CHAPTER FIVE: THE PACT
Hermione made her way downstairs early the next morning and was met by the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. She turned into the kitchen expecting to greet Harry, but instead was startled to see Ron seated at the table, his chair turned toward the glass patio doors that led to an immaculately kept backyard. He was holding a cup of coffee and seemingly staring into nothingness.
"Good morning," Hermione said quietly. "Are you all right?"
"Hey," he mumbled back, almost whispering as he spared the briefest glance in her direction before returning to his own thoughts.
Hermione poured herself a cup of coffee and joined Ron at the table.
"Is Harry packing or something?" she asked. "He's usually the first one downstairs."
She was beginning to think Ron was sleepwalking as he was so slow in answering and still seemed a thousand miles away in thought.
Finally, he turned his chair to face her and before taking another sip from his cup answered, "Harry is still asleep. I woke up hours ago and came down here to think." He studied his watch for a moment and said, "He should be waking at any moment."
"Wait a minute," Hermione began slowly. "What do you mean you've been awake for hours? You are absolutely not a morning person. And how do you know Harry's going to wake up at any moment? What'd you do, set the alarm clock for him?"
"No," he replied flatly to her last question.
He still had the weirdest expression on his face, but said nothing more as he gazed at her and continued sipping from his now cooling cup of coffee.
"Then how can you know when Harry… Ronald, what's wrong? What's happened?" she asked with slight alarm in her voice.
"Relax, Hermione," Ron finally answered, looking her straight in the eyes. "Harry's fine. I just slipped a little something in his drink last night to help him sleep."
Hermione's face was etched with shock, but Ron continued before she could level any criticism about what he'd done.
"You haven't been bunking with him, but I have. He still isn't sleeping. I don't think he gets more than three or four hours a night before he wakes up. He can't keep functioning like that. So I decided to give him a little help, at least for one night, anyway."
Ron could almost see the questions unfurling in her mind as he added, "And no, I didn't make the potion; Fred and George did. I sent a letter by Hedwig yesterday morning just before we left for the day. An envelope with a short note and vial was on top of my bag when we got back last night. Anyway, the potion should be wearing off soon, so I'm sure he'll be down shortly."
A noise overhead drew their attention and several silent moments passed before Hermione spoke.
"That's probably him," she said very quietly. "Ron, I'm worried about him, too. That was a really thoughtful gesture; but please don't do it again, at least not without telling Harry. He needs his wits about him, and while I agree that a constantly sleep deprived Harry is cause for concern, a magically sedated one might not be a good thing either."
She was expecting him to argue and was surprised when Ron simply nodded in agreement.
"I know you're right," he said. "I just had to do something because I couldn't take it any longer."
Seeing Hermione's confusion, Ron sighed and continued. "After you went up to bed last night, I hung around to wait for Harry - or at least that was my intention. Hermione, I was sitting on the stairs and could hear his aunt, uncle and git of a cousin talking to him last night."
Ron fell silent for a moment and looked down at the floor.
When his gaze returned to Hermione, she was concerned by what she saw. She'd never seen him look like that. His expression was a mixture of rage, confusion and total sadness.
Ron stood suddenly from his chair, slamming his cup against the table as he rose, shattering it. He swore rather loudly for about a full minute. While he worked to compose himself, Hermione repaired the shattered ceramic and moved to the counter to load both cups into the dishwasher. The shock and noise distracted both of them from the footsteps that were treading lightly down the stairs.
When Hermione turned back to face the table, Ron had sat back down with his hands hung at his sides, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his head thrown back and his eyes closed.
"Ron, what happened?"
He opened his eyes, gave her a long, thoughtful look and continued, "They were absolutely horrible to him. He'd always said they were, but not in my wildest nightmare could I imagine just how awful it could be. Hermione, I don't think….NO, I know they don't give a damn what happens to him."
Ron's voice was getting louder as his anger escalated again.
"I can't even repeat most of what his uncle and cousin said to him," he practically spat out through clenched teeth. "Just trust me, it was vile and it literally made me sick. I can't wait to get Harry the hell out of here tonight."
"What did Harry say when he came out and saw you on the stairs?" she asked gently.
"Nothing, I mean he never saw me on the stairs. I left before he came out, figuring he'd need some time to calm down and that we could talk about it once he came upstairs. But you know what? Harry walked into his room not ten minutes after I did, and if I hadn't heard what they'd said, you'd have no clue anything was wrong."
