The Final Reckoning

Chapter Two: Of Blood and Testimony

There were two people in the moving photograph. A pretty girl with auburn hair that she wore in a long plait down her back. In the photo the plait was draped over her shoulder. She had her arm around a black haired, green-eyed boy who wore wire-rim glasses and had a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. The boy put his arm around her shoulder, and they smiled at the camera for a moment, and then the boy turned and looked at the girl, and for the first time in a long time, he looked genuinely happy. The girl looked radiant. Then the boy placed his hand on the side of the girl's neck and lowered his head, and they kissed.

Harry Potter stared at the photograph in a kind of semi-daze. He'd done little else since getting home from school. A part of him knew he shouldn't be looking at the photograph. Why, after all, was he torturing himself? But he couldn't look away. He couldn't forget that moment. Or the girl.

Susan Bones was the girl in the photograph. And Harry was the boy.

He watched the figures in the photo again, replaying the scene over and over again. Posing for the picture, Susan putting her arm round his waist, Harry putting his arm round her shoulder. Smiling like he meant it. Because at the time he had meant it. And then meeting her eyes and seeing and feeling something he'd never thought was possible, and kissing her...Over and over again it went, like a scratch in an old LP.

His eyes burned and a tear escaped to trace down his cheek.

Why? he thought for the millionth time. Why did she do it?

The question was a rhetorical one. Harry knew why Susan had dumped him. She had left because she couldn't, in the end, handle being in love with The Boy Who Lived but Who Might Not Survive in the End. She couldn't deal with the knowledge that he was the boy of the Prophecy, that fateful, horrible prophecy that said he would either kill or be killed by Lord Voldemort.

Harry laughed bitterly under his breath. It would have been a lot better if Susan had just told him she'd taken up with another bloke, or even that she didn't love him anymore. But she hadn't said that. She'd said she DID still love him, but she had to give him up anyway. The irony would be funny if it weren't so cruel.

Harry grabbed the photo and clenched it in his hand, once again ready to tear it to pieces. And once again, he couldn't. He wanted to hate her, but he couldn't do that, either. He wanted to despise her for not being brave enough, for not being loyal enough, but he couldn't. Because he knew how hard it was to be loyal to him.

Harry's eyes moved to the stack of letters on his desk. He wasn't even home a day when he got missives from Ron, Hermione and Ginny. He picked up Hermione's and opened it and sighed. Hermione's letter was typical of her. Packed first with details on her holiday with her parents (she was meeting them in the South of France this year) in the first third, and full of advice on how to 'confront his grief and pain' in the second third, and in the final third, of course, was the repeated exhortation to study and keep fully up to date on their course work, because N.E.W.T.s were imminent. The letter was three pages long. Harry shook his head and smiled, just slightly, before putting the letter aside.

He picked up Ron's letter. It was significantly shorter, made brief mention of Quidditch, Apparition training, and goings on at the Burrow (degnoming was especially heavy this year) and made no mention of Susan by name except to say that she didn't deserve Harry, anyway, and that she was barmy and stupid and it was her loss. Harry didn't really believe all of that, but it did make him feel just a little better.

He then picked up Ginny's letter. He found himself returning to that letter a lot in the past few days. However much he appreciated Ron's and Hermione's efforts, it was Ginny's words that brought the most comfort. Maybe because she didn't make a conscious effort to try and make him feel better. Maybe because she was so honest. Whatever it was, Harry enjoyed the letter. They had become good friends over the past two years, owing in part to Ginny finally getting over her girlish crush on him, and in part to Harry finally recognizing her as more than just Ron's Little Sister. She'd been a good friend to him in the aftermath of the breakup.

Harry looked back at the photograph of Susan and himself. The ache was still there, so raw inside his chest. He bit his lip, opened his desk drawer, and slid the photograph inside, slipping it between the pages of his photo album. Someday, he told himself, I'll get rid of it. But not today.

