Chapter 3: Road to Perdition
A few hours passing found Harry Potter puffing slightly twelve miles down the road. Not being entirely sure where he was headed, he'd taken to simply following the road. While this was a good choice for getting him away from Privet Drive, it was not a good choice for staying inconspicuous. After all, how many 16 year olds could be found dragging an over sized trunk and an empty birdcage, with an owl following behind, down a dusty road?
Harry really wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself now. He'd already been expelled from Hogwarts, and the Ministry men were probably after him right now to destroy his wand. Knowing that he'd cast that Patronus Charm as quickly as they did, Harry knew that they had to have some sort of monitoring device put up on his wand. Or maybe his person? It would have to be rather complex for students to have been unable to remove it thus far. Especially with students as smart as some of them were. A small smile flitted across his lips. Hermione was plenty smart enough to figure it out. She probably already knew what kind of spell it was and how to remove it. Of course, she would never dream of doing such a thing. Not for herself anyway, but perhaps… He frowned. Maybe he could convince Hermione to help him get the tracking charm off, and then he could just cast a glamour charm and try to start a new life. But – no, he dare not do such a thing to Hermione, it would put her in serious danger, and she could be expelled as well, or perhaps even put in Azkaban. Maybe I'm headed there myself. I did run from the Ministry.
Harry sighed and came to a stop, releasing his grip on both the birdcage and the trunk, his arms aching.
Hedwig hooted as she came silently gliding in to land on the trunk next to where Harry had sat down. "Hey girl." He said, gently scratching her head. "I don't know what I'm going to do with myself now. I've gone and run away from the Ministry. Not that I regret it but I just don't know where to go now. I dare not go to Hermione, she could get expelled, and there's no sense in me screwing up her life. I thought about the Weasley's, after all, Mrs. Weasley is always insisting that I'm like one of her son's but…well, Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry too, and I could get him fired or worse. What am I going to do?"
"Iss there no one that you trusst?"
Harry started a bit, and then looked down. Through the gloom of the night he could barely make out the delicate shape of Serin's head peeking out from the shirt pocket where he had stuffed him earlier.
"You could undersstand me?" He hissed to the little snake.
"Yess, of coursse." The little reptile sounded smug. "Why wouldn't I? You did accept me ass your companion."
"Well, yess I did but…what doess that have to do with it?" Harry shifted on the trunk uncomfortably.
"Everything ssilly wizard. When you accepted me, you sshared a little bit of your magic with me and I learned the language of man."
"You did? Really?" Harry tested in English.
"Yess, really."
"Wow, this is so cool. I didn't know that such things were possible. I wonder..." Harry turned his attention to the owl crooning in his lap. "Do you think, Sserin, that maybe it'ss the ssame with Hedwig? That because I have accepted her sshe has learned the language of humanss?"
"Why don't you assk her?" Came the little snake's reply, his tongue flicking out to taste the air.
"Well," Harry shifted again. "I know that sshe can undersstand me to a certain extent but…I can't sspeak bird like I can ssnake."
"Jusst try."
Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. Barely a day had passed with Serin in his company and the little adder was already ordering him around.
"Um, Hedwig?" He asked, suddenly uncertain. "Can you understand English?"
Hedwig paused from where she had been preening her feathers and whipped her head around to stare at him with fierce, unblinking eyes. Opening her beak she gave him an outraged screech and flapped her wings at him, stirring up the grime and dirt from the road.
"Okay, okay! Hedwig I'm sorry!" He brought his hands up to his face and shielded his eyes from the dust. "I didn't mean to insult you. It's just that Serin can understand English now where he couldn't before and I wanted to know if it was the same with you is all."
Settling back down on his lap, Hedwig clacked her beak at him before hooting softly and butting her head against his chest.
Dutifully bringing his hands back down and scratching her on the head, Harry began to ponder the situation he was in. Here he was, Harry James Potter, the boy-who-lived, sitting on the side of the road with an owl on his lap, an adder in his pocket and all his worldly possessions in a trunk under his bum. How Ron would laugh to see me now.