"What, he didn't say anything? He must have been upset."
"He looked perfectly calm. He just said it went as he'd expected. That was it."
Hermione was silent for a moment. "I guess he really is used to it, then."
"Hermione, no one should ever have to be used to that!" he said so emphatically that Hermione flinched and backed into the counter. "Indifference is one thing; hell, we've been dealing with their indifference for three days. But what happened in here last night was nothing short of hatred and cruelty. Since he was already having trouble sleeping, I didn't want him losing any more rest over the likes of them."
Ron had gotten up again and was pacing the length of the kitchen. "I can't understand it, any of it. I can't understand how they could raise him from a baby and not have the slightest bit of affection or concern for him. Bloody hell, the only reason they probably didn't starve him regularly is because they worried someone would have found out and how would that look? This house looks picture perfect, but it is rotten from the inside, out."
"Yeah, it's been a bit much," added Hermione. "I'm just sorry we never tried to visit Harry before."
Hermione wasn't even sure Ron actually heard her before he started again. "You know, I overheard Mum and Dad talking about them after we picked Harry up for the World Quidditch Cup. Dad was really upset with the way they treated him. Mum said it all probably stemmed from ignorance and fear – you know – about magic and our world. I believed it then; but that's not it, not all if it, anyway. It might have explained some of their attitude early on, but not the rest of it. Harry lived with them for ten straight years, and six more summers since. And now I know, the older he's gotten, the worse they've treated him. What could make you hate someone like that? If anything, you think they would have mellowed once they got to know him. Practically everyone likes him; well, except most of the Slytherins and who cares about that slimy bunch of idiots – and that's another thing that is driving me mad."
"What? You just said who cares about them," Hermione interjected confusedly as she was struggling to keep up with Ron's train of thought and his tirade.
"What? Oh, not that, I mean I don't understand how Harry could have turned out the way he has," he explained. "He's a great guy and has been since the moment we met."
"Yes, he's our best friend," she agreed.
"It's not just that. Don't you see? It's what Dumbledore had been saying to Harry all along. He always told Harry how remarkable he was. Well, he wasn't joking. Hermione, after spending a couple of days here, I'm ready to commit murder. Harry should be a stark, raving lunatic. He should be a mean spirited, small minded, sour faced prat. When he came back to the Wizarding world, he should have turned into a pampered, pouting, and attention seeking git like Malfoy. Instead, what do we have?"
Before Hermione could form her thoughts to answer, Ron continued. "I'll tell you what we have. We have one of the nicest people we've ever met. Harry is generous and funny. He's brave and loyal and trustworthy. He's modest to the point where you sometimes want to strangle him until you realize he really doesn't think he's anything special. Okay, so he's a little impulsive at times and granted, it's no fun being the one to tip his temper, but so what… The point is, he's a freaking, walking miracle and I don't think I fully grasped it until last night. And those idiots upstairs who are supposed to be his family don't see it. They don't care anything about what he's about to face and can't wait to change the locks once he leaves tonight."
Exasperated, Ron finally stopped talking long enough for Hermione to speak.
"I know, Ron," she said. "You don't have to justify any of what you are feeling. My stomach turns every time I witness them snubbing him or ignoring him. That's their loss, though. Harry is our best friend and we are his. We are his family. Your family is his family. The Order is his family. He isn't alone."
"That's all true Hermione, but I still can't help being angry for him. As much as I want to turn his uncle and cousin into a couple of barn animals, I really just want to shake his aunt until her brain rattles in her skull. She's the worst of the lot. Harry's mother was her kid sister, her only sister. Harry is her blood. How can she have looked at him all these years and not felt one drop of warmth towards him? Everyone goes on and on about Harry having his mother's eyes. How can she have looked into his eyes for sixteen years and not felt anything normal for her only sister's only child? But that's it, isn't it? She's never really looked at him at all. She doesn't know anything about him. She doesn't know what he's been facing these last six years, how brave he's been, what he's accomplished and what he has to do now."
"My god, Hermione, don't they get it?" asked Ron as his voice rose with his temper. "Harry's been stalked by the most powerful and evil wizard of all times. We know Voldemort won't stop unless he is destroyed. And now we know Harry is the only person who can possibly do it. He's not even seventeen, yet and the fate of our world is literally on his shoulders. He has to face Voldemort and kill him, or be killed himself. You'd think that'd merit a little compassion and concern for her only nephew, but oh no, never!! When he leaves tonight, they may never see him again. And not because he's moving to a deserted island, but because he might not survive long enough to see anyone again," Ron finally finished with his voice quaking and his eyes reddening.