'HARRY POTTER!'

The bellowing voice of Vernon Dursley shook Harry out of his reverie.

'HARRY POTTER, GET DOWN HERE NOW!'

Harry scowled. Less then four weeks, he told himself again. Less than four weeks, and you can be out of this house for good. Out of this wretched place where the sound of your own name grates on your nerves, because it's always said through clenched teeth, or with a shout, as it was now.

'Coming, Uncle Vernon!' Harry called back, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice at all.

The past two summers, Harry's behaviour toward his contemptible relatives ranged from the indifferent to the impertinent, with every manifestation of quiet loathing and disrespect in between. Now that he had pretty much the entire staff of Hogwarts and a good number of Ministry employees on his side, looking after him and monitoring his relatives' treatment of him, Harry didn't bother with the pretense of being polite to the only living relatives he had left.

Harry stood up and picked up his wand from his desk, making a point of tucking it into his jeans. He exited his bedroom and clomped heavily down the stairs, knowing full well that his heavy footfalls, and the sight of his wand, set Uncle Vernon's teeth on edge.

'Stop plodding like a bloody elephant, boy!' Uncle Vernon snapped, as Harry reached the foot of the stairs.

'What is it, Uncle?' Harry asked sweetly.

'"It",' said Uncle Vernon, his face already beginning to turn puce, 'is another set of messages from your freaky little friends.' He shoved a pile of letters into Harry's hand. 'I thought I told you, Potter, to have those filthy birds deliver your rubbish directly to your room,' he added hotly.

'Oops,' said Harry, shrugging. 'I must have forgotten. You know, fighting evil wizards and all--' He started to withdraw his wand from the waistband of his jeans.

'DON'T talk about your...your kind,' Uncle Vernon said hastily, holding up his hands. 'And put that blasted thing away. Now get in the kitchen and help your aunt.'

'Yes, sir,' said Harry, tucking his wand away and giving Uncle Vernon a cheeky grin. The boy could feel Uncle Vernon's scowl as he sauntered lazily into the kitchen. It was Sunday morning, which meant a big Sunday breakfast.

'Good morning, Aunt Petunia,' Harry said, putting on his most saccharine tone of voice. Aunt Petunia glared at him with her horsey face.

'Don't smile,' she snapped. 'It makes you look ghastly. Get going on the eggs, and don't make a mess of it.'

'Yes, Aunt Petunia,' said Harry, taking eggs from the refrigerator and setting out a bowl and some milk and setting them on the counter. He turned and grinned at his cousin, Dudley. Dudley's fat had been steadily replaced by muscle, and he was so massive now Harry often joked that he had his own time zone.

'Morning, Big D,' he said. 'Or is it Ickle Diddydums?'

'Shut your mouth, Potter,' said Dudley, glowering.

'Leave him alone,' Aunt Petunia hissed.

'Whatever you say, Aunt Petunia,' said Harry good-naturedly, as he cracked an egg neatly into the bowl. He repeated with several more eggs, added milk, and began to whisk everything together. If there was one thing anyone could say about Harry Potter, he made very good scrambled eggs. Not that the Dursleys noticed. In fact they made a point of complaining about the quality of Harry's cooking all the time. Harry had become quite good at cooking, but somehow he knew that if he could turn out a five-star meal to make a chef weep, the Dursleys would find something to complain about.

The meal was prepared quickly enough. Harry wasn't particularly hungry but he ate his fill--getting a substantial meal in the Dursley household was a relatively new experience for him and, hungry or not, he was determined to take advantage of it.

Harry ate, while the Dursleys pretended he wasn't sitting there. Harry didn't care--he had gotten so used to being ignored by the Dursleys that it didn't faze him. He thought briefly about causing a bit of trouble this morning, just to get Uncle Vernon upset, but decided against it. He still wasn't seventeen, and though his relatives had agreed to keep him, that didn't mean he should push his luck...too much.

