Harry Potter and the Fifth Year from Hell

Chapter 7:  Lupin Lodge

“Lie low at Lupin’s for a while; I will contact you there. ”

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Ch. 36

*  *  *

The next day Lupin left early, apologetically announcing that he would miss the next two, or possibly three days.  They all knew the reason, of course – they had been watching the moon get fuller each night.  Mrs. Weasley had had the Witch’s Almanac out the night before, looking worriedly for the time of moonrise.  Harry and his friends missed Apparating, but managed to keep themselves amused.  Lupin came back looking grey and exhausted, but acting the same as usual.  Harry wanted to ask him if anyone was making the Wolfbane Potion for him now that he was away from Hogwarts, but it seemed like too personal a question.

The rest of the summer passed quickly, with Apparating lessons in the morning and afternoon and Quidditch practices, homework, and chess in the evenings.  Fred and George spent a lot of time in their shared bedroom, but no further explosions tried Mrs. Weasley’s temper.

Lupin explained to them the three levels of difficulty in Apparating.  Almost all witches and wizards, he said, could Apparate to a place they knew well, or to a place they could see.  Very early one Sunday morning, Lupin took them on an excursion along the Otter River to its mouth, Apparating in short hops as far as they could see downstream, and walking whenever they might be seen by people.  It took them just over two hours to cover the ground this way, and they were rewarded with a hearty picnic breakfast on the beach, after which they Apparated directly back to the Burrow kitchen, flushed with triumph and badly scratched from riverside brambles.

This outing served as a glorious finale to the first, easy phase of their lessons.  The second level of difficulty involved Apparating to standard wizarding destinations using recorded geographic coordinates.  This, unfortunately, required mathematics, quills and parchment, and compasses (since wizarding coordinates were always recorded by means of intersecting circular radii).  As Percy had predicted, Hermione excelled at these exercises, while all four boys found them pretty tiresome.  However, there were compensations.  The coordinates Lupin gave them took them to an ancient stone circle on Dartmoor, to the centre of the Hampton Court maze near London, and, finally, to a tiny wave-swept rock in the sea off Land’s End in Cornwall.  Lupin, as usual, went first to check that the coast was clear, then watched, laughing, as all of them except Hermione landed in the water near the rock, and then Apparated onto the rock, soaking wet and covered with salty rime. 

Lupin explained that the bulk of the test for the Apparition License was based on Apparating by coordinates, but that many – perhaps most – adult witches and wizards never did it again after they got their Licenses, preferring to Apparate only to places they’d been before, and using Floo Powder, Portkeys, brooms, or the Knight Bus to get to new places the first time.  Very few people, he said, ever reached the third level of difficulty, which involved Apparating to an unfamiliar place without coordinates.  Lupin emphasized that this was extremely dangerous, and strongly discouraged by the Department of Magical Transportation (“there’s no faster way to get Splinched”).  He also explained how Apparating was increasingly difficult and unreliable as the distance travelled increased, so that 500 to 1000 miles was the limit for all but the most expert practitioners.

Late in August, Lupin escorted Fred and George on a grand tour of public Apparition points -- including Diagon Alley, the village of Hogsmeade, the Ministry of Magic central lobby, Platform 9 ¾ at King’s Cross, St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and several Quidditch pitches – using Floo Powder at first, and then Apparating back and forth between each place and the Burrow until they could do it easily.  This was their final day of lessons, and afterwards Lupin for the first time accepted Mrs. Weasley’s invitation to stay for dinner.  After dinner he joined Harry, Ron, and the twins on the front porch as they watched the thin new moon rise and waited for Hermione and Ginny to finish the washing up.

“You never did take us to your house, Remus,” said Harry suddenly.  He was perched up on the high railing of the porch.  Fred and George were sharing the swing this time, and Remus and Ron had the two chairs.  Harry made a mental note to give the Weasleys some more porch chairs as a bread-and-butter present.  There was plenty of room on the porch, which ran all the way across the front of the house.  Maybe I can find some in Hogsmeade –

“Yes,” said Remus, “I decided to save that as a treat for the three of you while George and Fred are taking their test tomorrow.”

“Brilliant!” said Ron.  He, Harry, and Hermione had not particularly enjoyed watching Fred and George pop in and out all day on the way to places they could not visit.  It was nice to think that Remus had planned a treat for them.

