Living in the Past

*******

Chapter 3: Escaping the Past

"Now I know I've got to (clap, clap) run away,

I've got to (clap, clap) get away from

The pain you drive into the heart of me." - Soft Cell, "Tainted Love"

*****

Harry removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. "No, it's okay, Professor. It's just . . . upsetting to me, that she's dead. But I'll be fine."

"I understand, Harry. Now, the original plan was-" Dumbledore started to say, but was interrupted by a scream coming from behind him.

Harry whipped his head around to see the faces of the Dursley family, Petunia shocked, Dudley scared, and Vernon angry, standing on the front porch.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Uncle Vernon yelled.

*****

"Ah, Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore said, extending his hand to Uncle Vernon. "We finally meet in person. Albus Dumbledore."

If Uncle Vernon's face could have managed to go green and purple at once, it would have. He was as angry as he had ever been, but nervously nauseous as well. He didn't take Dumbledore's hand.

"Ah, well then," Dumbledore said, lowering his hand. "Ermmm, yes, I suppose it's actually good that you're here; we were just discussing where Harry will stay for the remainder of the summer. As we have seen tonight, your house is not as safe as we thought it would be."

Before Uncle Vernon realized the meaning of Dumbledore's words, Petunia screamed again and pointed at Sirius.

"Vernon, that's . . . that's-", she stammered.

Sirius stepped forward, smiling. "Hello. Sirius Black, Harry's godfather and fugitive from the law."

Harry started giggling at the looks on his family's faces. He couldn't resist. "Oh, Sirius? You know that closet where my wand and Firebolt were? Well, that was my bedroom for almost ten years," he announced.

Dumbledore looked stunned, but said nothing. Sirius, however, let out a few choice words telling the Dursleys what they could go do to themselves and the animal population of Britain. "And if I had my wand . . ." he finished.

"A fact for which I'm sure the Dursleys are grateful," Dumbledore said in response to Sirius's final comment, along with a sigh of relief.

"Wow, Sirius," Harry said. "Doing that would land you in jail in all but three counties of Britain."

"Damn, I must be losing my touch," Sirius growled. "But let's just say that I toned it down for your young ears."

Finding out that Sirius didn't have a wand did relieve the Dursleys quite a bit. Uncle Vernon got the conversation back on track. "Look, I don't care what happens to that boy for the rest of the summer. I just want all of you out of here right now."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore said, "but we're going to have to stay here until the wizard from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement gets here, as your house is a crime scene. And that reminds me. Sirius-"

"I know," Sirius grumbled, and turned into the black dog called Padfoot (also affectionately known as Snuffles). Petunia screamed again.

"Now see here," Vernon yelled, "it's bad enough that you're here, wearing . . . that, like some weirdo. But I am not having ANOTHER one of your kind enter this house!"

"Oh, Vernon, what will the neighbors think if they see . . . them," Petunia gasped. "You know how nosy Mrs. Figg is-"

"I heard that," called Arabella from upstairs, "and I rather think that's the pot calling the kettle black."

"Mrs. Figg?" Petunia whispered. "You mean she's one of . . . your kind, too?" she asked in Harry's general direction.

"Yes, Arabella is a witch," Dumbledore responded. "She's been protecting Harry and your house for the past fourteen years. If my assumptions are correct, she's guarding the wizard who broke into your house tonight." He glanced over at Harry, who nodded a confirmation. "However, Mrs. Dursley," he continued. "I'm sure Mr. Fawcett will cast some Memory Charms around Privet Drive after he finishes his investigation here."

"Well," sneered Uncle Vernon, "since apparently your protections didn't work tonight, I expect some compensation for the damage done to my house by this intruder."

Sirius barked and growled furiously. Dumbledore didn't look all that pleased either. "Is that all you're concerned with?" Dumbledore spat. "Money and your property? This intruder tried to kill Harry, your nephew, and the first things you're worried about are your reputation and your belongings? The night I left Harry with you, Professor McGonagall warned me that you were, and I quote, 'Muggles of the worst sort.' I wish that I had heeded her warning now."

"Look," Vernon yelled, "we didn't ask to be landed with this boy. He has been nothing but a burden on my family, and we never wanted anything to do with him. You just dropped him on our doorstep one night for us to care for. Frankly, we want nothing to do with him or any of his kind."

