This officially gets you about halfway caught up with the story...I'll warn you, updates will be MUCH slower when I get you up to date- but for now…enjoy!
Chapter 7 - A Stroll Down Memory Lane
Remus Lupin stalked about the front hallway of the Dursley's residence putting things back in the pristine order they had been, quite literally, shattered from only an hour ago. He jabbed his wand in the direction of several broken vases that were strewn about the floor.
"Reparo." As the vases flew back together he set them on the hall table that he had repaired earlier. He picked up the assortment of flowers from the floor and stuffed them back into the vase. It was only after he inadvertently snapped the head off one of the flowers that he stopped long enough to notice the irony staring him in the face.
The flowers were a beautiful selection of Asiatic lilies. Not just any Asiatic lilies, but the brilliant copper colored ones that James used to leave in the common room for Lily Evans to find in the months before he found the courage to admit he'd left them at all. Remus hadn't remembered seeing this variety of flower in nearly eighteen years.
*
It was dark, it was quiet, and it was typical. The entire count of Gryffindor seemed to be sleeping peacefully above Remus Lupin. The sound of silence was nearly as deafening as it was annoying. Not even his faithful Marauders had managed to stay awake with him. While Peter had lasted the longest, even he turned in more than an hour ago and Remus was left to finish his History essay in near silence. Aside from the crackling common room fire, the scratching of his quill was his only company.
It was the spring of their sixth year at Hogwarts, and the full moon had only just abated. While he was happy to be back in the company of the student body, he hated the full moon for more reasons than the obvious. It always put him behind in his studies. Of course, it put Prongs, Padfoot, and Wormtail behind as well, yet they had chosen to turn in rather than finish the backlog of assignments.
"Typical," Remus scoffed, thinking of the peaceful sleep his friends were flaunting in his face.
"Yeah, it is typical Moony." A voice issued from the staircase to the boys dormitory. "It's Friday night!" James Potter said disbelievingly. "I take that back, it's Saturday morning. None of those assignments are due until Monday Remus. Put them away."
"Listen, just because the three of you are the Kings of Procrastination, don't expect me to do the same," Remus said quietly, still attempting to work on the same sentence he'd been stuck on for the better part of an hour.
"Ah, the ickle prefect speaks," James chided. Remus shot him a look, that had he not been so tired, would've been seething with malice. "Come on, Moony," James softened and sat next to him at the table. "There are far more important things to be done at this time of night than work on History. It's a wonder you haven't bored yourself into a coma."
"I'm quite sure that's exactly what I've done."
"Perfect," James exclaimed, slapping the books shut on the table. "I need your help." James pulled out an exquisite copper-orange blossom from the inside pocket of his robes.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin Prongs," Remus mumbled, dropping his head onto his crossed arms. "What does that make, like the sixty-fifth one of those lilies you've scattered about this common room?" his muffled voice floated from under his arms.
"No!" James retorted. "This makes twelve," he muttered quietly.
"Why don't you just tell her how you feel?" Remus said, picking his head up and resting it on his hand.
"Are you mad? The girl would rather transfigure me into a bullfrog than spend more than five minutes in my presence!" James scoffed.
"That might be because you transfigured her into a bullfrog Potter!"
"I really didn't mean to do that. That was a classic case of mistaken identity."
"The day you can successfully convince me that Lily Evans bears even the slightest resemblance to Severus Snape, I will personally banter about in a g-string and bowtie atop the teachers table and top it all off with a lap dance for McGonagall."
"I thought only girls did lap dances," James inquired thoughtfully.
"Fine, I'll do the whole thing in drag," Remus added sleepily.
"You're missing the point Remmy. I need you to help me figure out how to charm this one for her," James added, shaking Remus awake.
"I helped you with the last eleven. Why can't Sirius help? He's pretty good at charms."
"He's also good at never letting me live down the fact I like Evans. If he knew I was the one giving her these he'd have a field day and you know it," James said absentmindedly, while he walked around the common room, placing the flower in several places before deciding none was exactly what he wanted.
"I'm aware of that, but you haven't hexed each other in at least a week, and frankly I'm getting a bit bored with nothing entertaining to watch," Remus said bluntly. James snapped his gaze to Remus and gave him a reproving glare. "All right, all right, bring that thing over here."
