And then one day, it all went wrong. So, so wrong.

The whole incident went by in a haze, minutes, an hour packed into mere seconds, flashing in front of his eyes.

It was a reality check. A call from the universe, pulling him back to the ground so he didn't float too high, or too far. Hey, you there, yes you. Pipe down, kid. You've got a long way to go, yet.

He'd barely even processed everything that happened-darkness, the unnatural cold, the mist, the cloaked figures, dad shouting, mum begging , fucking Dudley and his whimpering, a high pitched laughter blowing through the wind-when a succession of owls paraded through the Dursley residence, collectively making everything worse.

Harry was lucky he hadn't been kicked out or placed back in his cupboard by his uncle, if the throbbing vein on his temple was anything to go by. He didn't often feel any charitable feelings towards the man, but in that moment, he could definitely appreciate the restraint in 'Go to your room, boy, and don't you dare show your face for the next week or you wouldn't like what I'll do to you.' Especially considering Dudley was still lying catatonic across Aunt Petunia's lap.

So, yes, not the worst it could be.

The first thing that Harry did when he went upstairs was take five minutes, no more and no less, to stare blankly at the street outside his window. Thought about everything just happened—the attack, Dudley almost getting de-souled, Mrs. Figg, all the damn letters—within minutes of each other, not even giving him a second to think.

Harry realised, that for all his actions during this summer, he'd vastly underestimated the people out there who wanted to hurt him—for why else would dementors be roaming around the exact neighbourhood he lived in? That wasn't a coincidence. And Harry would be a fool if he tried to convince himself it was.

Not just that, but he'd also overestimated both his own capabilities (the voices in his hand, his wand punched out of his hand, disorientation long enough to lead to tragedy) and that of, well, everyone else.

He might not have known that there was a guard placed around him—even though hindsight makes him think he should've guessed long ago—but that didn't mean he was blind to the repercussions of what that meant. Every single thing he was doing so far had been monitored. While his plan wasn't meant to be confidential, it did grate on him that he wasn't even granted basic privacy. Adding that to the list of questions he wanted answers to at some point, he moved on to the next issue.

Protection.

If he was at the Dursleys for his own good—whatever that meant—and had even had someone keeping watch on him around the clock, then what happened today shouldn't have even come to pass. That it did- it was a failure on part of everyone who was supposed to keep an eye—and a wand—on the situation.

With that sobering thought, Harry's internal clock 'pinged'. Five minutes done. Any more freaking out and spiralling and directionless thinking to be conducted after .

Harry threw one last glance at the innocuous-looking street, yellow lamps casting ominous shadows, and turned his back to it. He went straight for his trunk, pulled out a fresh roll of parchment and an ink pen, and with his other letters in hand, sat down on the floor with his back to the bed.

Mr. Armitage

I apologise for sending a letter at this time but I felt the matter was urgent and you needed to know. At around 7pm this evening, I was forced to use magic in my neighbourhood to ward off two dementors that had somehow strolled into Muggle London, more specifically where I'm currently living. I had to perform two spells- a Lumos and a Patronus charm. My cousin was with me and, being a Muggle, he was unable to see what was happening- though he certainly felt the effects of it. It was even more important for me to cast the charm, therefore, because he came very close to losing his soul. We were helped to our house by a neighbor Mrs. Figg who, it turns out, is a Squib stationed by Professor Dumbledore to keep an eye on me. As must be clear to you, I didn't know this information until today and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't've found out had the situation not deteriorated as it did.

Anyway, after getting home, I was confronted by my relatives who - as you know - are already freaked out by magic and jumped to the worst case scenario seeing the state of their son, which of course meant that I'd 'hit him with my hokey-pokey'. I'm sure you don't want to hear the details of that conversation. The thing to note is that I got three letters in that time.

The first was a talking letter from the Ministry about my expulsion. That was a riot. The second was from Mr. Weasley—Arthur Weasley—telling me to stay put while Professor Dumbledore takes care of things at the Ministry. It came remarkably fast, too. At least the Ministry's haste makes sense, you know? The third one was from the Ministry again, revising the expulsion. They've set a date for a disciplinary hearing on the 12th.