The meal went on in a stony silence and was just wrapping up when there was a loud knock at the door.

Uncle Vernon, who was in the middle of sipping his coffee, sprayed his beverage all down his front and spluttered indignantly.

'Who on EARTH comes by unannounced on a Sunday?' he roared.

'Just ignore whoever it is, dear,' said Aunt Petunia, her lips tight with disapproval.

'Hmph,' said Uncle Vernon, wiping bits of egg from his mustache. 'The nerve of some people--'

At this the knock came again, louder, more persistent.

'Bloody hell!' Uncle Vernon snapped. 'Probably some stupid Boy Scouts. I'll teach them some ruddy manners!'

He stood up, nearly upending the table with his large belly, and stormed to the front door. Harry, curious, watched as his uncle swung the door open.

'Now see here,' Uncle Vernon began indignantly, 'who do you think--'

But suddenly he stopped talking. Harry couldn't see just who Uncle Vernon was talking to, but then he heard a familiar voice.

'I'm here to see Harry,' said Remus Lupin.

Harry leapt up from the kitchen table and started toward the living room. Aunt Petunia and Dudley followed.

'We are NOT mistreating that boy!' Vernon shouted.

'That's not why I'm here,' said Lupin calmly. Harry came round to Uncle Vernon's side and was able to get a view of Lupin. His light brown hair was even greyer than before, and his wardrobe was so shabby that, were he not freshly showered and clean-shaven, one would mistake him for a hobo. He cast a glance at Harry, flashed a very brief, tiny smile, and then looked back at Harry's uncle.

'Well, then, get out,' said Uncle Vernon angrily. 'We don't need you riffraff coming round.' He started to slam the door in Lupin's face.

Lupin caught the door, and with surprising strength, he shoved it back against Uncle Vernon. Calmly, Lupin withdrew his wand.

'Now, sir,' he said coolly. 'I'm quite certain you don't want to do that. If you do slam the door in my face I'll simply stay here on your front porch and let the neighbors wonder why such a strange looking, shabbily dressed man is skulking on your property.'

'You do that and we'll...we'll call the police!' Aunt Petunia shrieked.

'Go right ahead,' said Lupin calmly. 'I'll simply vanish into thin air, and then your neighbors will really start to wonder.'

Aunt Petunia went white in the face, and Uncle Vernon's mouth began to work furiously. Dudley slowly began to back away from the front door; Harry was quite sure the other boy was whimpering under his breath.

'Come, come,' said Lupin, putting an edge to his voice. 'Are you going to make me stand here all day and draw attention to yourself or will you let me in?'

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia exchanged a horrified look, and then Uncle Vernon grabbed Lupin by the elbow.

'Get in here, then!' he snapped, pulling the wizard inside. 'Now see here, you...you...WHATEVER you are! Who do you think you are coming into my home on a Sunday--'

'Professor Lupin!' Harry said, feeling a twinge of something like happiness for the first time in days. Without thinking, he hugged his former teacher.

'Hello, Harry,' said Lupin, returning the embrace.

Harry backed away, and Uncle Vernon scowled.

'What is going on here?' Uncle Vernon demanded. He whirled on Lupin. 'If you've come to claim we're mistreating the boy, you can just turn right back round and get out. Potter is fine!'

'Yeah,' said Dudley, and he cracked his knuckles menacingly--he seemed to have gotten over his fright for the moment. Harry rolled his eyes. To look at Lupin, one would think Dudley could squash the older man flat. Harry knew better.

Lupin, for his part, simply drew his wand and held it lazily in his right hand.

'I really don't want this to be unpleasant,' he said. 'I already said I'm not here to check up on Harry's health. Although now that you mention it, he looks quite healthy.'

'Of course he does,' said Uncle Vernon defensively. 'What do you think we do, starve him?'

Harry snorted, and Uncle Vernon shot him a murderous look.