Hermione was speechless, and not just from Ron's rant, but by the mere fact that he'd voiced the fear that was eating them both up inside. Ron always hid his emotions or used sarcasm to cover his anxieties. The Ron she thought she knew would rather have spat up slugs for a month than admit anything he was really feeling. He'd never expressed so much and so eloquently in all the years she'd known him. She couldn't help but feel proud of him in this very awkward moment. He was scared beyond belief and so was she. Hermione walked to Ron, wrapped her arms around him and waited for him to envelop her back. He did, and they held each other for several moments with silent, hot tears streaking both their faces.
Hermione finally pulled back to look at Ron. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and said softly, "We have to stay with him. You know he'll get all heroic and worried about us and try to ditch us, but we can't let him. I'd feel better if you'd agree to stay behind and let me go alone with him, but I know you would never do that. So, you and I will stick together and we'll glue ourselves to Harry if needed. We have to be there to help him."
Hermione simply smiled, nodded and nestled her head against Ron's chest once more until footfalls on the staircase signaled them to pull apart and wipe their eyes. Harry came into the kitchen, looking a bit confused, with his trainers in his left hand.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to oversleep. We've got about fifteen minutes to get to Mrs. Figg's for breakfast and I haven't even packed. I supposed I could do it later tonight, but I'm not sure how much time I'll have once we hear from the Order."
"That's not a problem, Harry," said Hermione as she pulled out her wand. "Why don't you sit with Ron and finish dressing. I'll run up and pack and straighten up for you, and then we can head over to Mrs. Figg's."
"Thanks, Hermione. You are the absolute best," he added with a broad grin.
"Remember that," she chided back and headed out the kitchen and up the stairs.
As Ron and Harry talked, the door to the cupboard under the stairs opened slowly and quietly, and out stepped an ashen-faced Aunt Petunia. She'd come down and was headed to the kitchen when she heard Ron and Hermione talking. She was struck numb by what she heard and then startled when she heard Harry at the top of the stairs some ten minutes later. She ducked in the cupboard to avoid seeing Harry and having Ron and Hermione realize she'd overheard them. Petunia tried to steady her shaking hands as she finally entered the kitchen. Ron colored at the site of her, but Harry looked unconcerned.
"We'll be leaving soon," he said to his aunt. She averted her eyes, nodded once and turned to busy herself preparing breakfast for Uncle Vernon and Dudley, both of whom were still upstairs. Fortunately, Hermione finished rather quickly and the trio soon headed out the door to Mrs. Figg's for the day.
As promised, she had breakfast ready and waiting for them when they arrived. Harry learned more about his neighbor in those hours than he had in the last sixteen years. Mrs. Figg told them all about growing up in a Wizarding household and finding out she didn't have a bit of magic in her. She'd accepted it long ago and was happy and proud to be able to offer assistance, no matter how small, to the Order. She still visited with her family regularly and showed them lots of photographs of a large, extended family.
It was such a pleasant day and they all agreed it'd be good to have lunch outdoors on the patio. Hermione and Harry volunteered to make lunch and Mrs. Figg gladly turned her kitchen over to them. Before they knew it, they'd been outside for hours, talking, laughing and playing board games. Harry and Ron finally started bringing dirty dishes into the kitchen to Hermione from outdoors, while Mrs. Figg lit a small fire in the fireplace. She explained that they were expected to hear something from the Order before sunset and she wasn't sure by what means, so she wanted to make sure the floo was operational.
As Harry crossed the room carrying platters, a knock sounded at the front door. Mrs. Figg went to answer it and seemed a bit shocked by the visitor. It was Mundungus Fletcher, looking as slick as ever. Harry stopped mid stride as Mundungus crossed the threshold. Ron and Hermione froze when they saw the look on Harry's face and the flash in his eyes. Mundungus finally realized Mrs. Figg wasn't alone. When he noticed Harry standing there, he blanched and began backing towards the doorway.
"I'm sorry, Arabella," he stammered. "I didn't realize you had company. I just stopped by to see if you'd had a chance to speak to Lupin or Moody for me."
