CHAPTER TWO: HOME, SOUR HOME

Harry sat on a park bench watching the sun settling behind the trees and the sky growing darker. The evening breeze felt soothing against his exposed skin. As Kingsley predicted, he'd taken to spending as much time as feasible outside of number four, Privet Drive. He'd grown accustomed to the Dursleys ignoring him as much as possible; after all, it had become the norm over the last several summers. This time however, they were behaving oddly, even for them.

He came downstairs the morning after his arrival and encountered a surprisingly happy and humming Uncle Vernon in the parlor. When he noticed Harry standing nearby, he grinned and continued right on humming. Even Aunt Petunia seemed to be expending less energy keeping her lips pursed when she found herself in Harry's presence. Given the encounter he knew they'd had with Moody the previous morning, Harry expected to be made to pay retribution in some form or another. When nothing happened, he just assumed Uncle Vernon probably landed some huge account at work and everyone was in a good mood because of it. It wasn't until a couple of days into the summer holidays that Harry realized the real reason for their upbeat mood.

On his way from showering late one evening, Harry passed his cousin's room. Normally, Dudley kept his door closed and locked for fear Harry would do something to him or his prized possessions. This time however, the door was ajar. No doubt, Dudley heard Harry in the shower and had taken the opportunity to head downstairs for a late night snack.

There was a calendar hanging on the wall by Dudley's desk. It looked very much like the one hanging over Harry's bed in the next room. Huge red Xs were drawn through the days of this week, with a later date circled in a crudely drawn smiley face. Suddenly, it dawned on Harry. He had received an owl from Lupin telling him the Order would arrive at fortnight's end to secure his transport to the Burrow. He certainly would have felt compelled by good manners to send a similar message to his aunt and uncle, or perhaps Moody had informed them on the morning he was returning from Hogwarts.

In any case, the Dursleys were counting down the days marking two weeks since his return. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would have fulfilled the terms of the agreement they made with Dumbledore when they took him in sixteen years ago following the deaths of his parents. They would be rid of him in two weeks. "Well," thought Harry, "the joke's on them." No one knew better than he when two weeks would be up.

Another time perhaps, Harry would have relished making these last two weeks as uncomfortable for them as possible. This summer however, he found he couldn't take it. It wasn't because he suddenly cared about how they felt about him; he was simply very much on edge. He felt raw and exposed one moment and completely lost the next. Catching furtive glances from his relatives or pretending not to notice them whispering about him took more effort than he could muster.

Mrs. Figg, Harry's Squib neighbor, had spotted him the last few days in the park. She'd come to invite him in for tea and company but he had declined as politely as possible. She had no idea of all the things going on in Harry's head; but she knew enough about him and his life to realize that if anyone needed time to sort things out, he certainly did. Today she'd simply walked up to him and left a thermos of juice and a bag of sandwiches on the bench next to him, touched him lightly on the shoulder and walked away. "Bless her," thought Harry. Her kindness meant he didn't have to go home to meals with the Dursleys or go hungry in his efforts to avoid them for as long as possible.

This was Harry's sixth night back in Little Whinging. In a little over a week, he would be leaving Privet Drive for what was likely to be the last time. Under almost any other circumstances, Harry would have been ecstatic by the mere thought of leaving the Dursleys behind forever and probably would have been humming alongside Uncle Vernon. Lately though, there hadn't been much to hum about.

The events of the last several weeks – heck – of the last several years played through his mind like a nightmare caught in a loop. Harry couldn't honestly say if he was grieving or not. He'd seen and experienced so much loss these last years. Cedric's murder a little over two years ago had left Harry stunned, saddened and angry. When he lost Sirius a year later, he just wanted to curl up and disappear. That grief had been so painful. Even now, Harry couldn't think of his godfather for very long without getting a slow, burning sensation in the back of his throat. And now here he sat, lamenting the loss of Dumbledore. He felt completely empty. He figured part of it was still shock. He realized the other part of it was fear and anticipation of what awaited him. Harry knew he had to finish the tasks he and Dumbledore had set out on together. He just couldn't imagine doing it without that kind, nurturing and powerful wizard there to guide him.

