Chapter 9: Echoes of the Wolf

Harry's eyes fluttered open, his body aching in ways he had never imagined. His limbs felt heavy, as if they were weighed down by the remnants of the transformation that had taken hold of him the night before. A dull throbbing pulsed through his muscles, a reminder of the wolf that had overtaken his form beneath the full moon. For a few disorienting moments, he didn't know where he was.

The soft rustle of fabric caught his attention, and Harry blinked away the haze of sleep. He was lying on the ground, the cool forest earth beneath him, covered in nothing but the tatters of the clothes he had worn before transforming. It took him another moment to realize something even more startling: Hermione was curled up against his chest, fast asleep, her body nestled in his arms, both of them cocooned under a blanket.

A wave of warmth spread through him, though his mind raced with confusion and embarrassment. What happened? Why were they lying together like this? And then the memories began to flood back—the moon rising, the sensation of his body changing, the wolf taking over... and the strange, primal sense that had kept him tethered to Hermione throughout the night. He hadn't harmed her. Somehow, even as a wolf, he had protected her.

Harry's heart swelled with a mixture of relief and anxiety, but before he could fully process the flood of emotions, a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Well, if I didn't know better, I'd say this looks like something straight out of a romantic novel," Dan Granger's voice carried through the clearing, light and teasing but filled with genuine care.

Harry's face turned bright red as he quickly became aware of his situation. His arms were still wrapped protectively around Hermione, and he was very much naked, the tattered remains of his hand-me-down clothes doing little to preserve his dignity. His eyes darted to Hermione, who was still sound asleep, completely oblivious to the awkward position they were in.

Dan chuckled softly at Harry's mortified expression. "Relax, Harry. No need to panic. It's not the first time I've seen something like this."

Harry swallowed nervously, his heart pounding in his chest as the weight of the moment settled over him. He wanted to move, to cover himself, but more than anything, he didn't want to disturb Hermione, who seemed so peaceful resting against him.

"Hey, you might want to wake her up, though," Dan added with a grin. "Before her mother sees."

Harry nodded stiffly, his face burning as he gently brushed a strand of hair away from Hermione's face. He leaned down and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering for just a second.

Hermione stirred slightly at the touch, her body shifting closer to his as she murmured sleepily, "Harry..."

Her arms tightened around him, and Harry could feel his heart skip a beat. "Hermione..." he whispered, trying to wake her gently. "It's morning."

"Mmm..." Hermione's eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep. "Morning..." she mumbled, her mind clearly still trapped in the haze of dreams.

Without fully realizing what she was doing, Hermione shifted again, this time pressing herself more firmly against him. Her body instinctively moved closer, and before Harry could stop her, she began grinding her hips against him in a slow, languid motion.

"Hermione—" Harry gasped, trying to suppress the surge of panic and embarrassment that rose within him. He froze, unsure of what to do as Hermione's sleepy movements became more deliberate.

"Sweetheart..." Dan's voice interrupted, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I think you're awake now."

Hermione's eyes snapped fully open, her mind clearing as reality crashed down on her. She froze, her entire body going rigid as the realization of what she had been doing sank in. Slowly, she lifted her head and met Harry's wide-eyed, stunned expression.

"Oh my God..." she whispered, her face flushing a deep shade of crimson. "Oh my God!"

Hermione scrambled away from Harry, sitting up so quickly that the blanket nearly slipped off of both of them. "Dad!" she squeaked, her voice filled with mortification. "I didn't—I mean—"

Dan raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin wide but not unkind. "It's alright, Hermione. No harm done. But maybe save that for when there aren't any witnesses?"

Hermione buried her face in her hands, her embarrassment palpable. "I'm so sorry, Harry... I didn't mean to—" She shot her father an exasperated look. "Why didn't you wake us up sooner?!"

"Didn't want to interrupt a sweet moment," Dan replied with a wink, clearly enjoying himself.

Harry, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, managed a weak smile. "It's... it's okay, really," he said, his voice still shaky. "It's not your fault."

Before the awkwardness could drag on any longer, Dan clapped his hands together. "Alright, kids. Let's pack up and get moving. We've got a long drive ahead of us, and I'm sure we could all use a proper breakfast."

With that, Harry and Hermione quickly disentangled themselves, the blanket falling away as Harry moved to gather what little remained of his clothing. Though they were both still flustered, there was a growing sense of relief between them—the night was over, and despite everything, they had made it through unscathed.

