It felt far longer than it had actually been since Harry had walked on Privet Drive, taking the same steps in the same pattern along the same sidewalk as he had so many times before. Surprisingly, the walk bolstered his happiness, reminding him of times when he was confused and lonely, so that his current life felt all the more cheerful.
Despite the intensity of his life since re-joining wizarding society, Harry was certain that his life now was better than it had been when he had lived here, hidden among the Muggles. While he was aware that their lives were also filled with dynamic successes and challenges, he knew that what he could experience as a wizard was far more substantial than what he would have, if he had never received his Hogwarts letter.
Number four, Privet Drive. It seemed… smaller, Harry reckoned. He knew it was the same size it had always been, but he could not shake the feeling that it had shrunken, even as he knew how silly the thought was.
The sun was just setting as Harry stepped onto the front stoop, continuing to feel surreal as he touched his finger to the doorbell and heard from within the house the familiar ring. His ears told him that it was Dudley who approached the door, turning the knob to see who it was who had unexpectedly arrived at their front door.
Dudley, looking older and perhaps thinner, gaped at Harry, who smiled at his cousin, waiting for recognition to hit, which it only did when Dudley's gaze got to the scar on Harry's forehead.
"Oh," he realized. "What's… why're you… Mum, it's, erm… it's Harry."
Harry looked over Dudley's shoulder, and cringed. He had not wanted to call ahead and make a big deal out of visiting, instead just stopping by, hoping that it would not be a mistake. When he saw who was sitting at the dining room table, he knew it definitely had been.
Dudley's Aunt Marge sat in Harry's old seat at the table, which had the markings of a fancy dinner, with several open bottles of wine in sight, as well as a bottle of brandy to go with the dessert they were now eating.
"Harry," Aunt Petunia said, rising and looking unsure of what to do with herself.
Harry put up a hand. "I'm sorry. I was nearby and thought I'd pop in for a quick hello. I should have called ahead. Sorry again. Hello, Aunt Marge," he added, giving a little wave.
"Who's this now?" Aunt Marge asked, and from the look of her, Harry imagined her eyesight was too drunkenly blurry to see him clearly.
He stepped forward, an apologetic look still on his face, and walked up to Aunt Marge, extending his hand. Her eyes opened wide now that she could get a good look at him, and her face flushed even redder as she tried to give Harry a dainty handshake with her enormous, pudgy fingers.
"You remember Petunia's nephew," Uncle Vernon said a little shakily.
"No, surely not," Aunt Marge gushed, looking Harry over and keeping hold of his hand. "That little runt grew into this?" Her look now was downright lude, and Harry withdrew his hand.
He looked to Aunt Petunia, who was horrified. "This was my fault," he said simply. "Anyway, nice to see you agai —"
"…The public is warned that the escapees are armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sightings should be reported immediately. Once again, here are the most recent photographs of the convicts, who authorities believe could have last been seen in…"
Dudley had the television on in the living room. His program had been interrupted by the news bulletin, which had now captured the attention of the entire household, though none more than Harry, who found himself walking slowly closer to the screen as the names and faces of the escaped prisoners was being displayed.
"No need to tell us they're no good," snorted Uncle Vernon, shaking his head and taking a sip of brandy. "Look at the state of them, a collection of filthy layabouts! Look at that one's hair!"
Harry read the names again, his heart pounding. Peter Pettigrew, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Fenrir Greyback. Pettigrew had escaped… He knew the conversation continued around him as the station returned to Dudley's program, but all he could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears.
He spun around, ready to Disapparate on the spot, even if he was not sure where to go first. When he saw Aunt Marge, he was reminded that she had no knowledge of magical society, and he would be breaking the law if he performed any magic in front of her. While Harry had worked to make his magic undetectable by the Ministry under normal circumstances, Privet Drive still had layers of protections and sensors that might trigger it.
Not thinking to even say goodbye, Harry rushed out the door, ready to Disapparate the moment it was closed behind him, only to find an entire family on the street, trying out a pair of light-up roller skates. He thought he could perhaps go into the back garden and transform to his eagle form, but again that might end up being detected, which would have even greater consequences, as Harry had not yet registered his Animagi forms. So, Harry did the first undetectable thing he could think of, thrusting up his wand into the air at the curb.
There was a deafening BANG, and Harry squinted his eyes against a sudden blinding light. A gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt on the road in front of him. They belonged to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled The Knight Bus.
For all the pomp and circumstance of its arrival, the Muggle family showed no sign of seeing or hearing the bus, which had been designed to accomplish exactly as much, making it the perfect mode of transportation for Harry to use tonight. It was invisible to Muggles.
A conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve —"
The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry, his eyes widening the longer he looked at him.
"Are you…"
"I am," Harry said, flipping a Galleon into the air towards Stan and heading onto the bus. "The Leaky Cauldron, and keep the change," he yelled over his shoulder as he climbed to the third level of the bus, which was thankfully empty. He collapsed onto one of the eight beds lying in wait, and pulled his two-way mirror out of his pocket, about to say Sirius's name only to see that his godfather was already there.