With one long sigh, Harry picked up Mrs. Figg's thermos and began walking back home. His head throbbed dully, but this time it wasn't from the scar on his forehead; it was from the hundreds of things hurdling through his thoughts. Harry hadn't slept a full night since Dumbledore's death and he knew tonight would be no different. He wasn't having many nightmares or bizarre dreams; he simply couldn't shut his mind down long enough to give into slumber for any long period of time. The fatigue was definitely wearing on him, along with everything else.

Midway into his second week with the Dursleys, Harry found himself stuck in his bedroom one early evening. It was raining fiercely outside. He was tempted to see how long he could stand the downpour but knew it would be unwise. Even wizards got sick and he was a long way from Madam Pomfrey and her magical remedies. Instead, he let Hedwig out of her cage and watched her fly lightly around his bedroom, screeching slightly when Harry wouldn't open the window to let her out.

"Later Hedwig," Harry promised. "That storm's pretty severe and I don't want you getting hurt."

Hedwig cooed and landed on his shoulder, nipping gently at his ear. She seemed to sense the undercurrent of Harry's emotions. Suddenly, they were jolted from their peace and quiet by a raucous downstairs.

Harry pulled open his bedroom door in time to hear Uncle Vernon bellowing from just below, "What the devil…how dare…Who Inv...BOY, GET DOWN HERE NOW!"

Not imagining what could possibly be wrong, Harry headed down the staircase and stopped midway, dead in his tracks, with his mouth agape. He couldn't believe his eyes. Grinning past Uncle Vernon's bullet shooting gaze, Ron and Hermione stood in the doorway silhouetted by sheets of rain.

"Hi Harry," they said brightly together.

Harry was so stunned he couldn't even return their greeting. Instead he said incredulously as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs, "What are you two doing here?"

"That's what we'd like to know!" Uncle Vernon spat slowly and darkly.

Aunt Petunia and Dudley had come from the parlor and were ogling Ron and Hermione suspiciously. Well, Aunt Petunia was anyway; Dudley was watching Hermione with the oddest expression on his face. If he weren't so startled to see them, Harry would have laughed, especially when he noticed Ron catching Dudley's reaction to Hermione and looking like he'd like nothing better than to turn his cousin into a rodent.

Sensing escalating tension, Harry walked forward and motioned for his friends to enter the foyer so he could close the door.

"And who do you think you are to invite your freaky friends into our home?" yelled Uncle Vernon.

Harry could feel his blood boiling. It was one thing for the Dursleys to belittle and berate him, but he wouldn't stand for Uncle Vernon insulting his friends as if they weren't even standing there. His hands balled in fists, Harry seemed to radiate heat as he turned on his uncle. The Dursleys took several steps back. Ron and Hermione were looking oddly at Harry, he assumed, because of the absurdity of the situation.

"Well, Uncle Vernon," Harry said menacingly through clenched teeth, "if you prefer, we can stand in the open doorway, or better yet, hang out in the driveway sorting this all out."

Harry pivoted on his heels and made toward the still open door, undeterred by the storm when Uncle Vernon began stuttering.

"Wait, boy," he said with forced civility, having seen the abject look of horror on his wife's face at the thought of the neighbors spotting that lot outside. "You didn't say they were coming and we were umh, just shocked."

Harry turned, still looking like he could strangle his uncle. Hermione, hoping to diffuse the situation, spoke up first.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley," she began politely. "Ron and I apologize for arriving unannounced."

Ron snorted behind her, catching Harry's eye.

Hermione continued, "We didn't exactly tell him when we were coming because…well, because we knew he'd try to talk us out of it."

Calming a little, Harry finally closed the front door and joined the crowd in the foyer.