"You know I'm not the best at charm work. That would be Lily's forte," Remus said, flipping a book open on the table.
"I know that Moony, but that doesn't help me right now does it?"
"Okay, here's one. It's significantly sappy enough to make Alice burst into tears again," Remus said smiling. When he caught James's eye he answered his inquisitive look without further prompting, "Listen, if I have to do this with you I can at least make Frank's life as dreadfully painful as mine. Alice berated him for a week last time that he never did anything so romantic for her. "
James and Remus smiled broadly at each other and set to work.
*
"Wow, a smile. There's something I've not seen in a while." Lupin looked up to see Tonks walking over the remains of the shattered front door, looking at the flower still grasped in his hand.
The smile faded with the memory of his best friend. He stuffed the flower into the vase with the others, completing the dozen that comprised the arrangement. Without speaking he continued his task of cleaning the front hallway.
"Between your slamming things about out here and Mad-Eye's subtle verbal assault in the kitchen I'm not sure which one of you should win the award for Mr. Congeniality right now," she added only half-smiling.
"Tonks, I'm really not in the mood for witty repartee at the moment," he said flatly, still averting his eyes from hers. He knew she was here to help, but he honestly didn't feel like being helped at the moment. He was sad, he was scared, but most of all he was angry. He was angry with Dumbledore for not allowing him to get Harry earlier. He was angry with Damien for daring to show his face in this house. He was angry with Harry for choosing Dudley's life over his own. More so than anything else, he was angry with himself for a promise he failed to keep.
Tonks didn't need him to explain any of this. She merely stepped out of the way as the pieces of the front door leapt off the floor, reassembled themselves, and slammed shut, securely in the doorjamb that only seconds before had been splintered and broken.
Having finished the task of cleaning up the foyer, Lupin was suddenly left with nothing to distract his attention. Tonks seized the opportunity. She holstered her wand and walked toward him purposefully.
"Remus, he's okay," she said softly. He shifted uncomfortably as she grasped his shoulders firmly.
He was speechless. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to argue with her. He wanted to explain to her that it's a pure miracle that Harry survived. He had not arrived in time to save him. He wanted to explain that Harry was the last thing in this world he had that connected him to a life and a self that had died repeatedly each time one of his friends did. He wanted to tell her that had Harry died, he was certain the last remnants of himself would've been lost with him. For a few awful moments, that's exactly what he believed had happened.
He wanted to tell her all of that. He wanted to make her understand the failure he felt to himself and to the memory of his best friends. He just couldn't figure out how to do it.
Then he found the courage to look into her eyes. As her eyes met his, he realized he didn't need to tell her any of it. She already knew. Silently, she pulled him into a strong embrace and he fought back the tears with every ounce of strength he had left.
***
Harry, Ron and Hermione descended the stairs together. Dumbledore followed a few steps behind. As Harry neared the landing he laid eyes on the scene in the foyer and felt horribly intrusive. He stopped suddenly, wanting to quietly climb the stairs and leave Tonks and Lupin in peace but the creak issuing from beneath Ron's shoe alerted the couple to the audience above. Lupin opened the eyes he had squeezed shut and looked up.
"Harry, thank God," he said, relieved and quickly separated from Tonks embrace. He headed straight for the stairs and Harry traversed the final few to meet him. Lupin pulled him into a firm hug and Harry breathed a sigh of contentment.
"Thanks for coming," Harry said sincerely.
"Harry, I'd do anything for you," Lupin replied, pulling back to look at him. "Are you alright?"
"I'm a bit sore, but nothing a bit of your Negrulean potion won't take care of," he smiled glancing up the stairs where Hermione stood. "Besides, I had my guardian angel looking out for me." Hermione blushed and Ron did his best to stave off a rather obvious eye roll. Hearing the chatter emanating from the kitchen Harry looked at Lupin quizzically. "Did they all come?"
"You expected something less?" Lupin said smiling broader than he had all summer. With that, Harry and his entourage made for the kitchen.
It was a scene unlike any that had taken place in the Dursley's house. Under normal circumstances, Vernon would've spontaneously combusted by now. However, these circumstances were far from normal.