"Harry…" Sirius said concernedly.
"I heard," Harry said, and Sirius nodded glumly. "I'm headed to the Leaky Cauldron," Harry told him. "I want to be on the ground, maybe head into Knockturn Alley, see what I can find out. I have a bunch going on there tomorrow anyway, so I might as well spend the night."
"I… I don't like that idea," Sirius said, but his tone revealed the futility of the words.
"We need to think about where Pettigrew would go first," Harry went on. "You might know that better than anyone."
"I probably do," Sirius admitted regretfully. "And because I do, I know that where Wormtail would disappear to is not where he will actually be. It'll be Bellatrix Lestrange calling the shots with that merry little band of Death Eaters. She and Greyback would be more likely to eat Wormtail than follow him anywhere. You can bet she's stringing him along, and that her number one priority would be finding Voldemort. Short of that, we can assume the next person on her list to find, would be you."
"Aw, that's friendly," Harry remarked.
Sirius sighed. "It's not a joke, Harry," he said, no joviality present.
"I know," Harry said, abandoning any further attempt to make light of the situation. "She'll try to kill me so she can present her master with my lifeless body and be heralded as his most faithful servant." He did not know how he knew Bellatrix would be driven, almost blindly, to accomplish as much, but he knew it was true. "But we can use that to our advantage — draw her out with me as bait."
Sirius closed his eyes and sighed again. "You're not even trying to hide it. You admit to wanting to be the bait," he said aloud, even as he seemed to be lamenting the fact to himself.
Harry grinned a wry smile. "You know it'll work," he said slyly.
Sirius sighed yet again, something he found himself doing more often than reasonable with Harry.
"Yes, it will," he admitted. "If you were… if you were a normal person, I would protest… vehemently. But…" He let that idea linger, knowing that Harry would understand, which he indeed did.
Promising to be careful, and suspecting heavily that he might see his godfather lurking in the shadows at Diagon Alley, Harry stowed the mirror and lay back, thinking hard about the breakout from Azkaban. He let the floodgates of conjecture spill as he imagined as many potential circumstances and futures as he possibly could, letting his mind wander along as many tendrils of thought as it saw fit to, until he became aware of the voice of Stan Shunpike battling to catch Harry's attention.
"Diagon Alley," Stan repeated, looking a little unsure from the top of the spiral staircase through which he had poked his head.
Harry waved at him and got up, his brain feeling somewhat like a washing machine at the end of its cycle, spinning down. It had only been less than a minute, but he had been in deep concentration. He ought to have realized the trip would only be a matter of seconds, although Stan's recognition of him likely bumped Harry's destination to the front of the queue. He made certain to heavily tip both Stan and the driver as he disembarked.
"Thanks for the lift," he said, stepping down in front of the Leaky Cauldron.
But Stan wasn't paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus, he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.
"There you are, Harry," said a voice.
Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Stan shouted, "Blimey! Ern, come 'ere! Come 'ere!"
Harry looked at the owner of the hand on his shoulder and felt a spike of alarm at the surprise — he had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself.
Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them.
"You friends with Harry Potter, then, Minister?" he said excitedly.
Fudge, a portly little man in a long, pinstriped cloak, looked cold and exhausted.
"Oh, I like to think we're all friends, erm… Stan," said Fudge after squinting at Stan's nametag, "Well, I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now…"
Fudge increased the pressure on Harry's shoulder, and Harry paused. He got an odd flash of… something. It was a sense of familiarity with an authority figure not being who he appeared to be. It did not seem to have to do with Fudge, per se, but still… Harry started hard into Fudge's eyes, and relaxed his hands, wanting to be at the ready to perform magic at a moment's notice. After a few seconds of work against Fudge's Occlumency skills, which were nothing to sneeze at, he felt enough from the man's thoughts to confirm that it was truly Cornelius Fudge, and that he meant Harry no harm. Indeed, he seemed concerned about Harry's well-being more than anything else. Only then did Harry allow himself be steered inside the pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord.
"You've got him, Minister!" said Tom. "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?"
"Perhaps a pot of tea," said Fudge, who still hadn't let go of Harry.
There was a noise behind them, making everyone turn to see Stan having run into the closed bus door from inside it, which the driver opened again with a muttered apology.
"Was just wonderin'…" Stan said timidly, holding a foot-long roll of receipt paper. "With the both of you 'ere… if you wouldn't mind… To pin up in the bus!" he said excitedly, holding the paper and quill out hopefully.
"And a private parlour, please, Tom," said Fudge pointedly.
"Okay, but first," Harry said to Fudge as he walked towards Stan, taking the quill and signing his name, then looking expectantly back to Fudge, who sighed irritably.
"Yes, yes. Always a pleasure," Fudge said robotically, signing his name next to Harry's.
Stan looked ecstatic, thanking the both of them repeatedly as he climbed back aboard the bus.
Fudge marched Harry along the narrow passage after Tom's lantern, and then into a small parlor. Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room. "Sit down, Harry," said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire.
Harry sat down, feeling goose bumps rising up his arms despite the glow of the fire. Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite Harry.