“I can’t believe the summer is almost over,” said Harry.  In six days, they would be on the Hogwarts Express.

“I can’t believe that tomorrow we’ll have our Licenses,” said Fred, “and then, just five days to enjoy them.”  He and George smiled at each other, no doubt planning to pack plenty of adventure into those five days.  As seventeen-year-olds, they were adults in the wizarding world, their freedom limited only by their fear of their mother’s formidable temper.  But in a few days, they would again be subject to the many rules and magical limitations of Hogwarts.

“Oh, so you’re assuming you’ll pass the first time?” asked Ron nastily.

“Sure,” said Fred, “anything else would be an insult to our fine teacher.”  He inclined his head to Remus, who half-smiled in return.

Ginny and Hermione joined them on the porch.  Remus immediately stood and offered Ginny his chair and Ron, somewhat red-faced, did the same for Hermione.  The girls, however, waved them off and plopped down in their now usual places on either side of the top step.

“We can’t thank you enough for these lessons, Remus,” said George sincerely.  “This has been about the most fun I’ve ever had in a class.”  All of them murmured their agreement.

Looking back over the past three weeks, Harry realized that he’d learned a lot about Fred and George from being in class with them.  They were surprisingly serious and painstaking when learning new material, and willing to put in long hours of repetitive practice.  Harry had seen them behave like this on the Quidditch pitch, and he suspected they were the same with their Wizard Wheezes.  Remus on the other hand – the more Harry knew him, the more he saw his mischievous side and irrepressible sense of humour.  He had previously tended to imagine Remus Lupin as the serious and responsible member of the “Marauders” group with his dad, and Sirius, and Peter Pettigrew.  Now he saw that Lupin’s quiet calm manner masked a strong fondness for risks.

Hermione was staring at Harry, her elbows on her knees and her chin on her fists.  She glanced at Remus somewhat ruefully.

“I was having so much fun I almost forgot why we’re doing this,” she said.  “Do you think Harry is safer now?”

“Well,” Remus temporised, smiling apologetically at Hermione, “he’s better able to flee from danger.  But I’m afraid he’s better able to find danger, too.”

“But” – Hermione straightened up indignantly – “he promised not to Apparate except in an emergency.  He’s not allowed to go looking for trouble.”  She glared at Harry.

“I won’t!” said Harry indignantly.  “I never do.”  Somehow, trouble always finds me.  Hermione rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.  Ron grinned and started to say something, but broke off as a large dark owl sailed gracefully onto the porch and perched on the step between Ginny and Hermione.

“What bloody owl is that?” Ron growled.  Harry knew which owl it was – it was Viktor Krum’s.  He had seen it deliver a letter to Hermione a couple of weeks earlier, thankfully at a time when Ron had been out of sight in his father’s workshop.  This time, unfortunately, Ron was right here.

“It’s Viktor’s owl,” said Hermione.  Her voice was even and cool, but her shoulders were tight with tension.  Fred and George shared a gleeful look, looking bright-eyed between Ron and Hermione.  Remus Lupin looked puzzled.

“Yes, that’s what I thought.”  Ron’s face was savage.  “Well?  What does Vik-TOR” – Ron spat out the name – “have to say?”

Hermione rose and tucked the unopened letter in the back pocket of her jeans.  “How should I know, until I’ve read it?  Excuse me – I need to go get some food and water for Otto.”  She marched into the house.

“Otto?”  Ron looked with loathing at the owl, still sitting politely on the step.  “Otto the Owl?   Who gives their owl a stupid name like that?”

“Yeah,” said Fred indignantly, “why couldn’t he have used a sensible name like ‘Pig’?  Now that’s a great name!”  Ron scowled.

“Blame that one on Ginny, not me,” he said bitterly.  Ginny put up her chin and smiled.

“PigWIDGEON is a great name, and so is Otto.  Come here, you pretty thing.”  She stroked Otto, and he stretched out his neck for more.  “Aren’t you sweet?”  Hermione returned with a hunk of cheese and a cup of water, which Ginny hand-fed to Otto.

“Does he need to wait for a reply?” asked Ginny.  Hermione nodded.

“I’ve got a letter waiting, but I’d better read this one and see if there’s anything I need to answer.”  With a defiant glance over her shoulder at Ron, Hermione pulled the note from her pocket and started reading it.  Except for Ginny, everyone on the porch (including Lupin) stared at her unabashedly.  Hermione flushed a little.  Harry couldn’t tell if it was from the contents of the note, or embarrassment at being the centre of attention.