Mad-Eye Moody was sneaking about the kitchen making the final repairs from the battle that had recently been fought there. He muttered relentlessly under his breath. Although Harry couldn't discern the entirety of his tirade, he did hear the word "vigilant" more often than any other.
Arthur Weasley was completely engrossed in the Dursley's kitchen appliances. He had, no doubt, decided to use Harry's rather brief recovery period as an opportunity for hands-on muggle research. He was comparing the electrical plug to the toaster with the telephone jack attached to the base of the cordless phone.
Fred and George were sitting in the living room in rather close proximity to Dudley. Dudley was curled, as best as someone Dudley's size could curl, on the couch watching the scene from behind a chenille throw that managed to cover only half his body. For the most fleeting of moments, Harry thought the twins were attempting to console Dudley in the wake of what was clearly the most terrifying event in his short life. They weren't. They were indulging in a large bowl of rich chocolate candy they had undoubtedly placed on the table within Dudley's reach. Harry heard George's voice as Fred picked over the bowl under Dudley's watchful eye.
"Not that one Fred, you know what it does!"
"Yes, I do George, thank you for reminding me. Perhaps I'll try one a little less incendiary," Fred smiled digging his hand into the bowl for another piece, while Dudley's eyes grew large as saucers. Harry was sure that was the same candy he'd seen Aunt Petunia set out earlier in the day, but knew the memory of the ton-tongue toffee would ensure none of it ever passed Dudley's lips.
Speaking of Aunt Petunia, she seemed to be carrying on quite a pleasant conversation with Molly Weasley. Ever the entertainer, Aunt Petunia was near the stove preparing tea for her "guests." Molly was looking at the teabags and thoroughly engaged in some quiet conversation that seemed entirely lost on everyone else in the kitchen. Oddly enough, for Ms. Weasley never having been to Privet Drive, she seemed very comfortable with Harry's Aunt.
He could hear additional voices coming from the dining room. He made out at least the most pronounced of them as Kinglsey Shacklebolt and Mundugus Fletcher. The cat streaming across the living room was also a good indication that Ms. Figg had put in an appearance as well.
The house had never been so full in all Harry's years of living there. It had certainly never been this full of witches and wizards. As they made their way fully into the kitchen, he couldn't help but notice Ron's eyes float to the door still demarking the infamous cupboard under the stairs. Ron's attention was quickly redirected as he heard the sound of his own mother's voice.
"Harry dear!" Molly Weasley exclaimed, cutting Petunia's conversation off in mid sentence and rushing over to hug him tightly. "Oh, thank Merlin you are all right," she added voice shuddering.
"I'm okay," Harry replied, a bit embarrassed that the kitchen had fallen dead silent upon his entrance. "Thanks." As he pulled away from Ms. Weasley and gave a weak smile, it seemed to indicate open season for back slapping embraces. Harry felt as though he were at the center of some muggle mosh pit. People just seemed to keep coming, grabbing him, hugging him, crying, laughing, smiling, frowning, each seeming to want to prove to their own eyes that he was actually alive.
As the crowd around him lessened he felt a stern approach he'd not had the "pleasure" of enduring since last year. Severus Snape strode toward him with his hand extended. Harry gave it a cautious shake and was moderately surprised when Snape muttered his congratulations to Harry for having averted death. Just when Harry thought he'd keel over from shock, Snape waltzed off muttering something about being forced to continue grading substandard potions essays. Harry smiled in spite of it.
The only people obviously absent from this grand reunion were the Dursley's. Not surprisingly they huddled near Dudley on the couch and looked on suspiciously.
As the exchange came to an end, the mood in the house lightened significantly. As Harry had only made it to the kitchen doorway before being spotted by Ms. Weasley, he moved aside to allow the others to enter the room. Lupin and Tonks crossed the kitchen and took seats at the table, while Ron filed in toward his brothers. Dumbledore glided in through the doorway leaving only Hermione in the hall.
She was nervous and Harry knew it. She always chewed her lip and refused to look at anyone when she was nervous or embarrassed. She had assumed, and rightly so, since the house was so obviously aware of Harry's survival that they likely knew the reason for it. For some reason she seemed wholly terrified to enter the kitchen. Harry extended his hand in a gesture of support. Without looking at him, she took his hand in hers and took a deep breath. He walked into the kitchen and was promptly greeted by a similar foray of enthusiastic embraces. He noticed her smile as those holding her smiled. Her face fell in the presence of those who frowned. She reacted to every one of them individually, seeming to give each her full attention.