"If the Order is still dealing with the likes of you," Harry said icily from across the room, "then we really do have a problem."
"Now look, Harry, I know you were mad at me, but honestly, Sirius wouldn't have cared," Mundungus rationalized. He seemed to have immediately realized he'd said the wrong thing.
Harry's hands were still full and he couldn't reach his wand, but it didn't matter. He glared furiously at Mundungus and the next thing anyone knew, Mundungus looked like he'd been sucker punched and was knocked to the floor. Everyone was stunned speechless.
Harry's hands and the platters in them were shaking with his efforts to control himself. Ron and Hermione were staring dumbfounded from their best friend, to the prone figure of Mundungus. Mrs. Figg had her hands over her mouth, looking very much like Aunt Petunia had on the night Hermione and Ron had arrived.
Finally, she bent low to Mundungus and said in a very shaky voice, "You need to leave right now. I told you, I couldn't do anything about the Order. You messed that up all on your own."
With that, Mundungus got awkwardly to his feet, turned and Disapparated at the doorway.
"Well now, that was most interesting," said a soft voice from the fireplace.
The four of them turned at once to see Lupin's head dancing within the embers of Mrs. Figg's fireplace.
Before they could all start, he signaled for their continued silence. "Arabella, four of us will be arriving in about twenty minutes. We are waiting for a second security check on the Floo Network. We shall discuss other things later," he added, looking pointedly at Harry. With that, his head vanished from the fireplace.
Harry finally put the last platters on the kitchen counter and without a word to either Ron, Hermione or Mrs. Figg, went out again to the backyard and closed the patio door behind him, hoping it conveyed that he did not wish to be followed.
What the hell just happened? What had he done? How had he done that? Harry hadn't done anything so out of control since the summer before his third year when he turned Aunt Marge into a human hot air balloon. This one though, felt different. He could feel his skin tingling. It's as if hot water was pulsing through his veins. He'd scared his friends; he could see it on their faces. Well, Lupin didn't look scared or really surprised, just slightly alarmed. Something was wrong.
Sure enough, Lupin, Kingsley, Moody and Tonks all stepped from Mrs. Figg's fireplace almost exactly twenty minutes later.
"Well," growled Mad Eye, "I hear you all had a bit of excitement this evening."
"It was unbelievable," began Mrs. Figg. "How in the name of Merlin did…" she continued but was silenced by an uncharacteristically severe look from Lupin.
"Where is he?" Lupin asked, turning toward Ron and Hermione with raised eyebrows when he didn't see Harry with them.
"He's in the backyard," answered Hermione. "He didn't say anything to anyone afterwards and he hasn't moved once since he sat at the picnic table."
"Remus," said Kingsley, "you go ahead and talk to Harry. Tonks and I will check things outside and near the Dursleys. Moody, do you want to come with us?"
"Nah, I'll park it here for a bit and talk with Arabella and these two," answered Moody with a point over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione.
"Fine," said Remus. "Please signal when it's clear to return to the Dursley house. As for the rest of you," he said turning to Mrs. Figg, Hermione and Ron, "do not discuss tonight's events with anyone. It's okay if Harry wants to talk to you about it, but do not bring it up, otherwise."
"Lupin…" started Hermione, but he cut her off quickly.
"Harry is perfectly fine and that is all you need to know for now," he added politely, but definitively as he moved towards the sliding glass doors and opened them.
"Hi, Lupin," Harry said flatly without looking up when he heard his footsteps on the flagstone walkway leading to the picnic table.
"Hello, Harry," Remus said quite softly.
He reached the table and pulled a chair around so he could face Harry, and waited. When Harry didn't move or say another word, Remus sat at the edge of his chair and used his right hand to cup Harry's chin, gently turning his face upward. Harry finally met his gaze and Remus could see many emotions swirling in those emerald eyes he knew so well. He smiled ever so slightly at Harry and released his chin.
"Harry, listen to me, please," he began. "We don't have a lot of time tonight. I know this evening's earlier events left you rattled. Just believe this for now; there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing sinister is going on, and it's got absolutely nothing to do with any connection to Voldemort."
A twitch at Harry's jaw line told him he wasn't too far off the mark as to what Harry might have been thinking.
"Your scar hasn't been bothering you, has it?"
Harry just shook his head.