'I'm here,' said Lupin pointedly, 'because I need to talk to Harry about something very important. It has nothing to do with you.'

'Oh, for heaven's sake!' said Uncle Vernon furiously. 'Couldn't you have just arranged to take the boy somewhere? Why come here?'

Lupin cast a long look at Aunt Petunia. 'Your wife knows that answer to that,' he said. 'I won't be long, but if you don't mind, I'll just go up to Harry's room and we'll discuss this. And if it makes you feel any better, Mr. Dursley, I'll be happy to leave by...the back door.'

'You do that,' said Uncle Vernon darkly. Lupin nodded.

'Come on, Harry,' he said, and he and Harry started up the stairs to Harry's bedroom.

'And...and next time, don't show up unannounced, on a Sunday!' Uncle Vernon added, shaking his fist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Sit down, Harry,' said Lupin, gesturing to Harry's bed. The former professor's eyes were grave.

'What's up?' said Harry, instantly sensing that something was wrong. 'Is it Voldemort?'

'Yes,' said Lupin. 'And no.'

'What does that mean?' said Harry warily.

'Look, Harry, we weren't able to tell you anything in the immediate aftermath of what happened in the Riddle House,' said Lupin, and he took a seat on Harry's desk chair. 'I was, of course, in hospital, you were unconscious, Hermione was unconscious...there were so many people injured because of all the Death Eater attacks that it took every second of the Ministry's time and energy to get on top of things.'

'Yeah, I kind of figured that,' said Harry. 'But they're on top of things now?'

'For the most part, yes,' said Lupin. 'And we have you, and your friends, to thank for it. Harry, when you and your friends fought those Death Eaters, you dealt Voldemort a major blow. Many of his closest lieutenants are dead, or in custody.'

'And Voldemort himself?' said Harry. 'Are there any reports on him?'

'Mm,' said Lupin, nodding. 'Our latest information has him hiding out in Bulgaria.'

'Bulgaria?' said Harry, his eyes wide.

'Yes,' said Lupin. 'Voldemort had no small number of supporters over there; the Durmstrang Institute has produced its own fair share of Dark wizards and witches who have joined Voldemort's cause. Some of them are dead but we believe the ones who are left are hiding him.'

'Igor Karkaroff?' Harry asked at once. Karkaroff was the former Headmaster of Durmstrang, and a former Death Eater.

'Karkaroff's whereabouts are unclear,' said Lupin. 'The last time anyone heard from Karkaroff, he was hardly considered to be in Voldemort's good books. The Bulgarian Ministry is hoping to find him and use him as a spy, but nobody here has any confidence it'll work. Voldemort already took one spy back into the fold, and it backfired on him.'

'You mean Snape,' said Harry.

'Professor Snape,' Lupin corrected. 'But yes, that's right. It's highly unlikely that Voldemort would make the same mistake twice. And if Karkaroff is alive and is out there somewhere, odds are Voldemort will find him first.'

'So...Voldemort's regrouping again?' said Harry.

'Not just regrouping,' said Lupin. 'Recovering.'

'Recovering?' said Harry, confused.

'Harry, when you fought with Voldemort, you hurt him,' said Lupin slowly. 'Quite badly, I might add.'

Harry stared at Lupin, open-mouthed. 'I...I did?'

'Yes, you did,' said Lupin. 'At least, it appears very strongly that you did. You don't remember it, because you passed out. But the Ministry sent technicians to sweep the house for evidence, and outside, they found some drops of blood on some flagstones several feet away, leading away from the front of the house. Harry, did you ever go outside in the front of the house?'

'No,' said Harry at once. 'We came in through the back, and stayed inside for the battle. Tonks told me they brought me out back and then back inside and Flooed me to the hospital wing at Hogwarts. I've never even seen the front of that house. Why?'

'Then it's curious, isn't it, that the blood found on those flagstones was determined to be yours,' said Lupin.