"Mr. Dursley, I suggest that you take your family to a hotel for the evening," Dumbledore enunciated, sparks of anger flashing behind his periwinkle blue eyes.

The only other time Harry had seen Dumbledore this furious was when he stunned the impostor Mad-Eye Moody. In fact, if Harry didn't know better, Dumbledore was about to lose control, something Harry had never seen happen to him before. He could tell that Sirius was about to do the same: he was bristling and growling very angrily now. Harry put a restraining hand on him and whispered, "It doesn't matter, Sirius. They're not worth it."

"This is my house," yelled Uncle Vernon, with a slight tremble in his voice. "You have no right to order me to leave. In fact, I want you to get out of my house this instant."

"Harry, Sirius, and I will leave if you wish," said Dumbledore, still furious. "However, Arabella will stay until Mr. Fawcett from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement arrives. When he does, he will conduct an investigation, and if you interfere with it, even though you are Muggles, I will personally see to it that you are charged with reckless endangerment, child neglect, and obstruction of magical justice. All of these crimes carry very heavy fines, I assure you." Dumbledore turned to Harry and said, "Please go pack up all of your belongings, quickly."

Harry shuffled up the stairs to his bedroom, feeling a whole mixture of emotions. He was of course, already sad, guilty, and angry. Now on top of that, he felt anxious as well, about what was going to happen next, but also he felt happy that Sirius's name could finally be cleared. Then he thought of Hedwig, and felt guilty for feeling happy while she was dead. He reached the door of his room, and saw Arabella there. Her wand remained pointed at Pettigrew, who was still prone on the floor. They glanced at each other, but said nothing.

Harry gathered everything into his trunk, including the few things he had hidden under the loose floorboard. Finally he came to Hedwig's cage and her body still lying on his bed. He hesitated. "Er- Arabella?" he asked.

"Yes?" she replied.

"What do wizards do when their pets . . . die?" he asked.

"Well," she thought for a minute, "some bury them, but I don't think you have time for that right now. I can do to Hedwig what I did to Mr. Paws after he was hit by a car." She pulled out a small figurine from her pocket that looked like a miniature orange cat with white markings on his feet.

Harry nodded. "I'd like that very much, thanks."

Arabella pointed her wand at Hedwig's body and transfigured it into a similar figurine. It looked exactly like Hedwig, right down to the small black flecks on her snowy feathers. She picked it up and gave it to Harry. "There you go," she said. "Now you'll always remember her and keep her with you."

Harry took the figurine in his hand. Even though it looked and felt like marble, her feathers were so thin as to still seem soft. He looked up at Arabella. "Thank you," he whispered, then looked away. He placed Hedwig's cage and water bowl on top of his trunk.

"Let me help you with that," Arabella said.

"But you need to-" Harry started to say.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Arabella interrupted him.

Harry's trunk levitated a few inches off the ground. "Oh, right," Harry said. Even after four years of doing magic, it usually occurred to him to try to do things the Muggle way first.

Arabella grinned. "I believe this is goodbye for now, Harry, but I'm sure we'll see each other again sometime."

"Goodbye," Harry called while steering his trunk. "It was nice to meet you. I mean, the real you. Er, you know what I mean."

Arabella smiled and waved at Harry as he descended the stairs, then she turned her focus back to the prone form of Pettigrew. Her face fell as she looked at his small, still body. Oh, Peter, she thought, how could you do this to me? To us?

*

Harry came back downstairs with his trunk and saw that Sirius and Dumbledore had retrieved his Invisibility Cloak from the banister of the stairs and had gathered his cauldron and other belongings from the cupboard under the stairs, including the charred handle of his Firebolt. The Dursleys, meanwhile, had moved to the living room to escape Dumbledore's furious gaze. Harry organized his possessions, then closed and latched his trunk. "I'm ready, Professor," he said to Dumbledore.

"Say goodbye to your aunt, uncle, and cousin," Dumbledore told him. "I'm not sure when you will see them again, as I can guarantee that you won't be returning next summer."

Harry could scarcely believe his ears. Not coming back next summer? he thought. I might never have to see them, or put up with any of their crap ever again. "Well, goodbye, then," he said almost cheerfully. "Have a good life. I would say thanks for all that you've done for me, but you really haven't done that much to me that I should thank you for." He had been looking forward to telling off the Dursleys for years. In fact, he had used thoughts of this moment, the moment where he would be leaving the Dursleys forever, on two occasions in his third year to produce a weak Patronus.

