Remus put the back of his hand to Harry's forehead as if checking for fever, then ducked down to press a gentle kiss to the still aching scar. Harry tried not to flinch. No one else had really touched it before, certainly not with such tenderness. "This has never happened before? Dreams like this? Your scar hurting?" Harry shook his head, and Remus' frown deepened.
"What does it mean?"
"I'll be honest, Harry; I have no idea." Remus didn't look happy about it. "I'll do some research. You should write to Gorrak, at Gringotts — you said he noticed some dark magic around your scar when he scanned you? Perhaps the goblins will know more. For now… make sure to clear your mind and check your shields before you go to sleep at night. And if it happens again, tell us immediately, alright?"
"If what happens again?" It was Snape, striding into the kitchen, his hair still damp from the shower. Remus kept an arm around Harry as he informed the Slytherin what had happened, and Snape's lips pursed.
"I've never heard of this happening before. Then again, no one has survived the killing curse before. I'll look into it, Potter, and let you know if I find anything."
"Thank
you," Harry
said, reluctantly pulling away from Remus and heading to his usual seat. "Can we just let it go for now? There's nothing we can do about it, and I feel okay now. I just… I don't want to dwell on it when I have to leave this afternoon."
"Alright," Remus agreed. "But I'm telling Sirius tonight." Harry nodded; that was fine. He'd want Sirius to know anyway.
Snape would be taking him back to the Dursleys at half past three, ready for the Weasleys to arrive at five. Harry didn't want anything negative hanging over his last few hours with his family.
.-.-.
Returning to the Dursleys after spending so long at Seren Du was like waking up from an excellent dream to find yourself in a nightmare. Aunt Petunia's face went the colour of spoiled milk when she opened the door to them, and she glared. "I suppose this is about that letter?" she hissed, beckoning them into the house. Harry was confused for a minute, before he remembered what Ron had said in his letter; the Weasleys had sent something through the muggle post. He felt dread gathering in his gut, and couldn't stop the laugh that burst out at the sight of the envelope covered in stamps. The letter inside was a fairly polite request for Harry's company, but the way Petunia stared at it you'd have thought it was full of nothing but insults and curse words.
"They'll be coming to pick me up at five o'clock," Harry confirmed. "So I won't be here long."
"Perhaps you may want to persuade your husband to take you and your son out for dinner tonight, Petunia," Snape drawled pointedly. Petunia puffed up instinctually at being told what to do by a wizard, then seemed to realise the sense in his suggestion.
"It'll be hard trying to find a table anywhere decent at such short notice," she sniffed, then turned to Harry. "You'll be gone when we get back?" He nodded.
"Should be, yeah." He couldn't see the Weasleys wanting to stick around long.
"Fine. Just… stay up in your room until then." She seemed to realise she'd given Harry an order, and glanced fearfully at Snape for a second, but held her ground. Harry merely rolled his eyes.
"Don't worry, I have no desire to join you in the living room," he assured dryly. "I'll just leave my stuff here so it's ready when I go, shall I?" Severus resized Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage, and Harry leant them against the wall in the middle of the hallway. Petunia looked like she was about to have a fit.
Harry looked at Snape. To his utter bewilderment, he actually felt a pang of sadness at having to say goodbye to the abrasive man. He was going to miss him. "Thanks, Professor," he said somewhat awkwardly. "I'll see you at school." "Do try and make it there in one piece," Snape replied dryly. Harry laughed.
"I'll try my best. Enjoy the rest of your summer." He wondered what it would be like at Seren Du without him. Quieter, probably. Snape would be glad for it.
Snape gave Petunia one last glare, then apparated away. Harry shared a long, tense look with his aunt. "I'll be upstairs. I'll, uh, see you later. Remember, they're coming at five."
As she went to go no doubt complain to her husband about that awful man bringing their equally awful nephew back, Harry trudged up the stairs and turned back to his room. He was a little surprised they hadn't turned it back into Dudley's second bedroom in his absence. He stood in the doorway, surveying the tiny space sadly. Now he knew what it was like to have a real bedroom, where he was allowed to actually decorate and own things and the furniture wasn't all broken hand-me-downs, he could hardly believe the Dursleys had put him in this and he'd been happy with it.
Anything was a step cupboard, he supposed.
up
from
the
He'd brought a book with him to read while he waited, and he smiled slightly when, an hour later, Uncle Vernon yelled up the stairs. "Boy! We're leaving. You'd better not be here when we get home. Don't eat anything out of the fridge." And then they were gone. Harry moved downstairs, laughing to himself at the absurdity of reading a book about healing charms on the sofa in the living room of his relatives' house. If anyone had been home to see it, he would've been beaten for sure.
As five o'clock drew closer, Harry realised he didn't know how the Weasleys were getting there. They didn't have the car anymore; he and Ron had seen to that in second year. Perhaps Mr Weasley would just apparate in and pick him up, like Snape had done?
Five came and went. Harry glanced up at the clock every few pages, biting his lip worriedly. The Dursleys would probably stay out most of the evening, just in case, but if they didn't… He had written back to Ron, but what if it hadn't made it in time? What if they weren't coming after all?
He thought of the two-way mirror sitting inside his trunk, at the very top. He could call Sirius if no one came. Snape would come get him. Things would be fine.
At half past, he was just starting to get truly anxious, when there was a loud whooshing noise and then several bangs in quick succession. The little electric fireplace rattled. Harry's eyes went wide in a sort of horrified amusement as he realised what must have happened.
"Ouch — Fred, no, go back, there's been a mistake. Tell George not to — ow, George, no, go tell Ron, I—" "Mr Weasley?" Harry called hesitantly, trying not to laugh.
"Harry? Harry, is that you? What happened? We seem to be stuck!" Mr Weasley shouted back, remarkably cheerful considering his predicament. Harry could hear fists hammering on the boards of the wall.
"The fireplace has been blocked up, you won't be able to get through there!" Harry said, raising his voice to be heard over the racket.
"What on earth would they block up the fireplace for?" Mr Weasley sounded baffled.
"They've got an electric fire!" Harry explained, and heard the man make a noise of excitement.
"Oh, with a plug! How fascinating. Hold on a minute, Harry, I'm trying to… yes, I think I'll have to. Stand back, Harry!"
Harry crossed to stand behind the sofa, and all of a sudden the wall exploded outwards in a barrage of rubble and plaster dust, the electric fireplace slamming into the opposite wall. Harry winced; he really hoped that was fixable. Out of the dust cloud stumbled Mr Weasley, the twins, and Ron.
•
🚀New updates on my Ko-fi!🚀
Support me and read the novel, now available in PDF, with the advanced chapters.
•
https://ko-fi.com/cmrowling