FIC: Remus Lupin and the Revolt of the Creatures, Chapter 1 / 21 (PG-13)

[paulamcg]

Title: Remus Lupin and the Revolt of the Creatures, Chapter One: Sharing Meals with Harry
Author: PaulaMcG
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: (subtly, eventually) Remus/Sirius
Era and universe: Summer and autumn 1996, an alternative world after OotP
Chapter summary: After Sirius’s death, and having returned to England, Remus must first focus on Harry’s basic needs.
Word count: around 9800
Disclaimer: Remus won't help me make any money.

Notes: EDITED on the 1st of February 2010. I’m happy to declare that this 21-chapter novel can now be regarded as completed (while I’m planning to still polish the final scenes with my beta ishonn by the end of February). I want to thank all the friends, readers, fellow writers and beta readers who have helped, encouraged and inspired me ever since I entered the fandom with this chapter one in September 2003. An earlier revision of the first third of this chapter was done in May 2005 with help from jazzypom. Thanks to invaluable feedback from my f-list, particularly kellychambliss’s excellent nit-picking, I’ve managed to fix some mistakes and to make other improvements in the text I posted here f-locked in July, having started to revise the early chapters.

Remus Lupin and the Revolt of the Creatures

PART ONE: THE VICTIM

Chapter One: Sharing Meals with Harry

It was the hottest day of the summer so far, but Remus was shivering with cold. He was used to the feeling, though. It could mean that his temperature was rising again. Or perhaps it was normal, since he had left the sultry London street so suddenly, boarded the Knight Bus, and fallen down on the cold floor.

Remus had felt rather ill for the last few days. Still, he had assured Dumbledore that he was well enough for the trip. He had asked to be appointed for this task, because he was eager to see Harry and he believed he was the right person to find out what Harry really needed. Little had he known until - upon his return from those exhausting travels through the foreign werewolf communities - he had forced the members of the Order to confess that nobody had checked on Harry. They had been so busy with the goblins that they had, in spite of their promise to expect frequent reassurances, chosen to believe that Harry’s silence meant he had nothing to complain about. Only an alarming letter had made Dumbledore himself consult Remus. He had realised that he was too weak to apparate from such a distance, though.

The bus had started so abruptly before he had managed to look for a seat or to get a hold of anything, that he found himself sitting on the floor, trying to push closed his briefcase, which was falling apart. He chose to stay where he was until the next stop, and only checked in the pockets of his robes that the money he had just barely managed to gather for the bus fare was still there.

The Order should actually have paid at least for the expenses, but he had felt ashamed to mention such a small amount. Molly seldom forgot to ask him for tea, so it was bearable to cut down his expenditure. The odd cleaning jobs he managed to get in spite of the werewolf regulations paid something, if a mere pittance, whereas working for the Order gave him no personal benefit, apart from, possibly, some raise in self-esteem, and anyone of his status had to be grateful for that.

A violent shudder shook Remus again. The bus floor felt icy cold. He pulled the frayed hem of his robes to cover his toes, which were looking out of his shoes, and he peered around to see if anyone was watching.

If the few passengers had noticed his boarding at all, they had promptly turned all their attention back to their drinks. Just the conductor was looking his way, and approaching as well. Remus quickly reached for the coins in his pocket again and handed them up towards the conductor, so as to give him no chance to say anything based on an understandable assumption that he was a beggar.

Instead, the conductor suggested, “With just six sickles more you could have lunch with a cold drink.”

“No, thank you.”

Remus closed his eyes momentarily, trying to ignore how hungry he was, or at least to stop his stomach from rumbling. Opening them again, he was startled to see that the conductor had bent down and stretched his hand in order to help him stand up - and even looked at him without open disdain.

“Let me lead you to a comfortable seat. The ride is not too smooth, you must have noticed. Sorry about that.”

Remus let himself be helped but kept the briefcase under his arm. “Could you help me upstairs?”

“Upstairs? But it’s so hot!”

“No, for me it’s too cold down here. I’m not feeling so well.” Remus was soon happy he had not been too shy to confess that.

The conductor took him to a couch upstairs, where it was all deserted, and soon returned with a blanket and a mug of tea, and he even mentioned tactfully: “The Knight Bus offers this as compensation for the unpleasant start of your journey. I hope you’ll manage to have a rest and get feeling better.”

Remus muttered his thanks and drank the tea quickly, so he could lie down on the couch, curled up under the blanket. He fell asleep while still wondering if the new incredibly polite conductor was actually a cultured man but just another part-human, who had been lucky to get some kind of a job.

The conductor woke Remus up when returning to ask where he wanted to get off. Because Remus had not paid extra, he was the last passenger to reach his destination, but now all the others must have left.

“Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey,” Remus muttered, a bit dazed, but feeling sounder than before the nap.