I'm hoping we can meet soon to discuss this, especially how to proceed with the hearing, so I'll bring the letters with me then.

The other weird thing that happened is that Aunt Petunia got a Howler. I've been thinking about it and I'm not sure who sent it, to be honest, the voice was just…loud and kind of ominous. The message wasn't any less so. 'Remember my last, Petunia' and Mr. Armitage, the sheer terror I saw on her face after that? The way I was about to be thrown out- it seemed like this person knew that because his words completely turned her on her head. She put her foot down, and let me tell you that is not a regular occurrence, for me to be allowed to stay.

It was weird. I'm still thinking about it.

This letter's getting too long, now, but I really wished for you to know all this so you can make sense of it better than I can.

Why were the dementors here? Who sent them? (Because it doesn't seem likely that they just…randomly escaped Azkaban and floated over to where I was staying. Especially not in light of all the Daily Prophet and Ministry slander we've been trying to block. Also, Mrs. Figg's presence is something that's been tripping me up. If Professor Dumbledore asked her to keep an eye on me here, then to what end? Does that mean he knew everything that was happening before I came to Hogwarts? Because that- is a can of worms I'm not sure I'd like to open…ever. I also found out, through her, that there's been some sort of a guard keeping watch outside the Dursleys' house and the person supposed to be on 'duty' tonight dipped out for something, in which time all this happened (Although, between you and me, I'm not sure he would've been much help even if he hadn't been bunking). I'm not sure how I was allowed to just roam out and about if I was being watched, but they certainly didn't care to do much, not tonight nor ever. Mrs. Figg was certainly peeved about that-her curses could be heard down the street.

I think that's all about it. I can't be sure because I'm still a little out of it, but yeah. Hoping to get some information about what is going on finally. They can't keep being vague after this, right?

Harry

He chewed on the corner of his lip as he read the whole thing over. It was a bit on the longer side, but—a lot had happened, right? And he'd rather give more information than skip out on something important. There was no point in keeping the one person invested in helping him right now at arms' length.

Once he was happy with his perusal, he blew lightly on the parchment to dry it faster. Leaving it on his bed, he got up to unlatch Hedwig's cage. She gave him a slightly reproachful hoot.

"Sorry, Hedwig, things have been crazy tonight."

A milder, but still stern, hoot.

"I know, I know—when haven't they been, right?" Harry sighed, running the back of his fingers over her neck. She stretched her neck, silently asking for more.

"Thanks for sticking around with me, Hed. I don't know what I'd have done without you."

Hedwig hooted and fluffed her feathers in response, looking mighty chuffed as she did.

Harry smiled fondly. Some might call her a little too arrogant for being an owl but he loved her just the way she was, dramatic flair and all.

"Alright. I want you to take this straight to Mr. Armitage in Diagon, okay?" He quickly crossed over to his bed, rolling the now dry-parchment with some twine and attaching it to her outstretched leg.

"Wait for a response, yeah?"

Hedwig gave him a look, as if to say 'Of course. Don't tell me how to do my job' and before he could say anything, flew out of the open window in one graceful move.

"That owl, I swear," Harry muttered under his breath fondly. Now that he'd completed the most important task he needed to—and truly, he was proud of himself for remembering to send the letter to Oscar. He wasn't always known for his foresight—he finally let the emotions of the evening wash over him. He'd been keeping them tucked away through sheer will power, knowing he wouldn't be able to function once they bowled him over, but now that he had nothing to do except think, well.

The first thing on the list were those fucking owls.

The first from the Ministry informing him of his imminent expulsion, giving him a mini heart attack in the process.

He'd been in the middle of imagining how he'd survive on the streets with all his magical paraphernalia when the second one from Mr. Weasley arrived, neatly extinguishing his panic into a simmering confusion. Not one word made sense, least of all the fact that they knew about this situation before he'd even understood it himself.. That was…suspiciously fast.

Then of course, there was the Ministry once again (by this point, Uncle Vernon's throbbing vein seemed like it was going to dance right off his face) very kindly informing him that his expulsion was only a suspension now. They'd take a decision after the disciplinary hearing instead of before, as due process mandated. Small mercies.

