Welcome to the Jungle

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Glee. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Part One: Fifteen

Chapter Fifty: Losing Grip

Harry's preoccupation persists throughout the day. His thoughts are on London, on his family there, on the terrifying thought that if his father hadn't returned when he had, he, too, might have been caught up in the attack. King's Cross Station is one of the busiest - if not the busiest - transfer points in London, and it's not a stretch to assume James had passed through it at least once during his stay.

Despite the terrible news though, the student body of McKinley High is entirely unfazed. If they're not completely unaware of the goings on in London, then the distance makes it unimportant, and Harry's not sure if their disinterest makes him want to laugh or cry.

There are a few exceptions, of course. Hermione checks the BBC website almost as often as Harry, and Harry learns both sets of Frankie's grandparents live in London. They're shaken up, but they're okay, and determined to get through it, as they always have.

.

His friends' shared concerns aren't reassuring, and restless, Harry paces the halls during his lunch hour. He's still not received word from anyone, and the uncertainty is unbearable.

All he knows is that no one's claimed the attack as their own. It's got Harry wondering about the trouble back home his father had mentioned months ago now, but mostly he's just panicking about the lack of information regarding his family's wellbeing. He already knows Remus, Dora, and Teddy are fine - they're in Cardiff, and far from any terrorist attacks there - and so too are his grandparents, Charles and Dorea.

Sirius and his family, though…

It's tempting, to blow up Leo's phone with calls and messages, but not only would Harry's parents kick his arse for the resulting phone bill, Leo's phone is switched off. Ursa's is too, and the knowledge is a lead weight against his chest. He's freaking out.

It's somewhere near the auditorium when Kate calls him. She wants answers - has he heard from Mum or Dad, or Leo, or Ursa, or anyone? - and when he answers with his denial, her disappointment is profound.

"I'm scared," she admits quietly. Her voice is wobbly, and she is on the verge of tears.

Harry sighs, drained. "Me too, Kit-Kat."

They linger over the phone line, not talking, but it's okay. Harry finds comfort in the sound of his sister's breathing, in the sound of her voice as she hums quietly under her breath. He bids her farewell, however, as the sound of someone approaching draws his attention.

"I'll see you this afternoon," he says, "Let me know if you hear from anyone."

"Yeah, okay. See you."

Harry pockets his phone as Daphne Greengrass turns the corner. Her head is bowed, her blonde hair a curtain around her face. She's walking fast, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, and Harry clears his throat to let her know she's not alone in the hall.

In response, Greengrass startles, and looks up to meet his gaze with her own.

She looks wrecked. Her eyes are bloodshot, red rimmed and puffy, and her cheeks are still damp with tears.

"Rough day?" Harry asks, for lack of anything else to say. It's abundantly obvious she's been crying, and Harry's not sure why he's talking to her at all.

"How could you tell?" She quips. The crisp sounds of a London accent - upper-class, and not diminished in the slightest - is jarring in the otherwise empty corridor, and Harry can't fathom how he hasn't heard this girl speak all year. He'd have noticed that voice, a husky alto, clear, the accent unmistakeable among the throng of mid-western Americans.

"Lucky guess," Harry answers blandly. He combs a hand through his hair, palms the back of his neck, and attempts a smile. It mostly fails. "You've still got family in the motherland too, then?"

Daphne huffs an inaudible laugh, casts her gaze up and down the hall, and shrugs half-heartedly. "Extended family, mostly. We're not close. Dad though… He's in London, for work" Her lips pull into an unconscious grimace, and her eyes well up with tears, "We can't get in touch with him."

"I'm sorry. I hope he's okay."

Harry could say that London's a big city, that there are thousands of people who traverse King's Cross Station every hour. He could say that the chances of her father being caught up in the blast is extremely slim, but he doesn't.

He doesn't want to diminish her concern. He doesn't want to lie, either, and nor does he want to be a hypocrite. He's worried, too.