The bus took a giant jump and after just a moment it pushed aside a garden wall a few blocks from the Dursleys’ house. Remus got off, pressing the briefcase against his chest so as to keep it from opening. The bus disappeared, and the wall jumped back.

Hiding in the shade against the wall, Remus looked towards the Dursleys’ and saw a corpulent man and a no less corpulent teen-age boy beside a shiny car in front of the house. The boy squeezed himself behind the steering wheel, and Remus thought he would wait for them to leave. But the boy just drove to the gate and then backed towards the door and continued to drive back and forth, while Mr Dursley was standing by, beaming of pride for his son and his car.

Remus decided to disturb them only with a loud cracking sound. He gathered his strength and apparated to the back garden.

In a moment there was another crack, as Dudley Dursley, startled by the first crack, smashed his father’s car against the gate. Remus had barely enough time to realise what could have happened on the side of the house he had just left, before something hit him and he fell on the lawn.

Lying on his back, he looked up and saw a lawnmower and behind it a skinny teen-age boy dressed in rags and with a lightning bolt scar between his lopsided glasses and messy black hair.

The terrified look on the boy’s face turned into a wide smile, and he came around the lawnmower and reached for Remus’s both arms so as to help him up. “Professor Lupin, I’m so sorry. And I’m so glad to see you!”

They were now standing very close, and Harry was still holding Remus’s hands. Shifting to a handshake seemed pointless. Remus looked at Harry, and suddenly overwhelmed by a painful feeling of pity he made a move to hug him. Harry seemed to share his emotional state, so easily he reacted and let Remus press him against his chest for a long time.

Then Harry probably started to feel awkward and to look around for an excuse to stop the hugging. “Oh, your suitcase!” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Embarrassed, Remus put his hands in his pockets and did not look up until he got his wand out. He then quickly muttered a spell that made his scattered possessions return into the suitcase and slammed it closed. Why did he have to feel so ashamed if Harry saw his old socks and underwear? Harry certainly was not dressed in the fanciest way himself. Remus caught Harry staring at his face.

“Professor Lupin, you look terribly tired. How was your journey?”

“Thanks, not bad. I took the Knight Bus from London to Privet Drive, but in fact it was quite comfortable. But let’s go and sit down. I think it’s you who looks terrible.”

Remus stepped to the edge of the lawn, where there was a garden sofa and two chairs around a table, and with a sigh he sat down on the sofa. Harry followed him and sat down on the edge of a chair glancing over his shoulder towards the house.

Harry now looked embarrassed. “Well, these are just the clothes I wear for garden work… and other work … and I really should… I must work all the time, so they don’t give me other clothes. And this summer they had this great idea they use Dudley’s old clothes as cleaning rags, I mean I use them as cleaning rags, before I’m allowed to start wearing them.”

Remus saw an attempted grin on Harry’s face and stared at his t-shirt and shorts for a moment but decided not to comment on them. “No, I mean you are the one who looks really tired and like you haven’t eaten properly for the whole summer.”

Harry looked back again and then down at his hands, which were dirty with soil up to the thin wrists.

As he did not answer Remus continued, “So, it was true what you wrote in your letter.”

“To Dumbledore?” Harry still avoided eye contact.

“Yes. He got rather worried when you wrote to him that if he didn’t have you taken away from here, you would just leave on your own - that you’d rather die out there in an attack than let the Dursleys starve you to death. We both thought it wasn’t quite your style to threaten him like that just because of arrogance or being bored.”

“Well, yeah, I’ve been… bored, closed in this house. And though Dumbledore did not talk to me or even look at me for the whole year until… the end, well, now I thought I could tell him honestly, because I really wanted to leave…”

“And honestly, they are not treating you any better than before?”

“No. I wonder… it’s even so much worse now… whatever that spell is that gives me protection as long as I can call this my home, it must have stopped working, too. I’m allowed to scrub the plates when I clean the kitchen after their meals, and there’s a separate shelf with oat flakes and sometimes macaroni for me to live on.”

“Do you know what there is in the fridge?”

“Yes, of course, they have lots of stuff, but I’m not allowed to touch it except when sometimes there’s something left I have to put back in there. They don’t use me for cooking now either.”

“Name something nice there is.”

“Why? Well, chicken salad, and chocolate cake.”

“Accio, chicken salad! Accio, chocolate cake! Accio, two plates and two forks!”

There was such fury in Remus’s voice that Harry bent down, startled, under his wand, which pointed towards the house. And just in time, as a bowl hurtled through the air, across the yard and above his head onto the garden table, followed by a cake and a couple of plates and forks.

“I’m glad you offer me this lunch,” Remus said. He smiled, although he still felt the rage shaking his body. “I have skipped a few myself. Well, help yourself.”

Since Harry hesitated, Remus filled both plates with chicken salad and thrust one to Harry.

“I think you shouldn’t have... when my aunt or uncle notices, and maybe they did, they’ll rush here.” But Harry could not help starting to smile, too. “So better grab at it quickly!”