Granger Household

The ride back to the Granger household was quiet, filled with a mixture of exhaustion and lingering embarrassment from the morning's events. Hermione sat beside Harry in the back seat, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. Neither of them spoke much, but the tension had slowly dissipated, replaced by a sense of calm.

By the time they arrived, the smell of something delicious greeted them at the door. Emma Granger stood in the kitchen, a wide smile on her face as she cooked up a hearty brunch. "You're back! I hope everything went well last night?" she called out, wiping her hands on her apron.

Hermione and Harry exchanged glances before heading into the dining room, where the table was already set for a meal. Dan followed closely behind, his usual teasing grin still plastered on his face.

Emma turned to face them as they sat down. "So? How did it go? Did everything work out as planned?"

Hermione, still feeling the weight of the morning's events, hesitated for a moment before answering. "It went well," she said, her voice steady but thoughtful. "Harry was... amazing. He stayed with me the entire time, even after he transformed."

Emma's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "He stayed with you?"

Harry nodded, though his expression was more reserved. "I didn't hurt anyone," he said quietly, his voice filled with relief. "That was my biggest fear."

Dan and Emma shared a glance, their faces softening with understanding. "That's wonderful to hear, Harry," Emma said warmly. "I know how worried you were."

There was a pause before Hermione cleared her throat, her gaze shifting to her parents. "Mum... Dad... there's something else I need to tell you."

Both parents turned their full attention to her, their expressions growing more serious. Hermione took a deep breath, glancing at Harry for support before speaking. "I've been thinking about it for a while, and... one day, I want to become a werewolf too."

The room fell silent, the clatter of plates and cutlery momentarily forgotten. Harry's heart clenched at Hermione's words, though they weren't entirely unexpected. Still, hearing her say it out loud made it feel all too real.

Dan was the first to speak. "You're serious about this?" he asked, his tone filled with concern.

Hermione nodded firmly. "Yes. But not now. Not until after we've taken our O.W.L.s. I know what's at stake. I know what could happen if I do this too early."

Emma's eyes widened with a mix of shock and worry. "You're willing to go through all of that... for Harry?"

Hermione's gaze softened as she looked at Harry. "Yes. I love him. And I want to be with him in every way."

Harry's heart raced, a mixture of awe and fear swirling inside him. He hadn't fully grasped just how committed Hermione was to him, and while part of him was touched by her devotion, another part of him felt guilty. He didn't want her to suffer the way he had.

Dan, always one to try and lighten the mood, cleared his throat and gave a teasing grin. "Well, if you're dating a werewolf, I suppose it's only a matter of time before you get bitten too."

Both Hermione and Harry shot him disapproving looks, though a faint smile tugged at the corners of Harry's mouth. "I'm kidding," Dan added quickly, holding up his hands. "But seriously... just be careful, alright?"

Hermione nodded, though her thoughts drifted to the future—running side by side with Harry under the moonlight, free from the expectations and pressures of the world. It was a dream she was willing to wait for, and one day, she would make it a reality.

Greengrass Estate

In the grandeur of the Greengrass estate, every detail was meticulously designed to reflect elegance and power. The luxurious surroundings were meant to reinforce the family's influence, but tonight, within the high-ceilinged halls, the opulence felt more like a prison.

Daphne stood in her bedroom, gazing at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The emerald green gown she wore clung to her slender frame, the rich color complementing her sharp, aristocratic features. Yet, no matter how stunning the gown was, it felt like a chain wrapped around her, reminding her of the life she was trapped in—a life dictated by duty and expectations.

Astoria sat across the room at the vanity, her hands lightly trembling as she adjusted the delicate clasp of her necklace. Her own silver gown shimmered softly under the lamplight, but there was no brightness in her pale face. She looked fragile, her body already bearing the weight of the curse that had plagued her for so long. Daphne's heart ached as she watched her sister struggle to muster the energy for the evening ahead.

"I had a strange dream last night," Daphne said, trying to shake the heaviness in the room. "It was about the moon... running beneath it. Did you have one too?"

Astoria paused, her hand freezing on the necklace. She turned to face Daphne, a look of surprise in her eyes. "Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with a distant longing. "I felt... free. For once, I wasn't weak. I wasn't sick. It was like I could run forever, and nothing could touch me."

Daphne nodded slowly, the memory of her own dream filling her with a brief sense of wistfulness. "I felt it too. Like we were somewhere else. Somewhere we could be ourselves."

