Realizations

Chapter 23 - Night Thoughts (an interlude)

Saturday, July 22, 1995

Harry plumped his pillow, and reached for the blankets Janet had left for him. After one video, six stories, two rounds of goodnight hugs and kisses, a sip of water apiece, three "lullabies," quite a bit of rocking, and one half-finished conversation, Kitty and Becky were finally tucked into their beds and sleeping soundly.

They'd put up a fine fight, he'd give them that. There at the end, both of them had barely been able to keep their eyes open. Of course Harry couldn't say he was especially surprised. They were excited about their father's arrival, and had really wanted to stay awake and greet him, poor things.

He'd indulged them for a while, reading stories and granting their pleas of staying up "just a little longer." Unfortunately, Janet and her husband failed to appear, and as the hour grew later and later their eyelids had drooped lower and lower.

By the time he'd finally chivvied them upstairs they'd both developed a severe case of the "late night stares." Becky, especially, had been grumpy and out of sorts, wanting to be held and crying fretfully. Harry had been a little concerned about that, until he recalled Janet's parting warning about not letting Becky become overtired. Giving himself a mental slap, he decided he'd probably done just that. They'd had a very busy evening after all, and it was way, waaaaay, past both of their normal bedtimes.

Kitty had actually gone down easier than Becky, which Harry found surprising. Once he escorted them to their frilly domain, he'd expected the older girl to fuss about bedtime, and try to talk him into letting her stay up later than her sister just on general principles. Both girls were very sweet, but Kitty had a more intense nature than her sister. She could be almost argumentative at times. Becky, on the other hand, even in the midst of the "terrible twos" was usually more laid back and easy-going.

Usually...but not always.

There had been nothing "laid back" or "easygoing" about the youngest Wright tonight.

Harry rolled his eyes as he recalled the scene, grateful he hadn't had a large audience. Kitty had been quite enough, thanks, and no help at all. She'd given him an impatient look from her bed, as he tried to soothe Becky, I'm tired, can't you do something to shut her up? written all over her face. She hadn't said anything aloud, though, for which Harry was grateful. She'd obviously been through this before. When he hadn't been able to calm Becky immediately, she'd simply hidden her head under her pillow in an effort to muffle her sister's cries.

So, Harry had found himself essentially alone, holding Becky in the crook of one arm and murmuring nonsense to her, while frantically scanning the paper Janet had left him, and wondering if now would be a good time to summon help. He'd been both relieved and horrified when he'd finally found some advice: "If you have trouble getting Becky to sleep, rock her, rub her back, and sing to her..."

Sing?? He had blinked in disbelief, certain he must have misread it. Rocking and rubbing he could probably do, but singing??!

Yeah.

Right.

Let's traumatize the poor thing beyond all hope of recovery, shall we?

On the other hand, nothing else seemed to be working, and the paper hadn't steered him wrong yet...

A white glider rocker with a fluffy ruffled cushion sat near the foot of Becky's bed. He'd approached it with trepidation, afraid any attempt he made at calming her would only make her cry all the more, but it had actually worked! Becky hadn't seemed to mind his singing at all, proving, as far as Harry was concerned, that there really was no accounting for taste. In fact, once he'd realized that "rubbing" meant moving his hand gently up and down her back and stopped his awkward patting ("Becky not a doggie!"), she'd settled down without too much fuss. Completely knackered from the evening's events, it hadn't been too long before she'd relaxed and her breathing had deepened.

Harry smiled gently recalling how she'd snuggled contentedly on his shoulder, then stopped short and tutted impatiently. Turning his attention back to the blankets, he scolded himself roundly for turning into a giant sap. Voldemort had been resurrected, and he could be hearing from the Ministry any minute now! He didn't have time to get all soppy and sentimental, for crying out loud!

Still... Harry finished smoothing out the covers and quirked an eyebrow. It had been two hours or more since Dobby's "visit." If the Ministry was going to send him an owl for the "improper use of magic," they were certainly taking their time about it. Indecisively, he picked up his bag, then set it down again, wondering if it was safe to change into his pajamas and get ready for bed.

Frowning slightly, Harry wandered over to the living room window, and scanned the sky for owls. He hadn't heard from the Improper Use of Magic Office, true, but he wasn't comfortable enough to relax yet. If he was going to be dragged away to the Ministry or to Hogwarts, he'd just as soon go in his regular clothes, thanks.

Sighing again, Harry crossed his arms on his chest and continued to scan the horizon. This lack of response was bloody confusing. When Dobby had cast his hover charm, summer before second year, the Ministry seemed to know immediately, and responded within seconds. It just didn't make any sense! Even if they decided to just give him another warning, he should have heard from them by now, shouldn't he?

Well, okay, maybe not, the teen admitted, recalling when he'd accidentally inflated Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, summer before Third Year. The Ministry had been too busy chasing after Sirius, and trying to make sure Harry didn't run afoul of him. His little burst of accidental magic had been small potatoes in the grand scale of things, and largely ignored.

Could that be the case now? Did someone in the Ministry (besides Mr. Weasley) believe Voldemort was back? Harry twisted his mouth to one side. It was possible, but no. Given Minister Fudge's attitude a few weeks ago that didn't seem at all likely. Maybe an owl couldn't be delivered because he was currently in a Muggle's residence. Was there, perhaps, a letter from the esteemed Ms. Hopkirk waiting for him back at the Leaky Cauldron?

Frustrated, Harry raked a hand through his hair. He was still afraid of having a nightmare, and would dearly love to cast a Silencing Charm on the couch, but until he knew what was going on he didn't dare. Dobby's magic might have gone unnoticed this time, but he certainly didn't want to push his luck.

Although...

Harry turned from the window, and raised a speculative eyebrow. Dobby wasn't the only one who had cast magic this evening. Kitty had. Becky, too. Heck, even he had! He wondered briefly if the Ministry hadn't noticed because it was wandless magic, then dismissed the thought. Dobby had never had a wand. Harry hadn't used his wand either when Aunt Marge had finally provoked him beyond endurance. The Ministry had certainly cottoned on to those incidents soon enough! So why then? Was it because he wasn't on Privet Drive?

The boy frowned again, considering. That, actually, made the most sense. The protective wards around his uncle's former home had probably been set to snitch on him! Brilliant. Harry made an aggravated noise in the back of his throat, then wandered back to the couch and flopped down on it.