"When we lost Dumbledore and went through his things, we realized he had not finished teaching you everything he intended. I'm not talking about whatever tasks you two were undertaking. I'm talking about very specific training."
"Yeah, when he said he wanted private lessons with me last year, Hermione thought that was the kind of thing I'd be learning, like advanced spells and defenses," Harry finally contributed.
"Well, that's what we all thought. We didn't realize differently until McGonagall filled us in on her conversation, or lack there of, with you. Shortly after term ended, she found some things Dumbledore left behind. In any case, it appears Dumbledore had prepared for the unlikely event that he might not always be with us. He left some very direct instructions on how we were to continue your training."
"And those instructions help explain about earlier today?" he asked still somewhat dejectedly.
"Yes, they actually do. Harry, do you trust me?"
"Of course I do, Lupin."
"Well then, believe me when I tell you everything will be revealed to you in due course. For now, we need to leave it at that and get you out of here. Are you ready?"
Harry looked into the etched and compassionate face of his father's and godfather's closest friend, and nodded. They rose together and walked back into Mrs. Figg's living room.
"Where's Moody?" inquired Lupin.
"He's already popped over to the Dursleys. As far as I know, Tonks and Kingsley are still patrolling the area," answered Mrs. Figg. A flash or red light streaked across the early evening sky.
"Okay, time to get moving then, shall we? Hermione and Ron, together if you will. Please focus on the Dursleys' living room and Apparate there now."
Harry watched as they joined hands, turned on the spot and vanished with a pop.
"Thank you for all your help, Arabella. I'll be in touch again, soon," Lupin said kindly.
"It's been my pleasure, Remus. You all be really careful, now."
With that, Remus turned to Harry and said, "On my mark…" and a moment later Harry and Remus were standing in the middle of the Dursleys' living room. The tension in the room was tangible.
"Harry, Moody has already sent all your stuff to the Burrow," Tonks said from near the fireplace with Moody and Kingsley on either side of her.
Hermione and Ron were standing near the hall entrance. All three Dursleys were sitting on the sofa, looking mutinous. Harry expected to see them smiling and excited, but they looked near hysterics. Ron and Kingsley however, looked pleased as punch. Kingsley's left eyebrow arched upward and toward Moody. Ah, Harry realized Moody had done more than secure the premises. He'd had another of his infamous chats with his aunt and uncle.
"Thank you," he mouthed in Moody's direction.
Moody winked his non-magical eye in return and stepped to the center of the room with Remus and Harry.
"Here's the plan," he said in his usual gruff voice. "Tonks and I will Apparate with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger."
"But Ron and I know how to Apparate ourselves. He can't go alone, yet; but the two of us can go together," Hermione added helpfully.
"I know you do, but you're not entering through normal means. We've added some additional security measures and you don't know where to go, yet. So, as I was saying, you two will be going side along with Tonks and me. Once we signal back that everything is clear, Harry will Apparate with Kingsley and Remus. You will need to move quickly because we're only lifting the barriers for a few moments, understand?"
Everyone nodded.
"Harry, you may say your goodbyes now, if you wish," said Lupin from just behind him.
Harry turned to look at his aunt, uncle and cousin. If not for the undressing they'd taken at the hands of Moody, Harry was sure his relatives would be dancing on the edges of their seats. Even though they weren't jumping up and down, Harry could still see the disdain in his uncle and cousin's eyes. Aunt Petunia was barely looking at him. Harry was long past the point of caring anymore. He just wanted this part, at least, to finally be over.
"Goodbye," he said politely to them.
"Good riddance," Dudley attempted to mumble under his breath. He said nothing else as he winced at the look Moody gave him.
"So, this is it, then. You won't be coming back to stay again, right?" asked Uncle Vernon.
"No, I won't," answered Harry as dispassionately as possible.
"Well then, goodbye boy," said Uncle Vernon.
Aunt Petunia was staring at Harry with the oddest expression on her face, but she hadn't spoken yet. Moody took the silence as a signal that the niceties were over, and in a matter of moments, Ron, Tonks, Hermione and Moody had vanished. Harry kept trying to read the expression on his aunt's face, but he was at a loss. Moments later, a spark lit the front picture window and Lupin and Kingsley each walked forward and grasped Harry on either shoulder.
"We need to go now, Harry," Kingsley said in his low voice.
The last thing Harry saw was his aunt's hand reaching up towards the spot from which he'd just vanished.