"You never answered me, what are you two doing here? I just assumed you'd be coming with Lupin and the others later in the week."

Ron patted his friend on the back and said happily, "We've come to take you to the Burrow."

Uncle Vernon and Dudley seemed to brighten at that response. Their thoughts were more than transparent. Harry was leaving early. This was good news.

Harry however, along with Aunt Petunia, looked perplexed.

Harry replied, "But Ron, I have to stay here two full weeks before I can leave again. Unless of course, you are trying to help Voldemort finish me off sooner rather than later," Harry chided.

Ron flinched slightly and Aunt Petunia made some indiscriminate noise from her spot by the parlor entry. Uncle Vernon and Dudley still seemed pleased.

"That's not funny, Harry!" interjected Hermione. "Of course we know you can't leave just yet. Honestly, we need more time together to go over things," she added significantly.

"It'll be way too difficult to talk freely once we reach the Burrow, what with all the people showing up for Bill and Fleur's wedding and what not."

"So," Ron joined in again, seeing the look on Harry's face as he quickly worked out what was happening, "We're going to stay with you for the remainder of the fortnight. It'll be a blast," he added with a very Fred and George like flourish.

Harry was floored. His memory took him back to minutes after Dumbledore's service. They had said they would be there with him at the Dursleys, but it hadn't really registered.

There were roughly five seconds of suspended, stunned silence before Uncle Vernon let loose, spittle flying and his face turning the color of a pomegranate.

"ARE YOU ALL MAD?? YES, OF COURSE YOU ARE!" he ranted, pacing in circles, his arms waving haphazardly.

He started talking and muttering so fast Harry could only make out a couple of words, like - lot of lunatics, crackpots, and the gallows. Aunt Petunia had clapped her hands to her mouth, as if in some valiant attempt to keep her thoughts from rushing from her lips. Dudley simply looked dumbstruck, which wasn't far from his normal expression, so who cared.

Harry looked at his two best friends again. He couldn't believe they had willingly walked into this lion's den.

"Guys," he whispered as he moved to stand closely between the two of them, "I appreciate the gesture, but as you can see, the Dursleys are having a fit. I get enough grief from them without purposely raising their ire. You don't need to do this. I've only got three more days left. I'm fine, really."

Looking past Harry's shoulder at the Dursleys, Ron scowled and swore under his breath.

"Look mate, we're here and we're staying. Don't worry; we can handle it, okay?"

"Since when do I not have control over my own house!" roared Uncle Vernon as he seemed to be getting over the shock of two wizards telling him they'd be staying in his home and finding more of his usual anger.

Aunt Petunia had managed to move from the parlor doorway and now sat on the lower staircase, head in her hands.

"I absolutely forbid it! Do you hear me?" ranted Uncle Vernon.

"Fine," replied Ron, winking at Harry and taking a page from Harry's earlier handling of Uncle Vernon. "Of course, we can't stay in your house without your permission. Hermione and I will leave right now," he added.

This seemed to appease Uncle Vernon a bit and his puffed up chest began to deflate some.

Turning to face Harry he continued, "We can conjure up a couple of tents and stay outside until the end of the week. You can join us if you like, or sleep in here as usual and just meet us in the mornings. Whichever you like, mate, all right?"

Uncle Vernon was puffing back up again. Aunt Petunia finally seemed to have found the nerve to use her voice.

"You can't," she croaked in an almost whisper.

"Why not?" asked Ron wickedly.

"Because, umh, because…HAH!" Uncle Vernon finally managed savagely, "You're not allowed to do magic outside of that so-called school. We know all about that from dealing with this one, here. How stupid do you think we are?"

The urge to answer that one question truthfully was clearly etched in the set of Ron's jaw. As he fought to refrain from doing so, Hermione continued the conversation.

"You are absolutely right, Mr. Dursley," she said simply. "Underage witches and wizards are not allowed to do magic outside of school."