Actually, casting a Silencing Charm probably wasn't a good idea, anyway. On balance, it made more sense to risk the indignity of a nightmare. Bad dreams were easily explained at least, unlike magic. Even if his spell was overlooked by the Ministry, he reckoned Janet would have questions if she returned and found him mumbling soundlessly on the couch.

Besides, there was always a chance he wouldn't have bad dreams or visions at all. Voldemort had been strangely quiet of late, and physical exhaustion always helped keep his regular nightmares at bay. If the way he felt right now was an indicator, he didn't reckon he'd have too many "normal" nightmares tonight. That was a side benefit he'd discovered when he'd worked so hard those first few days at the Leaky Cauldron.

Smiling slightly, Harry leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. Scrubbing floors had nothing on chasing after Becky. She certainly earned the nickname "Snidget.*" Regular little streak of lightning, that one.

Kitty was challenging too, but in a different way. She was the one with the questions. She had grown rather quiet after the ball incident, and said very little throughout the movie and the subsequent bedtime ritual. She'd been so quiet in fact, he thought she had dropped off while he was getting Becky settled. As it turned out, she hadn't. When he'd finished tucking Rebecca in and turned to check on her before leaving, he discovered she had come out from under her pillow at some point, and had been watching him.

"You need to sleep, miss," he had said, straightening her covers, then sitting on the edge of her bed. "You can see your mum and dad in the morning."

Kitty had looked down a minute, then met his gaze again. "Are you going to tell?" she asked quietly, a strange blend of hope, fear and resignation in her sleepy brown eyes.

Harry had regarded her seriously for a long moment, unsure how to respond. What was he supposed to say to that for Heaven's sake? There was no sense playing dumb. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He just wasn't sure what the rules were in this case.

Squirming inwardly, he had grappled with the problem, cursing his own tendency to procrastinate. He'd been meaning to ask Tom how Muggleborn children were approached and integrated into Wizarding society for days now, he just hadn't known how to broach the subject. Before tonight, he had merely suspected that the Wright children might be magical. The matter hadn't seemed all that urgent, so he kept putting it off. Now that his suspicions had been proven correct and he really needed some guidance, he was sitting here looking like a proper fool because he hadn't bothered to ask one tiny question.

Mercifully, Tom had come to his rescue once again, albeit indirectly. As Harry cast around for something to say, he found himself recalling an eerily similar conversation. It seemed he, too, had been uncertain, and in need of a little reassurance not so long ago...

"Are you going to tell him I'm here?" Harry still cringed when he thought about how his voice had quavered when he'd asked that. He'd sounded like a right twit. Fortunately, the other wizard hadn't held it against him.

"Why don't you tell me what happened first?" Tom had asked instead. Even though he clearly didn't understand Harry's reluctance to contact his headmaster, the old innkeeper hadn't made any snap judgments or accusations. He'd simply shown a willingness to listen, and offered Harry a chance to explain himself. That seemed like the best way to proceed now.

"Why don't you tell me about it first?" he had offered with a lopsided grin, hoping to put her at ease. Kitty had balked, however, evidently afraid of ridicule.

"You'll think it's dumb," she'd declared, crossing her arms and frowning sulkily.

"Try me," he'd invited, and at length, she had.

As Harry had expected, she was afraid of losing her parents' approval, but not for the reasons he imagined. Kitty wasn't nervous about admitting her magic. In fact, she'd reckoned her mum and dad would probably think it was pretty cool.

No, the problem was the night light of all things! When she had discovered her magic, Katrina had been sleeping with a full-sized lamp on at night, not a just tiny wall-light. This had evidently been a pet peeve of her mother's.

Consequently, when Janet discovered Kitty had awakened in a dark room, and managed to go back to sleep without raising a fuss, she had been delighted. She had made a special effort to praise her daughter, and let her know how pleased and proud she was. Not wanting to disappoint, Kitty had reluctantly agreed to give up the lamp in return for the two tiny night-lights she used now. "I figured if I had the ball, it would be okay," she'd said, yawning hugely and starting to slur her words. "I was afraid if I told Mom and Dad I still wanted my big light, they wouldn't be happy anymore."

Harry toed his trainers off and snuggled deeper into the corner of the couch, crossing his arms on his stomach, and tucking his feet beside him. Kitty had been relieved to have someone to confide in. She had told him how she hated the little night lights and the creepy shadows they cast on the walls and floor, and admitted that she'd nearly lost her nerve the first night she'd slept without her lamp. The magic had been purely accidental. She'd had no idea what she'd done to produce the ball in the first place, and wasn't sure she could do it again. She even wondered if she'd been dreaming. By the time she finished, she was teetering on the edge of sleep. "I just had to practice," she mumbled before dropping off. "It was sort of like...when I learned...to whistle..."

Yawning himself, Harry shook his head as he recalled the conversation. "Silly little git," he tutted fondly. He'd stayed at Kitty's side for a few minutes, making sure she was asleep and regarding her with a kind of amused astonishment.

That Kitty had told Becky when she hadn't confided in her parents seemed odd. Becky was a sweet little thing, but she was almost guaranteed to babble anything she knew. After thinking about it for a few minutes, however, Harry began to strongly suspect Kitty had been caught in the act by her baby sister. The two of them had shared a bedroom almost from the time Becky had been brought home from the hospital. It would have been difficult for Kitty to hide her magic indefinitely--especially if she used it to calm herself when the lights went out. And since Becky called the game "ball," Janet wouldn’t suspect anything out of the ordinary, even if Becky had told her.

Harry grinned, struck with a thought. Was the name a lucky accident, or had Kitty dubbed it "ball" on purpose?

Everything made a twisted sort of sense actually. The only thing he didn't understand was why Kitty believed her mother would hold such a small thing against her. Anyone with eyes could see that Janet was mad about both her girls. Admittedly, Janet might not have liked leaving a lamp on all night, but Harry had no doubt that she would have, if Kitty truly needed it.

Maybe that just comes from not wanting to disappoint someone you look up to, Harry mused, closing his eyes, and letting his thoughts begin to drift. Almost immediately, his "argument" with Sirius and the others came to mind. He was guilty of much the same thing.

