CHAPTER 3: THE DENNISONS
"Harry, I presume?" the woman asked. She looked around Mrs. Weasley's age.
Ms. Colton had taken off again with a merry "I'll be back in a fortnight!", leaving Harry standing in front of his new foster mother. Reluctantly, Harry nodded. Lupin had promised to come back for him. If there was one thing Harry had learnt, it was that between Sirius and Lupin, they had yet to break a promise to him. Might as well wait it out here.
"I'm Lynne," the woman said. "Gregory – that's my husband – is working right now, and the boys are all at school, but they'll be back at about 4. Come, let's get you settled in and then maybe, would you like something to drink? Tea – I know my boys won't be caught dead drinking tea, but maybe you'd like some?" She picked up Harry's duffel. "We've put you in with Sam, he's your age. I know it'll be a tough adjustment, probably, but Sam's really a nice boy, he'll not be bothering you. Braden and Jack are just across the hall from you, over here. Braden used to have his own room, being the oldest and all, but we thought it might be nicer for you to be rooming with Sam and not Braden. Sam'll be able to muddle through homework with you, you'll be in all the same classes…"
Merlin, did this woman ever stop talking?
"Mum!" came the collective call of three teenage boys as they banged into the house. "Mum, we're home!"
Lynne looked up and called, "In the kitchen, boys!"
"What's to eat, Mum?" came the question from one boy with wavy brown hair that was falling everywhere around his head. His two brothers had the same hair. "I'm starving, you wouldn't believe how hard Wills ran us today…" He stopped when he saw Harry. "Oh, you the new boy?"
"Braden!" Lynne scolded. "Be polite! This is Harry, boys."
"Boy, somebody banged you up good," came the voice from the second boy. "Mum, you sure there's nothing to eat?"
Lynne sighed. "Lands' sake, do you lot never stop eating?… Go grab something out of the fridge, then. Don't eat too heavily, your father's taking us all out to dinner tonight."
"You mean we're actually taking him out in public like that?" the third boy asked, yanking open the fridge door. "Geez, Mum, the police are going to stop us for abuse!"
"Sam!"
"Listen," Sam said in an undertone to Harry, "if you think I'm spoon-feeding you – "
"I can feed my own self, thanks," Harry said coolly. It was true, he could, it just took a while.
"How?" Jack asked disdainfully. "You couldn't possibly hold anything in those hands."
"I manage," Harry growled.
"Boys, talk nice to each other," Gregory reprimanded from the driver's seat.
"Don't just talk nice, be nice," Lynne corrected.
The restaurant turned out to be a specialty soup place. Great. He was going to come out with more on him than in him. At least with solid food, he had a chance of keeping it on a fork until it got to his mouth.
The waiters and waitresses all kept shooting curious glances at him as they passed, no doubt wondering what the poor little boy at table 15 had gotten into. Great, even in the Muggle world he couldn't escape the stares.
Harry grumbled under his breath and tried once more to balance the spoon on his crushed right hand. He managed to get it just about to his mouth when it tipped and fell into the bowl with a loud clatter again. Cursing again in a mutter, he retrieved the spoon and tried again.
The Dennisons had all finished their appetizers, entrees, desserts and coffees before Harry had managed to get five spoonfuls of soup into his mouth. Finally, Lynne said gently, "We'll get it packaged for you, Harry dear. You can finish at home."
"So I hope you don't snore," Sam said nastily as he crawled into his bed. Harry glowered at him and turned to face the wall. He was hungry, and in a foul mood, and Embittered Harry was hissing in his ears.
Harry woke at about 6:30 the next morning and somehow managed to struggle into his clothes. Merlin, his robes would be so much easier… Limping out to the kitchen and giving thanks that it was a single-floor home (so much easier to escape once Lupin caught up with him), Harry noticed Lynne and Gregory were both awake.
"Harry dear, you're up early," Lynne said in surprise, getting up from the table to go look for food. "What would you like for breakfast? Eggs, bacon, toast?"
"Just toast, thanks," Harry replied.
"How about that, eh, Lynne?" Gregory said, reading the morning paper. "Family in Little Whinging had their house broken into. Blimey, and they were on vacation too. Just goes to show how little attention people pay to their property's safety. Probably didn't lock their back gate."
"Was anything stolen?" Lynne asked as she set a plate of toast in front of Harry.