And, because that wasn't enough chaos for a day in one Harry Potter's life, they ended the spectacle with one dramatic Howler from someone with an incredibly sonorous voice basically threatening his aunt. Which, not gonna lie, made him feel more than a bit weird. There was no love lost between them but if anyone was going to threaten his relatives, then it was definitely not going to be some nameless weirdo with a penchant for melodrama.

It was only when he was back in his room, panic attack subsiding, that he thought about that last one. Really focused on the voice, the fear and recognition etched on his aunt's face, and realised it was an extremely familiar voice, one he'd heard quite a bit before.

It was none other than Professor Dumbledore.

That-tracked. Of course it was Dumbledore; his extremely long nose couldn't help but be everywhere, could it? Harry was not usually so uncharitable towards others, definitely not the Headmaster but in that moment-

In that moment, he was still shivering from his experience, a bone deep chill having settled over his entire being. He'd heard nothing except recriminations and warnings, borderline threats even, but not a single word of comfort. Not even an awkward pat on the shoulder for his efforts.

There wasn't even an acknowledgement of the fact that he was alive still.

Sending vaguely threatening letters to Muggles, though? Definitely on the agenda.

It was-

Well, it was a bit shitty, to put it mildly.

It was as he was pondering over the implications of the Howler, and the look on Aunt Petunia's face, that another owl-good god, where were all of them coming from?-came soaring through the open window. Harry thanked his past self for sending Hedwig out before this or he would've definitely had an Owl-fight on his hands tonight.

This one wasn't like the others, dropping a letter on his head and flying away. Instead, it dropped the letter on him and then made itself comfortable, butt wiggling and all, in Hedwig's place. Harry raised an eyebrow at the action before turning to the letter, a piece of paper folded in quarter with nothing to indicate who it was from.

Confused, he unfolded it, a bit wary lest it blow up in his face or something. Inside, only two lines were written in painfully familiar writing.

Arthur's just told us what happened.

Don't leave the house again, whatever you do.

He stared. A minute. Then two. Three.

Four minutes had gone by before the fog left his brain and ignited the temper he'd been trying to suppress all evening.

He fisted the paper in one hand, almost ripping it in half with the force, and roughly emptied his desk in search of a pen with the other. When he found one, he unfolded the paper, crossed the words off with angry red lines, and wrote three of his own.

Piss OFF, Sirius .

With forceful calm, he tied the paper to the owl's leg, still not realising why it had stayed but glad for it—Hedwig wouldn't be back for hours and he was afraid he'd be like a deflated balloon by then, all this swirling anger whittled down into the usual exhaustion and resignation, defanged, defanged, defanged .

He hadn't expected that.

No-that's wrong. He should have expected it…after all, when has an adult ever showed up for him?

(Black hair, glasses. 'Lily, take him and go!', red hair whipping around, 'Not Harry!')

(Sirius, with his hand on Harry's shoulder as he was recounting the Graveyard-Sirius, leaving a few minutes later when Dumbledore asked him to.)

(Sirius-breaking out of Azkaban for him-but also, Sirius, escaping on Buckbeak's back)

So, really, why was he so surprised? Sirius came, but he also left . Harry only ever got him for a small period of time, barely enough to be satisfied, only there to keep him hanging.

If he was being honest, he was getting tired-not angry, not hurt, not frustrated; just plain exhausted-at constantly being let down by the few people he'd chosen to put his trust in. Sirius was-god, he was the first after a very long time (Harry'd lost hope in adults sometime around the age of seven and entirely given up on them after his first year at Hogwarts).

Sirius was, well. He was supposed to be different . He wasn't supposed to just…treat Harry like everyone else did.

Just the thought of something like that made Harry want to curl up in a ball and rage. How dare Sirius come along-break out of Azkaban and feast on rats for him-and then do this? How dare he give Harry hope , make him believe that he could have more, just to end up shattering it like everybody else?

He didn't know how long he stood there, knuckles white from clenching the window frame. All he knew was that it was long enough that he could feel the morning sunshine across his face. For some reason, it sent a chill through him.