It was hard to describe the rush of apprehensive panic he'd felt earlier when he'd entered his room and spied Dumbledore's message. His first (admittedly childish) instinct had been to pretend he hadn't seen, and simply ignore it. On balance, he'd realized he was being stupid. Aside from sending the enchanted parchment to him in the first place, Dumbledore hadn't bothered to write before now. Whatever his headmaster wanted, it was probably important. Harry's heartbeat had quickened in anticipation. Had the Order figured out Voldemort's next move? Was it finally safe to visit his friends?

Not exactly sure what to say, he'd written "Professor Dumbledore?" and tapped the phoenix icon. It seemed wasteful to use an entire sheet of enchanted parchment that way, but it was the closest thing to knocking Harry could think of. He hadn't really been expecting an immediate reply, but Dumbledore had obviously been nearby. He'd been a little taken aback when the old wizard had written "Where have you been?"

Harry had blinked once, feeling like he was being reprimanded for sneaking in after curfew.

Since it was impossible to tell from the written words alone whether the question was angry or merely curious, he'd been unsure how to proceed. Hoping it was the latter rather than the former, he had hesitated a bit before shrugging and writing "At work." Dumbledore knew he had a job this summer, but Harry didn't believe he'd ever shared the exact schedule he kept. His own curiosity had gotten the better of him, so he'd tacked on, "Is something wrong, sir?" before tapping the headmaster's phoenix again.

Things had steadily gone downhill from there. He'd tried to reassure Dumbledore that everything was under control and wound up in a row with his Godfather.

Harry frowned slightly, then pushed the thought aside. He really didn't want to deal with that now. He'd write Sirius a letter and try to explain tomorrow...assuming, of course that his godfather and the rest of the Order weren't waiting for him en masse when he went back to the Leaky Cauldron.

Meanwhile, it didn't look like anything was going to happen tonight. All things considered, it was probably safe to change into his pajamas and lay down properly, but Harry was too comfortable to move. As he sat there half dozing, he wondered idly what errand Professor Dumbledore had sent Dobby on.

Dobby.

Harry grinned sleepily. He couldn't forget Dobby. It really was amazing how powerful the little house-elf was. He had cleaned up all the clutter in Janet's living room in a snap--literally.

He had also sealed the portal leading to platform 9¾...

And made a bludger go berserk...

All with Harry's best interests firmly in mind, of course.

Yeah, Dobby had come to see him on Privet Drive...

And the Hogwarts Hospital Wing...

And no one...

had...

noticed!

With a startled gasp, Harry's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright. It was true! No one had suspected a thing! By all evidence the little creature could even apparate inside of Hogwarts, where Apparation and Disapparation were supposed to be impossible!

As a matter of fact, the only time Dobby's magic had been detected was on Privet Drive the summer before Harry's second year! Dobby had shown up while the Dursleys had been entertaining Mr. and Mrs. Mason, potential clients of Grunnings Drills. Harry, of course, had been banished to his room for the duration of the dinner party, lest he do something "freakish" or "abnormal." He'd discovered the little house-elf in his room once he'd been sent upstairs, and things had quickly gotten out of hand.

Dobby had warned Harry about a plot (which he couldn't disclose the details of) and had tried to make Harry promise that he wouldn't return to Hogwarts (which Harry wouldn't do.) When he hadn't been able to twist a promise out of Harry, Dobby had resorted to more drastic measures. Before Harry could stop him, he'd scampered downstairs, and dumped Aunt Petunia's pudding on Mrs. Mason's head! Since Harry had been the only (known) magical being on the premises, he'd been blamed for the whole mess by the Dursleys and the Ministry of Magic!

Why that dirty little sneak! Harry fumed, indignation, disbelief, and a kind of grudging admiration warring for dominance. He couldn't believe it! Hogwarts non-apparation wards notwithstanding, if the Ministry had been aware of Dobby's hover charm on Privet Drive, why had they not noticed the little elf's comings and goings?

Why hadn't he been noticed at the train station, or at Hogwarts?

Harry got up again, and went back to the window to gaze at the still owl-less sky.

Dobby had always seemed a bit more...creative than others of his kind. Most of the house-elves Harry had observed were timid creatures, seemingly happy in their servitude, absolutely devoted to their masters, and easily cowed. Dobby, while not exactly defiant, seemed to be willing to at least consider bettering his lot. Of course considering how horribly he was treated by the Malfoys, there was probably nowhere to go but up.

One might think his attitude would be applauded and emulated, but Dobby was actually looked upon as something of an oddball by the other house-elves at Hogwarts. Most saw his status of "freed elf" as a badge of shame, not honor. Most of them would never have dared to do what Dobby did.

Harry had never thought about it before, but the whole thing was really kind of weird. Most wizards scarcely took notice of house-elves, if Ron's attitude was anything to go by. That seemed a bit...imprudent, given what the little creatures were capable of.

He shook his head distractedly. house-elf freedom was one of those knotty issues where "right" and "wrong" were sometimes hard to precisely define. Heaven knew his two best friends had gone around and around about it this past year. Ron didn't see a problem; Hermione thought the whole thing was horrible. Personally, Harry wasn't sure exactly what his feelings were. Normally he would agree that slavery was wrong, but after seeing the way Winky reacted when she was freed, he wasn't so sure. Perhaps it would be kinder to consider each elf on a case-by-case basis.

Coming back to the subject at hand, since house-elves were not typically seen as a threat by the majority of wizard kind, were they sort of "under the radar" then? Were normal protective wards not keyed to detect them?

Harry cocked his head, considering. It was possible, he supposed, and it would certainly explain why he hadn't gotten busted by the Ministry just now. They hadn't noticed because Dobby hadn't been trying to get him into trouble!

As for the magic done by Kitty, Becky and himself, it was probably too weak to be detected without someone specifically watching for it. That little ball was cute and all, but there hadn't been a lot of power behind it.

Whoa. Harry felt a little bowled over. That cuts it. I definitely need to talk to Hermione! She probably knows loads about house-elves, what with S.P.E.W. and all. In the meantime, I should probably get ready for bed, he thought, after cringing at the time. He went to retrieve his pajamas, toothpaste, and toothbrush out of his bag, planning as he did so. If he left late enough tomorrow morning, he could stop and ring her up on his way back to the Leaky Cauldron. If not, he supposed he could try later, or send her an owl.

As he brushed his teeth, Harry found himself speculating on Dobby's errand for Dumbledore again. It had been a little weird when he popped in like that...and what was it he said?