"It's good to see you again, Harry, though I wish it were under better circumstances."
Harry had encountered Fudge at a few official events, most of them Quidditch-related; he had only been with Fudge in a less-formal setting once before, but as he had been wearing his Invisibility Cloak at the time, Fudge of course had no knowledge of it.
Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his night- shirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Harry and left the parlour, closing the door behind him.
"Well, Harry," said Fudge, pouring out tea, "I'll get right to the point. We've been trying to contact you for a few hours now. Erm… Sirius Black initially refused my correspondence until Madam Bones joined the effort."
Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward Harry.
"Do eat, Harry. Best to keep your strength up."
Harry ignored the offer. "I assume this is about the breakout," he said.
It seemed to take Fudge a moment to register what Harry had said. Harry imagined he had been formulating how best to tell Harry about it.
"Erm… yes… it is… I… I wanted to be the one to inform you of it, but it would seem you already know." He looked at Harry questioningly.
"I saw it on the Muggle news," Harry explained.
"Ah," Fudge said slowly, realization dawning. "Yes, I hope you'll realize the necessity of that. We can't have our escaped prisoners running amuck without providing a warning for our Muggle neighbours. Their Minister, bless his heart, seemed to think they could help capture them. I was eventually able to convince him to steer clear and just report any sightings to us. But the reason I came looking for you, specifically Harry —"
"Is because they're going to be doing the same," Harry finished for him, and went on. "I know this, Minister, and… maybe it's my temper, but I currently find myself hoping that they find me."
Fudge gaped at him, the quivering of his mouth the only observable response to Harry's statement. After a few seconds, Harry continued.
"I'm going to bring them to justice. After that, maybe we can figure out what's wrong with our punitive system and find a way to fix it."
Fudge was saved from the awkward moment by the return of Tom, who arrived to announce the readiness of Harry's suite for the night, which Fudge had arranged, and that Harry was ironically grateful for.
"I'm sure this will all pass," Fudge said once Harry was set to leave for his room. "Do try to stay out of trouble, Harry. Keep your head down and you'll likely never even know there was any danger."
Harry looked at the man for a few seconds, flummoxed.
"Minister," he finally said. "I'm not going to ignore reality."
A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed between the two of them before Fudge nodded with a condescending smile and just walked away.
Harry followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number eleven on it, which Tom unlocked and opened for him.
Inside was a very comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe —
"Hedwig!" Harry gasped.
The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto Harry's arm.
"Very smart owl you've got there," chuckled Tom. "Arrived about five minutes after you did. If there's anything you need, Mr. Potter, don't hesitate to ask."
He gave another bow and left.
Harry sat on his bed for a long time, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold.
"It's been a very weird night, Hedwig," he said to his owl. "Let's see what the morning can bring us."
And after flicking the window open, Harry transformed into his eagle Animagus and flew into the night, Hedwig flying in formation next to him.
Unfortunately, Harry learned nothing useful during his time flying around Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, at least about where Pettigrew and the others might be. What he was able to surmise was that there was an overall sense of… change. Both those who feared and admired Voldemort seemed to understand that something had shifted in the status quo, with the escape of three of his strongest allies.
Harry sent Hedwig with a note for Toory and Zeely, telling them he would not be back before leaving for Hogwarts. Just before she left, he attached another note to his leg, this one addressed to Dobby. Several weeks ago, Neville's grandmother had contracted Dragon Pox and, after talking it over with Dobby, the little house-elf volunteered to help out at the Longbottom residence until she was back on her feet again. The last time Harry had seen Dobby, he had taken on a few of Mrs. Longbottom's mannerisms, which Harry was not sure Neville appreciated.
Disappointed at not finding out anything useful, Harry's mood was much improved later as he wandered Diagon Alley trying to decide where he should have lunch.
"Harry! HARRY!"
He looked across the alley to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour to see Hermione waving at him, looking very tan, sitting next to Ron, looking incredibly freckly.
"Finally!" said Ron, grinning at Harry as he sat down. "We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and —"
"I got all my school stuff last week," Harry explained. "But how'd you know I was staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"
"Dad," said Ron simply.
Mr. Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, must have heard from Fudge, Harry supposed, although sharing his location was an odd choice for a man supposedly trying to protect him…
"We're staying there tonight too!" Ron went on. "So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!"
Hermione nodded, beaming. "Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things."
"Excellent!" said Harry happily. "So, have you got all your new books and stuff?"
"Yep," Ron said, pointing to a bag under his chair, which was filled with books. "What about those Monster Books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two."
Harry grinned. "Yeah, those are mental, but if you stroke the spine, they relax. Took me a while and a lot of chewing on my fingers before I figured that one out. "But what's with all that, Hermione?" Harry asked, pointing at not one but three bulging bags in the chair next to her.
"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I?" said Hermione. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies —"
"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" said Ron, rolling his eyes at Harry. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!"
"But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view," said Hermione earnestly.
"Huh. That's actually a good point. Well, you'll have to fill me in on anything interesting you learn. Muggle Studies is actually the only class you're taking that I'm not," Harry said.