For a fleeting moment, the sisters shared the quiet comfort of their shared dream—a dream where they were free from the burdens that weighed them down. But the moment shattered when Astoria suddenly hunched over, her body wracked with violent coughs. Blood stained the delicate white handkerchief she pressed to her lips, and Daphne was at her side in an instant.

"Astoria... it's happening again," Daphne whispered, her heart sinking as she supported her sister's trembling body.

Astoria wiped her mouth, her eyes wide with fear and frustration. She stared at the blood on her handkerchief, her hands shaking as tears welled in her eyes. "I hate this," she rasped, her voice cracking with anger. "I hate this curse. I hate that I'm weak. I hate that I'm trapped in this... this life."

Daphne knelt in front of her, holding her close, wishing she could take the pain away. But there was nothing she could do—nothing except be there. "I know," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "I know, Tori."

Astoria trembled in her arms, her voice laced with desperation. "We're nothing but pawns, Daphne. Betrothed to a guy we don't love, stuck in a life we don't want. I don't want to marry Draco Malfoy. I don't want to live like this. And I don't want to die feeling this... hopeless."

Daphne's chest tightened painfully at her sister's words. She could feel Astoria's fear—her desperation to escape the fate that had been thrust upon them both. But no matter how much Daphne wanted to promise her that everything would be alright, she couldn't. Because deep down, she knew the truth. One day, the curse would be too much. Astoria would die. And when that day came, Daphne would be left alone in this life—trapped, just as Astoria had said, in a world of cold expectations.

Daphne's throat tightened as the thought gripped her. One day, Astoria would be gone, taken by the sickness that was slowly eating away at her. And Daphne... Daphne would be left alone. Alone with the weight of their family's legacy, alone to face a life she didn't want—a life without her sister, her only true friend.

The thought was unbearable, but she forced herself to push it aside. This wasn't the time for her own fears. Astoria needed her strength now more than ever.

Astoria's voice broke through the silence. "Promise me something," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Promise me... that when we have children, they'll never be forced into this life. Promise me they'll be free."

Daphne looked into her sister's tear-filled eyes and nodded, though her heart ached with the weight of the promise. "I swear, Tori," she said fiercely. "I'll do everything I can to protect them. They won't suffer like we have."

Astoria smiled weakly, her body sagging against Daphne's as exhaustion overtook her. Before either of them could say more, the door to Daphne's room opened, and their mother stepped inside.

The matriarch of the Greengrass family was the picture of elegance and grace, her gown as perfect as the rest of the estate. But her eyes, sharp and calculating, softened as she took in the sight of her daughters—Astoria, pale and frail, and Daphne, resolute but burdened.

Her gaze flickered to the blood-stained handkerchief in Astoria's hand, and her lips parted with a small gasp. "Oh, my darlings..." she whispered, crossing the room swiftly. "I'm so sorry you have to endure this. But we must stay strong—for the family."

Daphne stood, her hand still resting on Astoria's shoulder as she looked at her mother. "How much longer do we have to sacrifice for this family?" she asked, her voice quiet but filled with frustration. "How much more do we have to give?"

Their mother's expression wavered, though she quickly regained her composure. "We all have our roles to play, Daphne," she said softly. "I wish it were different, but this is the life we've been given."

Astoria managed a faint smile from her seat. "We'll be alright, Mother," she whispered, though the words were hollow. "We always are."

The silence that followed felt oppressive, the weight of their unspoken burdens hanging in the air like a storm ready to break. Daphne glanced down at Astoria, and for a brief moment, she thought of the dream again—the dream where they ran freely under the moonlight, untethered by the chains of their responsibilities.

But as her mother straightened their gowns and reminded them of the importance of the evening ahead, that dream felt impossibly distant. The Malfoys would be arriving soon, and with them, the reminder of the futures they were bound to—futures they had never chosen.

As they prepared to face another evening of polite conversation, forced smiles, and the ever-present shadow of their arranged marriages, Daphne's heart ached with the knowledge that one day, she would face it all alone.

But for now, she wrapped her arm protectively around Astoria's shoulders, silently vowing to protect her sister for as long as she could—even if it wasn't forever.

The Rookery

The Rookery, Luna Lovegood's home, was a place of whimsical charm. Its towering, mismatched structure stood out among the wild beauty of the surrounding countryside. Inside, the house felt like a reflection of Luna's unique mind—bright, filled with oddities and warmth, and always embracing a touch of the fantastical.