"No, that's the odd thing. Family claims they were off on a short vacation, came back and the house had been broken into. Nothing stolen, just a pile of broken dishes and things strewn about, so police aren't investigating, but still… I've heard of rifled cars, but rifled houses?"
Harry listened to them, carefully nibbling at his breakfast to avoid spilling it all in his lap. He'd much rather avoid having to change. Was the family they were discussing the Dursleys, by any chance? Why would've Lupin come searching for him if he hadn't been first to Privet Drive – how would he have gotten Harry's things if he hadn't been to Privet Drive? The Dursleys certainly would've noticed his things were gone, but they weren't about to say that to the police – "Oh, yes, we're missing a broomstick, and a trunk full of robes and spellbooks, and a wand… No, we're not crazy, really…"
For a moment, Harry amused himself by thinking about how the Dursleys would've reacted when they figured out that wizards had been in their home. Aunt Petunia's face would've tightened, her face pale, lips puckered together in an expression of sour disgust as she let out little squeaks of upset. Uncle Vernon's face would've gone purple and he would've been sputtering indignantly…
"You can GET OUT!" Uncle Vernon roared.
"No, I don't think I will, thanks," Harry replied calmly, though he was starting to get a little worried – Uncle Vernon was looking rather irate…
"Out!"
"No."
"Out!" Uncle Vernon repeated, knocking Harry out of his chair and to the floor. His face was the most violent shade of purple he'd ever seen before and that included Gilderoy Lockhart's robes.
Harry could hear Aunt Petunia's little squeaks of upset as she tried halfheartedly to call off her husband and son. From somewhere in the distance, he could've sworn he heard a Howler.
"Remember my last, Petunia!"
'What?' Harry had time to think stupidly before the lack of oxygen and a sharp right hook from Dudley combined to make the world go black.
"Harry?" Gregory asked sharply.
Harry shook himself back to the present firmly. "Sorry?" he asked, voice cracking a little.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah, yeah, fine," Harry replied quickly, returning his attention to his toast before any more questions were asked.
"All right, boys, I'll be outside the school at 3:30," Lynne said as she pulled up to the secondary school. "Anybody not in the van by 3:45 is finding their own way home. Have good days."
"Yeah," all four boys grumbled as they piled out. The three Dennisons quickly dispersed into the crowds and Harry sighed, resolutely limping his way to the school.
"Um, excuse me?" Harry asked the receptionist, who was on the phone with somebody. The receptionist held up a finger and finished her conversation… in about an hour.
By that point, Harry's leg was throbbing from standing on it for so long, his infected arm was sending stabbing pains up and down his arm again and he was rather irritated.
"Now, can I help you?" she asked in exasperation.
"I'm supposed to be starting my classes today, do you have my timetable?" Harry asked curtly. "Harry James."
"Classes started two days ago, Mr. James, timetables were distributed in the summer. If you weren't present to take your timetable, you'll have to book an appointment with your guidance counselor to retrieve another one." She turned back to her computer as Harry ground his teeth together.
"I was only registered in this school yesterday, madam, I don't have the faintest idea what I'm supposed to be doing," Harry said. "Could you at least tell me who my guidance counselor is?"
The receptionist turned to him again and said, "There's a one-week wait period, Mr. James, before all that information reaches you. Until then, I'm afraid you'll have to simply wait."
Harry growled. "Stupid Muggle bureaucracy," he muttered as he left the school. "Wish I was back at Hogwarts now…" Finding a nice, quiet corner of a park somewhere, he dropped to the ground, seething. Well, at least he didn't have to try and explain why he was at a lower-primary level in education now.
Sighing, he leaned back against the trunk of the tree, closing his eyes and willing his pain to go away when he felt a familiar nip at his ear. Sitting up again and opening his eyes, he looked over to see Hedwig perched on his shoulder. "Hey, girl," he whispered, a smile spreading across his face. He took the rolled up parchment from her beak and said, "Go look through my bag, I expect you might find something in there for eating." Steadying the parchment with his crushed hand, Harry eased his metal-rodded arm out of its sling, caught hold – somewhat clumsily, true, and very much against doctor's orders, but how else did they think he got half the things he did accomplished? – and pulled the parchment down, delighted to see Hermione's careful script.