That's my Hermione, she's nothing if not considerate of other's feelings.
Harry smiled as his thoughts wandered back to the now-defunct S.P.E.W. initiative. His smile became a hearty laugh as Fred and George "greeted" Hermione.
"Look George! It's Hermione!" Fred exalted.
"Hermione? The Hermione?" George said incredulously. "Where?"
"Over here!" CRACK! Fred suddenly appeared next to Hermione, sending Dudley's head diving under the safety of the chenille throw.
CRACK! "Here?" George bellowed from somewhere upstairs.
CRACK! "No, in the kitchen!" Fred scoffed from the foyer.
CRACK! "Oh, you mean right here!" George said triumphantly as he appeared next to Hermione, whose face had reddened significantly.
CRACK! "Yes! Right here!" Fred said playfully. "Do you know how she got here?"
"I believe she apparated!"
"I believe you're right!"
As the twins started into a chant of "she don't need no stinkin' test," they began to flash around the room in rapid succession. The cracking noise they made with each appearance nearly set the beat to their chanting. It was all Molly Weasley could stand.
"Fred! George!" she snapped acidly. Her stern glance in the direction of the Dursley's, now rivaling Sir Nicholas' rosy complexion, put a quick end to their playful mood. Smile fading, Harry's thoughts returned to Hermione.
Her face was still reddened but her eyes were gleaming with pride. Sure, Fred and George were having a go at her, but it was their way of expressing how impressed they were, and Hermione knew it. While she seemed perfectly well, something about Hermione persisted to concern Harry. He just wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps this whole ordeal had been more troubling for her than even he realized. Something was still awry with her, something he'd felt all summer. He made a mental note to talk to her about it when they had the opportunity to be alone.
Dumbledore's dignified voice drew Harry from his thoughts.
"Well, now that we have restored the Dursley's home to order. I think it's time we leave them in peace."
Harry felt sick. If everyone was leaving he was coming with them. There was no way he'd be left here again, not after tonight. These very words were on the tip of his tongue when two voices answered his concern in harmony.
"We'll get Hedwig and his trunk!" Fred said as he and George dashed up the stairs toward Harry's room. The lack of protest on anyone's part reassured Harry that he would be leaving with them.
"Albus," Arthur Weasley said quietly. "I think with the commotion caused on this street already tonight, it would be better just to apparate straight away rather than risk more muggles being alerted to our presence. I'm sure the Ministry has already cast quite a few memory charms on Privet Drive tonight." Dumbledore nodded in agreement.
"We need to return to headquarters and debrief properly," Moody growled, obviously frustrated by the seeming lack of concern for the events that had occurred.
"But Harry and I can't apparate yet," Ron added concernedly.
"It's all right Ron, Just come over here and hold onto me," Ms. Weasley said, extending her arm toward Ron. With a sidelong glance at Harry, he headed for his mother.
"See you in a minute," he said to Harry and Hermione as they disapparated with a crack.
The room filled with the sounds of witches and wizards taking their leave of Privet Drive. Fred and George let Hedwig out of her cage so she could fly back to headquarters and stretch her wings. Ms. Figg gave Harry one last squeeze and left for her home via the repaired front door. Soon all that remained, aside from the Dursley's, was Harry, Hermione, and Professor Dumbledore.
Professor Dumbledore had walked over to Petunia in the commotion of the Order's departure and was clearly finishing conversing with her. He held her hand in his and gave her a warm smile. Harry felt quite certain Dumbledore was offering some modicum of gratitude for having ensured Harry's safety, no matter how basic, in the years that had passed since he acquired that famous scar. As he turned to Harry and Hermione, his eyes glimmered brightly.
"Ms. Granger, I imagine you can get Harry to headquarters quite efficiently," he winked at Harry. "I'll see you then." With a crack, he was gone, leaving Harry and Hermione alone with the Dursley's. An awkward silence ensued and Hermione was clearly trying to focus her thoughts on the task at hand. She took Harry's hand in hers only to be stopped abruptly.
"Hang on, Hermione," Harry said quietly. He slipped his hand from hers and walked over to the Dursley's.