“Is he pissed off that you didn’t visit him this summer?” asked Ron.  His eyes narrowed.  “Or did you manage to squeeze it in after all?”

Hermione shot Ron a quick glare, but answered in a voice of saintly patience.  “No, I didn’t visit him, and of course he’s not mad.  He’s writing to say how sorry he is that my house was burned down.”

“And how’d he know about it?  Read about it in the Prophet, did he?”

“I told him,” said Hermione shortly.

“Did you tell him where your parents moved to?  Did you tell him where you are now?  Did you tell him about the Apparating lessons?”  Ron’s voice was rising with each question.  Harry saw Remus hide a smile behind his hand, obviously understanding the situation perfectly now.  He concealed his enjoyment a lot better than the twins did.

“Not that it’s any of YOUR BUSINESS,” said Hermione, all traces of patience gone from her voice, “but no, I haven’t told him where my parents are, though I may in the future.  And yes, I told him that I was spending the rest of the summer here.  And no, I haven’t told him or anyone about the Apparating, and I’m not going to.”  She shot to her feet while speaking and loomed over Ron’s chair with her hands on her hips.  “And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll go upstairs and send my letter.”  She stamped off inside.  Ginny looked confused.

“Wait, Hermione!” she called.  “You forgot Otto.”  Ginny rose with the owl on her forearm, but Ron beat her to the door.

“I DO mind, and I think we all should,” Harry could hear him shouting after Hermione.  “You could at least ask us before you go telling that Durmstrang git our secrets.  Did you tell him that Harry was here too?  I’m surprised you don’t just send an owl straight to Voldemort with that information!”  Ron’s voice gradually died away into the distance; presumably he was following Hermione up the stairs.  Harry noted absently that Ron was getting much better at not saying “You-Know-Who.”  Ginny sighed, and disappeared inside with Otto.

Fred and George recovered from their silent hilarity and looked at Remus Lupin.

“Ron is very concerned about security,” Fred said solemnly.

“Yes,” said George, “He knows that loose lips sink ships.”

“And he’s very worried that Hermione’s lips might be – ”

“Do you two ever shut up?”  Harry was surprised to find himself curtly interrupting Fred.  Sure, Ron was being an idiot about the “Hermione is a girl” thing, but he didn’t deserve this constant abuse from his brothers.  With an irritable shrug, Harry slid down from the porch rail and followed his friends inside.

*

When Harry and Ron came downstairs the next morning, Fred and George had already left for their License Exam.  They found Hermione and Ginny lingering at the breakfast table with Mrs. Weasley.  They seemed to be talking about Crookshanks, who was asleep on his back in the middle of the kitchen floor.

“Have some porridge, boys,” said Mrs. Weasley.  “Remus took Fred and George to the Transportation offices.  He said he’d come right back to take you three to his house.”

Harry and Ron sat down and served themselves.  Harry looked from Mrs. Weasley to Ginny – they both looked pleased about something.

“I’m sorry Ginny can’t come with us,” Harry said.  It suddenly occurred to him that this hadn’t been a very exciting summer for Ginny, being the only one of them not allowed to Apparate.

“We have plans for the day,” smiled Mrs. Weasley.  “Do either of you need anything from London?  We’re going to pick up a few more things for Hermione, and Ginny is going to choose a pet.”

“A pet?” said Ron.  “Cool.  What are you going to get – an owl?”

“Is it your birthday or something?” Harry asked.  He was embarrassed to realize he had no idea when Ginny’s birthday was.

“No, my birthday is in April.  I’ve been saving my pocket money all summer for this.  I think I’ll get a cat.  Cassie Jordan’s family has six of them, and they’re gorgeous.”

Ron grimaced.  “Well maybe you’ll be lucky and find another Crookshanks,” he said.  Hermione looked at him suspiciously, but he assumed an innocent expression.

“Maybe,” said Ginny, grinning.

After breakfast, Mrs. Weasley asked Ron and Ginny to fetch her some dandelion greens, and Hermione pulled Harry aside.

“Harry,” she said determinedly, “Ron was right last night.”