"Dobby is glad to see that Harry Potter is not hurt! Harry Potter is being very naughty--causing much worry at Hogwarts!"

Yes, that was it. Causing much worry. But why? Harry wondered, peering into the mirror above the powder room sink. I told them I was all right. Why didn't they believe me? Frowning, Harry flipped though his parchment "conversation" with Dumbledore and Sirius again. He was missing something, somewhere.

"Harry, we know you aren't in Australia with the Dursleys. Tell me where you are, and I'll have you brought to Hogwarts until all this can be sorted out."

Wait! Harry nearly choked on his toothpaste. When he'd blabbed to Dumbledore about his uncle's house being for sale, his headmaster must have done what Harry himself had not, and discovered that the Dursleys had moved out of country! If that was true, Dumbledore probably assumed he had accompanied them, Harry realized with a miserable groan. You're an idiot, Potter, truly! It's a wonder you manage to dress yourself in the morning!

There was that procrastination thing again. Or maybe this time it was just hard feelings. With Kitty and Becky, he had actually been meaning to take an action. With his relatives... Harry rinsed his toothbrush and shrugged. Since he never planned to darken their doorway again, he simply hadn't bothered. It was obvious, now, that this hadn't been the best decision he'd ever made. If he'd just taken the time to track down where his aunt and uncle went, maybe this could have been headed off, somehow.

He wondered if he should have just kept quiet, but even that was no guarantee. With Voldemort back, Dumbledore probably would have checked up on him, even if the Ministry couldn't be bothered, and Mrs. Figg! She did always pop 'round a few times during the summer--usually wanting him to help her with some small chore. Was that just an excuse so Aunt Petunia wouldn't suspect? Perhaps he hadn't been as isolated as he'd first thought.

Back to the matter at hand, clearly, someone had gone to the Dursleys' new home, probably to set new wards or bring him back to Britain, and had found out he wasn't there. Harry grinned impishly, enjoying a mental image of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia trying to think up a plausible explanation for his absence, then sobered again. He'd only wanted to protect his friends. He'd thought he was doing as he'd been told. Now it looked like all he'd managed to do was cause a lot of fuss and bother. Had he successfully escaped his headmaster's notice all this time because they'd been looking in the wrong place? Was that why everyone was so angry?

And Dobby! Dobby knew where he was! So did Fawkes, come to think of it, but Harry wasn't sure how completely the phoenix was able to communicate. Dobby was the bigger problem right now. He had found Janet's house, after all. Had the little elf not told anyone? Was that why no one had come? Thinking quickly, Harry tried to remember exactly what Dobby had said...

"Dobby has not come to fetch Harry Potter. Dobby is running an errand for Master Dumbledore."

Was that it? Had Dobby come around to check up on him without being told to? Harry frowned calculatingly. Would Dobby feel obligated to tell Dumbledore about Janet's house if he'd simply stopped by of his own accord? Possibly, but it didn't seem likely. Harry didn't get the feeling that house-elves routinely discussed their personal lives with their masters.

Of course this was Dobby and Professor Dumbledore being considered. If Dumbledore asked Dobby directly, then yes. Harry rolled his eyes. He could just imagine that conversation...

(Excited bounce, big smile) Yes, Master Dumbledore, sir, Dobby knows where Harry Potter is. Harry Potter is fine, Master Dumbledore. Dobby saw Harry Potter just this evening.

(Benevolent smile, eye twinkle) Splendid, Dobby, now would you please tell me where Harry is?

(Ear droop, mournful expression) Harry Potter is in London, sir, but Harry Potter said that Harry Potter must stay. Harry Potter told Dobby he could not leave because Harry Potter is sitting on babies...

Oh, great. Now what do I do? Harry felt a little shiver of dread as he dried his toothbrush, suddenly feeling a lot less sure of himself. The idea of Dumbledore bringing his formidable power and network of colleagues against him was nothing short of terrifying. What would happen when he was found? Would he become a ward of the Ministry? As such, could Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic have him committed to St. Mungos? Would his abandonment be splashed all over the Daily Prophet tomorrow, so that witches and wizards could read every sordid detail?

Harry began to think that heading back to the Cauldron when Janet came back was sounding better and better all the time. She wouldn't like it, but he could tell her something. Perhaps that he didn't feel well. That wasn't too far from the truth, really. His stomach was jumping queasily, probably from all his nervous fretting.

He thought about changing back into his clothes, then decided not to bother. There was nothing indecent about his sweat pants. And who was going to care what he was wearing, anyway? Rattled, he shook his head distractedly, unsure what to do next. Perhaps he could make his apologies to the merchants of Diagon Alley and Mr. Lancaster, then resume the "night shift" at the Leaky Cauldron.

I'm too fuzzy-headed to work this out now, I'll think about it in the morning. He walked over to the window for one last look around, the settled on the couch to wait.

Sirius Black sighed moodily as he glanced at the items laid out on Arabella's coffee table. Nymphadora Tonks, another Ministry Auror in the Order had been kind enough to watch the place while he and Remus and Arabella went to Hogwarts.

Amazingly, everything they'd left out was still in place. It wasn't that he didn't trust Tonks, but she could be a bit of a klutz. At the very least he'd expected the container of floo powder to be upset, but it was still sitting on the table, ready for firecalls. A piece of Flitwick's parchment and a quill lay beside it, (message already written) and the mirror in Arabella's living room could have been mistaken for a landscape shot of number four Privet Drive.

Everything was ready for the attack that was surely coming. When the Dark Wizards showed up, the entire Order could be warned in a matter of seconds.

Now came the hard part. Now came the waiting.

Sirius sighed again, feeling restless. He had always hated waiting. James had too. Remus, perhaps because of his special circumstances, was more patient and accepting, and seemed to tolerate it better.

That or he faked it awful damn well.

Even back at Hogwarts when the Marauders had sneaked around, setting up pranks, they'd favored the direct approach. Jokes that had to be chanced upon by some unsuspecting soul were fun every now and then, but it was agony hiding quietly and waiting for the payoff.

"What are you thinking of?" a quiet voice asked, starling him. Turning toward the sound, he saw Remus was awake on the couch, propped on one elbow, and regarding him curiously.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," he chided. The werewolf shrugged.

"I did, a bit," he said, sitting up and stretching. "I guess I'm still a little keyed up from earlier. So, what were you thinking of?"

"Waiting. And James. And Hogwarts," Sirius said, giving the extremely edited version.