This was it. This was the moment he had spent the majority of his life awaiting. He was leaving, and he was leaving for good. He never had to return to this house or these people again. Surprisingly, he wasn't as elated as he thought he would be.
He wasn't interested in Uncle Vernon or Dudley, but Aunt Petunia carried a look in her eyes that he recognized. He had only gotten a bit of her story. He only knew slightly more now that he had before. But what he knew was earth shattering. He would never forget what Petunia had done for him. The house in Godric's Hollow aside, he felt thoroughly grateful for the trip they took together, the opportunity to pay a visit to his parents, and the information that she freely, and finally, gave up. Although it was a new respect, he had developed one for Petunia and honestly, felt a bit cheated to not have more time with her; the new her. He sincerely hoped what he was thinking was coming across in his eyes. He knew he couldn't speak of it in front of Vernon.
She apparently understood. She stepped out from behind Dudley and pulled Harry into a quick, and somewhat awkward hug. She glanced at Dudley's shocked face and back to Harry and said the one thing Harry had not heard in all his years at Privet Drive.
"Thank you, Harry."
To which he replied quietly, "No, thank you Aunt Petunia." With that said, he returned to Hermione. Her eyes were filling with tears and she quickly brushed one off her cheek as Harry slid his arm around her waist and turned her to face him.
"Shall we go to headquarters then?" he asked with a grin. Hermione nodded and Harry took one last glance toward his Aunt before Privet Drive disappeared from his field of vision.
When the scene blurred into view, Harry was shocked to see what was standing before him.
"Hermione," Harry said tentatively.
"Yes?" she inquired concernedly
"You do know they moved the headquarters to the Burrow, right?"
Hermione gasped.
She apparently didn't know that.
"Oh! I'm so sorry Harry! Hang on and we'll go right now."
"No, wait," he said dropping his arms from her waist. "I'd like to look around."
Hermione joined him as the two walked together to the doorway emblazoned with a number "12."
***
Harry wasn't quite sure what to expect when he opened the door. Frankly, he wasn't sure the door would open at all. Surely it would be locked. If it wasn't locked, they never would have moved the Order's headquarters to the Burrow. With Sirius gone, Kreacher would hardly be chomping at the bit to let the "blood traitors" into the house of his mistress. Still, an unknown compulsion moved Harry forward. He reached for the door knob and Hermione tugged gently on his sleeve.
"Harry, are you sure you want to do this?"
"I just want to look around a bit."
"But Harry, are you sure its not going to be too painf…"
"Hermione," he turned to look at her. "I'm fine. I really am."
She begrudgingly released his arm and gave a defeated glance toward the front door. Harry reached for the knob and was shocked as he pushed the door open with no resistance.
The wooden door opened with an ominous creak. The front hallway was dark and still. No one seemed alerted to their presence and for all Harry could tell, the house was deserted. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder and felt Hermione clinging to him as they walked into the foyer.
He hadn't spent much time here but the house held memories for him nonetheless. He looked up the dark staircase and remembered the times they'd traversed the passage in silence, attempting not to wake Mrs. Black's portrait. He thought of Fred and George lowering the extendable ears to eavesdrop on members of the Order after a closed door meeting. He smiled inwardly at the sound of Sirius singing "God rest ye Merrye hippogriffs!"
Hippogriffs!
Harry gasped and set off at a run. Harry wasn't sure if Hermione knew why he was running, or merely followed him out of curiosity. Either way, she was close upon his heels. He trampled up the staircase, fearing the worst.
Sirius had been dead for over a year. For some reason, the Order had not been able to access the house. Sirius had but one charge, and that was the hippogriff that helped save his life. Harry's stomach flopped over as he thought of the scene he was bound to find beyond the bedroom door. He stopped momentarily to ready himself and pushed the door open to Mrs. Black's former bedroom.
The smell was the first thing to hit both Harry and Hermione. Harry closed his eyes as Hermione threw her sleeve over her mouth and nose. It smelled like rancid meat. The weight of Hermione's head, thrust into Harry's shoulder, let him know she had not summoned the stomach to look in the room. Steeling himself once more, Harry opened his eyes and chanced a glance into the bedroom.
He smiled more broadly than he had in weeks.