But Harry's thoughts skittered away from the Red-haired youth. He didn't really want to think about Ron right now. He'd been a prick all last year with the Tri-Wizard Tournament because he, like so many other people, had believed that Harry had put his name into the cup on purpose. Ron had only believed Harry after he had come back from the center of the maze with a dead Cedric and blood on his clothes. But by then, a whole year had passed and Harry deeply resented the fact that his supposed best friend had abandoned him due to some petty jealousy. After that, Harry had been caught up in a whirlwind of question and answer sessions that had left him little time to reconcile things with Ron. So it was that when the two of them had parted ways at King's Station, Harry to Privet Drive and Ron to the Burrow, that Ron and Harry's good bye's had been, at best, a bit stiff.
After that, Ron had written Harry only once the whole summer and that was to give Harry a birthday present of Chocolate Frogs. The attached card had two words on it "Happy Birthday" and nothing else. Harry hadn't even bothered to respond.
Hermione had been better, but not by much. She had written a total of three times, once before, once on, and once after his birthday.
The first time had been a rather lengthy letter letting him know that she missed him and that she hoped the Dursley's were treating him fine. She also mentioned that Ron had finally gotten the guts up to ask her out and did Harry mind too much that she had said yes? She was anxious about her O.W.L.'s and she was sure that she had gotten number twenty three of her potions exam wrong and why, oh why, hadn't she studied harder on her ancient runes test?
Harry had been forced to laugh at that comment. He knew for certain that she had studied ancient runes a minimum of two hours a night, a full two months before the exams.
She had gone on to say that other than being busy with schoolwork, not much was happening. Through a vague and meandering fashion she had told him that she and Ron were staying at the same place, and that that place was not the Burrow. He got the sense that she wasn't supposed to tell him that.
The rest of her letter had been rather meaningless, but Harry had gotten the distinct impression that she had been trying to tell him something with vague words and phrases that she was unable to come out in the open and say.
Harry had responded by saying that the Dursley's were fine, or at least no worse than usual, and of course he didn't mind if she and Ron dated. (Though truth to tell, he didn't know why Hermione would want to date Ron after he'd been such a prat.) After teasing her a bit, Harry had assured her that she had done fine on her O.W.L.'s and exactly what was she doing schoolwork during the summer for anyway?
He'd also asked for any information she had as to what was going on with Voldemort because Hedwig couldn't deliver the Prophet to his house.
Her second letter had come on his birthday and had been accompanied by a rather hefty book that seemed to be written in some archaic language. She had admonished him heavily for making light of her schoolwork and had informed him in no uncertain terms that if he didn't shape up next year, she wouldn't help him on his essays. She spoke some about things she and Ron had been doing, but they mainly consisted of mealtimes and the tricks his brothers Fred and George had played on him. And those encounters, while funny, didn't really shed any light on what exactly was going on in the world.
His response had been a bit short and had only said that he was doing just fine on his schoolwork thank-you-very-much and perhaps he had a few suggestions for Fred and George.
In her third letter, Hermione had hinted around about something again, but by this time, Harry had gotten tired of her vague hints about something only Merlin would know and he'd told her point-blank that if she couldn't just come out and say it then she'd best not write at all.
There had been no reply.
Still caught up in his thoughts, Harry let out an undignified squeal of shock when a letter came pelting down from the sky and hit him in the head, sending his glasses askew on his nose. Jerking backwards, Harry's flailing hands had met only open air and he had ended up sprawled on his back, with his feet tipped up over his trunk, staring balefully at Hedwig, who had taken to flight right before he had toppled backwards and who was now perched upon his legs and letting out sounds that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
"Hardy har harr Hedwig. Very funny. Next time you deliver a message to Hermione or Ron I'm sure you'll be sure to smack them on the head with a letter from the sky, huh?"
"Are you ssick?" Serin asked with concern, sliding out of Harry's shirt pocket to coil up on his chest. Raising his head high, he flicked his tongue rapidly back and forth to ascertain whether or not Harry was hurt.
"No Serin, I'm fine, I was just startled by a letter from the sky," Harry assured him, reaching for the offending object. Before he could grasp it however, a second letter floated down from the blackness above and landed on Harry's chest, flattening a rather peeved snake. "Er, sorry about that Serin, lemme just…" gently, he removed the letter and glanced back up at the sky just in time to catch a third letter on it's descent.