With one last look at Hedwig's empty cage, he decided it was time to go to bed. Not like he'd fall asleep with the state his mind was in, but he could certainly try.

I will walk out of this house right now if someone doesn't come and explain what's going on.

He wrote only one thing, knowing that would be enough to get their arse in gear. He'd done a bit of talking- Owling , if you will-with Oscar in the last few weeks and realised a few things.

For one, he didn't always have to put up with other's bullshit. He knew there were limits to how far he could go, and act, but so far he hadn't even come close to touching those. It was time to take advantage of it.

Exactly four hours and twenty three minutes later, the Dursleys made a suspiciously hasty departure from the house.

Harry made himself comfortable in the living room with a pot of tea, door unlocked, waiting.

Sure enough, not five minutes had gone by before he could hear the doorknob turning quite roughly. Aunt Petunia would be upset about that, he wondered absently.

Footsteps-at least two sets he could make out, maybe more?-rushed through the hallway and he called out 'Here!' when he heard them stomping on the stairs. A sudden, suspicious silence before they turned around and hurried into the room with wands raised. Harry resisted the urge to sigh, instead choosing to look at who all had decided (were chosen?) to come on this little…excursion.

It was quite the motley crew, not that he recognized all of them. Professor Moody, usual scowl on his face, eyes, fake and real, darting everywhere. Professor Lupin, looking just as he had every other time Harry'd seen him, if a little more exhausted. Nice to know his lack of contact could be put down to his usual countenance, then, instead of something serious happening to him. The other two-a tall man with a gold hoop in one ear and a woman with multicolored hair and…was that a forked tongue? Huh-he didn't know them but he sure was interested in their presence. What role they'd play here. Because of the other two: Moody, for the protection (and the paranoia?); Professor Lupin…perhaps they thought a familiar face would put him at ease? Funny, that. Be interesting to see how this played out, really, because he was not the same Harry they'd dropped off a few weeks ago and this was the first time any of them would have the chance to see that.

Harry realised, in that moment, how much he'd changed this summer. Before, he wouldn't have thought twice, would've probably picked an instant fight or grumped around like a little brat. He wouldn't even have thought about the why of someone being here, would've just accepted it as is.

Now, though, after talking with Gringotts goblins who were more calculating than anyone he'd met, and Oscar, who was as thorough as a man could be, Harry was much more careful. And aware. He needed to be.

"Potter," Professor Moody barked.

"Professor," he replied mildly, crossing one leg over the other. "Tea?"

"Do you think this is a joke?"

"No, I think you broke into my aunt's house, but despite that, I've always been taught to welcome guests properly so—" He gestured with one hand towards the modest spread in front of him. To be quite honest, he didn't need to lay it on quite so thick but he was, unexpectedly, having fun. Something he really needed after the week—month—he'd had.

"Harry—" Lupin stepped forward, voice set in its usual low, conciliatory tone but he was cut off by the fork tongued lady.

"Oh hello there, Harry," she bounded forward, shaking his outstretched hand vigorously. "We haven't met but I've heard a lot about you—"

"Wish I could say the same," he muttered.

"—and I'm so excited to finally see you! I'm Tonks." She still hadn't stopped shaking his head so he gave her a small smile and slowly extricated it himself. She continued talking as if nothing had happened.

"And that big grump over there is Kingsley Shacklebolt. He looks tough but he's soft as a marshmallow, just you wait." She winked at him conspiratorially before turning to the other two. "Remus, you know of course. And I've heard that there's been a curious case of imposter so you don't actually know Mad-Eye over there. Pity, really. He's a riot once you get to know him."

Harry resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow in question; he didn't think anyone would appreciate it.

"That's enough of that, Tonks." Lupin. "Now, Harry-"

"Lupin," Moody growled again. " Security first. We can never be too sure these days."

Harry turned just in time to see Tonks roll her eyes and share a look with the other guy-Kingsley-before the sight of Remus nodding with a sigh reached him.

"Alright, alright. Harry, will you please tell me what form your Patronus takes?"