Harry gaped at Lupin. 'That's impossible, I just said I was never out there--'

'I know, Harry,' said Lupin at once. 'I know that, and you know that. But the Ministry doesn't. They think you went out front at some point in the melee. And that's what Dumbledore wants them to think.'

'Dumbledore?' said Harry, now thoroughly confused. 'Look, Professor, I know Dumbledore...does his own thing a lot but...why would he want the Ministry to believe I was outside the front of the house...'

Harry's voice trailed off. Something had just struck him, like a ton of bricks.

'My blood,' he said. 'But...I wasn't there. That's...physically impossible. Unless someone put it there. Or unless...'

Harry closed his eyes, and every horrible image from that fateful night, every sound, every flash of light and pain, came rushing back.

'Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken,' he murmured. 'You will resurrect your foe...'

'Harry?'

'He has my blood,' said Harry, his eyes snapping open. 'Inside him. He took some of my blood that night, the night Cedric was murdered. Voldemort used my blood to help him come back.'

'Yes,' said Lupin.

'So...that blood on the flagstones...if it didn't come from me...it came from him,' said Harry.

'That's right, Harry,' said Lupin. 'Don't you see? At some point that night, you hurt him. Nobody else could have done that. Nobody else faced him like you did, or had the strength.'

Harry blinked, and then shook his head. 'But, wait...he Disapparated. That's what Ron said. He tried to possess me and I pushed him out of my head and then I passed out, and Ron said he Disapparated.'

'Yes, but where did he go?' said Lupin, leaning forward. 'If Voldemort were badly hurt in some way, he couldn't Apparate very far. An injured wizard, no matter how powerful, always has a harder time Apparating. Even a short distance can exhaust him. It's possible he only got as far as the front of his house, and then found some other way to escape. Nobody would have gone looking for him, because nobody would have suspected he was hurt. They would have seen him Disapparate and assume he'd taken himself far away. They would have given up before even trying to go after him. And there were all the wounded to deal with, the bodies...'

Harry stared up at his former teacher, and then rubbed his hand over his forehead. It was only in that moment that he realized his scar hadn't hurt him, at all, in days.

'How could I have hurt him?' said Harry. 'That Cruciatus Curse, it...it hit him but he threw it off. He wasn't bleeding at all when we fought. And afterward...Ron would have noticed, he would have said something about it.'

'Perhaps Voldemort didn't start to bleed until he'd Apparated,' Lupin suggested. 'Or whatever wound you inflicted was hidden beneath his robes and the blood only started to seep out once he got outside.'

Harry looked at Lupin doubtfully. 'That's a stretch, isn't it?'

'Harry, I'm telling you, unless you went outside or someone else took a bit of your blood and dripped it on those flagstones, there's no other explanation for it,' said Lupin fervently. 'Somehow or other you managed to draw blood from Lord Voldemort. Something no one has been able to do since he returned.'

Harry's eyes went wide again, but they were half-unseeing. Was it even possible?

'Professor,' he said, as something occurred to him. 'Voldemort has my blood in him but...Wormtail only took a little bit from me. Wouldn't it have changed in some way? I mean, when he came back?'

'The spell Voldemort used to return to his body is an ancient form of Dark Magic,' said Lupin. 'I know very little about it myself--Dumbledore has more answers about it than I do. But your blood is in Voldemort's veins, now Harry. He chose your blood because of your mother's sacrifice, and the protection it provided you.'

'I know,' said Harry. 'I remember. Do you...do you think it'll work? Protect him, I mean?'

'I don't think even Voldemort really knows that, Harry,' said Lupin. 'One thing in our favor is that Voldemort generally doesn't spend too much time on details. It's probably one of the reasons you've been able to escape him so many times.'

'Yeah,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'That and luck.'