Seeing Uncle Vernon about to break out in a grin, Hermione added as calmly and quickly as possible, for she too was beginning to flush, "However, Ronald and I are not underage. I turned seventeen last fall, and Ron, earlier this year. So, while Harry can't perform magic without potentially getting into trouble, there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop either of us."

"We will not leave him here alone another moment longer. If you try to chuck him out, we will set up temporary accommodations in the middle of the block. After all, you don't control the sidewalk, do you?" she finished, sounding so very much like Professor McGonagall that Harry and Ron could only stare at her.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were both struck dumb as if hit by an actual spell.

"So Harry," Ron piped in again, "What's a better spot, the front lawn, the backyard maybe, or how about the driveway?"

"Umh," Harry began, still looking from his shyly smiling friends to the mortified Dursleys, but Aunt Petunia finally spoke again.

"Fine, you can stay here." she acquiesced reluctantly.

Uncle Vernon was ready to let go with another tirade but stopped at the look upon his wife's face. She continued as she stood from her perch on the staircase.

"The girl can use the guest room. He," she said to Harry while pointing at Ron, "can bunk with you. You can feed and fend for yourselves. Don't expect any additional hospitality from us. I've had enough of this nonsense for one evening. Vernon, I'm retiring early tonight."

As Dudley and Uncle Vernon had nothing else to add or do, the three Dursleys walked heavily up the stairs and two bedroom doors slammed loudly in quick succession.

Harry turned to look at his friends and all three broke into smiles and hushed laughter.

"I can't believe you just did that," he finally managed to say. "What's come over you two?"

Turning serious for a moment, Hermione led the way into the living room. She conjured oversized pillows and they each plopped down comfortably on the floor in front of the unused, electric fireplace.

"There's a lot of activity happening," she began. "There are a lot of new Order members. They seem to be popping up from all over the world. Moody and Lupin are heading the interviews and initiations."

"Well, if Voldemort is gathering more followers, it only makes sense that the Order would have to do the same," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"Of course, Mum keeps trying to keep us in the dark," Ron said annoyed. "But it doesn't matter because Bill keeps us in the loop."

"How is Bill doing?" Harry interrupted and asked. "Is he back at Gringotts and with the Order, already?"

"He's coming along," Ron answered. "His scars aren't quite as raw or red, but he's still under orders to rest and take it easy. Fleur and Mom are busy planning the wedding, but Dad updates Bill on Order business everyday. Then late in the evenings, Hermione and I walk with Bill on the pretense of helping to get his strength back and he fills us in on things."

"That's pretty cool of him," Harry said.

"Dad knows he's doing it," explained Ron. "In fact, he and Bill cooked up the little ruse together. They know Mum means well. But Bill's adamant. He'd already heard all about the Ministry battle from Lupin; and obviously, he was there during the Hogwarts attack. Harry, even though he was hurt, he says he could hear the rest of the battle while lying on the floor and everything said that night around him in the hospital. Bill says if we are willing to fight like that, we deserve to know as much as possible."

Ron hesitated a moment before continuing.

"Umh, listen Harry, we haven't said anything about - well, you know - but Bill seems to know you are somehow at the center of all of this. He and Kingsley were in deep conversation when we were leaving the Burrow earlier today. We heard your name a couple of times," he added worriedly.

"I'm not surprised," Harry said and went on to tell them about his conversation with Kingsley the evening he returned to Privet Drive.

"Well, that does make sense," Hermione remarked after having sat in total silence with Ron as Harry recounted every word Kingsley said to him. "That's great, in fact."

"Yeah, it is," Harry agreed slowly. "I just need to figure out how to work with them and how much I can or can't tell them, and when, and how, and the like."

"You mean we need to figure it out," Hermione said emphatically.

"That's right, Harry," Ron added seriously. "We told you weeks ago, we're going with you. You're not doing this alone. What, did you think we'd changed our minds?"

"I more like hoped you'd changed your minds," Harry said simply. "This is going to be more dangerous than any of us can imagine. There's no way to tell what's coming."

