For Harry

Harry frowned as he saw Hedwig, his only companion in the summer months, return. She had been out delivering a letter to Sirius for the past day. Luckily for his owl, Sirius, as he had mentioned in his previous letter, was now staying with Remus, who only lived a short distance away, unlike last year when his godfather had been miles and miles away and Hedwig's trip often took many days.

Now normally, getting a letter from his godfather would be a good thing. But at this moment Harry was with Dudley at a babysitter's house. His aunt and uncle were on a retreat for Vernon's firm, Grunnings, which could typically not make Harry happier. The babysitter, Mrs. Figg, was not the least bit nosy about his homework, and treated him much better than the Dursleys did. But an owl flying into her house in the middle of the day would certainly be a problem. See, Muggles, like Mrs. Figg, were not supposed to know about the wizarding world, and if she found out....

Harry quickly took the letter and sighed before locking Hedwig up in the cage again. He hated to do this, but it was absolutely necessary. But one look at Sirius' letter and his mood picked up instantly. He settled on his bed in his temporary room, anxious to see what had been happening in the wizarding world lately. Ron was sending very few owls, but Harry guessed it was just probably on the account that Pig was always tied up with a letter to Hermione, on whom, Harry was fairly certain, Ron had a crush. Eagerly, he opened the letter, but was quite annoyed to discover the message was very short.

Dear Harry,
I'm keeping this letter to a bare minimum for reasons you should find out about in a few minutes. All I will say is to pack your trunk now so you are ready to leave.
Love,
Sirius

If possible the contents of the letter itself annoyed Harry even more than the size. Perhaps Sirius was acquitted and Harry was going to live with him. But Ron certainly would have taken the time, no matter how involving his love life may have been, to tell him about that. Maybe it was the Weasleys that Harry was going to see. But that made no sense either as one of them, not Sirius, would have written. Hopefully, it was not the Dursley's coming home from their vacation slightly early, but thankfully, that was the least logical of all.

Still mystified, Harry quickly packed up his trunk. There really was not much to do, as he had barely unpacked in the first place. After finishing, he flopped back on the bed.

Maybe I could ask Mrs. Figg, he thought, but that suggestion was quickly rejected. He could just see it.

Uh, Mrs. Figg? My godfather, he's a convicted murder and is there any chance he was acquitted so I can go live with him? See, he wrote this letter. Oh, no. Not through the postal service. My owl delivered it.

Or better yet...

Can I go to my friends' house? Really? Well, when they come to pick me up, they're gonna come through the fireplace and leave dust all over the house. Either that or I'll take this wooden stick here and call a bus that can drive through signs.

Harry stood up to stretch and tried to firmly place these thoughts at the back of his mind. A drink of water will clear my mind, he decided. After that, the solution will become crystal clear. So, he trotted down stairs to the kitchen, which was directly at the bottom of them.

But to his shock, someone was already in the kitchen. And it certainly was not Mrs. Figg or Dudley.

It was Snape.