Harry tried to ignore the horrible clenching his stomach was doing as Uncle Vernon's car came around the corner onto Privet Drive. A part of him desperately wanted to run, to go anywhere else, but he knew that if he listened to that feeling, Uncle Vernon's beating would be worse.
Aunt Marge was coming to stay.
Not that she was his aunt, and she would only be staying for a few weeks. She was really Dudley's aunt, as she was Uncle Vernon's sister. Harry wasn't allowed to call her Aunt Marge like Dudley or even Marge like his aunt and uncle did. She was Ms. Dursley to him. She hated Harry as much as her brother did. On more than one occasion she had spoken loudly about how Petunia and Vernon should have taken him to an orphanage, especially if he was going to be a hooligan and cause them problems with the neighbors.
Because, of course, it was Harry that caused problems, never Dudley.
He wondered, briefly, what Aunt Marge would say if she realized how the opinions of some neighbors had changed. Yesterday, when Harry was watering the flowers at the front of the house, he had watched Jason Frankson and his teenage friends chase Dudley and Piers down the road after Dudley had stolen ice cream money from Victor, Vicky, and a few of their school friends.
Aunt Petunia had coddled a crying Dudley later, but Jason had gotten the money back and Dudley now avoided the Frankson twins like the plague, especially after Aunt Petunia and Mrs. Frankson had exchanged angry words over the telephone.
Uncle Vernon pulled the car into the driveway. Harry immediately came down from the front stoop to the trunk, popping it open to begin pulling out Marge's luggage. A sharp bark from the backseat caused him to jump and tense.
"Ripper!" Marge barked as she leveraged herself out of the car. She opened the door to the backseat and clipped a leash to her dog as he jumped down and growled at Harry. At least he was on a leash, Harry thought. Last time Marge had visited, Ripper had chased Harry up a tree, and he had had to spend all night in it.
"I see you're still here," Marge sneered, looking Harry up and down as he began lugging her suitcase towards the house.
"Yes, ma'am," he muttered.
"Appalling manners," Marge snapped. "Vernon ought to take a firmer hand with you."
Harry pulled the suitcase up the stairs and into the guest room. Ripper growled at him as he came back downstairs. Marge was embracing Dudley and Harry's cousin was already questioning his aunt about presents. Petunia swept in front of Harry.
"We'll be going out to dinner," she told him. "And won't be back until late."
"You don't plan on leaving him here, are you?" Marge demanded, glaring at Harry. "I wouldn't want him to steal any of Dudley's presents before I can give them to him."
"No," Vernon answered. "He won't be in the house."
Knowing a "get out" when he heard one, Harry slipped out the front door and made his way to the community playground by the community center. It was late afternoon and there were still a few kids playing with their friends. He settled on the swings as no one was over there, and watched as the Dursley's car passed by the playground on their way to wherever they were going.
Once he could no longer see the car, Harry left the playground and made his way back up Privet Drive. He had not visited the Franksons since the incident of being locked out in the rain, and he hoped he was not presumptuous in coming over, even if Mrs. Frankson had told him to come over if he needed a place. He did not need a place to spend the night, but maybe they would let him have dinner? He could help by making it!
Mr. Frankson was washing his car with the twins. At least, Harry supposed he was washing his car. The twins were equally as wet and soapy as the vehicle.
"Hiya, Harry!" Victor cried, squealing as his dad turned the hose on him. Vicky threw a wet sponge at Mr. Frankson, causing him to turn the hose on her and let her brother scamper away.
"Locked out again?" Mr. Frankson asked, glancing at Harry while only moving his arm enough for the hose to follow after the twins. Harry nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up. "Why don't you head inside? I think Mel's starting to get dinner prepped."
Harry hurried inside, carefully peeling off his shoes which had gotten a little wet due to all the water and soap, setting them near the shoe rack where several pairs of shoes were situated. He could hear the radio on the oldies station in the kitchen and followed the noise. Mrs. Frankson was bobbing to the Beatles as she set out vegetables to be chopped and meat to come to room temperature before cooking.