"Hermione, its okay. Look!"
With obvious trepidation, Hermione raised her head from Harry's shoulder and peered into the room. Buckbeak was nowhere to be found. However, the hippogriff-sized hole in the wall seemed to indicate that Buckbeak had made do on his own. If that wasn't evidence enough, it became quite apparent that the smell of rancid meat merely denoted the year's worth of leftover dinner that Buckbeak had strewn about the floor. Harry and Hermione both released the breath they had undoubtedly been holding since arriving at Grimmauld place and dissolved into a fit of laughter.
Their Gryffindor tenacity restored, it was time to set out exploring.
As a precaution, they both brandished their wands, remembering the veritable menagerie of infestations they had worked to clean up two summers ago. They retreated back down the hallway in silence. They peered into one door and through another. They examined some of the portraits, conspicuously unattended, as they walked toward the stairs. Hermione raised a defeated glance to the "house elf wall of fame" and remained fixated on the mounted heads of the Black's many former house elves.
It was her scream that pulled Harry's musings away from the room he'd once occupied.
Hermione had thrown herself against the wall with enough force to dislodge a mounted house elf head. It bounced down the staircase, bumping and crashing into nearly everything it could along the way. Harry reached Hermione and threw his arms around her, covering her mouth with his hand, just as the head shattered a large vase at the bottom of the stairs.
Just below Mrs. Black's portrait.
Rooted to the spot, unable to breathe, and with wide eyes staring…they waited for it.
Quiet.
They exchanged a confounded look. Two summers ago a mere ring of the doorbell would've sent Sirius' mother into earsplitting fits not even Mrs. Weasley's howlers could rival. Hermione had just sent a decapitated house elf head careening down the stairs with a racket tantamount to one of Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures lessons. Yet his mother's portrait did not awaken. Harry was about to make this point to Hermione when he realized her eyes were still screwed up tight. It didn't take him long to realize what had frightened her.
In the absence of any master left to take orders from, Kreacher appeared to have made the decision he'd sought for ages. At Hermione's feet lay an empty wooden plaque with the name "Kreacher" scrawled in nearly illegible handwriting. A knife, strapped to a fireplace stone, lay to the left side, while the house elf's head lay to the right. The bloodstained carpet, turned brown from age, indicated the deed had been done some months earlier. Hermione seemed horrorstruck by what lay on the floor before her, Harry, on the other hand, felt no such remorse.
While he was sure the vestiges of S.P.E.W. still lingered in Hermione's heart, Harry was not in the least bit saddened to see the end of this house elf. His mind drifted back to that fateful night he snuck into Umbridge's office and took Kreacher at his word that Sirius had left Grimmauld Place. Had Kreacher been present when Harry learned it was all a lie, he likely would've taken the liberty of decapitating the elf post haste. However, as Kreacher seemed to have done the job himself, Harry merely ushered Hermione down the stairs and resolved to clean up the mess later.
Harry put an arm around Hermione's shoulder as they descended the staircase together. Both sets of eyes were clearly fixed on the shrouded portrait at the bottom of the stairs. Why had she not shrieked about "accursed mudbloods" and "children of filth?" By the time he was level with the portrait his curiosity consumed him.
"Harry!" Hermione quietly hissed as he reached up to tug at the drapery over the portrait.
"It's okay," he whispered absentmindedly, still reaching to pull back the coverings ever so slightly. She tugged on his sleeve as he pulled back part of the drapery exposing the portrait underneath. The farther he exposed the portrait, the more flustered Hermione became, until she realized exactly what Harry did.
Mrs. Black had left her portrait.
Confounded, Harry and Hermione studied the empty portrait, wondering where its mistress had gone.
"Well, at least it will be quieter around here," Harry said sheepishly.
Forgetting they could speak in audible voices, Hermione continued to whisper to Harry. `Everyone has got to be wondering where we are."
"Hmm?" Harry mumbled, still examining the empty frame.
"Ron…the Order…Hello! Earth to Harry! Fred and George have probably convinced everyone I've splinched us into an unsuspecting herd of mad cattle!" Hermione said with growing frustration.