"A stag," Harry answered, mind immediately going to his father, the letter. He'd read it so many times by now he could probably recite it back to front, and yet it wasn't enough. It was like a slumbering dragon had been awakened inside him, all the desires he thought he'd suppressed as a child rearing back up. He'd never thought he'd miss something he never had this much and yet, the letters had undone something in him.

Harry suddenly had the strongest urge to cast his patronus again, just so he could see, touch, feel Prongs again. If he couldn't have this father, then his protective animagus was the next best option for him.

"That's him, Mad-Eye," Lupin said. "Satisfied?"

"Hmph," Moody grunted, as if he'd like nothing more than for Harry to be an imposter he could apprehend. "Now, what's all this nonsense about running away, boy?"

Harry resisted the urge to sneer or cringe at the term, visions of Uncle Vernon superimposed on Professor Moody haunting his thoughts for a split second. It was with great restraint that he managed to get out, "Professor, I don't know if you realise, but I was attacked by dementors. Soul sucking monsters. In a muggle neighborhood. With my cousin not two feet away from me."

Moody just stared at him impatiently, so he stressed, "My non-magical cousin."

"So? You got away, didn't you?"

Harry blinked, not expecting such…callousness. He'd been taught by this man's imposter for a year, who was obviously good enough to detect everyone's notice, and had heard even more about how 'tough' Mad Eye Moody was, but somehow, he hadn't quite realised the implications of such a thing. That he was showing zero sympathy was…jarring, especially as he could see the flinches the others were trying to hide.

"I-yes, but that's not the point-"

"Then what is? You've got your life, and your cousins' as well. You're not even expelled yet, what else is there to-"

" Understand . I want to understand what's going on," Harry cut in forcefully, "That's the point. I want to know what is happening, not just why there are damned Dementors roaming around Privet Drive but also outside, why is there no news, why is nothing happening, what. is. going. on."

His little speech was followed by a period of complete silence, a little shocked, a lot confused. No one had ever seen him this way. Hell, they were probably not used to anyone talking to Moody that way either. But Mt. Harry had been bubbling for a while now, and it was about ready to erupt soon.

"Harry," Lupin stepped forward. "We didn't realise you were so…bothered about things or we would've come much earlier."

"Would you really have?" Harry asked, half curious, half dismissive. "Because I've tried-all summer, really-to get some answers out of Ron, Hermione. Hell, I even owled Padfoot but no one's saying anything. In fact-" he raised his voice so he could speak over Lupin's answer-"it seemed like they were deliberately not saying anything, Professor."

"Paranoid lil fella, aren't you?" Moody said, appraisingly, almost in approval and the whiplash of that was enough for him to ignore the tiny flinch Lupin gave at his use of the title professor.

"I've had to be," is all he said in return.

Moody nodded. "Fine, you wanna know? Then we'll take you to Headquarters where you can question to your heart's content."

Harry absently noted that he said nothing about actually receiving any answers but that was a problem for later. For now, he was getting out of here-and if that meant putting a halt to his…activities, then he'd take it because he'd rather try and find out what was going on and why he was kept in the dark. Besides, he was sure he could still owl Oscar from wherever he was and that was more than enough considering how scarily competent the man was.

"Mad-eye." Shacklebolt finally stepped up. His voice was deep, serious, like he meant business at all times. Harry was instantly intrigued. "Do you really think that's wise?"

"The boy wants to go, so we'll go."

Which seemed…suspiciously easy, if he was being honest. Harry had half a mind to make a scene-well, more of a scene-to make sense of this but realised that might just go against everything he'd been trying so far. Instead, he got up, and motioned towards the staircase.

"I'll just pack my things, then."

"Be quick, Potter, we want to leave before your Muggles get here."

Harry shuddered. "They're not my muggles."

"Yeah, yeah." Moody waved him away, turning to inspect something on the mantel, already done with this conversation. Behind him, Tonks gave a helpless shrug before doing the same-poking this way and that.

As he entered his room, he heard a crash. He wondered if it was worse that they left it like that or repaired it with magic in Aunt Petunia's beloved home. Nothing for him to worry about, though, since he was finally getting out of here.