Up in her bedroom, Luna twirled around with a dreamy smile on her face. She had woken up that morning with a sense of lightness that filled her heart, a smile that wouldn't leave her lips. The dream—the beautiful, magical dream—was still vivid in her mind. She had felt the moonlight on her skin, the wind rushing through her hair as she ran across a field bathed in silver light. But it wasn't just the freedom of the run or the thrill of the wild night.

It was what the dream had meant.

Family. Love.

She had felt it, so deeply, so profoundly. She had seen it.

In her dream, she wasn't alone. She was surrounded by warmth, by strength, by the sense of belonging she had longed for. The pack, that feeling of togetherness, filled every corner of her heart, making her feel whole. There was no fear, no loneliness—just her running under the full moon with others, wolves that felt like home, wolves who understood her.

"It's going to happen," Luna whispered to herself, her voice light and filled with quiet joy. "I saw it, and I know it's true. I'll find them... I'll find my family."

She spun again, her bare feet gliding across the soft rug as she imagined the feeling of running with them—the ones she had seen in her dream. She didn't know when or how it would come to pass, but the dream had given her a glimpse into the future. There would be love. There would be family. There would be people—no, wolves—who would understand her, accept her, and never let her feel alone again.

Luna's father, Xenophilius Lovegood, poked his head into her room, a curious smile on his face. "My moonflower, you seem brighter than the sun today," he remarked, his eyes twinkling. "What has brought such joy?"

Luna looked at him with her wide, silvery-blue eyes. "I had a dream, Daddy. A beautiful dream."

Xenophilius stepped further into the room, his curiosity piqued. "A dream? Was it about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?"

Luna laughed lightly, shaking her head. "No, not this time. It was about the moon. It was about running free... with family."

Her father's expression softened, and he nodded in understanding. "Ah, family. That's a wonderful thing to dream about, Luna."

Luna's smile widened. "It wasn't just a dream, though. It was a promise. I could feel it, deep inside. I'm going to find them—the ones who will run with me under the full moon. I know I will."

Xenophilius, always supportive of his daughter's eccentricities, nodded again. "I believe you, my dear. Dreams have a way of showing us what's important, after all."

Luna beamed and flopped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling with a contented sigh. She could hardly wait for the day when her dream would come true—when she would no longer be a lone wolf, but part of a pack, part of something real.

4 Private Drive

The heat of the mid-afternoon sun beat down on Privet Drive, casting a shimmering haze over the well-kept lawns and pristine flowerbeds. It was the kind of day that Vernon Dursley enjoyed—quiet, uneventful, and far removed from anything remotely unusual. He sat comfortably in his armchair, reading the Daily Mail, Petunia puttering about in the kitchen, and Dudley sprawled across the sofa, lazily watching television.

That peace was soon shattered by a sharp knock at the front door.

Vernon's brow furrowed, his thick mustache twitching in irritation. "Who the devil could that be?" he grumbled, setting his newspaper aside and lumbering toward the door.

He yanked it open with more force than necessary, only to come face to face with two unfamiliar men. The first, a tall, broad-shouldered man with long, shaggy hair and a mischievous grin, leaned casually against the doorframe. The second, slightly shorter and more reserved, had kind eyes but wore an air of quiet intensity.

"Sirius Black," the first man introduced himself with a smirk. "And this is Remus Lupin. We're here for Harry."

Vernon's eyes bulged as recognition dawned on him. Sirius Black, the notorious criminal—he remembered the name from the news last year. His mouth opened and closed in shock, but no sound came out.

"We're not here to cause trouble," Remus said calmly, sensing Vernon's alarm. "We just need to speak with Harry."

"H-Harry?" Vernon finally spluttered, his voice high and strained. "He's not here! Hasn't been here all summer!"

Sirius's grin faltered, replaced by a look of confusion. "Not here? What do you mean he's not here? He's supposed to be spending the summer with you."

Vernon, gaining a bit more of his composure, squared his shoulders. "He was dropped off with some... people. The Grangers or something. Hasn't been back since."

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look, concern flickering in their eyes. "The Grangers?" Remus repeated, frowning. "Why would he be—"

Before they could ask more, Vernon, sensing the conversation was not going to go his way, decided to take matters into his own hands. "We don't want any more of your lot around here!" he barked, grabbing the door and slamming it shut in their faces.