"Oh, right!" Harry replied, prying his eyes from the portrait. "I've got an idea." With that he took her hand and went down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Harry half expected to see something indicative of Sirius' last meal lying around the kitchen. A hastily left bowl of soup, a half-consumed glass of butterbeer, anything to indicate the alacrity with which he left this house; of course, there was no evidence to be found. Kreacher had undoubtedly cleaned the kitchen after Sirius had gone and it remained clean even now. Oddly enough, the fire was burning as vigorously as ever.
Harry walked to the fireplace and pulled a ceramic pot from the mantle. Just as he'd assumed it was filled with floo powder and he took a pinch and tossed it into the fire. The kitchen sprung to life with a roaring green flame and Hermione heard Harry say "the Burrow" before placing his head squarely in the flames.
***
"Harry!" Ron shouted before Harry's eyes could even focus on the Weasley's bustling living room. Before he could speak, Ron's voice was joined by several others. Although he couldn't make out one voice among the din of the others he was quite assured he knew what each was getting at.
"Everything's fine! Hermione and I are okay. We just took a bit of a wrong turn, that's all," Harry said, doing his best to assuage the worried faces staring at him.
"Where are you?" Ron asked concernedly.
"We're at Grimmauld Place. Hermione didn't realize the headquarters had been moved and she apparated us here. We just thought we'd take a bit of a look around before joining you." Harry did not miss the significant glances that encircled the room as he spoke.
"Grimmauld Place?" Tonks said incredulously. "You're inside?"
"Obviously," Mad-Eye growled. Tonks shot him an acid glare which seemed to effect Moody not in the least.
"Yes," Harry said quietly, trying to calm the obvious tension.
Tonks returned her attention to Harry's head, floating about in the fireplace, and asked another, seemingly obvious, question. "How did you get in?"
"I, er-I just opened the door. It wasn't locked," Harry answered honestly.
He couldn't help but notice the contented glance that passed between Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore before Molly Weasley's voice caught his attention. "No matter Harry, we know you're safe. Why don't you and Hermione just floo over and we can settle in for a spot of supper."
Harry was about to give a begrudging reply in the affirmative when he noticed Remus Lupin advance from the back of the room and put a hand on Molly's shoulder. "Molly, I think we have some of our own debriefing to do yet." He looked at Harry. "I would say you both should give us about an hour before you come over if that's alright with you." Lupin shot Harry a look that could only mean get-out-while-you-can, before Molly rounded on him with eyes flashing.
"Okay. We'll see you in an hour or so." Not needing to be told twice, Harry pulled his head from the fireplace to the faint echo of what sounded oddly like a howler Ron had once received during their second year.
"Is everything okay?" Hermione asked as Harry got to his feet.
"It is now," Harry said with a smile. Given the expression crossing Hermione's face, he felt it necessary to expound. "We've got an hour or so before we need to floo to the Burrow. If you don't mind, there are a few other places I'd like to have a look at."
Hermione flopped onto the bench in the kitchen. "I've seen all I care to see for right now. I'll stay here," she said flatly. Harry nodded and moved toward the door, stopping to give Hermione a short kiss on the forehead as he left. He hadn't cleared the doorway before that same forehead flopped onto her crossed arms, exhausted.
A/N: I think I need to clear up a bit of confusion over the whole "home" protection charm thing. There are two essential elements for the ancient charm to protect Harry away from Hogwarts. He must make his "home" in the presence of his mother's blood. The only one with his mother's blood is Petunia, so his home would still have to be with her. The other key is that he has to "feel" like it's home - which he doesn't. So honestly, at this point the only way to keep that protection is to have Hermione at Privet Drive.
Second-I feel the need to make an apology of sorts. The original website I wrote this on (or more to the point-am writing it on) cliffhangers are sort of the order of the day. I got away from using them when I wrote this story and you've seen only one I really have. I am also reminded that for those of you who don't know me-which is practically everyone-my dry sense of humor and sarcasm doesn't translate well on the screen. I'll keep that in mind.
I've gotten some rather nasty insults via email, PM, reviews, and otherwise, and didn't realize-from the stories I've read here-that cliffies are so taboo on Portkey. I likely would've changed the chapter break had I known that. That's part of the reason I posted the next chapter so quickly. I'll take more care to ensure I don't have any more for the readers here.
I would hope, in return, those readers who have felt the need to send me some of those messages might choose otherwise in the future.
VLeigh