"You ungrateful snot," Uncle Vernon called after Harry as Dumbledore ushered him out the door, accompanied by Sirius, still in his dog form. "We hope you never come back!"

"Not as much as I do," Harry murmured to himself as he left 4 Privet Drive for what he hoped was the last time.

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, I feel that I need to explain some things to you, but now is not the place. We have to walk outside the area of the wards around your . . . around Privet Drive, and then we can flag down the Knight Bus. In the meantime, I'm going to make myself invisible so as not to attract attention. Do you mind?"

"Not at all, Professor," Harry said.

Dumbledore flashed Harry one last smile before pointing his wand at himself and muttering, "Obscuromea." The air around him shimmered for a moment, and then he vanished from sight. He put his hand on Harry's shoulder so that Harry would know he was still there.

Now I know how Ron and Hermione feel when I wear the cloak, Harry thought. They walked in silence for about five minutes, until Sirius let out a sharp bark. Harry saw a tall, middle-aged, brown-haired man running right towards him wearing black robes with a gold badge over the left side of his chest. The man pulled out a wand and pointed it at Harry, still running.

"Obli-" he started to say, when Dumbledore yelled, "Michael, stop!"

The man stopped dead in his tracks. "Professor Dumbledore?" he said to the night air.

"Finis Incantato," Dumbledore said, and he shimmered back into view. "Yes, Michael, and I don't think putting a Memory Charm on a material witness to the crime you're investigating is a good idea."

"Material witness?" Michael Fawcett asked confusedly, then looked more closely at Harry. "Oh, Harry Potter! I'm so sorry, I thought-"

"You thought I was a Muggle," Harry finished. "I understand."

"You will have to interview Harry about tonight at some point, but not right now, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said. "You need to get to the crime scene. Just be careful; the suspect is an unregistered Animagus. Please keep in touch, Michael, and if the Muggles who live in the house give you any trouble, please inform me."

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore," the confused wizard said. "I'll owl you a report as soon as possible."

"Thank you very much," Dumbledore said. Michael continued on his way to Privet Drive, running all the way. Dumbledore made himself invisible once more, and they continued walking.

"Thanks for the heads-up, Snuffles," Harry said. Sirius barked appreciatively.

Within minutes, they reached the boundary of the Anti-Apparition ward around Privet Drive. Dumbledore made himself visible again and stuck out his wand. Harry made sure to stand well back from the curb as the Knight Bus popped into existence in front of them.

The doors of the Knight Bus opened and out stepped Stan Shunpike, a rather young wizard with quite a few pimples (I wonder why he doesn't use a bubotuber pus salve, Harry asked himself) wearing a uniform consisting of robes the shade of purple Uncle Vernon turned when he was especially angry (Something I'll hopefully never see again, thought Harry) with a gold trimmed purple cap.

Stan started to flatly recite his monologue to the night: "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick-"

"Hullo, Stan," Harry interrupted him.

"Neville? I mean 'Arry!" exclaimed Stan. "'Choo doing back here?"

"We need to get to Hogsmeade, Mr. Shunpike," said Dumbledore, "as soon as possible."

"Professor Dumbledore? What a surprise," said Stan. "So it's jus' the two of you?"

"And Harry's dog as well," said Dumbledore. "I hope that doesn't pose any problems. I assure you he is housebroken."

"Alrigh' then. That'll be," Stan did a quick sum in his head, "2 Galleons and 9 Sickles, Professor."

Dumbledore extracted the money from a pocket of his robes and gave it to Stan. Harry looked around and saw some comfortable armchairs he was fairly certain weren't there last time. "What happened to all the beds, Stan?" he asked.

"Oh, we still have 'em on the secon' and third levels," he explained, "but we put these chairs in for passengers who aren't travellin' overnigh'. Plus," he added, "those beds were an insurance nigh'mare, movin' 'round all the time. Blimey, they were dangerous." Harry nodded his agreement as he took a seat, Snuffles lying down at his feet.

"Ah, but the Knight Bus has always had those moving beds. It has a nostalgic appeal," sighed Dumbledore, taking the chair next to Harry.