About what?thought Harry, greatly surprised.  When he’d followed them upstairs the previous night, he’d found Ginny patiently sitting on the landing step soothing the owl, while Ron rattled the knob of Ginny’s bedroom door and yelled things.  Among other things, he remembered hearing “Krum’s loads too old for you,” “his eyebrows look like caterpillars,” “he lost his team the Quidditch World Cup,” and “have you ever seen him smile even once?”  Which one is she agreeing with?

“I did tell Viktor you were staying here, and I shouldn’t have,” Hermione explained.  “At first I just wrote that I was staying the rest of the summer with Ginny Weasley, but then he asked if she was related to my friend Ron that he’d met, and he seemed, I don’t know, bothered, about me spending time with Ron, so I thought – anyway, I said you were here too.  I didn’t want him to think – ”

“That’s okay,” said Harry quickly.  “I’m sure Krum wouldn’t –”

“No, of course he wouldn’t do anything bad,” said Hermione breathlessly, “but I shouldn’t have told anybody where you were going to be.  I swear I’ll never do it again.”

Harry frowned thoughtfully.  This wasn’t any of his business, but…

“Hermione, this isn’t any of my business, but… does Krum have a right to be bothered? – I mean, is he your boyfriend or –?”

“No!” said Hermione impatiently.  “I’ve told him and told him I just want to be friends, but he still – well, acts jealous.”

Harry was relieved.  Krum seemed like a nice guy, but he was a little old for Hermione, and besides, there was Ron – who was an even nicer guy.  Harry couldn’t wait to tell Ron that Hermione only wanted to be friends with Krum…  but no, he couldn’t do that without asking Hermione first.

“Well, I guess Krum can’t help the way he feels,” Harry responded tactfully.  “As long as he doesn’t pressure you, or anything.”  He trailed off questioningly.

Hermione shook her head.  “Harry, he really is a gentleman,” she said emphatically.

Harry took a deep breath for courage, and took the plunge.  “Umm, I don’t suppose you’d let me…  Umm, could I tell Ron you’re just friends with Viktor Krum?  I’m sure he wouldn’t be so, uh, worried if he knew…”

Hermione’s brows snapped together.  “NO.  For one, if he wants to know he can just ask me.  I’m not keeping any secrets.  And for two, yes he would – as long as I’m writing to Viktor at all, he’s going to be a – well – if he thinks he can decide who I can be friends with, he can just – ”

Hermione was becoming incoherent again.  Harry decided he wanted out of this conversation.

“All right,” be said shortly.  “I won’t say anything.  Let’s go help with the dandelions.”

*

Remus had them find his house by its coordinates.  It was well to the north of them, in Nottinghamshire.  Remus happily pointed out that this would be the furthest they had yet Apparated.

“Let’s see how close you can get.  The coordinates are for the pavilion in my back garden.”  He Apparated ahead as usual, and immediately popped back.

“No one around.  Go ahead.”

*POP* 

The next thing Harry knew, he was standing in a stone-floored structure with heavy wooden columns holding up a low roof.  Hermione and Ron were on either side of him.

“Excellent!” said Lupin.  “All of you within the pavilion.  Too bad you three couldn’t take your exam today as well.”

Harry looked curiously about.  This was the only wizarding house he had ever seen, except for the Burrow, Hagrid’s cabin, and Arabella Figg’s house (which didn’t even count since she was masquerading as a Muggle).  Lupin’s house seemed to be in a forest – or, at least, there were trees in every direction.  The house itself was square, stone, and two-storied, with a slate roof and dark wood windows.  The gardens surrounding it were larger than at the Burrow, but even more wild and unkempt.  Instead of chickens running about, there were songbirds and red squirrels.  The walls of the house were almost covered in ivy.

Lupin led along a path of steppingstones toward the back door.

“Watch out for those nettles there,” he said.  “This was originally a Muggle hunting lodge.  It’s only been in my family for about 150 years.  These oak trees” – he waved a hand vaguely about – “were once part of the famous Sherwood Forest, or anyway their ancestors were.  Here, come in.”

He pulled open a heavy wood door and ushered them into a gunroom.  Its walls were covered with glassed-in cabinets holding a variety of ancient-looking firearms.  There was a filthy, dusty rug on the floor, and spider webs on the ceiling.  Ron peered at them suspiciously, but there were no spiders to be seen.  The next room was a parlour, with smoke-darkened plaster walls and a stone floor.  It looked more like a pub than a house to Harry, although the ceiling was high.  A large black dog was stretched out on the floor by the empty fireplace.  It raised its head as they entered, stood, and immediately turned into Sirius Black.