"I didn't know that!" Hermione practically yelled. "I thought you were taking what Ron was!"
"I tried to get him to see reason, but he 'likes learning,' Ron said with feigned annoyance, making air quotation marks with his hands. "I'm all for your enthusiasm, and I hope it works out for you both, but also you're fucking mental and it's not going to work out at all."
Harry laughed heartily as Ron grinned at his own joke. Hermione scoffed, but was distracted from the minor annoyance by the arrival of Mr. Fortescue, who had brought a platter of ice cream sandwiches, insisting that they sample them for free in return for their honest feedback — a loophole the man utilized any time he saw Harry at the shop.
"Well, I've still got ten Galleons," Hermione said, checking her purse. "It's my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present."
"How about a nice book?" said Ron innocently, taking a bite of what seemed to be a juniper and tequila combination and immediately spitting it back out.
"No, I don't think so," said Hermione composedly. "I really want an owl. I mean, Harry's got Hedwig and you've got —" She stopped, catching herself. Ron used to have Scabbers the rat, who of course had turned out to be Peter Pettigrew. Hermione looked mortified. "Sorry, Ron," she said.
Ron waved her off. "It's all right. I sometimes go and look for him to see how he's doing, before I remember…"
Harry was spared the uncertainty of how to respond to that rather sad statement when he caught a whiff of someone approaching from behind him. He gave no indication that he had detected the man's arrival, staying perfectly still even as Ron and Hermione went a little wide-eyed when they saw the man, who Harry knew was now standing directly behind him at his seat.
"Ron, Hermione, this is my godfather, Sirius Black," Harry said when he heard Sirius open his mouth to no doubt scold Harry for not being aware of his surroundings.
"Oh!" Hermione said, relieved. "Hello." Ron waved.
Sirius sighed and sat in the chair between Harry and Hermione, greeting Hermione and Ron. He looked at Harry for a long while, eventually shaking his head and picking up one of the ice cream sandwiches.
"You're early," Harry said to him.
"Well, I wanted to test you," Sirius said, looking somewhat apologetic. "I guess… good job."
"We have a couple of meetings later — mostly Message Mirror-related," Harry explained to Ron and Hermione.
"I was also going to see if you wanted to get lunch," Sirius said. "But it looks as if you found your own." He peered at the ice cream sandwiches.
"Really, we're just acting as Mr. Fortescue's guinea pigs," Hermione said, looking up at Sirius.
"Well all right," Sirius said cheerily. "Then I'll take out the lot of you!"
"We don't want to impose…" Hermione said, looking to Harry.
"You're not," Harry promised her. Indeed, the idea of his godfather taking him and his friends to lunch was… Harry could not even think of a word for it, but he loved it.
"Great!" Sirius said.
They spent a few minutes deciding where to go, with Sirius insisting that Ron and Hermione give their honest opinions, as they had started out clearly deferring to whatever Sirius and Harry suggested.
"I've never had it, but I'm actually game to try it!" Ron said, sounding surprised at himself when Hermione suggested sushi. "Plus, it's fun to see Muggles."
They exited into Muggle London through the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had the streets and shops within twelve blocks memorized, and led them to the sushi shop sometimes favoured by witches and wizards. It was run by an older couple who had long ago sent their Muggleborn child to Hogwarts, and so were aware of the community and welcomed the increase in customers being a part of it offered to them.
The woman who seated them clearly recognized both Harry and Sirius, but after the initial greeting, they were treated like any other customers.
"But it's so spicy!" Hermione argued later when Sirius encouraged her to try at least a little wasabi.
"It's… it packs a punch, but it goes away almost immediately, unlike most spicy foods. It really does add a nice bit of flavour!" Sirius promised, raising his eyebrows at her.
Hermione smiled a defeated sigh. "Well all right," she relented, and everyone watched as she dipped her salmon roll into the wasabi.
"Oh come on," Sirius protested after she managed to get the smallest possible amount on the rice — barely showing up at all.
"Oh my gosh fine!" Hermione said, smashing the roll into the wasabi and popping it into her mouth.
As she chewed, she initially showed no reaction, but after a few seconds began waving at her face, her eyes starting to tear. She opened her mouth to try to cool off the sensation with air, and Harry winced.
"That'll make it worse!"
The words had not fully left him before Hermione had already realized as much, now grabbing for water as Sirius and Ron chuckled. There was more laughter from the rest of them as Hermione recounted the discomfort for the table, but Harry could generate no amusement on his part, watching Hermione look at Sirius somewhat simperingly as he patted her on the shoulder. In fact —
Harry suddenly realized that Sirius was now giving him an odd look, and shook himself out of… whatever that had been. He tried not to think about it, confused and angry at himself for not enjoying what had clearly been a fun moment. Sirius looked at him questioningly, and then appeared to come to some kind of realization. His behavior was somewhat different after that.
Harry and Sirius had appointments to get to after lunch, but they stayed with Ron and Hermione for one last stop to the Magical Menagerie, so Hermione could shop for her owl.
There wasn't much room inside. Every inch of wall was hidden by cages. It was smelly and very noisy because the occupants of these cages were all squeaking, squawking, jabbering, or hissing.