"Lookit this Hedwig. I've almost received as many letters in the past minute as I've received the entire summer! Go figure, I have to get into trouble before anyone notices I exist." Harry hauled himself to his feet as Serin slid back into his pocket and organized the letters in the order of arrival before opening the first one.
Harry—
Dumbledore's just arrived at the Ministry, and he's trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND.
Arthur Weasley
Harry rolled his eyes. A bit late for that advice. And how the bloody hell was I supposed to keep from doing any more magic and surrendering my wand when they came to destroy it? Picking up the second letter, Harry opened that one too.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Further to our letter of approximately twenty-two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on 12th August, at which time an official decision will be taken.
Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from the school pending further inquiries.
With best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hophirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of MagicHarry looked at his wristwatch disbelievingly then re-read the first sentence. "Further to our letter of approximately twenty-two minutes ago…" This can't be right. Twenty-two minutes ago? More like four hours ago! Could the owls just not find me? With confusion running rampant, Harry picked up the third letter and ripped it open. Recognizing his Sirius's – his godfather – writing, he read the unsigned notice.
Arthur's just told us what's happened.
Don't leave the house again, whatever you do.
Harry stared blankly at his godfather's words before crumpling the letter in his hands. Of course they were going to react this way. Harry had used magic in front of a Muggle right? That was inexcusable. Forget that he'd used it and therefore saved his life AND his cousins. Forget that he had used magic against Dementors, which shouldn't have been there in the first place. Forget that the bit of magic that he had used was the Patronus Charm that most full-grown wizards couldn't do! Forget that his home life was shit, forget that the world expected him to be more than he was, forget that he was only sixteen, forget all of it!
ooOO00OOoo
Harry was fuming. Pacing back and forth in front of his trunk on the side of the road he argued with himself about the merits of calling on the Knight bus. When he had been scared out of his mind in his second year, he'd run from Privet drive and had accidentally hailed the Knight Bus, a standard-fair triple-decker bus that was available for stranded witches and wizards in and around the London area.
Now that he knew how to do it on purpose, he wasn't sure if he should. He'd avoided calling on it thus far because he knew he could be tracked that way, but if the Ministry wasn't out to get him anymore, was it safe? If it was, he could very well call upon it and have them drop him off in front of the Leaky Cauldron, the flagship to the rest of London for the wizard-run market place, Diagon Alley.
But what if they were after him now because he'd run?
Harry groaned and pivoted back the way he'd come. "I jusst don't know what to do." He hissed at Serin desperately.
"I am ssorry that I can't help you with this decission. But I don't know how the human world workss."
"It'ss fine Sserin, I'm jusst glad that you and Hedwig are here with me. At leasst I am not alone."
"Of coursse not." The little adder scoffed. "Never alone."
Turning around once more, Harry was surprised to see three people standing by his trunk. Startled by their appearance, and unable to make out their faces, Harry whipped his wand out from behind his ear and pointed it at the people.
"Wh-Who are you?" He called with only the slightest break in his voice.
"Calm down Harry." Came a gravely, yet strangely familiar voice. "We're here to take you to Dumbledore."
"Oh really?" He scoffed. "And how, exactly, do you plan on proving that?"
"We can't Harry, you'll just have to trust us." Came a female voice.
"Professor McGonagall?" Harry choked on his words.
A soft light appeared and he could finally see the faces in front of him. To the left stood a short, squat man with one leg missing and a magical fake eye that was perpetually rolling about in its socket. To his left stood a tall woman with gray hair pulled back severely in a bun and it was she who had spoken, as well as the one who had called up the light. Recognizing Alastor Moody and Professor McGonagall, Harry shifted his eyes to the young woman standing to the far right. She was rather short, with an even skin tone and laughing blue eyes. Even standing still, she gave Harry the impression of boundless energy and he knew that if he didn't have a wand pointed at her, she'd be bouncing up and down on her toes. Her most distinguishing characteristic however was her bubblegum pink hair.
"Uh…who are you?" He asked uncertainly.
"Wotcher Harry! I'm Tonks!" She said giving a little bounce in place.
