's not here," Petunia snapped out.

"I beg your pardon."

"He's out right now. Not here." Dumbledore's expression shifted to one of slight surprise.

"Well then, I suppose I must-" He stopped, turning slightly. Turning back to her, he said "I am afraid I must go, Mrs. Dursley. I am sorry for disrupting your evening earlier than planned." Dumbledore began hastily moving off down the street, following a strange cold sensation, that was horribly familiar. He felt a burst of powerful magic wash across the street, quickening to a run. Sprinting, following the waves of magic, he stopped at the end of the street, watching as a glowing stag cantered directly to the young man he was searching for. Trying to catch his breath, he watched in horror as a fist connected directly with the temple of Harry Potter, sending him to the pavement. The glowing stag turned and attempted to charge the large boy who assaulted his summoner, fading from view just as it would've hit him. Dumbledore's cane rippled, the glamor falling from it to reveal his wand, which whipped up to point at Dudley Dursley. A stunner flew, knocking the young thug out before he could continue to assault his now unconscious cousin. Dumbledore flicked out his wand again, an ethereal phoenix flying out, into the night. The aged headmaster, still trying to calm his breathing, approached the two boys laying on the ground. Flicking his wand at the two, they floated up into the air, as if carried by invisible stretchers. Casting another spell rapidly, the two disappeared from view, and Dumbledore began his trek back to Number 4, Privet Drive.


"...Unfortunately, your aunt and uncle were quite upset with the fact that I had stunned their son in order to keep him from grievously injuring you. So, I deposited your cousin with your aunt and uncle, and I brought you here, to enjoy the tender mercies of Madam Pomphrey." Dumbledore's genial smile didn't change in the slightest throughout his tale, and Harry reached up to massage his temples.

"Well, sir, this was not quite the way I expected the night to go."

"Fortunately, I was quickly able to prevent the Ministry from expelling you from Hogwarts, even though they seem to think your wand should be snapped. Something about breaking the Statute of Secrecy, or something similar…" Harry paused in his temple massaging, slowly turning to look at the still smiling Headmaster.

"Sir?"

"Why, yes Harry?"

"Were you planning on telling me that the Ministry was planning on snapping my wand and expelling me from Hogwarts before or after they attempted to do so?"

"Unfortunately, I'm telling you afterwards, as they already came and confiscated your wand." At that, Dumbledore's smile did disappear. "My quick talking was the only thing keeping them from snapping it in twain as you laid here in this bed. They are most likely scheduling your trial as we speak."

Conveniently, an owl, bearing an envelope embossed with the Ministry's coat of arms, flew through the window of the hospital wing as he said that. The owl allowed Dumbledore to pull the notice from his leg, then immediately vacated the area. The aged headmaster took a moment to read the letter, peering at it over his half-moon glasses, nodding at times, then closing it.

"They're giving us three days. Then we shall have to be at the Ministry, 10 o'clock, in Courtroom 10, in order to prevent them from formally filing your expulsion." Dumbledore sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair, looking like he felt most of his 109 years. Harry leaned forward in his bed.

"Sir," he started. "I'm not quite sure how to phrase this, but, should I be here until then? You said Hogwarts had quite clear rules on students being here during the summer." Dumbledore shifted slightly, some of his mirthful look returning.

"Why, Harry, while I'm sure we could bend the rules for a few days, in light of the extreme circumstances, I know a place you may be much more excited to spend the time until we must go to the Ministry. In fact, you might even find yourself wanting to spend the rest of the summer there."


The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London.

The note was written in the Headmaster's familiar looping script, and Harry looked up at him after reading it. The sidewalk they were standing on was surrounded by old houses, gloomy and decaying. The area was, quite frankly, a dump, in Harry's opinion, but the Headmaster had insisted they were in the right location. Dumbledore, noticing Harry's confused and slightly concerned look, simply gestured behind Harry, to the houses they were standing in front of. Harry turned, and gaped. Between the two houses he had seen on their arrival, slowly grew another house. Seeming to sprout, slowly pushing the first two houses apart, it turned into another faded townhouse, one that had seen much better days, based off of the faded opulence that it held above the other houses on the street.

"Come, Harry. They're waiting." With that, Dumbledore began striding towards the front doorway.

"Who's waiting? Sir?" Not receiving a response, Harry hurried to catch the older man, reaching him as he reached the door. Dumbledore reached up to grab the knocker on the door, slamming it down three times, then waiting.

The door opened slowly, revealing a red haired woman, just slightly shorter than Harry, covered in an apron with flour lightly covering it in some places. She looked between the two of them for a second, before scooping Harry into a crushing hug.

"Harry, my dear, it is so good to see you! When the Professor sent us a message about how you were going to be delayed, and then how the blasted Ministry was insisting on charging you for self defense, oh, we were so worried dear." Mrs. Weasley crushed Harry tightly to her, and he breathed in the familiar scents of cooking food and cleaning spells.

"I'm alright, Mrs. Weasley. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh but you must be hungry. Look at you, all skin and bones, I say. Come in, come in!" Harry and Dumbledore followed the Weasley matriarch into the rather gloomy entry hall of the house. Another voice rang out from the staircase at the end of the hall.

"Mrs. Weasley, is everything alright? I heard-" A familiar form came walking down the stairs, stopping suddenly on the last step. Before Harry could process much more, a human missile began rocketing towards them, slamming into Harry with enough force to stagger him. Hermione Granger wrapped him in a hug, before she began talking almost faster than Harry could understand.

"Oh Harry, it's so good to see you. The Professor sent us a message just a few hours ago about what that horrible cousin of yours did, and what the Ministry is doing, and I'm just so mad, and I'll help you research everything for your defense, I mean, it should be a clear case of self defense, after all it's not like you can use the Patronus spell for anything other than defending against Dementors and Lethifolds, oh but Professor Dumbledore did use it to send us the message I mentioned earlier, but other than that there are no other recorded uses, and-" Harry gently peeled himself from Hermione's clinging grasp, grinning widely at the girl as she drew herself off in a tangent about practical uses of Patroni.

"Harry?" In a doorway down the hall, a silhouette emerged. Harry looked to the figure as it entered the hall, before sprinting past Hermione as she began discussing the spell formula for the Patronus spell, practically throwing himself at the new person.

"Sirius!"