Ron found himself feeling a strange mix of worry and relief. It was disconcerting, and made him feel on edge. He and Hermione had just been asked about Harry by Professor McGonagall.
No sooner had they entered the great hall to begin the start of term feast, when the twins had rushed up to them, grim looks on both their faces.
"He's not here," Fred muttered, so quietly that those surrounding Ron and Hermione couldn't catch what he'd said.
Usually, Ron would have spent time questioning his brothers, attempting to find out how they could possibly know such a thing. Today however, Ron did not need to ask Fred if he was certain; his face said it all. Besides, if Harry was here, then why hadn't anyone seen him on the train? And why wasn't he sat here with the rest of them?
Ron was now certain that Harry wasn't anywhere near Hogwarts, but that raised the question of why. He was pretty sure that his best friend would never willingly not come to school. This meant that something, or someone, was preventing him from coming. This probably also meant that the same something or someone was responsible for Harry's lack of contact over the summer.
From this thought stemmed Ron's conflicting emotions. On the one hand, at least Harry hadn't just decided to stop talking to him. Relief. On the other hand, Harry was in a situation where he couldn't write to anyone. Worry. Ron found himself feeling very relieved that McGonagall now knew that Harry needed rescuing and was going to look for him. He'd noticed however that she'd looked very concerned, and the idea of Harry needing rescuing seemed much scarier now than it had earlier that summer. All of these thoughts and emotions caused Ron to feel sick, and he could only pray that everything would go as smoothly as possible, and that his best friend would be back with them within a few hours.
Ignoring his food completely, as had become his habit over the summer, Ron looked at Hermione sitting next to him. He imagined that she was probably going through the same mixed bag of emotions. He'd been shocked to learn earlier on the train that Hermione had doubted her friendship with Harry just as much as he had. She was confident, clever, and had money. Why would Harry stop being her friend, he'd wondered.
Their talk on the train had cleared things up for Ron, and their new resolve to be better friends to one another and Harry comforted and bolstered him as he waited. But the revelation that Hermione felt as insecure as he had astounded him. He remembered the comment he'd made about her last Halloween and grimaced. No wonder she'd been crying all day. He was such a prat.
"Do you think she'll find him?" Ron asked tentatively.
"She will," Hermione replied, attempting to sound confident. Her confidence turned to desperation as she said, "she has to!"
"I suppose you're right," Ron agreed, electing to ignore the second part of what she'd said.
An agitated silence descended upon them once more. Ron fidgeted anxiously with his tie. He couldn't stand the waiting. The not knowing. He wished they could have gone with McGonagall. At least then he wouldn't just be sitting here, expected to just act like everything was fine. It wasn't fine! Ron stood up.
"Ron?" Hermione questioned uncertainly.
"I'm going for a walk," he responded tersely, "I can't stay here. With all these people eating happily as if. As if... I just can't."
Ignoring all further protests, he strode from the hall. He wasn't sure where he was going, but anywhere had to be better than here.
Percy was unsettled. He'd been thinking of his brothers as childish for their actions during the summer, and then for their petty exclusion of him, which was still going on. Honestly, their plan to kidnap Harry had been insanely risky for everyone involved. He'd assumed it was just one of the twins' crazy ideas. Because after all, Harry couldn't actually have needed rescuing. He must live with a perfectly nice family. Percy couldn't imagine otherwise.
But now. Well now Professor McGonagall had got involved. Percy had to admit that Harry not turning up at Hogwarts was strange. Maybe his family had just been worried about what had happened last year and didn't want him to come back? But surely then they would have informed the staff. Why would Professor McGonagall seem so worried?
Percy saw Ron stand up at the other end of the table. He couldn't hear exactly what had been said, but he knew that face. Someone should go after him, who knows what foolishness he could get up to alone in that state. I should go, Percy realised. This is my fault.
Standing up himself, Percy walked down the table to where the twins were huddled together, talking quietly. Percy steeled himself against the glares they immediately directed at him as he approached. He understood their anger now, even if he couldn't yet say that he regreted putting an end to their little escapade.
"Fred, George. I need your help."
"Why would we help you?" Fred sneered, "it's not like you helped us much this summer."
George remained quiet, studying Percy intently. Percy found it funny that people could never tell the difference between these two. Yes, they looked identical, and even sounded very similar. But only George could pull off this kind of unnerving scrutiny.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, he pushed on, "I know, I. Look, I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on here, but it seems as though I've missed something rather important. You can tell me how much I messed up later, but for now I need your help finding Ron. I know you have some way of finding your way around, and I don't like the idea of him going off on his own. In his mood, he could do anything."