"How do I know that you are who you say you are?" Harry asked them boldly. If this really was professor McGonagall, Alastor Moody and…Tonks…then he could apologize later for holding them at wand point. If it wasn't then he'd be alive, and would apologize to no-one.
"Like I said Harry, you'll just have to trust us." Replied Professor McGonagall.
Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid that just isn't good enough. Professor McGonagall is an animagus. How about you transform into your animagus form and I'll believe you are who you say you are."
"Harry, we don't—" Began Professor McGonagall.
"No Minerva, he's right. Constant Vigilance! We need to prove ourselves to him. Go ahead." Alastor broke in, his magical eye swinging to stare about them even as he turned his head towards the Professor.
Looking slightly put out, McGonagall nodded her head and after a few seconds, a tawny cat stood in her place with markings around her eyes the same as her glasses.
Harry nodded his head. "I believe you Professor." In another second Minerva stood before him again, an agitated look on her face.
"Moody?" He inquired, his eyes locked on the man's remaining eye.
"I don't have an animagus form lad." Alastor stated blandly. "No help there."
"No, you don't have an animagus form Alastor," Professor McGonagall replied slyly, sending him an askance glance. "Why don't you tell us how you came up with 'constant vigilance'?"
Both Alastor's real and magical eye turned to stare balefully at Minerva, who returned the look, unperturbed.
"Well?"
"Hmph. Fine." His good eye turned to stare at Harry unblinkingly while the other roved about his head once more. "When Minerva and I were students at Hogwarts together, she in Gryffindor and me in Hufflepuff, we had Defense against the Dark Arts together and the first day of class, or teacher talked about how the Dark Arts were always around us and we must be constantly vigilant if we are to hope to stand against them."
Minerva rolled her eyes and clarified. "What Alastor meant to say is that he had a sort of hero-worship going on and anything and everything our DADA teacher said, went. He wouldn't talk to me for a week when I said I thought our Professor was nuts. You have to realize Harry, that the Dark Lord Grimrauld hadn't even risen yet, and our world hadn't had a Dark Lord for a hundred years or more." She snickered. "Alastor was so smug when we found out that Grimrauld was rising in Europe, he was almost glad, because then he and our Professor were right about constant vigilance."
Harry's eyes widened a bit, but he nodded his head in acceptance before turning to stare, puzzled, at Tonks.
"Well, seeing as you don't really know me Harry, I don't guess I can prove that I am who I say I am." She said, rather too cheerfully.
"Oh, but you can prove it Tonks." Moody stated his good eye fixing itself upon her, while his other one stared out the back of his head. "Tonks is a metamorphagus. She can changer her appearance at will."
"Fine." Harry said. "Go ahead Tonks."
"Right-o!" Tonks chirped, bringing her hand to her head in a jaunty salute. Scrunching her face up as if she was trying to remember some long-forgotten thought, she let out a less than tuneful 'hmm' before her hair abruptly changed colors to spring grass green. "How's that for proof?"
Harry lowered his wand. "Good enough." He coughed. "So what do you all want?"
"We're going to take you to go see Dumbledore, Harry." Minerva retorted sounding more than a little exasperated.
"And how, exactly, are we going to get there? And were, exactly, is there?" He replied snappishly. He had already decided that he wasn't going to have people walk all over him, and now wasn't the time to start letting them do it. Just because these people all worked for Dumbledore did not mean that they could treat him like a stupid child.
"We can't tell you where there is because it has a Fidelius Charm on it. But we can say that it is a safe house for people who are on the bad side of You-Know-Who." Moody seemed to be getting nervous and his magical eye rolled about frantically in it's socket. "We shouldn't stay here any longer. We've proven ourselves to you, now we have to get out of the open. It's not safe."
Frustrated at his lack of answers, Harry opened his mouth to respond before thinking better of it and closing his jaws with an inaudible snap. Mad – eye was right. Now was not the time for questions. But when it came time for them, by god he was going to have answers. It was his life and he was not going to be kept in the dark anymore. "Fine. What now?"
"Do you have your broom on you Harry?" Minerva asked.