“Harry!  Hermione!  Ron!  It’s so good to see you,” he said.  He pounded Harry on the back and shook hands with his two friends.

“Some kind of guard dog you are,” laughed Remus.  “All these intruders in the back garden, and here you are sleeping by the fire.”

“Give me a break, Moony.”  Sirius reached his hands over his head and arched his back in a mighty stretch.  “You know I was out all night.  Man, that stone floor is hard!”

“Hey, nobody’s making you sleep on the floor.  Why don’t you use a bed, or the couch?”  Remus indicated the shabby cloth sofa in the middle of the floor.  Sirius shrugged.

“Don’t know.  Is it time for lunch?”

“It’s nine in the morning,” Remus said resignedly.  “Would you kids like a snack?”

Harry and Ron nodded – they were growing boys after all.  Remus led the way to the kitchen.  It was less filthy than the sitting room, and very old fashioned, with tables instead of countertops, and a huge stone fireplace.  At Remus’s wave, they took their places around a wooden table in the middle of a room, and he served them coffee, juice, and Muggle packaged cakes.

“Sorry, I’m not much of a cook, and neither is Sirius.”  Harry didn’t mind the packaged cakes in the slightest.  He was amused to see a huge double bowl for water and dog food on the floor by the fireplace – and there was even a leash hanging on a hook by the door.  Apparently Sirius really was spending a lot of time as Snuffles.  Well, I reckon dog food’s better than rats.

“So, why were you out all night?” asked Harry curiously.  Then he blushed.  “Or were you just…” Sirius laughed out loud.

“No, Harry,” he said, “I wasn’t out, um, carousing.  What kind of example would that be for my godson?  No, I was finding things out, as usual, and a nasty, dangerous business it was.

“What were you finding out?” asked Ron eagerly, but Sirius frowned.

“Here, let’s – oh, what the hell – Remus, let’s have that talk with Harry now.”

Remus smiled.  “Harry, Sirius and I decided that before you go off to school, we’d tell you everything we know of what’s going on.  You might need to know.  And since the first thing you’d do is tell these two, anyway” – he gestured at Hermione and Ron – “we might as well talk to you all at once.”

Harry nodded.  Hermione’s eyes were shining at the prospect of receiving new information, and Ron sat up straight and looked eager.  Sirius and Remus looked at each other, and then Remus said, “What do you want to know?”

“Where Voldemort is, and what he’s doing,” said Harry firmly.

“We don’t know where he is now,” said Remus grimly.  “You know he was at Barty Crouch’s residence last spring, right?”  Harry nodded.  Crouch, Jr. had told them that.  “Then he and Wormtail moved to the Riddle House in Little Hangleton for the, err, ceremony at the gravesite.”  Harry nodded again, clenching his fist unconsciously.  Sirius broke in.

“We went there the next day, Remus and I, with – a couple of other people.  They were gone.  We believe they went to Lucius Malfoy’s residence next, for a day or two, and then somewhere that we still haven’t found.  During that time, Malfoy took his family off on holiday to Europe, and MacNair and Nott took several trips out of the country.  Then came the night of the Myrmidon Potion – that meeting took place at the old Pettigrew house.”

“Tell us about that,” said Hermione.  Sirius shifted uncomfortably, and Remus took up the tale.

“Snape told Dumbledore where he was going.  Pettigrew’s mother is still living there – apparently she was Stunned throughout the meeting, and probably Obliviated as well.  Sirius and I tried to track where Voldemort and Pettigrew went from the meeting, but we failed.  We haven’t been able to locate him since.”

“How many people were there?” asked Harry.  “I saw about 30 or 35 Death Eaters at the cemetery.”

“At least three times that many,” said Sirius.  “They all drank the potion, according to Snape, including – Peter.”  Sirius sneered while saying Snape’s name, but had difficulty saying Peter Pettigrew’s name at all.  He fell silent again.

“We didn’t accomplish much that night,” said Remus sombrely.  “The next thing that happened was the fire.”  He nodded at Hermione.

“Have you found out anything about that?” asked Harry eagerly.  “You never asked for my cloak.”

“We used another method to make Sirius invisible,” said Remus, with a little smile.  “Mad-Eye Moody spent countless hours with him in all sorts of public places, with no success.  Finally, we were forced to call upon all the more obvious suspects.  A few days ago, Sirius was able to confirm that the arsonists were Crabbe, Goyle, and Avery.”