The twins exchanged looks, communicating silently as they often did. After what felt like an age, George nodded.
"Alright, we'll help you find Ron," Fred said, "but when we do find him, you're apologising to him."
"Very well, but I don't even fully understand what I'm apologising for," Percy pointed out as the twins marched him out of the hall.
Harry was running. Heavy footsteps thudded after him. Chasing him. Why was he running? Harry didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't get caught. He had to escape.
Harry turned a corner into a long, clean, featureless corridor. It looked just like all the corridors he'd seen so far. It was quite possible that he'd gone through this corridor many times already. There was nothing to distinguish one passage from another.
Ron walked aimlessly through the corridors of Hogwarts. When he'd left the feast he'd been filled with the need to do something. Now, however, he felt hollow and despondent. What was there for him to do? McGonagall had just gone off who knows where and left him with nothing.
Unthinking, Ron let his feet take him where they wanted. McGonagall had given her word. But what did that even mean? She hadn't exactly helped them last year. Harry might not have ended up in the hospital wing if she'd listened to their warning about the stone.
Percy frowned. He was following Fred and George through the corridors. They were looking at a piece of parchment, which they were careful not to let him see. At any other time, Percy would have insisted on seeing what they were doing, and possibly confiscated the parchment. Right now though, he was much too distracted by what the twins were telling him.
"So, you think Harry's family might have stopped him from writing to Ron, and from returning to Hogwarts?" Percy asked for confirmation.
"Yes," Fred said, "why did you think we were trying to take the car? I know we mess around a lot, but we're not idiots. We wouldn't risk dad's job for a prank."
Fred's tone was accusatory. Percy couldn't blame him. He had clearly drastically underestimated his younger brothers.
"Yes, I'm sorry," Percy said awkwardly, finding it hard to let go of his formal demeanour, "I should have listened."
"That's alright Percy," George replied sincerely, looking over his shoulder to meet his gaze.
"Yeah, and Ron already got a good punch in," Fred joked.
Percy laughed and gingerly rubbed his nose. His mother had healed it as soon as she'd stopped yelling, but he hadn't forgotten how much it had hurt. Of course, he understood a little more why Ron had done it. It had still been incredibly foolish, and really if Ron had just tried explaining the situation then maybe he could have helped somehow. But then, he probably wouldn't have believed him, PERCY admitted to himself. He also thought it was unlikely that he would ever have gone along with something so risky. But maybe he could have persuaded his parents... Percy shook his head. There was no point getting lost in what could have been, and Ron was still young and prone to not think things through. It was not his fault.
"So where is Ron exactly?"
"He's just been wondering around we think," Fred answered, "he headed towards the tower earlier but then turned around. He's not anywhere where he could cause any trouble though from what we can see. Probably calmed down by now with no one to shout at or anything."
"Shouldn't we try to catch up with him anyway? That is why I asked you to come with me, you know."
"We know," said George calmly, "we just thought it would be best to fill you in first so you didn't make even more of a fool of yourself when you talk to him."
Percy flushed with embarrassment. George sometimes had this way of pointing out the truth in such a blunt fashion that there was really no way to argue. Percy couldn't even say he was offended. He's got me pegged, he thought wryly. Me and probably everyone else he's ever met.
Ron was now regretting leaving the feast. He'd needed to get out at the time, but now that his frustration had worn off, he realised that the best thing to do would be to wait for McGonagall to return, and ask her what was happening as soon as possible. He turned back to the entrance hall. He could wait there if she wasn't back yet.
Harry panted, and tried to catch his breath. He could feel himself flagging as he continued to sprint. He couldn't give up. He needed to...
Percy was feeling sick. He was relieved that he'd left the feast early, and so hadn't eaten very much. Still, even the small amount of food he had consumed felt like too much right now. How could he have been so stupid?
He and the twins had been following Ron in silence for a few minutes now. They hadn't quite managed to catch up yet, but Ron seemed to have settled on a consistent direction at last, which was a good sign. These moments of silence had allowed Percy's brain to start working, for what felt like the first time in a while.
He'd been too preoccupied with his own goals and desires to see clearly. He understood that now. Really, how had he not noticed Harry's small stature, ragged clothes, and lack of letters? It all seemed so obvious now that George had pointed it all out. Then this summer, he'd been so distracted by his secret relationship with Penelope, that he had completely failed to notice just how miserable Ron really was.
Percy still wasn't exactly sure what was behind Ron's behaviour. There seemed to be more than just worry for his friend, but he couldn't quite figure out what it could be. He suspected that the twins knew. George had probably known for a while. But Percy wanted to find some things out for himself. It was high time he took more of an interest in his family.