Remus grinned fondly. He understood. "Yeah, I never could figure out how you managed, as twitchy as you both were." His amused gaze flicked to Sirius. "And still are."

Sirius stopped pacing for a second and mock-glared at him. "Shut it, you."

Remus chuckled abruptly, making Sirius raise a questioning eyebrow. "What's funny?" he asked.

Remus shook his head. "Nothing really," he said, indicating the mirror where number four Privet Drive still sat, serene and unattacked. He noted absently that a lawn service must have been by--the grass had been cut at some point. "All this nervous waiting just reminds me of when Lily was expecting Harry. Poor James, I never saw him in such a state."

Sirius grinned, thinking back with some effort. As much as he wanted to take Harry in, a small part of him actually dreaded it. Harry would naturally want him to tell everything he remembered about James and Lily, their friendship, and their time at Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, even now, he still suffered from gaps in his memory. It was a side-effect of Azkaban, he supposed. Twelve years with the Dementors. He could recall bad images in a second, almost as if they'd been burned into his brain. Good times were harder to dredge up, and even when he did sometimes they were tainted with negative thoughts.

His clearest memory of James and Lily's wedding day, for instance, was not the excitement of the occasion, or ceremony itself, or the party afterwards. If he concentrated, he could recall those, but the thing that stood out most happened later, after James and Lily were safely off on their honeymoon, the party was over and everyone was gone. He had been at home, wondering what to do with the rest of his evening, when it had suddenly struck him how the day's events had altered life as he knew it.

It had been a little disconcerting to tell the truth. He wasn't afraid of losing James' friendship per se, they'd been through too much for that, but he couldn't deny that there had been a subtle shift in the structure of their relationship. As much as he might wish otherwise, things would never be the same again.

As happy as he was for James, and as fond as he was of Lily, their marriage had ended a cherished chapter in his life and heralded the beginning of a new one. The trouble was, Sirius had liked the way things had been, and was a little unsure about this new and uncharted territory that stretched out ahead of him. So for a few minutes, while no one was around to see, he had allowed himself to grieve his "loss" and come to terms with "sharing" his best friend.

The bad thing was, that little episode had lasted all of twenty minutes. Half an hour at most. That was what he should be struggling to remember, but no. Thanks to Azkaban it had been forced into the spotlight, so to speak, while an absolutely glorious day had been shoved into the shadows.

Thankfully, it seemed to be getting better with time. He had noticed improvements since his escape from prison. Being the guina pig for Snape's Memory Potion a few days ago seemed to have helped the process along as well. Not that he planned to tell the slimy git, of course. Well, okay. Maybe anonymously. Ten or twenty years from now.

He could now recall how James had sent howlers out with the news of his impending fatherhood. They'd gleefully shouted out his message before shredding themselves into confetti, and disappearing in a flash of celebratory fireworks. He, Remus, and Peter had all been pleased and happy, in a "better you than me" kind of way. They'd spoken rather candidly after the fact, and agreed amongst themselves that if anyone could manage, Prongs could. He had always been a rather "take-action" sort of fellow, after all. Besides being the de facto leader of the Marauders, he was usually more than a match for any challenge school, or work, or life itself could throw at him.

Unfortunately, James' tendency to tackle things head-on had not served him well in this instance, especially when Lily hit a few rough patches during her pregnancy. Sirius sighed again. Again, it was the stressful moments he remembered with great clarity. First kicks, the discovery that Lily was carrying a boy, and the general happy feeling of the time were less distinct--like he was trying to see them through a dirty window.

James had once confessed privately to Sirius that the whole process was baffling and terrifying, and he felt like the most useless person on the planet. This wasn't a game to win, an opponent to outwit, or a target he could blast with a well-aimed curse. It was, in fact, primarily Lily's job. He had been unwillingly thrust into the role of 'helpless observer', which he absolutely detested. He could commiserate, and try to offer comfort and reassurance when she was tired or ill or in pain, but there was nothing he could really do.

Poor Lily tried her best to reassure him, telling him again and again that his presence and support were helpful, and that he was doing something. She'd been fairly patient with his almost hand-wringing concern, but as time went on, her temper grew shorter. Once, as she neared her due date, James had asked her if she was okay one too many times in the space of five minutes and found himself running from a fierce volley of hexes.

Sirius grinned softly at the memory, then realized Remus was still watching him. "Yeah, poor James," he agreed, shaking his head fondly, pulling himself back to the present, and picking up the thread of conversation. "The silly git had no idea what he was getting himself into."

The werewolf made a little noise of agreement. "The phrase 'fish out of water' comes to mind," he said with a grin. "They managed, though."

"Yes, they did..." Sirius said, before trailing off into thought again. Harry hadn't exactly been "planned." For some inexplicable reason, the Potters' precautionary charms had failed, so he had taken everyone by surprise. Since the charms were usually very reliable, no one had suspected the truth. When severe fatigue and incessant vomiting finally drove Lily to the mediwizard, she'd been quite sure it was just a "bad stomach bug."

James had been understandably stunned at the news, but recovered quickly. The timing wasn't great, with he and Lily both in post-graduation schooling and Voldemort on the rampage, but he was sure things would work out. They'd always known they wanted children after all. They were just getting an earlier start than anticipated.

By the time he'd sent out his "announcements" he was quite taken with the idea. Lily said he'd gone out to look at toy brooms (can't buy this early, something better might come out by the time he can use it!) and was trying his best to talk her into a Quidditch-themed nursery.

"Do you remember anything about that time?" Remus finally asked, eyeing his friend uncertainly as though afraid he might be intruding on something private.

Sirius nodded slowly, grinning at the realization. Lily's pregnancy and Harry's babyhood had been memories that had stayed with him, in spite of Azkaban. It seemed odd since Harry had been the absolute center of his world. Still was, really. Maybe it was because both of those circumstances had had their share of tense moments. Even if he hadn't been sent to Azkaban, he never would have forgotten the day when routine prenatal testing had turned up an "unexplained anomaly in the fetus."

The mediwizard had been quick to assure them that their baby was healthy and developing normally, but the damage had been done. James and Lily tried to put on a brave front, and claim that "anomaly" didn't necessarily mean "bad", but Sirius knew they had both been scared witless. They hadn't been truly reassured until three months later when their son was born. Tiny, wild-haired, and absolutely perfect, Harry had possessed the usual number of fingers and toes, and hadn't seemed different from any of the other babies in the hospital nursery. Well, besides the fact that he was Sirius' godson, and therefore the sweetest, smartest, most wonderful child ever born.