"Has there ever been?" Hermione asked. "Look, we know this isn't some great, exciting adventure. We know all our lives are at risk."

Sensing Harry's growing reluctance, she pressed her point. "Harry, if you go without us, all our lives are still at risk."

"Yeah, Harry," agreed Ron. "There's got to be better odds with more than one. Voldemort and his Death Eaters are out for blood - everyone's."

Harry was set to argue this point until dawn but lost his tongue and his train of thought when he and apparently Hermione, based on the tears swimming in her eyes, understood what Ron had just said and done. Ron, who, like most of the Wizarding world, always said He-Who-Must- Not-be- Named or You-Know-Who when referring to Harry's most powerful nemesis, never uttered the name Voldemort. He'd flushed only several hours earlier at hearing Harry use Voldemort's name in the foyer. The fact that he'd just said the name aloud without a second's hesitation spoke volumes to the seriousness of this situation, and more importantly, to Ron's acceptance of it and his determination to stand with his friends.

There was no point in bickering any longer about his going on without them. He knew if the situations were reversed, he'd definitely go with them. He'd worry about that later. In fact, sitting comfortably with his friends, Harry decided then and there to worry about a lot of things later. Life was short, and in that very moment he finally felt a measure of real happiness for the first time in weeks.

"Okay, I have one last request to make," Harry said with mock seriousness. "While you are here, I don't want to talk anymore about clues, the Order, Voldemort or any of it. We've got three days together, hopefully without any serious interruptions. I just want to enjoy it and do normal things like hang out, watch movies, and what not."

Now that he'd said it out loud, he thought he sounded mad himself. There was a crazed nutter after him and he wanted to go to the cinema.

Ron however, looked ecstatic at the idea.

"I think that'd be awesome," he said eagerly. "Dad, Fred and George will be so jealous when I get home and tell them about all the Muggle stuff I've seen and done."

Hermione smiled and agreed. "I think it's a fine idea, Harry. We could all use a little break, right?"

They knew Harry had never hung out with anyone, anywhere outside of Hogwarts in his life. The Dursleys had never allowed it and he'd never had proper friends until he set foot on Platform 9 and ¾.

"All right, then. In that case," continued Harry, noticing the late hour, "we'd better get to bed so we can get an early start." They rose from their seats and followed Harry upstairs.

Harry pointed out the bathroom to them and then showed Hermione to the guest room. He and Ron would be just across the hall in his room. Ron had seen Harry's room from his view in his family's flying car the night he and the twins rescued Harry the summer before their second year. He d never entered it, though.

"This is a pretty decent room, Harry, even if it's a bit small," he said as he stepped through the doorway. "If they weren't so ridiculous, it wouldn't be a bad spot to be in."

"Hah," was about all Harry could muster as he realized Hedwig was still loose in his bedroom. She was sitting patiently on top of her cage.

"Sorry, girl," he said gently as she fluttered to his arm.

The storm had ended a while ago and Harry walked quickly to the window to release her.

"Stay out as late as you like, okay? I'll leave the window open for you." Hedwig hooted happily and took flight from the sill.

Harry turned around to see Ron pull out his wand and point it toward the empty space between the foot of Harry's bed and his desk. Instantly, a camp bed with turned down linens appeared. Ron's pack bag stood next to it.

"It's so cool to be able to do that," Ron said impressively. "Don't worry; your birthday's fast approaching."

"Thank goodness," Harry said grinning. "No offense, but I'd go mad if I had to wait for you and Hermione to do everything."

The door across the hall opened and Hermione yawned and waved on her way down the hall. She stopped in Harry's room on her way back and Ron took his turn in the bathroom while she and Harry talked a bit about what they might do tomorrow. With a final yawn, Hermione turned and headed across the hall once more. Ron returned minutes later and flopped into bed.

Number four, Privet Drive was soon quiet and still as the Dursleys, Harry and his friends finally succumbed to sleep on this most unusual of nights.