"Harry!" she greeted. "Good to see you."
"You too," Harry murmured, his stomach doing a pleasant flop at someone being glad to see him. "I hope it's okay for me to drop by."
"We already told you it was," Mrs. Frankson answered. "You going to spend the night?"
"No," Harry replied, picking up a knife to help chop up the potatoes. "My relatives will expect me to be home." Granted, they had not said what time they would be home except for "late" so who knew if what they would do if they got home before him.
"Where are they, if you don't mind me asking?"
"They went out with Ms. Dursley for dinner."
"Marge Dursley's visiting?" Mrs. Frankson's nose crinkled a little. "Did she bring that demon dog with her?"
"Yeah."
"I remember last time she came. What was it? Three years . . . yes . . . three years ago and he was kept outside all night, and he barked and barked and barked!"
Harry nodded.
"Yeah," he murmured, "Ripper was barking at me. He chased me up a tree and wouldn't let me down. I almost didn't make it up the tree in time."
Mrs. Frankson sighed, taking the chopped potatoes, and spreading them out on a pan, tossing them with olive oil, salt, and some paprika. Harry let the silence go, picking up the asparagus to wash and cut. Mrs. Frankson set out a pan with butter and salt for Harry to cook the asparagus in while she seasoned the pork loin.
"Harry . . ." Mrs. Frankson paused, as if unsure about what she was going to say. Harry looked over from the stove. The woman was staring at him, biting her lip, and looking very conflicted.
"Harry," she said again, "you know that it's not okay . . . how the Dursleys treat you. You know that right?"
Harry's heart picked up speed. He gripped the spatula in his hand a little harder.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean . . . you're their nephew. They're your guardians. They shouldn't be treating you any differently than Dudley."
"Well, they wanted Dudley. They got stuck with me."
Mrs. Frankson shook her head.
"Doesn't matter," she stated firmly.
Harry turned back to the cooking asparagus. He knew Mrs. Frankson was right. He did not deserve to be treated the way the Dursleys treated him. Though, before Hogwarts, he would have never believed her if she had told him that. But . . . he remembered how horrified Aria and Professor Snape had been before Dumbledore did whatever he did with their memories. He also remembered how, when he was younger, two different primary school teachers had called social services on the Dursleys. The social workers had come, chatted with his aunt and uncle, never him, and had left. Uncle Vernon had taken the belt to him, he had been locked in his cupboard for a week each time, and afterwards, the teachers had quietly been dismissed from the school.
When he was younger, he thought it was because he deserved the treatment. That, somehow, by disagreeing with the Dursley's treatment, he had gotten the teachers in trouble. Now though, he knew better. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had never treated him any differently while he had stayed at the Burrow last summer. And Aria and Professor Snape would not have been so horrified if he actually deserved to be beaten. Professor Snape had even been ready to call the wizarding social services!
He just wished there was something that could be done about his situation. He did not want to stay on Privet Drive. But . . . he did not want whatever happened to his primary school teachers to happen to Professor Snape. And Aria had already been attacked and memories erased, just because she had visited him and seen him beaten up! He did not want his best friend hurt either. Would Dumbledore do something to the Franksons if he found out how they were being kind to Harry? The thought horrified and frightened him.
Mrs. Frankson was now putting the potatoes and pork loin in the oven while she moved the asparagus to the warmer.
"I should go," Harry muttered. Mrs. Frankson's head popped in his direction.
"Why?" she demanded.
"If . . . I wouldn't want you . . . I don't want you to get hurt," Harry stuttered, heart beating wildly. This had been a terrible decision. He was putting this family – this Muggle family – in danger. He could not, would not, risk them! "Or get in trouble or . . . I had two primary teachers . . . they reported the Dursleys and got fired. And . . . and even my school . . . even they . . . one of my professors already tried and he . . . he got . . ."
Mrs. Frankson reached out, pulling Harry to her side, wrapping her arms around him. Harry had not realized he had begun to shake until he was pressed against her. At first, he stayed as tense as possible, but slowly, he relaxed in her embrace, leaning against her, accepting her hug.