Ursa, Leo, Cassiopeia, Sirius, and Marlene pass through King's Cross every morning, Monday to Friday, to get to work and school, respectively. The radio silence isn't a good sign, and the reality that the phone lines are probably clogged up by other concerned relatives doesn't calm Harry in the slightest. He highly doubts it helps Greengrass, either.

"Thanks," she says, half-hearted. She slumps against the wall across from him, curls herself inward, and wraps her arms tighter around her middle.

Harry hadn't thought a girl her height - 5'8", maybe 5'9", could ever manage to look so small.

"I hope your family's okay, too," she adds quietly.

"Thanks," Harry echoes, and they linger in an awkward, endless silence. Harry breaks it. "I'd better go… Get my stuff. For class?"

Daphne nods her acknowledgement. "Sure. I guess I'll see you around, or something."

They part ways. Harry makes his way to his locker, thoughts far from school, and Daphne continues in the opposite direction. Neither of them look back.

Unsurprisingly, Puck's already at their lockers, a girl pressed up against his own, the two of them preoccupied by a very involved make-out session Harry has no interest in being witness to. He ignores them, busies himself with his books instead, and then retreats to his art class with another weary sigh. It's been an intolerably long day, more so than Harry had ever imagined possible, and it's nowhere near over yet.

In fact, Harry doesn't know it yet, but it's only going to drag on further.

-!- -#-

That afternoon, Harry and Kate are excused from baseball training and choir practice, respectively. Their father, uncharacteristically early from work, picks them up directly after their classes let out, and drives them home in a heavy, dreadful blanket of silence.

Kate fidgets restlessly, Harry stares stubbornly out the window, and the trip home doesn't last long enough.

"Go to the kitchen," James says. He doesn't glance at either of them, "I have some news."

Harry doesn't want to. He doesn't even want to leave the car, never mind learn what terrible news warrants an absence from baseball and karate. He'd worried all day, certainly, but with the knowledge he's not going to like what he's about to hear, Harry would prefer his ignorance.

He glances at James though, worn-down and as weary as he's ever been, and Harry does as he is told without protest.

Unsurprisingly, Lily is already in the kitchen. She's been stress baking, and it smells amazing, like chocolate and caramel and all of the decadent things.

"Hi, Mum." Harry makes himself comfortable at the dining table, and Kate wordlessly does the same across from him. Her hands shake.

"Hey, you two," Lily gives them a half-hearted smile. SHe's been crying, and the lead weight that's been pressed against Harry's chest all day somehow gets even heavier.

James makes an appearance soon thereafter. He takes a moment to speak in low tones with his wife, they hug briefly, and then they both take seats next to Harry and Kate, respectively.

The silence that follows is deafening.

James clears his throat. "The first thing you should know is that Leo, Ursa, and Cassiopeia are all safe. They weren't at the station."

"What about Sirius and Marley?"

"Sirius was involved with the recovery operations before the second blast," James says, "He has some minor injuries, but he'll make a full recovery. Marlene…"

"Marlene was on the train," Lily takes up where James falters, "She's alive, but she's in a critical condition. At the moment, she's in a coma, and her doctors aren't confident she'll wake up."

Although he hears her, Harry struggles to absorb his mother's words. It's surreal, almost, too unbelievable to be real. Harry can't picture Marlene as anything but the snarky, vivacious woman he'd shared his Christmas with, can't picture Sirius without her by his side, can't imagine her not there to fret over Harry, Kate, and little Teddy Lupin as much as she frets over Leo, Ursa, and Cassie.

"She'll be okay, won't she?" Kate implores, "She's strong, she's healthy…"

Lily sighs, disconsolate, and combs a hand through Kate's long hair. "We don't know, baby. We'll just have to wait and see."

Author's Note: I was planning to end Part 1 after Harry speaks with Daphne, but the muse had other plans. A couple more chapters, I think. Couldn't end it here, you know? Anyway, until next time, -t.