A pair of enormous purple toads sat gulping wetly and feasting on dead blowflies. A gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell was glittering near the window. Poisonous orange snails were oozing slowly up the side of their glass tank, and a fat white rabbit kept changing into a silk top hat and back again with a loud popping noise. Then there were cats of every colour, a noisy cage of ravens, and a basket of funny different-coloured furballs that were humming loudly.
Hermione split off from their group to look around. Harry watched her walk away, wondering what kind of owl she might be attracted to, when Ron's voice broke him out of his thoughts.
"I had one of these once. Did I ever tell you that?"
Harry looked to see that Ron was looking in the basket at what he knew were Puffskeins, a very agreeable and popular wizarding pet that Ron had once owned but had been reportedly killed by Fred when he had foolishly used it for Bludger practice. While the small, spherical Puffskeins were renowned for their durability and enjoyment of being flung around, a very young Fred had apparently gone too far.
"You did," Harry said. "Not a good track record you have with pets, is it?"
Ron laughed scornfully. "No, it's really not."
"Let me buy one for you!" It was Sirius, coming to stand next to Ron. "I can't help but feel like I owe you a pet, all things considered. Besides, a Puffskein would be living its best life at Hogwarts, with so many kids to interact with." He lowered his voice and leaned closer to the boys. "Especially the witches. You'll be really popular with the witches." He waggled his eyebrows, then seemed to think of something. "Or the wizards," he said to Ron quickly. "Whatever floats your boat."
Harry laughed, even as he appreciated Sirius attempt at inclusion.
"I like girls," Ron said quietly through gritted teeth, his face going red.
After that, Ron allowed Sirius to buy him a Puffskein and all the accessories they felt would be appreciated by the little guy, who Ron had named Albert, which he felt was an appropriately name for the derpy little ball of fluff. As Sirius had predicted, Hermione was over the moon about Albert, and Harry caught Ron sharing a knowing look with Sirius as she gushed over him nuzzled in between Ron's hands. Harry was just about to ask if Hermione had found an owl she liked when he saw an orange blur leaping from atop the highest shelf.
A giant cat flew through the air, having apparently been aiming for a cage full of frogs, which had just been picked up and moved by a worker. Harry reached out at the last moment and caught the cat carefully in one hand.
"Crookshanks!" cried the witch behind the counter, and she made to dart forward, but stopped when she saw that the cat, who was apparently named Crookshanks, had settled into Harry's arm. She breathed out a laugh, shaking her head. "Well that's a first. You must have a way with animals, Mr. Potter."
Harry abandoned any attempt at response when Hermione shifted her attention to him and Crookshanks, putting her hand out for the cat to sniff before scratching it behind the ears.
"Oh look at him!" she gushed. "He's absolutely gorgeous."
"Are we looking at the same cat?" Ron questioned.
Harry felt he had a point. The cat's ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as though it had run headlong into a brick wall.
"Yes," Hermione said testily over her shoulder. "Aw… oh, are… are you going to buy him, Harry?"
"No no — just preventing cat suicide," Harry told her, and he saw the look of joy on her face at the news. "But I thought you wanted an owl."
"I did," Hermione said, pressing her face against Crookshanks's head and smiling serenely, the cat purring incredibly loudly.
Harry laughed at the obvious bond the pair of them were making. "Hermione, you absolutely have to buy this cat," he told her. "Wait! No, let me get him for you for your birthday. We Potter-Blacks know how to gift the right animal for our friends, after all."
"I prefer Black-Potters!" Sirius protested, which he unfortunately did just as a dark-skinned family walked right past him. At an uncharacteristic loss for words, an embarrassed Sirius opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds before saying quietly, "Or Potter-Blacks… that's fine too."
Ron and Hermione returned to the Leaky Cauldron with their new animals, while Harry and Sirius headed to their appointments, the first of which was at Flubbins and Stoker, Limited to meet with Beatrice.
"I've sent ahead an outline of what we'd like to do," she told them later, placing identical sheets of parchment in front of both of them detailing the diversification into Muggle investments both of them intended to make, as well as working out the contract for the investment in Message Mirrors the goblins had shown an interest in. "They are, of course, bound to follow whatever instructions we give for how your gold is to be invested, but I always find it best to put our instructions in writing first, to avoid at least a portion of the haggling we might have to deal with."
"We appreciate that," Sirius said, looking the parchment over. "I detest haggling."
"I remember," Beatrice said. "'Cut and dry, black and white,' I believe you said." This was precisely what Sirius had said the last time the three of them had met.
Sirius laughed. "It's fortunate Harry found you, out of all the financial consultants. You definitely get us."
Beatrice grinned at Sirius. "I do try, but the two of you make it very easy. You're definitely my favourite clients."
"Okay, but we're probably your richest clients," Sirius quipped.
"True," Beatrice admitted. "Erm, by a factor of ten, at least, but you're still my favourite, regardless, not that I'd ever admit to as much publicly."
"Oh, never admit to anything publicly — that's my motto," Sirius replied.