"I'm sorry everything that's supposed to protect you has failed you," Mrs. Frankson murmured.
"Please, don't . . . don't do anything," Harry begged. "I couldn't . . . I wouldn't want you . . ." Mrs. Frankson shushed him.
"I hear you," she murmured. "I hear you. Our door is always open to you, do you understand, Harry? I'm just . . . so sorry it took so long for me and Liam to see."
"I really appreciate what you're doing now," Harry muttered. "It means a lot." He relaxed further as Mrs. Frankson ran her fingers through his hair, making it stick up even more. Was this what it felt like to have a mum? Would his mum have held him like this and run her fingers through his hair? Had Lily had long fingers like Aunt Petunia, or had they been shorter? He could not imagine them being as claw-like as his aunt's. Would his dad have sprayed him with the hose like Mr. Frankson was doing outside? Was there a wizarding hose? Or a spell like that?
There was a clatter from the front door as Mr. Frankson and the twins tumbled into the house, laughing all the while.
"You better not be dripping everywhere!" Mrs. Frankson cried, pulling away from Harry to peer around the kitchen table and through the doorway that showed a straight view to the front door.
"No!" the twins shouted, barreling up the stairs, dripping everywhere.
"I'll mop it up," Mr. Frankson assured his wife, disappearing up the stairs after the twins. Mrs. Frankson rolled her eyes even as she laughed.
"I don't know what I'm going to do with those three," she bemoaned. Harry could not help but laugh.
There was a tense melancholy over the house. It had been there ever since that first news report about Sirius Black and Remi had revealed that he and this Black had been partners of a kind. It wasn't that Remi did not try to act normally, he did, but it was obvious to both Aria and her dad that the news had severely rattled the poor man.
Every strange noise now made the man pause or jump, like he was expecting someone to pop out of thin air. A few nights Aria had heard him in her dad's room, crying. Kenneth had soothed him on those nights.
Aria began to suspect that Remi was scared of Black. Had they had a . . . bad relationship? Aria knew that not every relationship was as happy as her mum and dad's had been. Robert's dad had left when they were little. She hadn't been that old, maybe six or seven, but she could remember the night that the police came with the ambulance. Kenneth had rushed over across the street while Abigail had held Aria tightly on the couch, the lights of the police cruiser reflecting into their house despite the curtains. Kenneth had returned with Melinda, but Mrs. Jacobs and Robert had had to be taken to the hospital. Mr. Jacobs was taken away by the police.
She wondered if Sirius Black was like Mr. Jacobs. If so, he didn't deserve Remi. According to Robert, Samuel, and Tommy, everyone loved Remington Johnson. He was sweet to all the little kids and somehow had gained the respect of all the teens. The adults looked to him as a steady presence at the mill who always knew what was going on and how to get a job done promptly. No, if Sirius Black had hurt Remi, it was best if the authorities caught him quick before he tried to find Remi and hurt him again.
That was, of course, all Aria's opinion. It wasn't as if she could ask Remi if Sirius Black had ever hurt him or not. She doubted that would be a polite question. Even if she did ask, she doubted she would get the truth.
Aria could hear her dad and Remi puttering around in the kitchen, prepping dinner. She carefully folded up her letters to Daphne and Tracey, licking the envelopes closed. They always got a kick out of it when she wrote them using Muggle stationery. Daphne, it seemed, even preferred it, as it apparently made her mother and Astoria upset. Aria was more than happy to make Astoria upset.
Hedwig flew to the end of her bed, waiting expectantly for the letters.
"Daphne and Tracey," Aria told her, attaching the letters. "Why don't you go visit Harry before you come back? I'm sure he's missing you, much like you're missing him."
Hedwig nipped her fingers as if to disagree.
"I know you miss him!" Aria insisted, kissing the bird's head. "Now go. I'll leave the window open for you. Just don't land on top of me if I'm sleeping."
Hedwig had already done that once.
