A/N: Thank you for the people who took the time to leave me a review, follow, and favourite. I adore each and every one of you!
-Padfoot's Boy-
-Chapter TWO: The Man With The Twig-
The dry stench of laundry powder lingered in the back of Harry's mouth, making him cough and clear his throat. He received a dirty look from his Aunt who hurried about the house, cleaning frantically and calling out to Dudley to make sure he wore his best clothes. They were expecting a visitor. Harry was thankful it wasn't his Uncles sister, Marge. Instead it was a new neighbour, or more over two new neighbours who had just moved in.
"Hurry up and finish that, boy. I need to set the table soon." Harry ignored the hissed words as best he could and reached up on tiptoes to start the washing machine. He was to stay in his cupboard for the evening while his Aunt and Uncle put on a façade for the visitors.
Sneaking out of the laundry room Harry wandered into the kitchen, where his Aunt was rushing to and fro like some frenzied hummingbird. Her hair was pulled back into a tight coil that was meant to be a bun, accentuating her sallow cheeks and pointed chin. When she spotted him in the doorway her eyes narrowed darkly.
"Well," she snapped in a crisp voice, Harry resisted the urge to flinch. "What do you want?" peeking up at the tall, waiflike woman the small boy nibbled on his lip nervously; summoning the courage to ask the question that tingled on his tongue.
"Can I have some dinner before I go to my cupboard?" the question was so quietly spoken that Petunia had to lean forward to catch it. As if to attest to the fact he was hungry Harry's tummy rumbled. The stern, pinched expression his Aunt was wearing told him that she wasn't pleased.
It surprised him when she went to the pantry and fetched a slice of white bread. "Here," she snipped nasally and literally threw the slice at him. Harry fumbled and caught the offering. He hadn't expected to be allowed anything. A moment later the doorbell sang out a chime of sound.
"Go," Petunia hissed through her teeth at Harry, flapping her arms to get him moving, "and don't make trouble." She warned. Harry ducked his head and hurried from the kitchen, his Aunt was on his heels, making for the front door. As soon as Harry had settled into his cupboard the latch clicked into place and he was aware that his Aunt had just locked him in. Probably as added insurance that he would behave.
Bunching up the scarce blankets he had Harry cuddled them tight, listening to the sound of the front door being opened and Petunia's loud exclaimed greeting.
"Ever a pleasure to meet a new neighbour or in this case two," She gushed and giggled at the top of her voice. Harry bit the inside of his cheek when a hesitant voice replied. It appeared that the man who spoke was put out by her enthusiasm.
"Yes," the deep but gentle voice replied, "a pleasure." And then, "may we come in?"
Harry scrambled to his knees and peeked out of the slats in the door, hoping to catch a glance at the visitors. His Aunt moved aside and motioned them to come in, chattering about some inane, pointless thing.
Harry caught sight of one of the men; he was dressed somewhat oddly in Harry's opinion. He wore his sandy hair about his cheeks, a few scars that made Harry's gape stood out near his chin and neck. A long, floor length coat was draped over the man's shoulders, and pointed boots were on his feet. Harry was more than a little curious and half wished his Aunt hadn't locked him away for the evening.
The second man trailed in at a slower pace, swaying his hips and looking around at the house with mild interest. He was dressed more normal, in a pair of jeans and a fitting sweater. Harry's small mouth dropped open even further when he saw the twig the man had in his back pocket. Why did he carry a twig around with him? It made him smile a little, thinking how wonderfully odd the two men were. He wondered if his Aunt would pick up on it. She hated anyone that differed from her opinion of normal.
"Supper is on its way," Harry heard his Aunt say cheerily as she disappeared into the kitchen. "My husband will be home any minute." The men followed her; both sharing a look that spoke volumes of what they thought of Petunia, Harry giggled and both men froze at the kitchen door having heard the noise.
Slapping his palm over his mouth Harry held his breath. He wasn't supposed to cause trouble. And letting two strangers find a boy locked in a cupboard under the stairs was considered causing trouble, Harry reflected.