Since there weren't any obvious problems, the "anomaly" had been noted and "tagged for later study" when Harry was older. Sirius frowned thoughtfully, wondering if anything had ever come out of that. As far as he could tell, Harry was perfectly fine. Perhaps the lab had made a mistake, or the matter had been taken care of.

"He's all right, you know," Remus said out of nowhere, almost as if he'd read Sirius' mind.

Sirius blinked as he was pulled back to the present. "I s'pose," he mumbled gruffly, still a little miffed by Harry's behavior.

"Sirius." Remus' voice was stern now. "You said it yourself. Whatever else Harry may be, he's not stupid. Come on, Snape was just trying to yank your chain," he said, regarding his friend with amused amber eyes. "And from where I stand, he's succeeding."

"What? No way!" Sirius denied vehemently.

"Uh-huh," Lupin responded, looking and sounding supremely unconvinced. "Look, I don't pretend to understand exactly what Harry's reasoning is, but if Dumbledore told him to stay away..." Remus let the rest of the sentence drop and shrugged. "He's probably hiding because he thinks that he's protecting us."

Well, yes, that makes sense, Sirius conceded, nodding. He could almost picture Harry looking earnestly up at him with those big green eyes of his.

"Look, I'm sorry I got short with you, but if I'd really needed help, I would have asked for it. I'm all right, okay?"

His godson's words had been a plea for trust that Sirius found difficult to grant. He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, and raked a hand through his hair. "He says he's okay, and I want to believe him..." he trailed off and spread his hands helplessly, unable to put his feelings into words.

Lupin's shoulders slumped dejectedly. Yes, he thought he might understand what Sirius was trying to say. How were they supposed to believe the boy when he'd withheld such important news? What else might he be keeping from them? And perhaps most disturbing, exactly how did Harry define "okay?"

"Look," he finally said, trying to reassure Black, "I admit Harry's choices this summer have been a bit off-putting, but I did teach him for a year, remember? His approach to problem solving may not be as orderly and methodical as his friend Hermione's, but it's solid all the same. Even when he got an answer wrong, I could always follow his line of reasoning. That said, I truly believe there's more going on here than simple teenage rebellion, although that may be part of it."

"I'm just afraid he's settling for substandard accommodations, or else working himself to the bone to get by," Sirius admitted painfully. "It doesn't make sense, Moony! What kid doesn't consider being left at the train station an emergency for crying out loud?!"

Remus' expression darkened. "A kid who's had as bad or worse happen before, I reckon," he growled angrily. "What we've learned about his aunt and uncle goes a long way towards explaining that." He blew out a little breath and shook his head, then blinked as though he'd thought of something. "Wait... Remember what Arthur said a few days ago? About how Harry was alone at the train station, and Molly had to show him how to get to the Hogwarts Express? Who's to say they didn't just leave him there to fend for himself, then? Maybe he made his own way to Surrey when Dursley didn't show up because he didn't consider that kind of behavior odd."

Sirius' eyes darkened, and flashed angrily. It really was a good thing the Dursleys were in Australia, because if they had still been on Privet Drive... "If that's true, we're damn lucky he met up with the Weasleys," he said a little shakily. "Eleven and alone at King's Cross...God, anything could have happened!"

Remus didn't answer immediately, so Sirius looked back in his direction to make sure his friend hadn't nodded off again. He hadn't, but Sirius noted he had a very sad and far away look in his expressive amber eyes. "Moony?" he asked finally. "Something wrong, mate?"

"Something else you mean?" Remus asked with a ghost of a smile. "No, I was just thinking. I considered trying to get custody of Harry, did you know that?"

Sirius shook his head.

"Yeah," Remus went on with a humorless little laugh. "I thought about it quite a bit after I finally started to get over my own grief. I even went so far as to talk to a solicitor. I knew how spiteful and jealous Petunia could be."

"So what happened?" Sirius asked, frowning in confusion.

Lupin shrugged. "I let him talk me out of it. There were several good arguments. Harry had been placed in a very comfortable home, while I was just getting by. I couldn't swear I'd be able to provide a good home because it's always been hard for me to get or keep a job. No charges or complaints against the Dursleys had ever been brought before the Ministry. I'm close to useless near the full moon, and dangerous when I transform. I also had no legal claim on him." He broke off and arched an ironic eyebrow. "Frankly, my case didn't stand a chance, and even if we had uncovered some evidence. The Ministry doesn't have a very high opinion of half-breed freaks, you know."

He'd meant to say that in a joking manner, but failed miserably. Rising, he walked over to the mirror, frowning angrily at the house shown there. "It seemed so hopeless I gave up without a fight. You don't know how much I wish that I'd pressed forward," he mumbled sadly. "Even if I lost, there would have been an investigation. Perhaps Harry's circumstances would have come to light! Who knows? His relatives might have given up their guardianship willingly! Harry might not have been placed with me, but at least he would have been away from them!

At length, Sirius walked over and put a comforting hand on Remus' shoulder. He was disappointed to learn that yet another opportunity to "save" Harry had slipped away, but he found he couldn't really be angry with Moony. He had a point, after all, the idiots at the Ministry would have fought with everything they had to keep "The Boy Who Lived" from going to live with a werewolf. And really, there were no guarantees that Harry would have been placed with a loving, magical family. If Moony's case had failed altogether, and Harry had been forced to remain with his relatives, would the litigation have improved his lot, or worsened it?

"Should've, could've, would've, Moony," he said with a sigh, amazed to find himself in the role of "calm, reasonable one" for a change. "You aren't the only one who messed up. Do you think I'm proud of the way I played right into Pettigrew's hands? When I saw Harry was alive that night, I should have never left his side. I should have gone with Hagrid, confessed to Dumbledore, done whatever I had to do, but I was blinded by grief and anger and ran off half cocked. All I wanted was find Peter and wring his worthless neck," he sighed again. "But that's all water under the bridge now, isn't it?"

"Yes," Remus agreed. "We can't change the past. All we can do is find him, and start trying to make things better for him somehow...provided he forgives us for being such bloody idiots."