Sirius blinked in surprise, staring at the closed door for a moment. "Well, that was rude," he muttered.

Remus, however, wasn't focused on Vernon's behavior. His brow furrowed in concentration, his body tense as he gazed down the empty street. "My wolf's been restless since the last full moon," he murmured, more to himself than to Sirius.

Sirius turned to him, concern now etching his features. "What do you mean?"

Remus's gaze remained distant, his instincts heightened. "I can feel it... something in the back of my mind. It's like my wolf is searching for someone... for a packmate."

Sirius's expression grew serious. "And you think... it's Harry?"

Remus nodded slowly, his face tightening with worry. "It's the only explanation. The bond feels... familiar. But if Harry's with the Grangers, then..."

Sirius swore softly under his breath. "This could be bad."

The weight of the situation hung heavy between them. Harry, still so young and so recently turned, could very well be experiencing the same instinctual pull toward a pack that Remus was. But with Harry's unpredictable new status as a werewolf, they had no idea what might have happened since the full moon was a few days ago.

"Come on," Sirius said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to find him. If your wolf's calling out for him, there's no telling what it means."

Without another word, the two men turned and Disapparated with a loud crack, leaving Privet Drive behind and the questions about Harry's whereabouts unanswered.

Granger Household

It had been several peaceful days since the full moon, and the tension of Harry's transformation had begun to fade. In the quiet of the Granger household, Harry and Hermione sat together at the dining room table, finishing up their breakfast. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, warming the room with a serene glow.

Just as they were settling into the tranquility of the moment, two owls swooped in through the open window. One of them dropped a letter in front of Hermione, tied with a bright red ribbon, while the other dropped an envelope scrawled with Ron's familiar, untidy handwriting in front of Harry.

"Ron," Harry said, glancing at the envelope with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. "Wonder what he has to say."

Hermione was already untying the ribbon on her letter, her expression neutral as she opened it. But as her eyes scanned the page, the color drained from her face. Harry didn't need to ask—her tight grip on the parchment and the way her jaw clenched told him everything.

"What does it say?" Harry asked, his voice careful.

Hermione's lips pressed together in a thin line as she re-read Ron's words, her eyes narrowing slightly. "He says I'd be happier if I was around more magical folk. He... he's implying that I don't really belong here, with my parents."

Harry frowned, the irritation evident in his voice. "What? That's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" Hermione snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "It's insulting! He's acting as though my life here—my family—is somehow less important because they're not magical."

She set the letter down, her fingers trembling slightly from the pent-up anger. "He just doesn't get it. He's always been dismissive about Muggles, but this... this is different. He doesn't even seem to care that I want to spend time with my family."

Harry could feel the heat rising in his own chest as he looked at the letter. Ron had always been a bit thick when it came to understanding other people's lives, but this... this was beyond that. It was hurtful.

"Well, if he thinks you don't belong here," Harry said firmly, "then he doesn't know what he's talking about."

Hermione's expression softened slightly at his words, her anger giving way to a quiet appreciation for Harry's unwavering support. "Thanks, Harry. I just... I thought Ron would understand, at least a little bit."

She picked up the letter again, her eyes flicking over Ron's careless words. "He's even implying that I don't know what it's like to be part of the magical world. As if I haven't been living in it for years."

Harry reached out, squeezing her hand gently. "You belong wherever you want to belong, Hermione. Don't let him make you feel otherwise."

She smiled weakly, appreciating the comfort. But even as she tried to push Ron's hurtful words aside, the sting lingered. Hermione had always been proud of both her Muggle and magical heritage. For Ron to suggest otherwise felt like a betrayal.

"What about your letter?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry's unopened envelope.

Harry hesitated for a moment before ripping it open. He quickly scanned the contents, his expression hardening as he read.

"He's inviting me to stay at the Burrow for the rest of the summer," Harry said flatly. "He thinks it'll be a way for me to 'escape' the Dursleys. He's going on about how the Burrow could be my home, and..." Harry's voice trailed off as his eyes landed on a specific line. "He mentions Ginny. Says she misses me."

Hermione stiffened at that, the already sour feeling in her chest twisting into something more. Ginny misses him? The thought unsettled her, and an unbidden surge of jealousy crept into her mind. She tried to shake it off, but the idea of Ginny waiting for Harry, hoping to see him, left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Does Ron not know you're with us?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice even.