With her letters now sent, Aria made her way down to the kitchen, ensuring she stomped on the stairs to alert her dad and Remi that a child was approaching. The two gave her amused looks as she skipped into the kitchen.
"What're we having?" she questioned.
"I just put toad in the hole in the oven," Kenneth told her. She cheered. She loved toad in the hole. "Why don't—" he was cut off by a racket at the kitchen window. A large sea eagle was attempting to make its way through the kitchen window.
"Are you lost?" Kenneth cried, yanking Aria backwards away from the wild animal. For a moment Aria wondered how sick a sea eagle had to be to try and fly through an open kitchen window, when she realized that there was a package attached to its legs.
Did wizards use other birds to send mail? She had only even seen owls being used!
With a wild look at Remi whose face had gone white, she hoped she wouldn't need to find a way to contact Professor Snape and ask how to deal with a Muggle finding out about magic.
To her astonishment the sea eagle, once it had forced its way through the kitchen window, flew directly towards Remi, landing on the back of a kitchen chair, its weight nearly knocking it over. With an indignant screech, the sea eagle thrust out its leg which held a small package. Remi stared at the eagle, much like Aria and Kenneth stared at him. After another screech the bird tried to bite Remi, which he managed to barely avoid. With a heavy sigh he reached under the hem of his shirt and pulled out a wand.
A wand.
Aria was quick to pull out her wand while Kenneth yanked her behind him.
"It was just a little foolish of me to hope that you'd never find out," Remi murmured, using his wand to untie the package from the eagle. Once it was on the table the bird flew out the window, almost hitting Kenneth with its wings. Remi leaned heavily against the table, head bowed, shoulders hunched. His wand hung limply in his hand. Aria tightened her grip on hers. She could not be expelled for using magic during the summer if she was protecting herself and her dad, could she? She had only managed to do a few spells wandless, but none of them could help in a fight. Unless she decided to try and levitate Remi.
"You better have a damn good explanation," Kenneth snapped. Remi drew in a deep breath, finally looking up. His eyes were wet, but no tears were falling.
"I left for the Muggle world a long time ago," he told them. "I'm sure Aria's heard of . . . the wizarding war that happened?"
"Several of my classmates were affected, yes," Aria replied.
"I lost – literally – everyone I cared for. Overnight. With nothing to keep me in the wizarding world I returned to the world of my mother, the Muggle world. She was a Muggle and my father had been a wizard."
"You said your parents were dead," Kenneth said.
"They are. Mum was never the healthiest individual. She never fully recovered from having me and one winter in my sixth year she caught the flu and . . . well . . ." Remi shrugged though Aria could see thinking of his mum still made him sad. "Dad died in an attack soon after I graduated."
"So, you've lived in the Muggle world for what . . . twelve years?" Aria asked. Remi nodded. A sudden thought popped into Aria's mind and it was so ridiculous she almost didn't say anything, but in the end, she did end up blurting,
"Is Sirius Black a wizard too?"
Kenneth's head snapped in her direction. Remi's fingers curled into fists, his agitations causing sparks to jump from the tip of his wand. Kenneth jumped at the display and Remi hurriedly loosened his grip, taking a deep breath.
"He is," Remi murmured.
There were several minutes of silence.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me," Kenneth finally said. It was clear to Aria that her dad was hurt. It must have been clear to Remi too.
"I've always intended to live the rest of my life in the Muggle world," Remi told them. "Black's crimes, which did include blowing up a street and which the wizarding authorities ensured the Muggles thought was a bomb, made sure that I had no one else left in the wizarding world."
"You could've still told me."
"I thought you a Muggle until Aria showed up with Hedwig. I wasn't sure how you would react. I've known enough Muggleborns and halfbloods to know that informing Muggles about the existence of magic ends in one of two ways. Even after . . . since I'd decided long ago to leave the magical world behind . . . I've honestly been trying to gather the courage to tell you." He sighed, waving his wand over the package.
"What're you doing?" Kenneth demanded.
"He's checking it for spells and stuff," Aria told him.