"So he started talking about torches, and I was completely missing the point because to me a torch is a big piece of wood with fire on top, right? He finally realized I didn't have a clue, and said 'You know, miss. Little hand-held light what runs on batteries.' Turns out he wanted a flashlight, for Pete's sake! I felt like such an idiot."

Stephen Wright grinned, amused by his wife's animated storytelling as they walked up the street. Carrying his bag in one hand, he slung his other arm across her shoulders, feeling the cares of the day begin to fall away.

His trip over from the States hadn't exactly been the smoothest. Delays, turbulence, and what seemed to be a million little headaches and annoyances had dogged the flight all the way across the Atlantic. By the time they'd finally arrived, he'd been tired, stiff and irritable, and quite frankly in no mood to deal with two cranky, exhausted children.

As such, he'd approached the terminal with an odd mixture of eagerness and trepidation. He'd missed Jannie and the girls, of course, and was excited about seeing them again, but as late as it was, Kitty and Becky would probably be bone-weary and grouchy to boot.

He figured he'd enter the gate area and find Janet buried under a pile of squalling or sleeping children, but to his surprise she'd been alone. He'd been in the airport for maybe two minutes before she'd spotted him and he'd found himself with an armful of gleefully excited wife. He'd hugged her close and kissed her soundly, spinning her around for good measure before noticing that no one else was clamoring for his attention.

The kids were missing.

Jannie, amazing, thoughtful person that she was, had managed to find a babysitter. Sure, he was a little disappointed, but honestly, everything went much smoother. Once they'd retrieved his bag, they'd set off to find a train back into the city.

That was the biggest adjustment he could foresee, actually. Being without a car was going to take a little getting used to. He'd never been an active patron of public transportation in the past. In this instance, they'd decided that the car would probably be an expense they could do without. They'd reasoned that they could always rent a car if they wanted to take a trip, or buy one if they decided they couldn't do without.

Steve grinned, remembering how his wife had matter-of-factly navigated their way back to London from the airport. Janet seemed to be adjusting well, and the train ride from the airport hadn't been bad at all. Maybe this would be okay.

He was curious about the babysitter, though. Jannie was usually very particular about who she left the kids with. He wouldn't have thought she could have known anyone long enough to trust them yet. She and the girls hadn't been in country all that long, and by the sound of things she'd been unpacking most of the time.

"So, when did you meet her?" he asked, when his wife finished her story.

Janet frowned uncomprehendingly. "Who?"

"The sitter."

Janet grinned. "I already told you about him. It's Sparky--the same kid who works at that little pub and inn over there."

Steve squinted into the shadows. "Where?"

"Over there," Janet pointed vaguely across the street and to the right. "The Leaky Cauldron." When Steve continued to look perplexed, she shrugged. "Doesn't look like Tom lights it up at night. You'll be able to see it tomorrow. It's not a place that exactly stands out, anyway. Just to warn you, it looks like a dive, but the inside's nice. Food's good, too."

Steve nodded. He'd been to a few places like that. "I'm surprised the kids are allowed in," he remarked frankly, still trying to see this mysterious building.

"Tom has his main area divided into dining room and bar," Janet said, describing the setup with her hands. Steve wondered, not for the first time, if it was possible for his wife to speak without gesturing. "He allows Kitty and Becky to come in the dining room, but they aren't allowed in what's considered the 'pub area'."

Steve nodded noncommittally. "How much farther is it?" he wondered curiously.

"Around that corner and down a little ways," Janet replied, pointing ahead. "I'm not quite finished with the unpacking, but most of it is done. We should have plenty of time to finish up and see some sights before I have to start my new job."

"I told you to wait, and I'd help you," he chided.

"I know, but I had to set up the bedrooms and the kitchen, and it isn't like I had a lot of pressing demands on my time," Janet returned with a shrug. "My only real commitment has been visiting the Leaky Cauldron every two days or so to buy pumpkin juice."

"So you mentioned," Steve said, recalling the last few e-mails he'd received. "I can't believe they'd like such a thing. It sounds awful--like liquid squash."

"It's spiced--tastes similar to pumpkin pie," Janet clarified. "Tom makes it in-house. He also makes a concoction called Butterbeer, which is very good. I've never tasted anything quite like it, but it sort of reminds me of cream soda. So far we've just had it chilled, but Sparky says it's served warm in cold weather. Should be interesting to try."

"Sounds like you two have really hit it off."

"Yes, he's very sweet. He's been helping me learn 'English' and sort of showing me the ropes," Janet shrugged. "It's hard to explain. Remember when we met?" she asked suddenly, seeming to veer off subject.

"How could I forget?" he responded, grinning.

"No, I mean how we were almost immediately comfortable with each other. How we sort of skipped that whole awkward 'sound each other out' phase?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I'm sure lots of couples discuss the division of household chores and acceptable discipline for hypothetical children on their second date..."

That earned him an elbow in the ribs.

"Smart aleck."

"That's me," he agreed cheerfully.

Janet shrugged. "It's the same sort of thing. We all just warmed up to each other right away. Me. Him. The kids. I can't explain it, any more than I can explain us, but it's been a blessing. Here we are. Ah. Good. Looks like he got them down," she said, noting the quiet and dimly lit state of the house.

"Did you think he'd have trouble?"

"What, you didn't believe me earlier? Your kids have been bouncing off the walls all day today, buddy! Tranquilizers were beginning to sound like a good idea."

"Oh, so they're my kids now?" he said with mock indignation.

"That's right. I only claim them when they're being sweet and wonderful."

"You must not claim them much."

"Ha, ha, aren't we the witty one?" Janet mumbled distractedly as she fumbled with the door then finally opened it with a flourish. "Welcome home! The house was clean when I left, but I make no guarantees about its condition at this point in time."

Actually, Steve thought, as he entered and looked curiously around, the house looked pretty good. In the soft glow of a single lamp, he could see Jannie had arranged their living room furniture in much the same way it had been in their old house back in the States. There were a few boxes stacked off to the side, still waiting to be dealt with--mostly his things, he noted wryly.

"I didn't want you to miss out," Janet grinned catching what he was looking at. "Our bedroom's upstairs at the end of the hall on the left--oh, for Heaven's sake!"

"What?" Steve asked softly, watching curiously as his wife bustled over to the couch. Setting down his bag, he walked over to her. His eyes widened a bit when he realized there was actually a person sitting on one end of the couch. The boy was curled into a little ball and tucked into a corner, while his bedding was laid out on the other side.