'Well, luck, too,' said Lupin, smiling. 'The point is, Harry, something you did that night hurt Voldemort. Dumbledore will devote as much time as he can to learn more about this, but in the meantime--'

'I'll look into it,' said Harry. 'Right.'

'Get your friends to help you,' said Lupin. 'They'll be eager to, I think. Hermione, in particular would be good at this sort of thing.'

'Yeah, she would,' said Harry. 'I'll...I'll ask them.'

'Good,' said Lupin, and he smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. And suddenly Harry remembered something.

'Professor,' Harry began.

'Please, Harry, I think you can call me Remus by now,' said Lupin.

'Okay, er...Remus,' said Harry, a bit awkwardly. 'You said...you had something to tell me, and when I asked you about Voldemort you said...yes and no. What's the "no" part?'

At this, Lupin sighed and reached into his robes, pulling out a thick blue envelope.

'I'm afraid...this is for you,' he said, handing the envelope to Harry. Harry took it, eyeing Lupin cautiously for a moment, then turning his green eyes to study the object in his hand.

The envelope had a logo on it that read 'Ministry of Magic: Department of Magical Law Enforcement.' Beneath that, it read...

'Official Summons,' said Harry, and at once he felt a sinking in his gut. He tore open the envelope and pulled out a several-paged document and began to read. The sinking feeling turned into a twisting knot.

'They want me to testify in Malfoy's trial,' he said, not looking up.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' said Lupin. 'I only found out about it late last night. They were going to send an owl today but...I wanted to be able to deliver the news in person.'

Harry looked up, feeling suddenly as exhausted as he'd felt those first few days after waking up in the hospital wing this last time.

'Why do they need me?' he said. 'They've got Draco's testimony.'

'They do,' said Lupin. 'But they're afraid it isn't enough. They haven't found much physical evidence to build their case, Harry. Draco's testimony is helpful, but he's fragile. His history with his father is...very complicated. And Lucius will have the best trial lawyers money can buy. He'll think nothing of setting one of those people on his own son. Draco could crack from the pressure. As it is Dumbledore has had to keep him at St. Mungo's for psychological evaluation and counseling.'

'Professor--Remus,' Harry said. 'I...I don't want to testify. They can't make me--'

'They can, Harry,' said Lupin sadly. 'I'm afraid they can.'

Harry looked down at the hateful paper again, and then he crumpled it. 'Shit,' he muttered.

'That's what I said when I heard the news,' said Lupin. 'Harry, I know how hard this must be for you. To have to relive everything. Especially now, on your summer holiday, and after everything you've just been through. But your testimony could put Lucius Malfoy away for good. He won't just get sent to Azkaban if he's convicted. The Chief Prosecutor has authorized a full Obliviation of Malfoy's mind. He'll have his wand taken. He'll be stripped of his magic. Malfoy is one of Voldemort's closest lieutenants, and the Ministry--'

'The Ministry needs to appear like it's accomplishing something,' said Harry acidly, not bothering to moderate his tone. 'After all the attacks, all the deaths.'

Lupin didn't seem to notice Harry's tone. 'That's right. But even beyond that, Harry, convicting Lucius Malfoy will bring justice for a lot of people. You included.'

Harry blew out a breath. Great, just great. Home for barely three days and now this. He never could get a break. He wondered if Ron and Hermione had heard about this. Ron and Hermione...

'Is the Ministry making Ron and Hermione testify?' he asked.

'No,' said Lupin, 'though I think they would in a heartbeat.'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah,' he said. Of course they would. 'But the Ministry, they want the Boy Who Lived,' he added bitterly.

'Well, there is that,' Lupin admitted. 'Harry, your story is compelling. Everything you've been through, all the times you've escaped Voldemort--'

'Well, I'm certainly happy to provide entertainment for people!' Harry snapped, standing up sharply. 'Christ...REMUS...all those bloody reporters there, and they'll take my picture and...and I'll be a bloody sideshow act all over again...you think Draco Malfoy will crack, well who's to say I won't, eh? Who's to say Lucius Malfoy's lawyer won't rip me a new orifice, make me go barmy on the bloody witness stand?'