"I've only had contact with an old professor of mine since leaving," Remi told them. "Like I said, family and friends are dead or . . . were in prison. So anyone else trying to get a hold of me makes me a little cautious."
"Someone tried to hex me through the mail this last year," Aria piped up. "Sent some kind of bone breaking and boil hex."
"I don't recall this being mentioned," Kenneth snipped, glaring at Aria.
"Well, I wasn't the one who got hurt in the end," Aria answered quickly, "so I didn't see the need to mention it."
Remi tucked his wand away and pulled the twine holding the package together off. The brown paper opened, revealing a silver circular object. It reminded Aria of a dog collar, except it was metal instead of fabric.
"What is it?" she asked. Remi's face had drained of any remaining color.
"Remi," Kenneth cried, clearly having made the same connotation that Aria had. "Remi, what is it?"
"A warning," Remi choked out. "I've stayed too long here. I should leave."
"Now that's dramatic!" Kenneth cried. "I'm very angry at you right now but there's no need for you to leave."
There were loud cracks from the backyard. Aria made to walk towards the kitchen window to see what might be out there, but a curse from Remi stopped her in her tracks.
"I must've missed a tracking charm," he cried, reaching out and pushing Aria towards Kenneth. "Take her upstairs, Ken. Stay upstairs. Don't come down until you're sure it's safe."
"What's happening?" Kenneth demanded, even as he barely fought Remi bullying him and Aria out of the kitchen.
"Snatchers," Remi hissed, "get upstairs now. They generally don't bother with Muggles unless you witness anything so stay upstairs and don't do anything!"
"Does this have to do with Black?" Kenneth demanded, even as Aria began tugging on him to go up the stairs. The look in Remi's gold eyes was wild now and he looked afraid. Very afraid.
"Probably," Remi answered. He dashed back into the kitchen and Kenneth grabbed Aria's hand, following her upstairs. They had just reached up the upstairs hallway when they heard the backdoor crash open. Kenneth yanked Aria into the bathroom. She sat on the closed toilet while Kenneth kept guard at the door, keeping the door open just a crack so they could hear anything.
There was the sound of spell-fire downstairs. Aria winced. The cleanup, she bet, would probably take a while.
Eventually, though, there was a sharp cry of pain that was clearly Remi. It was loud, as if Remi was now in the downstairs hallway near the stairs instead of the kitchen. She tried to keep from gasping but couldn't help the small one that escaped her. Kenneth's eyes shot to hers and he shook his head.
"You're a 'ard man to find," they heard someone say. "But our client was right. You look fetchin' in this collar."
Had they put that collar on Remi? Aria felt sick to her stomach. She wanted to go down and give these Snatchers a piece of her mind and her wand. A warning look from Kenneth told her to stay put. Which, she knew, was the smart choice. She was only a kid.
"Davies!" whomever was speaking snapped, "git 'is belongin's. We wouldn't want our guest to lack the essentials."
"I live downstairs," they heard Remi cry, even as there were footsteps on the stairs. The footsteps went back down, and they heard the opening of the basement door. Everything was quiet for a moment, then there was a whimper, and Aria was horrified to realize that it was Remi making that noise.
"Ah, you're 'andsome, just like 'e said you were," the Snatcher with Remi said. "I'd 'ave a go at you – perks o' the job – but our client said you're to come back as uninjured as possible."
The footsteps returned from the basement.
"Got everythin'?"
"Aye. 'e don't have much."
"Good. Let's get outta 'ere."
"Please," Aria heard Remi cry, "please don't—"
There were two loud cracks again and then silence. Kenneth waited a few moments before opening the bathroom door and creeping out, Aria sticking close to him, wand at the ready.
The kitchen was completely destroyed. The oven, while not on fire, smoked, the toad in the hole ruined. Water spouted out from the pipes under the sink and the refrigerator was dented. The kitchen table and chairs were turned over and two of the chairs was broken.
Kenneth suddenly rushed from the kitchen, thundering down the stairs into the basement. Aria ran after him. The basement apartment was empty, as if no one had been there for months.
It was almost as if Remington Johnson had never been there.