"Yeah, in my trunk. Gimme a sec." Harry strode over to his trunk where Hedwig was calmly perched. Offering his arm to her, he held his hand steady as she hopped up onto it before raising his forearm to shoulder height so she could perch there. Once she was steady on his shoulder -- Dudley's oversized shirts made for good padding against sharp talons -- Harry opened his trunk and plucked his Firebolt from its protected position at the top of his possessions.
Turning his head to look at Hedwig, who was peering at the broom with intense interest, he asked, "Are you ready girl?"
Receiving an affirmative hoot and an affectionate nip on his ear, Harry braced himself as Hedwig crouched down on his shoulder before launching herself into the air with a push from her legs and a powerful down swipe of her silent wings. He watched her fly a moment, feeling a moment of joy at such effortless flight before turning back towards the three waiting magicians behind him. "Okay. What about my trunk?"
Tonks approached. "I've got it Harry, don't worry. I'll just strap it to my broom." Putting actions to words, she laid her Comet 260 on top of his trunk and whipped her wand out, muttering an incantation that caused ropes to appear and tie themselves around the trunk and fragile-looking stick. "Alright. That should just about—wow Harry! Is that a Firebolt? Those are real expensive."
Tonks' eyes lit up appreciatively as they landed on the broom in Harry's hand. He shifted it a bit in his hand. Though he didn't have many nice things, or even clothes that fit, Harry was very proud of his broom. It was the top of the line model and a present from his godfather. He didn't get to see Sirius much, after all, he was on the run from the Ministry, but he couldn't help from feeling sentimental about it. Every time he looked at it he was reminded that he had family out there who actually liked him.
"Alright now Harry." Minerva cut in before Harry could respond. "It's time to go. Moody is getting anxious." She was holding a Comet 260 in her hands, as was Mad-eye, who did seem to be getting more and more twitchy as the time went on.
"Mount your brooms." Moody called, his eye staring intently at something out the left side of his skull. They all complied. "On my count we fly. Three. Two. One. Up!"
Harry spoke softly to Serin, his words hidden by the whoosh of air as the four of them took to the sky. "Be warned, my friend. Thingss are about to get windy, we are flying to a ssafe place."
"Fly? Like Hedwig?" Serin sounded a tad nervous.
Harry contained a chuckle of amusement as the three members of the 'retrieval squad', as he had dubbed them in his mind, formed a triangle with him at its center, Tonks leading the way.
"Don't worry. You're ssafe with me. Jusst sstay in my pocket and you'll be fine."
"But…flying. You ssaid we are—Flying?" Serin insisted.
"Yess. Flying." Harry rolled his eyes.
"No, thank you."
"No—" Harry choked, "No, thank you?" He glanced down at the ground, more than 50 yards away. "A little late for that Sserin."
"But Harry," the little reptile objected. "Ssnakes most definitely do not fly. We don't even get airborne. The only way we hurl through the air is if we fall from a tree and," he added smugly. "As an adder, I don't climb trees thus, I cannot be flying."
A snort escaped Harry. "Your logic is inesscapable Sserin. Too bad you failed to add into your calculationss a wizard who ran away from home. I, and thus you, am pressently more than 65 yardss off the ground heading in a roughly Northwesstern direction with a bosssy retrieval ssquad on my broom endss."
"Can't be. Ssnakes. Don't. Fly."
"Ssorry, Sserin. But it lookss to me that you do. Don't worry sso much. I'll take care of you. And if anything happenss, Merlin forbid, Hedwig iss flying right besside uss and I'm ssure sshe would be more than willing to catch you before you hit the ground." Harry gave a pointed look in Hedwig's direction, regardless of the fact that she couldn't understand the exchange.
"That'ss what I'm afraid of." The adder muttered darkly.
Not deigning to respond, Harry turned his attention to flying and was rather amused to see Alastor shouldering Tonks out of the way so that he could lead them on a course back the way they had come before taking a sudden sharp turn to the left. In twenty minutes, Harry observed Mad-eye altering their course five more times before straightening his broom and beginning to truly cover ground.
Harry had assumed, apparently mistakenly, that flying would be faster, not slower, than walking. And perhaps, under most circumstances, it would be. However, with Alastor Moody leading the way, their trip was anything but short. And warm. It definitely wasn't warm.