'Harry, you're stronger than that and you know it,' said Lupin firmly, and he stood up as well and placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. 'My god, I'm sorry. I'm sorry everything seems to happen to you. I'm sorry...Sirius can't be here to help you deal with this. I know I'm a poor substitute--'

'You're not,' said Harry at once. 'You're not. I...shit. I'm sorry.'

'You don't have to apologize,' said Lupin. 'Vent your spleen as much as you need to. You're entitled.'

Harry sighed again, and picked up the crumpled document from his bed. He read it again, and snorted.

'Says I'm expected in court on 31 July,' he said. 'Happy Birthday to me.'

'I really am sorry, Harry,' said Lupin.

'I know,' said Harry. 'It's not your fault.'

There was a brief pause, and Lupin spoke again. 'There's more.'

'More?' said Harry. 'Please tell me you're joking.'

'This part isn't so bad,' said Lupin, smiling. 'I've been in consultation with Dumbledore about this, and the Weasleys. With Voldemort effectively in hiding at the moment and showing no signs of movement, and with everything you're having to put up with...Dumbledore has agreed you don't have to stay here anymore.'

Harry was so shocked at this news that he gasped out loud. 'Are you serious?'

'Yes, Harry, I'm serious,' said Lupin. 'Unless you want to stay--'

'No way!' said Harry. 'Are you mad? I've been dying to get out of here since...bloody forever! When can I leave? Right now? And where am I staying? The Burrow? Not Grimmauld Place--'

'Slow down, Harry!' said Lupin, smiling. 'There are a few things that we need to do for you first. You can't leave today.'

'When, then?' said Harry desperately.

'In three days,' said Lupin. 'In three days, I'll be back with a few Aurors to pick you up. After Dumbledore and I have worked out the details--'

'Fine, whatever,' said Harry, grinning--and meaning it--for the first time in what felt like ages. 'Do what you have to do. Just hurry up and get me out of here. And...I can go to the Burrow, right?'

'Yes, you can go to the Burrow,' said Lupin.

'And I don't have to come back here, do I?' Harry asked eagerly. 'Not ever, right?'

'Not ever,' said Lupin. 'Once you're seventeen you're of age, you're on your own--'

'YES!' said Harry, so loudly that Uncle Vernon yelled 'Be quiet, boy!' from downstairs. Harry ignored his uncle and threw his arms round Lupin's neck; he felt like jumping up and down.

He didn't have to wait three and a half weeks to leave this wretched house. Three days. Three days and he was out of there. Finished with Number Four Privet Drive for good.

'Can I write Ron and Hermione, and Ginny about this?' said Harry, letting go of Lupin.

Lupin sobered. 'I don't think so, Harry,' he said, and he put up his hands to ward off Harry's protests. 'I know it's safe for the moment but Voldemort still has his followers out there. It's best not to broadcast your movements in a letter. Ron and Hermione will find out soon enough. All right?'

'Okay,' said Harry, and suddenly it didn't matter that he couldn't write to Ron and the others. It didn't matter that he had to testify in Lucius Malfoy's trial. It almost didn't even matter that Susan had dumped him. What mattered was that he was finally leaving. For good.

'I can't believe it,' said Harry, feeling a bit bewildered all of a sudden. 'I'm...finally going to be free of this place.'

'I'm sure your family will be disappointed to see you go,' said Lupin wryly.

'Are you kidding? They'll be so happy they'll wet themselves,' said Harry.

Lupin left soon after, and not long after that, Harry broke the happy news to the Dursleys. Nobody wet themselves, but both Aunt Petunia and Dudley burst into tears of joy, and Uncle Vernon nearly hugged Harry before he caught himself and ordered Harry to get out of his sight and go upstairs to his room.