"Apparently not," Harry muttered, his brow furrowing as he set the letter down. "He just assumes I'm stuck with the Dursleys. And he's pushing the whole 'Burrow is your home' thing again. Like... I don't know, like he doesn't get that it never really felt like that for me."

Hermione's irritation with Ron grew, but she forced herself to remain calm. It wasn't worth getting worked up over. She knew what mattered, and so did Harry.

"You don't have to go," Hermione said gently. "You're here now. And... I think you're right. You belong here, with us."

Harry smiled softly, grateful for her words. "Yeah. The Granger house... this feels like home. The Burrow never did."

Hermione's heart swelled at his admission. There was something about having Harry here, in her family's home, that made everything feel right. She didn't need the Weasleys to define what home meant for Harry. He had already found it.

Later that afternoon, they both wrote their replies to Ron. Neither of them had any desire to attend the Quidditch World Cup, and they made that clear in their letters. For Harry, the Granger household was his refuge, and he had no intention of leaving it. Hermione, on the other hand, had little patience for Ron's rude tone or his casual dismissal of her life with her parents.

As the letters were sent off with the owls, a sense of calm settled over them both. They didn't need Ron's approval. They had each other, and that was enough.

Dumbledore's Office

By mid-morning, the headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, was pacing in his office. His mind raced with worry as the malfunctioning devices in his office continued to smoke and sputter. It wasn't often that the magical wards and protections he had placed around Harry failed—no, these wards were ancient, powerful—but today, something was gravely wrong.

Without wasting any more time, Dumbledore donned his cloak and disappeared from Hogwarts with a sharp crack, reappearing almost instantly in front of Number Four, Privet Drive. The neat, suburban street seemed quiet, just as it always had been. But something in the air felt different—tense, uneasy.

Dumbledore's knuckles rapped sharply against the door. Moments later, Vernon Dursley's large frame filled the doorway, his face already twisted in irritation.

"What do you want?" Vernon grumbled, his tone thick with annoyance.

"Good morning, Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore began politely, though there was an undercurrent of urgency in his voice. "I've come to inquire about Harry. Is he here?"

Vernon's expression darkened, his lips curling into a sneer. "That freak? He's not here. Been gone all summer."

The knot in Dumbledore's stomach tightened. "Gone?" he repeated carefully. "Where exactly has he gone?"

"The Grangers," Vernon spat, his disgust for the magical world dripping from his words. "That girl's family came and picked him up. Good riddance, I say. I've had enough of freaks like him."

Dumbledore's gaze narrowed as he absorbed the information. The Grangers—Hermione's Muggle family—had taken Harry in. While the Grangers were undoubtedly kind and caring, they were not equipped to protect Harry from the dangers that lurked in the magical world. The blood wards around Privet Drive had collapsed because Harry no longer lived with his aunt and uncle.

Vernon's sneer deepened as he added, "And I don't want to deal with any more freaks today, either."

Dumbledore's eyes flickered briefly with anger, but he held his composure. "Why was I not informed of this sooner?"

Vernon scoffed. "Why should I tell you? I've been trying to get rid of the boy for years. If someone else wanted him, I wasn't about to complain."

Without another word, Dumbledore discreetly waved his wand, casting a silent spell that allowed him to peer into Vernon's recent memories. In his mind, he saw an image of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin standing on the doorstep, speaking with the Dursleys. It seemed that Harry's godfather and his former professor had also been searching for Harry earlier that day.

The realization hit Dumbledore hard. Sirius and Remus knew something. They were looking for Harry. This was no ordinary summer vacation.

"I see," Dumbledore said softly, his mind racing. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Dursley."

Without waiting for a response, Dumbledore turned on his heel and walked away from Privet Drive, his thoughts whirling with new urgency. He needed to act quickly, and he needed to find Harry—before anyone else did.

AN: Thank you guys for reading. Here is some review responses:

To Hamiltonds1991: Yeah the pink toad will be a major antagonist later.

To Ravenclaw Midnight Blue: Thank you for the feedback! I realized that I did indeed miss the clothes aspect. I had it in my notes and forgot to add the details. I hope this answered your questions. I will cover major events from the series and full moons. So I will be doing some time skips.

To healeroffates: Thank you! I can't wait to tell this story either.

To PrinceFroze: I'm glad you are enjoying my story. Here is the start of the interactions with Dumbledore.

To Nekoinuhanyou: Thank you! It definitely helps to see that people like my story. I will do my best to write this story to completion.

To ShadowLight4596: Here is some more of the story for you.