Authornote: I'm really sorry that it took so long but finally here is the next chapter. It's a little bit short but for this exist a plot reason. I would like to thank perivayne for her co-writing and betaing. She did a lovely job even as I insist a rather mean cliff-hanger.
The Day after - Chapter 3
After an extremely uncomfortable quarter hour of trying to explain what had happened to an increasingly louder Uncle Vernon, whose racket soon roused his wife and son to join him in united disapproval of Harry, the young wizard had had enough. His uncle stopped mid-invective when Harry's wand covertly prodded his stomach, and his nephew whispered what he would do if his uncle did not shut up.
"Y-you wouldn't dare u-use magic, they'd throw you out of that freak school…" Uncle Vernon tried to regain his authority, but Harry had become older, wiser, and now that his friends were possibly in danger, completely ruthless.
"Would you care to test me to find out?" Harry softly asked, his tone deadly. Aunt Petunia seemed to sense their danger more acutely than either Vernon or Dudley. She grabbed each one by the arm and hustled them inside the house; pausing to shoot a panicked glance to where Harry stood in the front yard before shutting the door.
The young wizard spent a few minutes puzzling over what to do with Hermione's vehicle, before he figured out how to put it into neutral gear and push it to Mrs. Figg's house on Magnolia Crescent. He let the batty old Squib know what the car was doing in her driveway, and gave her the keys.
When Harry returned to Number 4, he found that the doors and windows had been locked and the curtains drawn. Typical, he thought, and so he sat down on the front step with his arms wrapped around his knees and waited patiently for the Dursleys to overcome their panic attack and let him back into the house.
Later the same evening, Harry finished addressing a letter to Dumbledore, requesting that he be allowed to go and see Hermione as soon as possible. Two similar letters already completed on the desk were addressed to Dumbledore and Lupin respectively. Hedwig was out hunting at the moment, so he sat at his desk staring out into the darkness awaiting her return.
As the night wore on, he heard the Dursleys retire for the evening. Dudley came in an hour later, attempting to tiptoe quietly past his parents' bedroom. Harry wished to open his door and inform him that people of Dudley's size couldn't be stealthy, especially when a floor squeaks under their weight, but Harry knew that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wouldn't do a blessed thing to curb their overgrown bully of a son, so he simply moved to his bed to stretch out and listen for his familiar's return.
He must have dozed for a time, for when he opened his eyes; the moon had risen and was streaming through the window. Glancing over to Hedwig's cage, Harry found she still hadn't returned. Concerned, he got up to look out the window to see if he could spot the snowy owl returning, but the night was still and peaceful.
A soft crack caught his attention. The sound came from the top of the street and Harry rushed back to his bed to snatch up his wand before trying to spot any approaching wizards. The solitary form of a man hove into view, walking quietly and quickly down the lane toward Number 4. Harry strained to make out his features in the darkness until the man strode through an island light from the nearby lamppost.
"Lupin!"
Harry quickly rushed down the stairs, uncaring if he roused his relatives and opened the front door as Remus stepped up onto the front step. "Harry," he said shaking his head resignedly, "You need to be more cautious now. What if I had been a Death E…"
"How's Hermione? What about her parents? What's be done to them? Can I go to St Mungo's to see her…" Lupin held up both hands to stop the interrogation as he smiled. "I think we can address all that at a later time. Albus wants you moved to Headquarters so he can begin your Occulmency training. Let's get your gear together quickly. The portkey's set for 15 minutes."
Harry sprinted back up the stairs, rapidly packing what little he hadn't already packed in anticipation of leaving Privet Drive, though Harry honestly admitted to himself that he would have gone to see Hermione soon anyway without express permission. The Dursleys were awakened by his return to his room, and Harry could hear Uncle Vernon's blustering about the disruption to his sleep come to abrupt end. Lupin's voice was pitched low, with a menacing undertone Harry had never heard him use, but the young wizard couldn't make out what was exactly said.
Picking up the end of his trunk, Harry dragged it to the top of the stairs where Lupin levitated it down the steps. Quickly returning to his room to snatch up Hedwig's cage and his Firebolt broom, he glanced about once to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Spying his letters on his desk, Harry grabbed them and shoved them in the back pocket of his jeans and left the room.
Uncle Vernon was standing on the far side of the parlour with large pieces of furniture between him and the werewolf wizard. Lupin looked quite mild and pleasant, with his worn jumper and trousers, Harry's trunk at his feet. Harry said, " All packed and ready, Professor," Lupin chuckled and said, "You're never going to stop using that title, are you, Harry?" He checked his watch and said, "One minute left." A battered tin cup was pulled from his pocket, and he reached down to pick-up one end of Harry's trunk.
"You won't see your nephew until next summer," Lupin stated softly, "You do intend to wish him well, don't you?" Vernon blinked, looking like a wild animal suddenly caught by in a spotlight, before stammering out a simple, "Have a good year, Potter."
Lupin began to count down; Harry stood stunned at the remarkably polite comment from his uncle, unable to formulate a coherent verbal response and so just nodded in acknowledgement of his uncle's words. Clearly, he had missed something of great import between Lupin and Dursley before he had come into the parlour. Harry grasped the handle of the cup a bit tighter and felt the familiar jerk from behind his navel and the spinning sensation that ended abruptly in the front hall of 12 Grimmauld Place.
Harry's breath caught as he looked around to the familiar sight of the ancestral Home of the Black family. Here in the front hall, everything remained as it had been the last time Harry had seen it and he half expected the kitchen door would open any minute and Sirius would come out to greet him.
Harry swallowed hard as the painful thought of Sirius' loss caused his stomach to churn, but thankfully, his concern for Hermione overtook his grief and suppressed the knot in his stomach.
"Let's go upstairs.", whispered Lupin as he laid a hand on Harry's shoulder to guide him past the curtained portrait of Mrs. Black. Harry took Hedwig's cage and his Firebolt and quietly climbed the stairs with Lupin following with his levitated trunk. They proceeded to second floor, keeping their progress as silent as possible. As they approached the room he had shared with Ron the previous year, he stopped short, suddenly aware that he still didn't know anything about what had been done to the Grangers and Hermione. Harry turned around to question the werewolf.
"Later." Lupin said before Harry could open his mouth.
Harry's anger rose; he couldn't believe that Lupin would not answer his questions now. He had been patient and waited at Privet Drive without haring off or doing something rash, but now it was close to twelve hours since Hermione had appeared at Privet Drive. Again, they were treating him as if he was a child who must be protected from any hurt. She might be dead by now. At that thought, Harry felt his anger turn to ice around his heart.
Harry looked up and met Lupin's eyes. "She isn't…she isn't dead, or…?", his voice was low and hesitant. Lupin looked torn and briefly closed his eyes. There was a moment of silence and then Lupin said, "Harry, I-"
A loud crash from below and the screaming voice of Mrs Black interrupted him. "Go and get rest, Harry. We'll talk later," The older wizard turned and headed quickly downstairs while Harry watched him leave. Once the werewolf was out of sight, the young wizard entered his bedroom, placed Hedwig's cage on the desk with his Firebolt and threw himself down on his bed.
What was going on? Why would no one tell him? Harry's fists clenched as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He looked over at the other bed and realised he wished he could talk to Ron about what had happened and how he was being treated again.
Exhaustion won out however over ire, and Harry soon fell asleep.