The pair of them continued their banter, which Harry eventually realized had transcended finance and become blatantly flirtatious. He spent several minutes feeling invisible as they traded quips and looks, until he finally decided enough was enough.
"Well, we should probably head to Gringotts, yeah?"
Both Sirius and Beatrice looked his way with the same surprised expression, as though they had forgotten he was even there.
"Oh! Yes, we should," Beatrice said, composing herself and gathering materials.
As she did, Harry gave Sirius an annoyed look. He responded sheepishly at first, but then gave Harry a calculating gaze. Harry was not sure what he meant by it until he and Sirius had left Gringotts, leaving Beatrice behind to finalize the plans they had managed to work out with the goblins.
"Now is not the moment," Sirius began as they walked, "but I do think it is time that you and I had a nice, long talk about the birds and the bees." Harry gaped at him. "I'd noticed you being more… aggressive lately, and wondered, but after seeing how you reacted to me being playful with Hermione, and again with Beatrice… puberty can hit a young wizard pretty hard, and I'd never be able to forgive myself if I sent you to Hogwarts this year without first going over at least the basics."
Harry stared ahead as they walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron, tempering the instinct to respond irritably. He forced himself to count out twenty steps before saying anything and, to his surprise, by the time he had, he found himself realizing that Sirius was right. He was not about to admit to his godfather that he would very much appreciate having such a talk, but he felt it likely that his face was giving as much away, regardless.
When they entered the pub, they found Mr. Weasley sitting in the bar, reading the Daily Prophet.
"Harry!" he said, smiling as he looked up. "How are you?"
"Fine, thanks," said Harry as he and Sirius joined him at the bar.
"Hello Arthur," Sirius said, gesturing to Tom for a firewhisky.
"Sirius, it's so good to see you looking so well," Mr. Weasley said, putting down his paper. Harry saw the face of Peter Pettigrew staring up at him.
"Guess they still haven't caught them," he said.
"No," said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely grave. "They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find the three of them, but no luck so far."
"Arthur, I hope you'll understand that I wanted to help with the official search, but…"
Sirius had already discussed this with Harry. Azkaban had allowed a large number of dementors to roam the country looking for their escaped prisoners, which was a posse Harry agreed vehemently that Sirius should not be a part of. Mr. Weasley seemed to understand as well, waving off Sirius's explanation.
"Don't be ridiculous. No one in their right mind would expect you to" said Mr. Weasley, who on closer inspection looked very strained. "Besides, if they were clever enough to evade the dementors while in Azkaban, you can bet they'll be able to on the run."
At that moment Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; the newly elected Head Boy, Percy; and the Weasleys' youngest child and only girl, Ginny.
Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry, still seemed somewhat embarrassed when she saw him, perhaps because he had saved her life at the end of last school year. It was an improvement that she did not turn red at seeing him, but did avert her eyes when she muttered a quick "hello" at him. Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Harry had never met and said, "Harry. How nice to see you."
"Hello, Percy," said Harry, trying not to laugh.
"I hope you're well?" said Percy pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor.
"Very well, thanks —"
"Harry!" said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply splendid to see you, old boy —"
"Marvelous," said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."
Percy scowled.
"That's enough, now," said Mrs. Weasley.
"Mum!" said Fred as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand too. "How really corking to see you —"
"I said, that's enough," said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. "Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride.
"And last," Fred muttered under his breath.
"I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."
"What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."
Ginny giggled, and Harry was glad to see it, as last year she would never have done as much in front of him.
"You want to set a better example for your sister!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.
"Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," said Percy loftily. "I'm going up to change for dinner…"
He disappeared and George heaved a sigh.
"It's sometimes hard to believe we're related," he told Harry.
Dinner that night was a very enjoyable affair. Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlor, and the seven Weasleys, Harry, Sirius, and Hermione ate their way through five delicious courses.
"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?" asked Fred as they dug into a sumptuous chocolate pudding.
"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars," said Mr. Weasley.
Everyone looked up at him.
"Why?" said Percy curiously.
"It's because of you, Perce," said George seriously. "And there'll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them —"
"— for Humongous Bighead," said Fred.
Everyone except Percy and Mrs. Weasley snorted into their pudding.
"Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy asked again, in a dignified voice.
"Well, as I work there, they're doing me a favor —"
His voice was casual, but Harry couldn't help noticing that Mr. Weasley's ears had gone red, just like Ron's did when he was under pressure. While Harry appreciated the man's attempt to shield Harry from the danger he was in, he also felt it was a futile effort. By now, all of the magical community would realize that Pettigrew, Lestrange, and Greyback would be out for revenge against Harry. The Ministry cars were clearly their effort to protect him, which Harry found himself appreciating, surprising himself yet again with the emotion.
After dinner everyone felt very full and sleepy. One by one they made their way upstairs to their rooms to check their things for the next day. Sirius followed Harry to his room.
"All right," he said once they were alone. "Let's talk about… women."
After a night of exploring magical London with Hedwig, Harry allowed himself two hours of sleep, waking up and getting ready for the train to Hogwarts, having just persuaded a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.