"True, true," said Stan as he stowed Harry's belongings. "But we gotta respond to customer demands, and customers demanded chairs."

"The beds were noisy, too, though," said an American-sounding female voice from the driver's seat. "They were an unsafe distraction."

Stan slapped his forehead. "Oh, I forgot. Meet Diana Smith-Jones; she'll be your driver tonight." Stan correctly interpreted the confused look on Harry's face. "Good ol' Ernie retired last year, but he still comes back to take a night every once in a while, for ol' times' sake."

"Where are we going tonight, Stan?" asked Diana.

"Di, we 'ave the pleasure of driving 'Arry Potter and Albus Dumbledore to 'Ogsmeade," Stan replied.

"Nice to meet the both of you," Diana said. "We'll be there in about a half-hour. It's been a quiet night. Are we ready to depart, Stan darling?"

"Yes we are, DI schnookums," Stan replied.

Harry looked rather embarrassed at this verbal public display of affection, so he decided to change the subject as the Knight Bus took off. "I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup last year, Stan, but I didn't have a chance to stay and chat."

"Aye, I was, erm, a mite distracted that night meself," grinned Stan.

"What do you mean by that, Stanley?" DI asked.

"DI, you know you entrance me so much more than that silly veela," Stan replied.

"Conicus Silencio," said Dumbledore, and Di's reply to Stan's flirtatious comment was mercifully cut off. Harry was grateful, as he thought any more saccharine from the two of them would have caused cancer in any nearby laboratory animals.

"I should probably learn that spell," said Harry.

"Well, you might not have to worry about learning it," said Dumbledore with a gleam in his eye. "Any more cursing outbursts like that one at the Dursleys and I'll have it permanently cast on you, for the protection of the ears of your fellow students."

Harry laughed. "Sorry about that, Professor."

"I honestly don't blame you, Harry," said Dumbledore, "By the way, that spell is part of the fifth year Charms curriculum, and I'm sure it will come in handy for you and your friends. But I don't really want to talk about profanity or Changing Pedagogies in Charms Education with you right now." He paused.

"You want to talk about my future," said Harry, looking at Sirius, who had curled up on the floor and had fallen asleep.

"Well, yes," he said. "But first, I'd like to apologize for sending you to live with your aunt and uncle. I think you deserve an explanation as to why I did that, and it may help you understand some of what happened tonight."

"Er," Harry said, "I know some of it already. Voldemort had me tied to his father's gravestone, so he explained some of the protections you had cast on me to the Death Eaters. He said that you used some very ancient magic so that I couldn't be harmed while I was with my blood relatives."

"Well, yes," said Dumbledore. "That's the gist of it. The spell protected you from physical harm and made you undetectable to anyone who wanted to do magical harm to you."

"That makes sense. I was wondering why Pettigrew acted like he couldn't see or hear me. And it also explains why I didn't feel anything when he tried to punch me," said Harry.

"He tried to punch you?" asked Dumbledore. "But how could he, if he couldn't tell you were there?"

"Er, I sort of attacked him first," mumbled Harry. "I was a little angry with him at the time and sort of lost control."

"Ah, I see," said Dumbledore. "We'll have to work on tempering that instinctual reaction, Harry. As I recall, you did the same the first time you saw Sirius as well."

"He told you about that?" asked Harry.

"Yes, and he was rather upset about it as well, too, though I think you made it up to him by saving his life," said Dumbledore with a smile.

"Wait a minute," said Harry. "Why could Arabella see me if the spell was working?"

"Because she didn't enter the house with the intent to harm you," replied Dumbledore. "Now I have a very serious question to ask you, Harry, and I would like you to respond honestly. Did any of the Dursleys ever try to physically harm you?"

Harry thought for a minute, then answered, "Well, not seriously. I mean, Dudley tried to bully me at school, but I don't think he ever managed to hurt me. And I remember my Aunt Petunia tried to hit me with a frying pan once, but she missed . . . Professor, was the spell working against them, too?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, it was, Harry. They could see you because the Obscuring and Muting parts of the spell only worked on witches and wizards. But I would suspect that the protection extended to any type of physical harm, a fact for which I'm rather thankful."

Harry sighed. "Was that the only reason you had me live with them?" he asked.

"No," said Dumbledore firmly. "I also thought that it would be better for you to not have to grow up as 'famous Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived,' to not have to deal with that until you were old enough to handle it."