While the short travel cloak that Harry had been wearing roadside was more than adequate to protect him from night-air; it was not adequate to keep the icy fingers of the wind away from his skin. Forty-five minutes had passed and Harry was quite frozen to the bone. No matter how he tugged or pulled on his cloak or collar, the wind still slipped underneath his clothes to dance across his skin.
Glancing down, he was unsurprised to see his fingers were red with cold, the very tips of them already sporting a faint blue tinge. Prying one hand away from the frozen handle of his broom, Harry flexed his fingers, striving to bring back lost circulation. Switching to his other hand, he vigorously rubbed the palm of his hand against his chest, before sliding it between his arm and his ribs; clamping his arm to his side in an effort to warm the icicles passing as fingers.
Should have known that I'd freeze to death up here. What a way to go. I just wish Mad-eye would get us wherever it is we are going or they're going to be sorely disappointed when it comes to that hearing! I can't very well show up if I'm imitating a Human Popsicle now can I?
ooOO00OOoo
"Harry! Wake up! We're here!" Tonks walked the couple feet between where she had landed and where Harry was still hovering a few feet off the ground and poked him in his ribs.
"Ow—wha!" There was a muffled thud, then a giggle as Tonks peered down at Harry over the side of his Firebolt.
"I thought you were supposed to be graceful on a broom Harry. What about all this I keep hearing from McGonagall that were the youngest Seeker in centuries? Shouldn't you be able to stay on a broom at least?" She giggled.
"I was the youngest Seeker in centuries, and I am quite graceful on a broom. You're the one that knocked me off and Moody is the one who stayed up there so long that I froze." Harry grumped turning his head towards the peg leg Auror. "Was it really necessary to double back eight times? No one was following us I checked. And so did you. And Professor McGonagall. And Tonks."
"Of course it was, Harry. Don't underestimate the importance of constant vigilance in the fight against dark wizards. We must be constantly vigilant if we are to win." Alastor had responded without ever turning towards Harry, though he supposed Alastor's magical eye was probably staring at him through the back of Mad-eye's skull. The paranoid man was standing on the sidewalk of the run-down neighborhood they were in, his good eye alternating between staring into the night sky and glaring accusingly down the street.
"Yes, well. As fascinating as that is Alastor." Minerva cut in dryly. "We all need to get inside before we all catch a cold. Poppy would not be thrilled with us if such a thing happened."
"Hmph. I suppose you are right." Finally turning to face Harry, who had in the mean time peeled himself off the concrete, Mad-eye pulled a wrinkled scrap of parchment from one of his numerous pockets and handed it to Harry.
The headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, London.
Looking up at the buildings in front of him, Harry noticed that the numbers on the buildings went from eleven to thirteen, as if the builders had somehow forgotten that twelve was supposed to be between the two.
Even as he thought that, Harry witnessed an extraordinary sight. Between numbers eleven and thirteen came a strange warping, a twisting of space itself. His eyes widened as the line separating eleven and thirteen bowed outward, a hole appearing that wasn't there before. In the space between, he observed a house, shoving its way between the two others. A house, bearing the number twelve.
"How is that possible?" He asked.
Professor McGonagall eyes twinkled. "It's called a Fidelius Charm Harry. Interesting, isn't it?"
"Interesting doesn't quite cover it." Harry shook his head at the wonders of magic.
"Well, come on people! Let's go inside already! I'm freezing my butt off here!" Tonks called, bouncing cheerily towards the steps.
Harry followed the retrieval squad into the house and into the dining room where he saw Mrs. Weasley slumped in a chair, fast asleep.
"Wake up, Molly." Minerva gently shook Mrs. Weasley's shoulder "We found him, he's safe. Wake up, Molly."
"Hmm? What?" Blearily, Molly Weasley opened her eyes, the sleepy lids roaming about the room before alighting on Harry. "HARRY!" Jumping out of her chair, she rushed over towards him and enveloped him in a hug, babbling the whole way. "Harry dear, how are you? Where have you been? You're horribly skinny; didn't those people feed you anything? What were you thinking running away like that? You could have been killed, or kidnapped. I was out of my mind with worry, didn't know where you'd gone, or where you were headed, why didn't you come here dear? And—"
"Molly! Give the poor boy a chance to speak or we'll never know anything at all. And for heaven's sake get him a blanket and a cup of cocoa, Alastor made us double back eight times before we landed and we've been in the air for an hour and a half. We're all frozen to the bone." Minerva collapsed into the chair Mrs. Weasley had recently vacated. "I'm getting too old for this sort of thing."