With a pop, Minerva appeared in front of number 4, Privet Drive. Immediately the memory of the last time she'd been here came flooding back. She hoped she'd been wrong all those years ago. But standing here again, she felt her old doubts resurfacing.
Minerva approached the front door, scanning the area keenly and listening intently. There were no signs of a fight or break-in. Then again, it was quite possible to be subtle with magic.
Seeing that there were no lights showing in the windows and not hearing anything coming from inside the house, Minerva decided to dispense with the pleasantries. With a silent alohamora, the door swung open ahead of her. Cautiously, she stepped inside, shutting the door carefully behind her.
There were no signs of deatheaters here either, Minerva noted after casting a quick lumos. The corridor did seem suspiciously clean however. Perhaps someone had cleaned up the evidence? A creeping sense of dread rose through Minerva's stomach and chest, whispering that she was too late.
Brutally quashing the feeling before it could overwhelm her, Minerva considered her next move. As things were, she couldn't pick up on any signs of intrusion, or even life in the house. As a cat, however, she would have the advantage of much stronger senses. She privately admitted to herself that transforming would also help her keep her emotions under control.
Without a second thought, Minerva assumed her animagus form. In this form, it became immediately obvious to her that the unnatural cleanliness had been caused by some rather strong muggle cleaning concoctions. This was some relief, as it was unlikely that deatheaters were involved after all. However Minerva felt her hair stand on end at the thought that immediately followed. If not deatheaters, who had prevented Harry from going to Hogwarts?
Attempting to get past the sharp scent filling her nose, Minerva thought she could pick up a wiff of unwashed human. Following the smell to the stairs, she was momentarily distracted by a faint, but familiar odour coming from a small door beneath the stairs. After sniffing at it and failing to recognise it, she continued her exploration.
Upstairs, the pungent, human smell was stronger. Moving down the corridor, Minerva stopped in front of a door. This was the right room. She could smell it. Whoever was here, they were behind this door.
It was a very strange door, Minerva realised as she looked at it. There were multiple locks, which seemed odd enough, but why on this side of the door? There was also a cat flap installed. Minerva cocked her head. She was sure there were no cats living in this house. The cat's intense curiosity overriding Minerva's concerns, she walked through the catflap.
Harry was slowing. He didn't want to, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. The loud footsteps were closing the distance between them. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something important. What could it be? He didn't have time to think.
Harry noticed something up ahead. Something that wasn't just another stretch of empty corridor. Hope filled him. This could be the way out. He summoned a burst of energy from somewhere deep within and began to sprint.
The footsteps sped up, matching Harry's pace. As he approached the end of the corridor, he caught sight of what lay ahead. It was a small door. Something about it rang a bell in his mind, but he didn't have time to second guess himself. He lunged for the door.
It creaked open at his touch. The hope that had been fuelling Harry's mad dash turned to horror in an instant. It was a trap. He was always intended to end up here. No matter what he did, he could never escape this.
"Get back in your cupboard, freak," Uncle Vernon's voice growled behind him.
"No! Please! I..."
Frozen with terror, Harry could do nothing as his uncle lumbered closer. He felt a large hand shove him in the back. He tried to brace himself. He couldn't go back into that cupboard. But he knew it was futile. His uncle was too big and strong.
Suddenly, a loud hiss and yowl came from behind Harry. Then a bellow of pain. The hand retreated quickly. He turned, wondering whether what he would see would be a blessing or a curse.
Harry saw a cat. It was scratching furiously at Uncle Vernon's face, as he struggled furiously to keep it away.
The cat seemed familiar to Harry. But he did not stop to ponder why. It's appearance had triggered something else in his mind. He knew what he'd been forgetting.
Zipping up into the air, Harry soared over the head of his pursuer, letting out a harsh call of triumph. As he flew, the scene below him shifted. The maze of corridors melted away. He felt himself shift again.
Tumbling through the air, he fell into a swirling pool of gold and green. Seeing and feeling tendrils rise up from the surface and ensnaring him, Harry succumbed to his exhaustion. Before the scene faded from his mind completely, he heard a soft, anxious whisper.
"Not yet. It's not safe. Not yet."
Minerva's nose twitched in disgust. The chemical odour that had filled her nostrils was immediately replaced by that of sweat, sickness, and fear. A soft mew escaped her before she could stop it.
It took a moment for her mind to catch up with her senses. As soon as it did, she reverted to her human form in an instant. She stared in horror at the sight before her.
Harry lay on a narrow bed with a thin mattress. The rest of the room seemed practically unlived in. Thick dust covered every surface. The furniture was old and shabby.