"Yes, that probably was a good idea," conceded Harry. "I didn't ask to be a celebrity. In fact, I'd prefer it if I weren't. I wouldn't have to worry about articles being written about my personal life all the time." Harry smiled, thinking, Well, at least I won't hear anything from Rita Skeeter this year.

"Yes, I suppose you haven't experienced the full impact of your status," mused Dumbledore. "Hagrid told me about the scene in the Leaky Cauldron, and then there was last year of course, but you don't know about the post."

"Post? What post?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore smiled. "We screen all your mail, Harry," he said, "to weed out letters from your fans and admirers. We have boxes full of them."

"Boxes?" Harry said weakly.

"In fact," continued Dumbledore, "we have a half-dozen owls dedicated solely to responding to these letters with a form note that basically says, 'Thanks for your letter, very busy at school, Harry.' Now, the gifts some of them send are another matter entirely."

Harry chose to not inquire any further. He decided he didn't really want to know.

"Of course, you're welcome to come look at the letters anytime. They are yours after all," Dumbledore grinned.

"No thanks," said Harry firmly.

"Well, we'll save them for you in case you ever change your mind," said Dumbledore. "Of course, given the current situation, we're going to start screening everybody's mail, for safety. We won't open it of course, but still."

Harry sighed. He didn't really feel like talking about this anymore. He had more pressing questions at the moment.

"Thinking about what's going to happen, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"Er, yes, actually," replied Harry.

"Alright, let's discuss that," said Dumbledore. "Now, as I was about to say earlier, the original plan was for you to go to the Weasleys directly after the memorial service. However, I fear that that plan would be too obvious, and Voldemort might attempt another attack on you. You've lost three of your greatest protections against Voldemort in a very short time; you're very vulnerable right now."

Harry sulked. "You're right, of course, Professor, and I don't want to put the Weasleys in any danger, but does that mean-"

"That you won't get to see Ron at all this summer? Of course not, Harry," interrupted Dumbledore as if reading Harry's mind. "However, we'd like to minimize the time at which you are at risk. You will stay at Hogwarts for the rest of the week, in one of our guestrooms; then, after the memorial service, you will go to a safe house. I don't know where yet, as I haven't arranged it yet. If all goes well, you should be able to stay at The Burrow for the last week of the holidays."

Harry sulked some more. What kind of summer is that? he thought. Living in a 'safe house' for a month. Oh, I suppose I'm just being selfish. Why does Dumbledore always have to be right? "Fine," he finally said. "I suppose it can't be worse than the Dursleys at any rate."

"That's the spirit, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Now, we're going to have to make a trip to Diagon Alley so that you can buy a new wand. You'll need it for the memorial service. Do you need new dress robes as well?"

"No, my ones from last year still fit," he replied, "but what happens at the memorial service that I need my wand for?"

"Ah, perhaps I should explain the service to you," Dumbledore said. "Traditionally, the family of the deceased purchases a Pensieve, and everyone present has the opportunity to contribute a memory of the deceased to it. Then, everyone enters the Pensieve and views the memories. Er, since you've never been to one of these before, I suggest you run your memory of Cedric by me before contributing it."

"Ah, I see," said Harry. "I need some time to think of a good memory to contribute first."

"Quite understandable," replied Dumbledore.

Sirius stirred at Harry's feet and barked softly. Harry and Dumbledore looked up to see Stan waving at them, trying to get their attention. "Finis Incantato," Dumbledore said. "Yes, Mr. Shunpike?"

"We're almost there, Professor Dumbledore," he said. "What would you like us to do?"

"Set down outside the Three Broomsticks, then drive up to Hogwarts from there," Dumbledore said.

"Can do," DI said. Harry noticed that DI was a much better driver than Ernie was, as very few objects had to remove themselves from the path of the Knight Bus as it drove up the hill to the Hogwarts castle.

Soon, they had arrived at the front entrance of the Hogwarts castle. Stan levitated Harry's trunk down off the Knight Bus while Harry, Sirius, and Dumbledore departed. "Thanks, Stan. Good to see you again," Harry said.

"Bye, 'Arry, Professor," Stan said.

"Oh, Stanley," said DI, "I think we have the bus to ourselves . . .." She coyly trailed off as the doors of the bus closed and the bus started back down the hill. Harry shuddered with a bad mental picture as two house elves popped in next to Harry's trunk and popped away with it, probably to his room.