"Of course, Minerva, you're right. Foolish of me, really." The portly red head turned and disappeared into a door Harry assumed was the kitchen and he soon heard a kettle whistling.
Slumping into one of the kitchen table's chairs, Harry was suddenly hit with how tired he was. Glancing down at his watch, a hand-me-down from Dudley with a cracked face, he observed that it was 3 o'clock in the morning. A wave of exhaustion washed over him and he was hard-pressed to keep his eyes open, especially after Mrs. Weasley brought in a mug of hot cocoa and set it in his hands, the rich liquid warming him from the inside out. He'd been up since three the previous morning, outrunning his demons, but he'd never stayed up twenty-four hours straight before, and it was hitting him hard.
Tonks, who had sat down across from him, was nodding off, and even Alastor seemed to be lackluster, missing the kneasle that skittered in front of him to disappear under the curio cabinet in the corner.
Harry blinked and looked around for Mrs. Weasley, who seemed to have disappeared. Through his fog of sleepyness, he heard sounds rattling in the kitchen. Perhaps she was making something to eat?
Attention wavering, Harry stared mutely into his mug, the flickering shadows from one of the table candles playing games with the dark brown color of the liquid inside. Time seemed to stretch strangely and Harry had the double feeling that time was stretching on interminably and also that no more than a blink of an eye had passed. Caught up in the strange duality of the sensations, he gave out a shocked yelp and jumped when Mrs. Weasley came in and set a platter of muffins on the table in front of him.
Clucking her tongue disapprovingly, Molly Weasley saw that she wasn't going to get any sort of explanation out of anybody tonight – today -- she reminded herself. It was already tomorrow. Having set a warming spell on the muffins, they'd be alright for a couple of hours before the rest of the house got up, she bustled over to Harry and Tonks, dragging the both of them to their feet and sending them out the door to the entranceway.
"Show Harry to his room, Tonks, and then go to bed yourself. You've done enough for one day and you both look like you're dead on your feet. Get some rest, explanations can wait a day or two." Watching to make sure the two of them made it up the stairs, and – silently thank heavens – Tonks was a good Auror, but damn clumsy at times, Molly couldn't help but wonder if sending Harry to the Dursley's every summer was truly necessary. Headmaster Dumbledore had assured everyone that it was a necessary evil, but he had not told anyone why; frankly, she wasn't sure that any reason was good enough. Since the fall of Harry's first year when he had made friends with her youngest son Ron who was the same age, Molly had observed a disturbing trend in Harry's appearance.
Every August, he would appear at platform nine and three quarters a pale, skinny boy with clothes that were grossly oversized and a sickly cast to his skin. He always seemed to be jumping at shadows and there was a hooded cast to his eyes that she didn't like. Every spring, at the end of term, he would return to platform nine and three quarters a completely different boy, filled out and exuberant, a healthy glow to his skin and a sparkle in his eyes.
Even so, she could see him shrink into himself as he approached that Uncle of his, a grossly fat man with a beastly personality. How Harry had managed to remain such a sweet child was beyond her, especially given the way he was treated at home.
Shaking her head in confusion and regret at his plight, Mrs. Weasley turned back towards the dining room and began the much more difficult task of getting the remaining two people awake into their rooms and asleep. Ordering Tonks and Harry to bed was easy; after all, she was older than both of them; Minerva and Alastor however were a completely different story. Just because they were older than her they wouldn't let her mother them. No matter, she squared her shoulders. She'd show them. If she could, and did, mother Albus Dumbledore, then she could very well mother Minerva and Alastor too!
ooOO00OOoo
The letters from Arthur, the Ministry, and Sirius Black were written by the honorable J. K. Rowing and can be found on pages 28, 33, and 35, respectively, of the book Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix; published by scholastic press. They were not created by me, and I have received nothing but joy from the reproduction of them in the above Chapter.