There was a painful moment of awkward silence; both the men were looking around the small space as if they expected someone to magically appear before them. Harry kept as quiet as was possible.
"Mm, I must have imagined it." The taller man said, brushing his dark hair out of his face. Harry let his breath go, breathing a sigh of relief. Just before the men were fully out of earshot Harry caught some words that confused him. "…He must be here; we'll keep an eye out, Remus…"
Who were they talking about? Did they think someone else lived here? Harry was certain they weren't speaking of him. Many of the neighbours in Privet Drive barely knew he existed. Snuggling up to his blanket, Harry sat back, keeping his ears alert in case he caught snippets of conversation. His slice of bread was held in his fist, a crumpled piece of white.
Petunia Dursley was nothing like Sirius had expected. Her high, false voice grated on his nerves. He sat at the table, straight backed, hoping his face was organized into a mask of politeness. Remus was beside him and looked ever the perfect dinner guest with his hands folded neatly in his lap. Petunia was discussing her garden with him, rambling on about stupid things that Sirius couldn't feign interest in. Lucky for him Remus could.
He had felt the need to tell Petunia that she was nothing like Lily. But had refrained, knowing that if he did his cover would be blown. He was here for one reason and that was not to gripe to Petunia, no matter how tempting it might be.
"It wasn't until the next day I realized it had been purposely poisoned!" Petunia exclaimed loudly, Sirius scowled even as Remus made the appropriate sympathy noises and shook his head as if he truly believed Petunia's poisoned plant was of the most serious and dire importance. It almost made Sirius crack smile when Remus fake-gasped as the tall woman continued to babble on with her story.
Resting back in the chair Sirius flicked his hair out of his eyes, thinking of how to go about searching for Harry and not letting on to his motives.
It had been one week since their escape from Azkaban; in that time they had hid under Glamour Charms, pretending to be any other ordinary wizard and not fugitives. They had set up a routine. While one would stay in their rented room at the Leaky Cauldron that other would seek information about Harry. By asking careful questions or by using certain tracking charms.
In the end it hadn't been the tracking charms or the questions to help them. It was Sirius's wandless magic that had managed to find Privet Drive. He had been absently messing about, attempting to tame a tracking spell without his wand. A moment later a glowing orb of light had appeared.
After many hours of both wizards trying to figure out how to use the orb Remus had cast a revealing spell and the orb danced and shimmered until it formed an image of a primed house. Number Four. It hadn't taken long to track it down the Muggle way.
Sirius was pulled from his thoughts by the scrape of a key; he turned lazily to watch down the small hall as the front door opened. A large man with a moustache too big for his face lumbered inside. Sweat coated his forehead and Sirius found himself sneering at the sight. He would have turned away from the man in disgust had it not been for the circumspect glance his beady eyes sent to the small cupboard under the stairs.
Body language spoke volumes, more than words ever could. Sirius had always had a knack for seeing someone's body language plain as day; he supposed it came from growing up in such a hostile environment. If he could be warned when his father was going to flip out, he could avoid it. And so he had trained his eyes to see the details of the body and not just the words.
By the set of the man's shoulders and the frown that pulled at his lips, Sirius could tell he was uncomfortable around the cupboard. Why that was so was a question he fully intended to find out.
Petunia brushed past him and greeted her husband with a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Vernon," she said softly, "our guests are here and supper will be not five minutes away." Her soothing voice said it all. Vernon was hot-headed. Sirius would have betted what little galleons he owned that had Remus and himself not been here, the man would have certainly grumbled about the day he had had.
As it was Vernon flicked his gaze over the pair of them and nodded stiffly in greeting. "Vernon Dursley," he gruffly offered. Remus was the first the respond. A polite smile was on his lips as he did so. Sirius wished he could pull off the grace Remus was using; it'd make the dinner much more bearable if he could in the very least pretend to enjoy it.