Dumbledore opened the great doors to the enormous entrance hall of Hogwarts. It felt very weird to Harry, when he had been there not a month before, about to leave Hogwarts for the whole summer. And now he was back. It was too silent for Harry's liking. Once Dumbledore had closed and secured the doors, Sirius turned back into his human form.

"Much better," Sirius said, breaking the silence of the empty hall. His words echoed in the vast emptiness of the hall. The three of them started walking towards Dumbledore's office. Before they reached the familiar gargoyle that marked the entrance, they ran into a frantic Professor McGonagall near the Charms classroom.

"Albus, is-" she started to ask, until Sirius stepped aside to reveal a rather tired, upset, and disheveled Harry. "I see," she said, a look of relief passing over her face.

"Harry will recover," said Dumbledore. "Poppy is on her vacation this week, correct?"

"Yes, she is," said Professor McGonagall. "Why?"

"Good, I was afraid she would make a fuss over him. All he needs right now is some sleep," he said.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Let's go up to my office, and I'll tell you everything. Sirius, please come as well," Dumbledore said. "Minerva, could you summon Sir Nicholas and have him escort Harry to his room?"

"Certainly. Appellispiritus Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington," she said, and a silver shape shot from her wand and sped down the corridor. A few seconds later, Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, came gliding out of a nearby wall.

"Yes, Minerva?" he asked, then noticed Harry standing there. "My, my, is it the start of term already?"

"No, it is not," she said sternly. "Please escort Mr. Potter to whichever guestroom his belongings are in."

"Well, Harry, I have to say goodbye for now," said Sirius. "I will see you again before the holidays are over, but, with Pettigrew under arrest, I may not have to do it in secret next time."

Harry embraced his godfather, then followed Nick down the corridor and up some stairs to the fifth floor. Nick floated in and out of some tapestries before coming to a halt outside one that depicted a sleeping lion on a red background. "How appropriate," Nick said. "Now, just choose a password and you can get in. Just say your name and then the word you want for your password twice."

Harry thought for a moment about what to make his password. Finally, he put his hand into his pocket and he knew what he wanted his password to be. "Harry Potter. Hedwig. Hedwig," he said to the tapestry. The lion yawned, and its mouth grew until it was large enough for Harry to step through. A small bedroom and private bathroom was revealed on the other side, and Harry went in. "Thanks, Nick," he said. "See you 'round."

Nearly Headless Nick gave a small nod, which, nonetheless, was enough to cause his head to wobble and fall off to the side. Nick reattached his head with a small growl of "Stupid executioner," and glided off.

After the lion's mouth closed behind him, Harry got settled in his room, changed into his pajamas, and got into bed. He looked at the Hedwig figurine on his nightstand, his charred Firebolt, the moonlight in the small window, and the carvings on the arches on the ceiling. He lay there for awhile, many different thoughts, feelings, and emotions going through his tired brain. Finally, sheer emotional drainage and exhaustion won out, and he fell peaceably asleep.

*

He was awoken not so peaceably by a rude pounding from outside his room. "Mr. Potter! Wake up this instant!" shouted a female voice.

"Oh, go sod off, Aunt Petunia," mumbled Harry.

The pounding stopped for a moment, then resumed. "It's Professor McGonagall, Mr. Potter. Kindly let me in now!"

Harry bolted up rather fully awake and put his glasses on. "Sorry, Professor," he called. "How do I let you in?"

"You have to invite me in for the tapestry to open," she said.

"Ah. Come in, then," he said, and the entryhole appeared. Professor McGonagall entered, looking even sterner than usual.

"I will be escorting you to Diagon Alley today. Meet me in the entrance hall in precisely one hour. I will have breakfast sent up to you. Do you have any questions, Mr. Potter?" she asked, not looking too pleased at having to pound and shout.

"Er just one," he said. "What time is it?"

Professor McGonagall sighed and glanced at her wrist. "It is 9:30 right now, a rather reasonable time to wake up, I do say. Now, you have one hour to get ready, and I suggest that you get out of bed before you fall asleep again." She left Harry's room, and the tapestry closed itself again.