Hermione drew in her breath sharply.  Harry could imagine how she felt. 

“What have you done?” he asked. 

“Mad-Eye gave their names to Magical Law Enforcement,” said Remus.  “He couldn’t say anything about Sirius, of course, but they know enough to respect his instincts and his information sources, even if they do think he’s a crazy old man.  I’m sure they’ll investigate those three very heavily, and maybe even bring it home to them.”  He sighed.  “Not that I think it was their idea – I’m sure they had their orders from someone else.”

“From Lucius Malfoy,” said Ron stubbornly.

“Probably,” admitted Remus.  “Crabbe and Goyle, at least, have always been his goons.”

“Why is You-Know-Who being so quiet?” asked Ron.  “This is nothing like it was when I was a baby, before Harry” –Ron’s eyes flicked to Harry’s for a startled moment, as though it had been a long time since he remembered what Harry had once done – “stopped him.”

“We’re not really sure… ” began Remus, but Hermione broke in.

“This is nothing new for him.  You should read The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Ron.  Last time, he waited almost twenty years before he made himself known.  He spent that time building his power and, especially, trying to make himself immortal.”

“Excellent point, Hermione,” said Remus, slipping back into his professorial mode.  “He has always been cautious and thorough.  I believe he is testing his followers and building his power back up before he makes his move.  I don’t think it will take anywhere near twenty years this time, though.”

“All the more reason to go after him now,” growled Sirius.  “We need to keep him off balance, make him make mistakes.”

“I agree,” said Remus, “but the official Ministry position is that he hasn’t come back at all.  We’re doing all we can without Ministry backing.”

“On the other hand,” said Ron slowly, “there’s a good side to him not wanting to come out in the open.  As long as he’s trying to keep his return a secret, it limits what he can do.  At least we’re not seeing the Dark Mark in the sky and having lots of people die.”

“Not yet,” said Sirius grimly.

They were silent for a moment, and then Remus rose.

“How’d you like a tour of the house,” he asked.  They all agreed.  Sirius stayed behind in the kitchen, saying he’d make lunch.

The rooms of Lupin’s house were large and nicely proportioned, but dark and extremely grubby.  The few pieces of furniture were modern and mismatched.  Many of the rooms were completely empty.  The only really pleasant room was a study across from the parlour, with book-lined shelves and two armchairs beside a fireplace.  The windows of the study were open to a grassy slope sweeping down to a tree-shaded lane.  The lawn was waist-high, and filled with tall blue, purple, and white flowers on long stems.

“Lupines,” said Remus, indicating the flowers.  “My mother planted them.” 

Upstairs, there were four large bedrooms, two of which were completely empty, and only one of which had bed linens.  Harry tried to imagine how it would have been if they had stayed here for their Apparating lessons as originally planned.  I suppose we could have had cots, or something.  He couldn’t help thinking they had fared much better at the Burrow, though this house had a quiet beauty, and the surrounding forest was intriguing.  Apparently, Hermione was thinking along the same lines.  She looked around and wrinkled her nose as they started back down the stairs.

“Remus, I think you need a wife.”  Remus looked startled, and then looked around apologetically.

“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?  I’m so used to it, I hardly notice anymore.”

“What you really need,” said Ron, with a wary eye on Hermione, “is some House Elves.”  He grinned and retreated in pretended terror as Hermione whirled around to glare at him. 

“Unfortunately, this is a completely Muggle house,” Remus answered, unaware of the byplay behind him.  “I pay taxes, and everything.”  He brightened.  “I do have a ghost, though.”  He led them back into the parlour.

“I’d like for the three of you to memorize this as an Apparition point,” he said.  “You’ll need several places you can retreat to in case of danger, and I’d like this to be one.”

“Does Pettigrew know this place?” Harry asked.

“Yes, unfortunately,” said Remus.   “He visited here several times while my parents were still alive.  But he knows the Burrow even better, I’m afraid.” 

Of course that was true.  As a rat, Pettigrew had lived with the Weasleys for twelve years.  Is there nowhere safe? thought Harry.

Remus had them Apparate back and forth between the parlour and the pavilion behind the house until they were confident in reaching both points, then he showed them around the back garden.