Even if this summer hadn't been as bad as the previous ones, mostly due to his recent independence, life with the Dursleys was never a walk in the park. Even a good day with them was more than most people could handle-the latent hostility was too much to deal with unless one's accustomed to it. Which, sadly, Harry was. Very well. Even that wasn't enough to prepare him for the sheer hatred that dripped off his relatives, however. Harry didn't think he'd ever be able to understand, really.

It was as he was wondering about that when a knock sounded against the door, opening to reveal Professor Lupin just as he turned around.

"Professor," he said, surprised. "Is there…something you need?"

"Oh, uh." Lupin immediately stepped away from the cupboard with Dudley's old broken toys stuffed to the brim. It was a miracle there was still space in the thing for more additions and yet, it kept surprising him. "No, no, nothing like that, I just thought I'd check up on you."

He blinked, tilting his head in confusion. Not to be…uncharitable here but Harry didn't think that that was the case. If it was, then this wouldn't be his first time interacting with Lupin this entire summer.

"I just-how are you really doing, Harry?" The emphasis on really, as if he was expecting a straightforward, soul-baring answer, as if he had any right to it, almost had Harry hissing in response. It was with a lot of effort that he managed to rein it in.

"I'm as good as can be, Professor," he said, curtly, before turning back to finish packing his clothes. There was silence for a few minutes, broken by the other man when he bent down to remove the loose floorboard he kept his valuables under.

"Er-that's smart."

With his back to the man, Harry rolled his eyes. He could feel the awkwardness seeping into his skin in the moment and wondered why Professor Lupin had even come up. Was it, perhaps, Moody who asked him to keep an eye on him? Or one of the other two, maybe Tonks, suggesting he give some company? Because honestly, he couldn't see any other alternative. Certainly not something as outlandish as him deciding to just…check up on Harry of his own accord.

Thankfully, before any more painful conversations could take place, he'd managed to stuff everything into his trunk and made his way to the door.

"That's about it, Professor, let's go."

"You know, Harry, you don't have to call me Professor. I don't teach you anymore." Harry sneaked a look sideways to see Lupin intently staring down at the stairs. He could only shrug in response.

How did he tell him that it was the only title he felt comfortable using, the only one not presuming familiarity that didn't exist between them? How did he tell him there wasn't any relationship between them beyond that of a teacher and his student?

Simple. He couldn't, so he didn't.

Instead, he tried changing the subject. Badly.

"So, uh, where is it we're going, anyway?" His little attempt at being casual failed, going by the little side-eye he received. Luckily, Lupin didn't press further.

"Oh, just a little place we're all holed up in right now. It's a bit of a secret, the whole thing, so I can't really talk about it but you'll find out once we're there. I'm sure you'll love it," he said. It sounded a bit rehearsed but what did Harry know? He just nodded and left it at that.

"Got everything then? Let's go," Moody barked at them from the hallway, forcing them to hurry up.

"How're we getting there, then?"

"Heard you're quite the prodigy on a broom, Potter," Moody smirked, evilly enough that it made him stand straight up in alarm, "Surpassing your father and all, eh? Time to put it to the test."

Harry didn't think he could control the horror on his face if he'd wanted to.

the little bit about harry being mad at sirius, thinking he's just like the others-im not great at conflict but i rly wanted to show ow hurt and anger warps one's perceptions bc harry doesnt *really* believe that-he loves sirius, that's why he's doing everything he is with oscar, but in this moment sirius' letter is just further confirmation of how alienated he is and sirius seems to be reinforcing that. (its a bit similar w dumbledore, if on the other end of the spectrum. this isnt gonna turn into bashing but harry is definitely feeling sus, and its only made worse by his emotional state)

the interactions w the order members was so fun to write, partly bc i've never really worked w them but more bc i absolutely adoredddd harry in that scene! my sarcastic, bitchy little bby 3

thank u sm for being so patient w me and sticking w this one3 last couple months have been hectic and rewarding and very fast paced; loads of changes happening in life, and that seems to be the trend for the next few as well. but, this story is my baby and always will be! i've got too many plans to just,,,let it go.

next chapter: our little entourage reaches GP! teenage angst is turned TF up! sirius, in flesh and body and soul and magic, finallyyyyyyy comes thru!