Harry grumbled some well-chosen words about "reasonable times" and "suggestions" he had for Professor McGonagall, then got about getting ready. He went to the bathroom, took a shower appropriate for a PG-13 rated story, and got changed. He had noticed that Professor McGonagall was wearing robes, so he decided to put on his Hogwarts robes over his jeans and tee shirt. He had just slipped them on when he heard a small knock on his wall. "Come in," he said, hoping it was breakfast, as he hadn't had any dinner last night and was rather hungry.

The tapestry opened, and in stepped Winky the house-elf, carrying a tray of Harry's favorite breakfast foods. "Winky has Harry Potter's breakfast, Sir," she squeaked in her high pitched voice.

"Thanks, Winky," said Harry. "You're looking much better than the last time I saw you." It was very true. Before, Winky's eyes were constantly red from crying with dark circles from lack of sleep, and her dress was stained, torn, and burnt. Now, Winky wore a smile and a new, prim, blue, child's dress.

"Yes, Sir," Winky said. "Winky feels much better now and is happy to serve her new masters. Winky is ashamed that her old master did bad things to Dobby's friend Harry Potter." She dropped her voice, "Winky is even getting paying now, Sir."

"Hermione'll be happy to hear that," Harry said. "How is Dobby?"

"Ah, Dobby told Winky to say hello to Harry Potter for him, Sir," Winky said. "Professor Dumbledore called for Dobby earlier this morning, and when Dobby got back, Dobby said Master Dumbledore gave Dobby a vacation and Dobby would be back in a week. Then, Dobby went pop away."

"A vacation?" Harry asked. "Well, good for Dobby. I hope he has fun."

"Winky must be going now, Sir," said Winky. "Over the holidays, us house-elves give the castle an extra-hard cleaning so that it looks nice when the masters return."

"Bye, Winky," said Harry, and Winky popped off to another part of the castle, leaving Harry alone to eat his breakfast.

Half an hour later, Harry had made his way down to the entrance hall carrying Hedwig's cage with him. He didn't feel comfortable replacing Hedwig so quickly, but he did have some letters he wanted to send, and he knew it might help him get over Hedwig's death. He still had her marble figurine in his pocket, in any case, to remember her. He puttered around in the entryway for about five minutes until Professor McGonagall showed up.

"On time for once, Mr. Potter," she said with a small smile on her face. "Come along."

"Oh, Professor, could you?" he asked, pointing to the cage.

"Of course," she said. "Reducio." The cage shrunk to the size of a marble, and Harry placed it in his pocket. "But that reminds me. Even after you get your wand today, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery is still in effect, even if you are at Hogwarts. No magic, Mr. Potter, unless specifically requested by a professor."

"I understand," Harry said.

"Good. Let's get a move on; I'd like to be back by one o'clock," she said.

Harry walked with her down to Hogsmeade in complete silence. OK, this is kind of weird, he thought. People will think she's my grandmother or something. Why doesn't she try to make small talk or something?

Well, this is a rather awkward situation, thought Professor McGonagall as they walked to Hogsmeade. I dare not ask him about his summer, as I know it hasn't been a good one. I suppose he hasn't started his Transfiguration homework yet. Oh well, he doesn't seem to mind the silence.

Mercifully, they soon reached The Three Broomsticks, and Professor McGonagall got out a small pouch of Floo Powder. She gave it to Harry. "You do know how to use Floo Powder, Mr. Potter?" she asked him. Harry nodded. "Good," she said. "I will meet you there then." She Disapparated as Harry entered the deserted pub.

"Hello, Madam Rosmerta," said Harry to the woman behind the bar.

"Why, if it isn't Harry Potter," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"Long story," Harry said, "but I'm just here to use your grate. I'm meeting Professor McGonagall in Diagon Alley."

"I see," said Rosmerta with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Well, wouldn't have been my first guess for your girlfriend, and then there's the whole age thing, but who am I to judge?"

Harry turned rather crimson at the notion of him dating Professor McGonagall, but decided (based on plenty of experience with both Dudley and Fred and George), that silence was the best response.

"Oh, I'm just joking m'dear," Rosmerta said as she came around the bar and walked Harry to her fireplace. She lit a magical fire for Harry to use. "Have a good time."

"Will do, see you later," Harry said. He threw a pinch of the powder into the fire and yelled, "Diagon Alley" as he stepped into the green flames. He remembered to keep his elbows in this time as the world started spinning around him.