“I have a question,” said Hermione.  “That day of Harry’s birthday party, you and Sirius Apparated straight to my house, without any coordinates or anything.  Had you been there before, or what?”

“No,” said Remus.  “I told you about level three Apparition.  That was an example.  We both looked at the photograph your father was holding, and just went there.  That’s the most common type of level three.  Can you tell me why it’s so dangerous?”

Harry saw Sirius emerge from the back door carrying a loaded tray as Hermione answered.

“Well, you don’t know where you’re going, or how far it is.  What if it’s further than you can Apparate?”

“Right,” said Remus, leading them back toward the pavilion.  “And if you try to Apparate using a painting, you run the risk of it being an imaginary place.”  He raised his voice.  “Of course, as a master of Apparition and Certified Trainer,” he said self-righteously, “I was perfectly within my abilities to go to your house from a photograph.  Sirius, on the other hand…”

Sirius laughed as he set the tray down on the stone floor beside them and plopped down cross-legged.  “Sirius, on the other hand, likes to live on the edge.  Also, I knew you didn’t live too far away, Hermione.  Hell, you drove there that afternoon, didn’t you?  I can Apparate a lot further than that.  Here, have some lunch.”

They all joined him on the steps of the pavilion.  Sirius had brought out sausages in buns, cheese, crisps, grapes, and butterbeer.  Harry dug in with enthusiasm.  They were soon surrounded by small birds and a couple of squirrels looking for scraps.

“Should you be out here?” he asked Sirius.  “As a person, I mean?”

“Probably not,” said Sirius lazily.  “But the milkman and the postman have already been by, so I thought I’d risk it.”

Harry threw a piece of his bun at a small grey bird, which caught it in its beak and flew away.  A swirl of wind danced through the oak leaves above them.

“It’s so peaceful here,” he said.  “Doesn’t seem like there would be anyone for miles.”

“Hey!” Ron said, pointing to their right.  “Look at that.”

Harry turned his head quickly.  The transparent figure of an old man in a cloak walked from behind a stone shed and passed in front of a pile of logs.  It paused and looked toward them, then disappeared around the corner of the house.

“Your ghost?” asked Hermione in a whisper.

“Mr. Anderson,” said Remus with a nod.  “He was my, umm, biter.”

“He was the one that made you a werewolf?” asked Hermione.  Remus nodded again.  “How did he become a ghost?”

Remus stared for a moment at the space where the ghost had disappeared.  “He committed suicide.  Right there by the woodpile.”

“Did he kill himself because he bit you?” Hermione asked in a hushed voice. 

“I suppose so.”  Remus held out a crisp to a squirrel, enticing it closer.  “I was four, almost five when it happened.  It was winter – I had come out to get a log for the fire.  Mr. Anderson lived a couple of miles to the west.  He got out of his restraints somehow that night.  Afterwards, he spent a lot of time with me – talked to my parents – tried to tell me what to expect – helped me with the worst parts.”  The squirrel snatched the crisp from Remus’s hand and dashed up a tree, scolding angrily. 

“When I went off to Hogwarts, he gave me all his books about werewolves.  I left them here at home, of course.  Then, the day before the next full moon, he shot himself, over there.”  He pointed to the woodpile.  “Silver bullet and everything.”  Remus squinted up at the squirrel.  “He left me a couple of thousand Galleons – all he had.”

Harry looked at Remus curiously.  Two thousand Galleons was a good-sized fortune.  Why did Remus always appear so poor, then?  Remus met Harry’s eyes and seemed to read the question in them.

“I’ve never touched it.  I suppose I’m keeping it in case I – need to give it to someone in my turn.”

Harry couldn’t think of anything to say.  Ron and Sirius were also quiet.  Hermione, however, reached out and touched Remus’s arm.

“Remus?” she said.  “You should touch it.  He wanted you to.”  She tossed her head and continued more practically.  “Anyway, you could invest it, and spend the interest, and still have more to give to some hypothetical future victim of yours than you do now.”

Remus smiled ruefully at Sirius.  “You’re not the first to tell me that, Hermione.  James – Harry’s father – used to call me the stubbornest cuss unhung.  He was always coming up with investment opportunities for me.  But I’ve never been… I don’t spend much money.”

Sirius rolled his eyes.  “They know that, Moony.  They’ve seen the way you dress.”