"The sooner we get on the train, the better," he said. "At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his girlfriend. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy…"
They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly.
There was very little time for anything than breakfast and completing the packing that should have already been done before Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside.
"They're here," he said. "Harry, come on."
Mr. Weasley marched Harry across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet.
"In you get, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street.
Harry got into the back of the car and was shortly joined by Hermione, Ron, and, to Ron's disgust, Percy.
The journey to King's Cross was very uneventful compared with Harry's trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary, though Harry noticed that they could slide through gaps that a Muggle car certainly couldn't have managed. They reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights.
It was only now that Harry appreciated Mr. Weasley's stature within the Ministry.
"Right then," he said, glancing around them. "Let's do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I'll go through first with Harry."
Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry's trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at Harry, he leaned casually against the barrier. Harry imitated him.
In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.
Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry. They were panting and had apparently taken the barrier at a run.
"Ah, there's Penelope!" said Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Ginny caught Harry's eye, and they both turned away to hide their laughter as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn't miss his shiny badge.
Once the remaining Weasleys and Hermione had joined them, Harry and Ron led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty. They loaded the trunks onto it, stowed Hedwig and Crookshanks in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Sirius, who had met them at the station.
Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, and finally, Harry. He was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug.
"Do take care, won't you, Harry?" she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright.
"Agreed," Sirius said, pulling Harry in for a hug as well, which Harry accepted happily. "Have fun," Sirius said earnestly.
"I'll try," Harry replied.
Sirius smiled wryly at him. "You, erm… might find it easier once you get to Hogwarts and find the little delivery I arranged to have waiting for you."
Harry looked at his godfather questioningly, but Sirius offered no clarification, instead stepping back and waving merrily at him. Harry shook his head and turned around to head back toward the train, which had started to move. Harry ran to the compartment door and Ron threw it open and stood back to let him on. They leaned out of the window and waved at Sirius and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train.
This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry, Ron, and Hermione checked on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart.
The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.
"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.
"Professor R. J. Lupin," whispered Hermione at once.
"How d'you know that?"
"It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.
Harry stared at the man, his mind whirring. Flashes of memories hit him, jumbled and clouded, from very early in Harry's life. Yes… this man… it was Remus Lupin. Harry looked out the window, wishing he could connect with Sirius to share the moment, but he knew it was too late. Professor? Had Dumbledore hired Remus Lupin to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts? That would be extraordinary. But it was all but a forgone conclusion, seeing as he was on the train, and that his tag read "Professor." Unless some other post had opened up?
All of these thoughts flashed through Harry's mind at blinding speed, so that he was able to hide his reaction from the others, who moved to take seats in the compartment, Harry sitting next to Lupin.
"Wonder what he teaches?" said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile.
"That's obvious," whispered Hermione. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Harry nodded at her reasoning.
"Well, I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he?"
"Be nice," Ginny whispered.
For a while, they talked about Hogsmeade, the village just outside of Hogwarts that third-years and over were allowed to visit on select weekends.
"I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain," Hermione said.
"Yeah, I think it is," said Ron in an offhand sort of way "but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"
"What's that?" said Hermione.
"It's this sweetshop," said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face, "where they've got everything… Pepper Imps — they make you smoke at the mouth — and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next —"
"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on eagerly. "In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain —"
"— and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.
Hermione looked around at Harry.
"Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?"
"Yes," Harry said earnestly. "It'll be nice to just… hang out, won't it?"
They spent a long time talking about Hogsmeade, until Harry noticed that Ginny, who would have to wait another year before being able to visit the village, began to look annoyed. He was about to change the subject when Professor Lupin stirred. They watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.
The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing backward and forward past the door of their compartment. Crookshanks had now settled in the seat next to Harry, his squished little face resting on Harry's leg.
At one o'clock, the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door.
"D'you think we should wake him up?" Ron asked awkwardly, nodding toward Professor Lupin. "He looks like he could do with some food."
Hermione approached Professor Lupin cautiously.
"Er — Professor?" she said. "Excuse me — Professor?"
He didn't move.
"Don't worry, dear," said the witch as she handed Harry a large stack of Cauldron Cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."
"I suppose he is asleep?" said Ron quietly as the witch slid the compartment door closed. "I mean — he hasn't died, has he?"
"No, no, he's breathing," whispered Hermione, taking the Cauldron Cake Harry passed her.
It was only then that Harry realized why it was that Remus Lupin looked so terrible. The full moon had been just last night. The poor man must have been feeling even worse than he looked, recovering from spending the whole night as a werewolf.
He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin's presence in their compartment had its uses. Midafternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps in the corridor again, and their three least favorite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.
Draco Malfoy and Harry had been enemies ever since they had met. Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, was in Slytherin House; he played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to exist to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and muscley; Crabbe was taller, with a pudding-bowl haircut and a very thick neck; Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorilla-ish arms.
"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. "Potty and the Weasel."
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.
"Jesus. I literally forgot you existed until this exact moment," Harry said sincerely.
"Who's that?" said Malfoy, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin.
"New teacher," said Harry, who had gotten to his feet. "What were you saying, Malfoy? Something you heard a two-year old come up with, I think?"
Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed; he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose.
"C'mon," he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.
The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering grey, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.
"We must be nearly there," said Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.
The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.
"Great," said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast…"
"We can't be there yet," said Hermione, checking her watch.
"So why're we stopping?"
Harry had a bad feeling about this. The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.
Harry got up to look into the corridor, his wand drawn. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.
The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.
"What's going on?" said Ron's voice from behind Harry.
Harry felt his way back to his seat, feeling Hermione's hand reach out to take his own. He remained standing in front of her, his wand trained on the door, and contemplating blasting the window out for an easy escape for the others. If this were Pettigrew, Lestrange, and Greyback, Harry would get the others to safety and face them on his own.
"D'you think we've broken down?" Hermione asked, tugging at Harry's arm.
Harry focused on his vision, and tapped his glasses. He saw a shivering Ginny move closer to Ron, whom Harry was glad to see put his arm around her. He saw no one moving along the corridor outside.
"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.
Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry turned to look at him. None of them spoke.
There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.
"Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.
But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it.
Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water…
Harry recognized the dementor. The sight of it here, aboard the Hogwarts Express, filled Harry with an irrational rage. Recognizing his emotions, Harry drew from deep within himself to extract instead a joyful thought, knowing that it was his only chance to expel the creature. Thinking about the time spent sampling Fortescue's ice cream sandwiches with Ron and Hermione, Harry steeled his wand.
"Expecto Patronum!" he growled.
A blinding, silvery-white light exploded from Harry's wand tip, convalescing into the form of a fierce lion, which immediately drove the dementor away, just as it had in Azkaban. The shriek that the creature emitted seemed to act as a warning call to whatever other dementors were on the train. In a matter of seconds, the warmth returned to normal levels, and lamps began to flicker back to life.
"They… they shouldn't have been here," the voice of Remus Lupin called into their still dark compartment. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…"
He walked past Harry, giving him a curious glance before disappearing into the corridor.
"Is everyone okay?" Harry asked, looking around the compartment.
A wide-eyed Ginny was leaning into Ron, while Hermione sat shivering on the bench. Harry sat back down next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. She pressed against him and wrapped her arms around his middle.
"It… it made me think of… horrible things."
Harry squeezed her tightly. "That's what they do," he said. "They shouldn't have been here. They shouldn't be anywhere, in my opinion."
For a long time, the four of them sat in the compartment, trying to recover from the encounter. Eventually, Professor Lupin returned carrying a large bar of chocolate, which he began breaking into pieces.
"Here," he said to Ginny, handing her a particularly large piece. "Eat. It'll help."
Ginny took a bite, and shivered, looking at the others confusedly.
"Thanks," she said. "That… that's better."
The rest of them followed her lead, each of them finding that the chocolate refilled them with the warmth the dementor had stolen.
"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said Professor Lupin. "Are you all right, Harry?"
Harry didn't ask how Professor Lupin knew his name.
"I'm fine," he said, unable to keep the resentment out of his voice at being asked at all.
They didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Albert the Puffskein hummed a delightfully merry tune from under Ron's cloak. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets.
"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.
"All righ', there?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd.
They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform. They followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students.
Their coach smelled faintly of mold and straw, but it was a nostalgic scent, somehow. As the winged Thestral pulled the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Harry saw two more towering, hooded dementors standing guard on either side. He stood and glared at them, all but daring them to exert their effect upon the carriage until they had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and they got out, joining the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.
The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Harry followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, "Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"
Harry and Hermione turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, was calling over the heads of the crowd. She was a stern-looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. Harry fought his way over to her with a feeling of foreboding: Professor McGonagall had a way of making him feel he must have done something wrong.
"There's no need to look so worried — I just want a word in my office," she told them. "Move along there, Weasley."
Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Harry and Hermione away from the chattering crowd; they accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor.
Once they were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned Harry and Hermione to sit down. She settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to communicate what happened on the train."
"So?" Harry questioned somewhat defiantly.
McGonagall paused, looking at him. "So," she eventually said, "I thought I should check in with my students this evening."
Harry took and released a deep breath, willing himself to calm down.
"Yes, ma'am," he forced himself to say. "A dementor boarded the train, and I expelled it. I'd be more worried about Ginny Weasley right now. Or anyone else, really. You know what dementors can do to a person."
McGonagall looked at him for a couple of seconds before her gaze moved to a corner of the room. "Noted," she said. "I am also concerned that it was a third-year student who needed to act to send the creatures away. While the staff of Hogwarts greatly appreciates what you did, we are also quite sorry that you were put in that position in the first place. The dementors were not given permission to inspect the train.
Harry shrugged. "It's fine," he said sincerely. "I'm pretty sure Professor Lupin was about to do the same thing that I did anyway."
"I would certainly hope so," McGonagall eventually replied. "Very well. Mr. Potter, you may report to the Great Hall. Ms. Granger and I will join you shortly.
Harry left and made his way back to the Great Hall, wondering what exactly it was that McGonagall had left to say to Hermione, and if it had anything to do with him.