Looking to the window, which was slightly ajar and letting in a cool breeze, Minerva's eyes widened in shock. Bars? They had put bars on his window! Rage coursed through her. Her student, Lily and James's son, had been kept locked up like some prisoner!
Inhaling deeply, she reluctantly forced down the anger. She would not help Harry by flying into a rage right now. Later though... Well, someone had to question the Dursleys to find out what had happened here. With some effort, she made herself study the rest of the room.
Other than the boy's presence, the only sign that Harry lived here was a calendar on the wall with today's date circled, and the cage on the desk, containing his recognisable snowy owl. But whereas she was usually pristine and well cared for, she was now dull, listless, and clearly terribly malnourished.
Minerva forced her eyes away from the owl. She had to confront the true horror in the room. Harry himself.
The young wizard was skeletal. His painfully thin frame only exacerbated by the ridiculously large rags he was clothed in. His skin was deathly pale. He was asleep for the moment. Minerva hoped his dreams at least granted him some relief from his waking life.
As if sensing her gaze, Harry sat up quickly, staring wildly. Minerva stepped to his side instantly and put a hand on his shoulder. This only seemed to startle him even more, as he flinched away. Minerva cursed herself for scaring the boy. She should have realised that he would be confused, and his lack of glasses couldn't be helping.
"Calm yourself Potter," she said, making an attempt at a slightly less stern version of her typical persona.
She grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and placed them carefully on his lap. Harry fumbled with them a bit in his shock, but eventually got them on. Then he gaped.
"How? Why? You're. What?" he managed to sputter out.
"All very good questions," Minerva responded primly, "I don't wish to spend the time that would be necessary to go through every answer for the time being, but suffice it to say that I am here to take you to Hogwarts, Mr Potter."
"Oh."
In another situation Minerva would have found his dumbfounded expression highly amusing. The broad grin of relief and joy that followed however was truly heart-breaking.
"Really? I can really go back?"
"Of course," she replied, more fiercely than intended, "I have not received notice of you leaving the school, and as such, you are indeed required to attend."
"But... My relatives. They-"
Minerva interjected, adopting a gentler tone, "Harry, what they did, keeping you here like this, it's disgusting and atrocious, and I intend to ensure that you will not be returning to this house."
Again, a sequence of expressions flickered over the young wizard's face. First, the dumbfounded gape returned, soon followed by a hopeful smile. Then that, too, vanished to be replaced by a sad, doubtful look.
"But professor," he objected miserably, "I have nowhere else to go."
"I give you my word, Harry, I will find a suitable home for you if it's the last thing I do."
Minerva watched sadly as the doubt remained in Harry's eyes. Why should he believe me? I'm the one who left him here. He might not know that, but it's true. Minerva resisted the urge to become a cat again in the face of the wave of guilt that now threatened to drown her. She had to keep going. For Harry.
"Now then, where are your things?" Minerva asked briskly, reassuming her usual mask in hopes of keeping her emotions at bay.
"Downstairs," Harry answered, eager once more. "They're locked in the cupboard under the stairs."
Trying not to think about how Harry had been deprived of all his possessions and how that must have made him feel, Minerva nodded.
"I'll fetch them. Bring your owl down if you're well enough to walk."
Seeing Harry give a nod in return, Minerva headed downstairs. She remembered being drawn to this cupboard as a cat. She hadn't been able to place the smell. It was possible, she supposed, that she'd been smelling the books or the broomstick. It didn't seem important now.
Unlocking the cupboard in the same manner as she had the front door, she quickly levitated Harry's trunk out into the open, barely catching a glimpse of the dark interior.
Turning to Harry who had just stumbled down behind her, she asked, "Is this everything?"
"Yes, Professor. How are ye going to-"
Before he could finish, the sound of a car was heard approaching outside. Thinking fast, Minerva realised that this was probably the Dursleys, and that it would be unwise to confront them just this second, with Harry in this state. Grabbing his arm and the trunk, and hoping the feeling of apparition wouldn't be too hard on him or the owl, she disapparated.
A/N:
Truthweaver: Hi! Yes, you are reading this correctly. I'm first in the author's notes! I hope you liked this chapter. I'm sure some of you are disappointed that there was no big confrontation with the Dursleys, but in that situation, there was really no reason to hang around. You'll get the confrontation you want though, don't worry.
CrypticSpren: I also hope you enjoy this chapter.
I want to sincerely thank everybody who helped us to reach 200 followers! I can't believe we've got to this point already, and I'm so grateful to each and every one of you who made this happen.
As always, reviews are appreciated.
We'll be back with another chapter next Wednesday. See you then.