Harry was still wrestling with the idea of his father as someone who knew how to invest money – a subject of which Harry was completely ignorant – when Hermione spoke again.

“Maybe if you spent that money, Mr. Anderson wouldn’t haunt you.”  Remus looked at her, startled.  “Does he ever talk to you?  Have you asked him about it?”

“I never talk to him like that,” said Remus, looking concerned.  “I usually just say ‘good afternoon,’ or whatever.  Hermione, do you really think –?”

Hermione shrugged.  “You might ask him.”  She began collecting the remains of their food on the tray.  Remus jumped to help her.  Sirius levered himself to his feet.

“I’m going to take Harry for a walk.  We’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

Harry rose and stood uneasily as Remus, Hermione and Ron carried the remains of their lunch into the house.  Sirius said nothing for a few minutes as he led Harry toward the front of the house.  Then he pointed to the stone shed.

“That’s Remus’s shed,” he said.  Harry was puzzled.  Doesn’t everything here belong to Remus?  Then he understood.

“You mean that’s where he goes to transform?”  Sirius nodded.

“His folks fixed it up when he was a kid.  He still uses it when he has to.”  Harry looked at the solid structure, trying to imagine what it must have been like.  Sirius continued.

“I used to identify with him – thinking how it must have felt for a four-year-old to have to go in there by himself.  Now – I find myself thinking how it must have felt for his parents to have to send him in there.”  He looked at Harry from under his dark brows.  “That’s how I feel letting you go back to school next week – like I’m sending you into the shed.”

“Uh,” Harry stuttered, “I think it’s pretty safe at Hogwarts.”  Sirius’s mouth twisted in a wry smile.

“It’s not the shed that’s dangerous, Harry.  You’re like Remus – the danger is in you.”  They passed the side of the house and made for the gravel drive that led down to the lane.  Sirius’s face cleared.  “So, do you need any advice from your old, wise godfather before you start your next year of school?”

Harry hesitated.  “There is one thing that’s been bothering me.”  Sirius raised an inquiring brow.  “Uhh, I don’t know if the Dursleys are going to take me back next summer.  I think they probably won’t.”

“Don’t worry, Harry,” said Sirius quickly.  “I’ll make sure you have a place to live.”  He hesitated for a moment, and then pulled an envelope from an inside pocket of his robe.  “Here, look at these.”

Harry took the envelope.  It held six wizarding photographs, all of Peter Pettigrew.  He was answering the door of a cottage to let in a variety of dark-hooded figures.  His plump figure managed to look furtive and yet like a conventional welcoming host at the same time.  In one of the photos, his shining silver right arm could be clearly seen.  It took Harry a moment, but then he saw the significance of the photos.

“You have pictures of Pettigrew.  You can prove he’s still alive.  You can prove you’re innocent!”

“Yes,” said Sirius.  “And these pictures were taken in front of his own house, on the night of the Myrmidon Potion.”

“Why haven’t you used them to clear yourself yet?” asked Harry, astonished.  Sirius cleared his throat.

“Well, Dumbledore pointed out how useful I am as I am now.  Pettigrew knows about my Animagus power, but he doesn’t know that I’m here working for Dumbledore.  It’s been convenient, not having to maintain an identity or have an alibi for the things I do.  It seems a shame to end it.  But I will, if I need to, to make you a home.”

“But isn’t it dangerous?” asked Harry.  “If they catch you, they’ll turn you over to the Dementors without a trial.”

“It’s a risk,” said Sirius with a shrug.  “But I carry these photos with me everywhere, and Dumbledore has copies, along with Remus, and Mad-Eye, and Arabella, and Arthur Weasley.  They’ll do their best for me, if I’m caught.”  He grinned.  “If worse comes to worst, you’ll have to come rescue me on Buckbeak again.”

Harry grinned too, but reluctantly.  “Where is Buckbeak?” he asked.

They reached the end of the gravel drive and walked into the narrow country lane.  A village could be glimpsed down the hill to their right.  Sirius turned and led Harry back up the drive toward the house again.

“He’s with Hagrid,” said Sirius, “helping him with his mission.”

“What is Hagrid’s mission?” asked Harry.  He held his breath, hoping Sirius would tell him, though Remus had not.  Didn’t he say they were going to tell me everything they know?

“He’s going as an emissary from Dumbledore to all the intelligent beings,” said Sirius slowly.  “Trying to convene a gathering of the Order of the Phoenix.”