"Looks like someone fell asleep reading," Janet whispered, carefully working one of her favorite novels out of Harry's limp hand. "Here," she said, handing the book to her husband. “He's going to have a crick in his neck if he sleeps this way all night."

Steve accepted the book, automatically fishing his plane ticket out of his shirt pocket and using it as a bookmark. He had to admit, the kid was a lot younger than he'd been expecting. When Jannie said he had a job at a pub, he'd figured late teens at the earliest. This kid wasn't even shaving yet!

She was right, though. The boy's head was lolling forward in a most awkward manner. If they let him be, he'd be in serious pain tomorrow morning.

Setting the book on the coffee table, he watched bemusedly while his wife clucked her tongue and talked softly to the boy on the couch. She was trying to wake him just enough so he'd move, then immediately go back to sleep.

Everything was okay until she gently shook his shoulder. As soon as she touched him, he gasped and stiffened reflexively.

Janet got a classic "damn, I didn't mean to do that" expression on her face, when his eyes popped open in alarm. Still mostly asleep, he blinked stupidly, his brain trying to catch up with his body. Quickly, Jan began to talk again, trying to reassure him before he awoke completely.

"Easy, Sparky, it's just Janet," she soothed. "I didn't mean to scare you, but you need to lay down. You're going to get a stiff neck if you stay like that. Can you move for me, sweetie?"

Sparky made a little noise of protest, but seemed to understand what she wanted. "M'sorry. Did I wake you?" he asked sleepily.

"Sshh. You didn't wake anyone, we just got home. Come on now," Janet coaxed. "Lay down here on the pillow. That's right. You did a good job making your bed. Seems silly not to use it."

While Steve watched, amused, she gently herded the boy into a more normal sleeping position, then covered him snugly with a blanket. "You think he was waiting up for us?"

"Maybe," Janet said, absently rubbing Harry's back. "He could have just gotten interested in the book." She examined her charge critically, then nodded. "I think he's sleeping again."

"I'm surprised," Steve commented frankly as the climbed the stairs. "I wouldn't have thought you were talking about someone that young."

"He's pretty mature for his age in a lot of ways," Janet responded. "Sometimes when I'm talking to him I forget he's just a kid. Other times he'll say or do something that has me wondering if his social education was lacking."

Steve snorted. "That's pretty typical. How old is he, anyway?"

"He'll be fifteen at the end of the month," Janet said, glancing into Kitty and Becky's room as they passed. The girls were sleeping peacefully, Steve noted, watching as his wife walked inside, straightening covers and kissing each girl on the cheek. When they continued down the hall, and entered the master suite, Janet picked up her thought. "Becky's going to let me help her make a cake for him." She grinned impishly.

"Oh, is she now?"

"Mmm-hmm. But just between you and me, I think she's more interested in 'helping' him blow out his candles."

Steve grinned. Oh, yes. His youngest daughter loved candles. "And let's not forget her expertise in the fine art of present-opening," he teased. He turned his attention to his suitecase for a few minutes, throwing his dirty clothes in the basket, and gathering his toiletries before getting ready for bed. He had just finished brushing his teeth when he noticed Janet had gotten awfully quiet. He wondered if she'd gone to sleep, but no. She was staring out the window looking rather troubled. "What?" he asked, moving up behind her, and embracing her from behind.

Janet shrugged. "I was just thinking about something that happened a few days ago. I figured Sparky already had plans for his birthday, so I asked him if he'd mind an extra cake."

"And?"

"Well, that's just it. It was nothing he explicitly said or did. He just looked sort of surprised for a second, like he really hadn't been expecting that. I thought at first that I'd messed up again, and maybe kids don't have birthday cakes here in England, then he smiled at me."

"Seems like a normal response to me, Jan," Steve said, not seeing what the matter was. "What was he supposed to do? Tell you to take a hike?"

Janet wrinkled her nose at him. "Of course not. But he smiled, right? Really smiled. Then he caught himself and got all embarrassed. I was curious about his reaction, but when I asked, he just shrugged and said that his aunt and uncle had never been keen on celebrating their birthdays, or his."

It took a couple of seconds for Steve to grasp her implication. When he did, he stared at her incredulously. "So you think he's never had a birthday party?"

"I suspect that, yes," Jan corrected meticulously, unconsciously donning her "programmer" hat. "I also suspect that he feels he's too old to want something so 'childish', hence his embarrassment."

She met her husband's gaze, looking a little uncertain. "We don't have a lot of time to plan, but I thought I'd talk to Tom--see who his friends are. We could have a little surprise party here or in one of the parlors at the Leaky Cauldron if we can't contact anyone." She stopped a minute, then shrugged and went on, finally getting to the "why" part. "He's helped me more than he realizes these last few days, and I'd just like to do something nice for him."

"Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no? Not that I was planning to anyway." Steve thought a minute then asked, "What about the aunt and uncle? Wouldn't they know who his friends are and how to contact them?"

Janet shrugged again. "Possibly, but I've never met them so I don't know for sure. It's like they're some kind of paranoid anti-social recluses or something. Sparky seems to come and go at will with little or no interference from them." She stopped and snorted disdainfully. "Tom's more of a guardian to him than they are from what I can see."

Steve was beginning to be concerned in spite of himself. Jannie was a passionate sort, no question, but she usually wasn't one to get this spun up over nothing, and she almost never spoke ill of people she'd never met. He frowned a little and studied his wife appraisingly. This had obviously been eating at her for a while.

"If you think something's wrong, isn't there someone you could contact?" he finally asked. "Child Protective Services, maybe?"

"I have no proof. What am I supposed to say, 'I have a bad feeling about this?'" Janet flared in frustration, before stopping and visibly reining herself in. Steve was not the one she was angry with. "Tom and I spoke a little this evening when I went to pick Sparky up, but the girls were there, so I didn't want to say too much," she continued more calmly. "Maybe I can go back and finish the conversation now that you're here. It could be nothing. I could be misreading the whole situation."

It's possible, but you don't believe that for a minute--and neither do I--but that's a problem we'll work on tomorrow, Steve thought as they turned out the lights and climbed into bed. "C'mere," he said, reaching out an arm and pulling her close. "Everything will come out in the wash, you'll see," he said, giving her a little kiss. "And just in case I forgot to mention it, I missed you."

"I missed you, too."