"Remus Lupin, and this is –"
"Sirius," he didn't offer his last name, that in itself was probably not the best move. Standing from his chair he outstretched his hand and offered it to Vernon. After a moment of staring Vernon accepted it and gave it a rough shake. It was meant to be an intimidating handshake, but Sirius countered it by crushing the fat hand painfully. Successfully dominating the shake.
Remus sent him a chastising look, which Sirius ignored easily. He wasn't about to pretend that he was smitten with the Dursely's. He was here for Harry. Once he had him he'd be gone. The dinner was just a prelude. The kidnapping was the main event.
Harry's tummy pained as it growled at him. The bread had not done anything good for him. After eating it he had become ten times hungrier. He wished his cupboard wasn't locked so he could sneak out and find some food. Even if it would have been futile to try. The thought that he could have had a chance at getting something more to eat was comforting.
Pouting his bottom lip out Harry curled into a ball, hoping to subdue the hunger pains. It didn't help, his stomach ached more, cramping into a tight knot.
The smell of roast lamb and the chatter of voices were loud and taunted him with the notion that he could never join in on something like that. His Aunt and Uncle had never allowed Harry to truly be a part of their family. Sure he was allowed to live in their house and eat their food. But the emotional support had never been there.
Dudley laughed rancorously from the kitchen and Harry frowned. He didn't know why it hurt so much that he wasn't allowed to have dinner with them. For six years he had been treated the same. But the child was at a tender age, an impressionable age that left him vulnerable. At seven years old, Harry considered himself quite grown up. He had to be. He didn't have anyone to look after him, so he did it himself.
When he was hurt, he would crawl into his cupboard and nurse his wounds, crying out his pain until he fell asleep. Never once had his Aunt attempted to comfort him. It seemed she went out of her way to make him feel worthless and stupid.
Heaving a deep breath, the small boy shifted onto his knees, peeking out from the slats. His breath stuck in his chest when he saw the man – Sirius he had introduced himself as – staring at him. No, staring at the cupboard. There was no way he could see Harry.
Harry stayed still just in case and watched the man intently. He wasn't old. Maybe around his mid-twenties; however, there was a shadow that darkened his features. Harry couldn't quite place why, but something flip-flopped in his belly when Sirius narrowed his grey eyes, scrutinizing the cupboard as if it had wronged him somehow.
It wasn't until the other man touched Sirius's arm lightly to get his attention that Sirius turned away and focused on the dinner conversation. Harry chewed on his lower lip, puzzled at the man and at his own random desire to sneak out and meet the two visitors. He had never had that urge before. But then none of his Aunt's visitors had been quite as curious as these two.
Resting back now that the man wasn't staring anymore, Harry fiddled aimlessly with a small toy he had gotten from Dudley. It could hardly be called a toy, really. It was broken beyond repair and the paint that decorated the small, lion shaped toy was flaking off.
He bided his time by pretending his knees were two mountains and the little lion had to climb over them to find a cave to sleep in. The cave was a small nook in his blankets he had made. He kept quiet, not making a noise as he played.
Just as the little lion was about to be settled into his cave the deep voice of Sirius spoke up. "Petunia, mind if I use your restroom?" Harry's body stiffened and he listened carefully for his Aunt reply. The only toilet in the house was upstairs; Sirius would have to come past Harry's cupboard in order to reach it.
"Of course," said his Aunt, "upstairs to the left, you can't miss it." Harry heard the sound of a chair being pulled back, and sat up to peek out. Sirius left the kitchen swiftly, and what caught Harry's attention, he closed the door so that no one could see out. Why would he do that?
The reason why became apparent when the tall man drew nearer to his cupboard, not altering his path as to ascend the stairs. He was coming straight for Harry. And if Harry could see out – Sirius could see in.
Hoping that the light in the cupboard was dim enough not to allow much vision Harry pulled his blankets over his head and curled up, hoping to look like a pile of old blankets. If it hadn't been for the tuff of ebony hair peeking out, he would have succeeded.