Dear Harry:
We're all quite worried about you, where ARE you? L said that you've gone missing again somehow. I don't know who's more upset right now: S, Mrs. Weasley or Dumbledore. S has been snappish lately, L told us, he doesn't think S is going to calm down until you're found again and back here, where you belong. Nearly ripped L's head off when he didn't manage to get you out last time.
Everybody's talking about you at school – the story's all over the Daily Prophet, you know, how you went missing and missed your disciplinary hearing. Half the school thinks you're trying to escape Azkaban for breaking Decree of Secrecy and the other half thinks you've been killed. I expect that wherever you are, you're quite upset enough already, Ron thinks we ought to just tell you about what's going on.
Here, the handwriting changed from Hermione's neat writing to Ron's messy scrawl.
Merlin, that girl prattles, don't she, Harry? Any way, Angelina Johnson's been made the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, she's seething that you're not here. You should've seen the temper tantrum she put up when McGonagall said she wasn't certain you were going to be back in time for Quidditch season. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is this awful toad called Umbridge, she's from the Ministry of Magic. She is, she's a toad, really, she actually looks like one. Snape and Malfoy are almost unbearable with you gone, they're both gloating.
Hermione would like me to tell you that she and I are prefects. I got a new broom – the new Comet, you know, not as good as your Firebolt, but it's all right – as a reward from Mum and Dad. Fred and George are absolutely aghast. I'm not enjoying it, you know, I'm not like Percy.
I was thinking, maybe, that I might go out for the Gryffindor team this year, with a new broom, you know, the Keeper spot is open. Charlie and Fred and George always made me Keep for them on breaks. I think I'm all right, don't know that I'm going to get the spot, but it's always worth a try.
The writing changed back into Hermione.
Well, Harry, I hope you're all right, I really do. You mustn't stay away for long, you know, it's OWL year and you'll never be prepared in time if you miss much class. Send us back a letter with Hedwig very soon, we're missing you a lot.
Love, Hermione and Ron
Harry laughed as he finished reading the letter. He could actually see Ron and Hermione arguing over what to write and who would write and how long the letter ought to be. And the way they wrote, it was like having a conversation with them: Hermione making sure that Ron admitted prefectship and reminding Harry about OWLs, in her usual responsible 'you-lot-would-fail-everything-if-I-wasn't-here' manner, and Ron waving her aside to talk about Quidditch – a far more interesting subject than OWLs.
They hadn't mentioned Sirius or Lupin by name, but Harry supposed that it was a measure of security. It mollified his agitated spirit somewhat to know that Sirius was worrying over him, not mention Mrs. Weasley and everybody. It was nice to have people who actually cared.
Sighing as he looked at Hermione's last comment, he groaned. It was OWL year. Of course. The most important year in his schooling so far, and he was indefinitely suspended, if not expelled, from Hogwarts.
Send us back a letter with Hedwig… damn it, how was he supposed to write? Using his metal-rodded arm for steadying or basic movements was one thing: the intricacy of writing was well beyond his ability for a few weeks yet.
A ripping sound from his bag made him jump. Hedwig had torn open the brown bag with his lunch in it, gulped down about half the bread on his sandwich and had promptly ripped off the cloth tag from his backpack for no apparent reason. The cloth had his name and address on it.
"Aw, Hedwig," Harry started to groan, "Lynne's going to murder me for ripping the… you intelligent girl!" he said, realizing what she'd done. "Hedwig, you're such a brilliant bird, I love you! Take that straight to Lupin and Sirius, all right? I assume they're in the same place. Hopefully, they'll get it."
Hedwig hooted and took off.
When Harry finally found his way back to the Dennison house, it was well after dinner and the kitchen was a cacophony of voices.
"Yes, yes, 15-year-old boy, black hair, green eyes, glasses, bandages and casts everywhere…" Lynne was saying frantically to somebody on the phone. "Well, I dropped him off at Mallowvale Secondary this morning with my sons before classes and he wasn't there in the afternoon when I came to pick them up. But I thought he had a class run late or something, I told them I was only waiting until quarter to four…"
"I never saw him anywhere in school today," Sam commented easily. "Probably skipped, Mum."
"… no, you don't understand, this is a foster son. There are concerns for his safety…"
"Oh, are you in trouble," Braden snickered as he walked in behind Harry. "Mum, he's back!"
"Is he? Oh, good… Officer, thank you for your time, he's just walked in the door…" Lynne appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "Harry, get over here right now!"