For a while they both ate in silence. Then they began to cast fleeing looks towards each other. Finally Remus put his empty plate aside and leaned back on the sofa.

“Do you want to help yourself for more? But be careful not to eat too quickly and too much. That does no good, if one has not eaten enough for a long time. What is there to drink? You must be thirsty, too.”

“Strawberry juice.”

Harry did not bother to look away from the food to see Remus summon the jug and two glasses. So, he missed the scene of Mrs Dursley running after them.

Remus paid attention to the look on Mrs Dursley’s face. While she was running as fast as she could on her high-heel slippers, with her arms stretched forward to reach the flying jug, her expression grew more and more irritated, but there was no trace of fear or even amazement. Remus had just time to wonder if Harry’s aunt had only got too much used to magic since Harry started at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. At the same time he quickly considered his next move, and for two reasons he made another movement with his wand, checking that Mrs. Dursley was sure to notice it behind the jug, on which she had her eyes fixed. When she arrived at the garden table, a third glass whirled over her shoulder and landed on the table next to the others and the jug, and she now stared at the man whom she knew she could blame for what no longer irritated but rather infuriated her.

Remus felt Mrs Dursley examine him from head to toes, literally. He was at once humiliatingly aware that his shabby appearance could turn him into far from the right man to make this woman treat Harry decently. He forced himself to remember that the Dursleys had not shown any respect in front of any other wizard either. He had not made any plans beforehand. But now instantaneously he arrived at a plan, which did not require respect but would rather benefit from the lack of it, and his self-esteem had a boost. He glanced at Harry. To make Harry not worry, or feel ashamed of his protector, Remus could do nothing but wink at him.

He stood up and bowed his head slightly. “Good afternoon, Mrs Dursley. I apologize for coming directly to my student and friend here and not greeting you first, and not introducing myself: Remus Lupin. But please join us for a glass of strawberry juice.”

Mrs Dursley opened her mouth but was possibly too infuriated to choose which word of insult to let out of it. As she did not make a move to sit down, Remus lifted his wand slowly in her field of vision - for her to follow it with her eyes and to see how he made a chair move just a little bit closer to her. He guessed that Harry, having expected a more prominent demonstration of power, was probably disappointed with his performance. But it was not his intention to scare Mrs Dursley, on the contrary.

Without even wincing, she sat down on the chair in a determined fashion, as if she had wanted to defeat and thus deny any magic that could have been sensed in it. A very concrete experience of her own superiority, as under her weight - although it was modest compared to that of her husband’s or son’s - the chair certainly did not continue to move, was exactly what Remus wanted to give her. He had also achieved his other goal: he was now allowed to sit down and be more comfortable again.

Smiling, Remus poured juice into the glasses and placed the first one in front of Mrs. Dursley. He was actually surprised how well his behaviour made her control herself. He turned with the second glass towards Harry and saw him sitting on the edge of his chair again, looking utterly uncomfortable, as if wishing he had left long ago. Remus realised that Harry most probably expected the two of them to go away from the Dursleys’ any moment now. To preserve the silence, which he, and clearly he alone, found relaxing, he just showed with gestures that Harry stay and continue eating.

He made another polite gesture towards the chocolate cake, looking up to Mrs Dursley - but immediately after thrust the whole cake in front of Harry and now said, winking at him, “Eat. Remember: chocolate is one of the best cures after all mental or physical pain we have suffered.”

And Remus broke a piece for himself and put it all in his mouth, leaning back and turning to Mrs Dursley again.

Certain words had finally won the battle inside of her furious mind and burst out. “You… you freak… have no right… and you boy, you have no right to eat that cake, you go back to your work now!”

Now Remus found it hard to control himself. But he let only a part of his fury to be expressed by the tone of his voice and by the words he chose. “Mrs Dursley, I have to strongly disagree with you. Any child who has been starving the whole summer has all the right to eat anything he finds in this house, and especially a child who has been trusted in your care and who has called this place his home since he was a baby. You treat him like a slave. Do you sell him as labour to your neighbours as well?”

“We treat him exactly the way we want to. Or you take him away. I don’t mind! Take him and go now!”

“I’m not taking Harry away now. I cannot take him.” Remus looked apologetically at Harry.

Harry looked like he would have preferred obeying Mrs Dursley’s first order and hiding behind the lawnmower, to listening to what Remus was saying.

“But you yourself go now!” Mrs Dursley shouted, standing up. She looked oddly disappointed, even uninterested in the whole discussion.

“I’m not going yet. I came to talk to Harry and I`m sure it won’t harm you too much, if I stay for a while. I promise not to take another bite of your precious cake. Harry, you just eat.”

The words directed to Harry were useless, as Harry looked completely deprived of appetite and more ill than when Remus had first seen him.

“You - go - now. Or I call the police. You know I don’t want them to think that we have anything to do with freaks like you. But I’ll tell them it’s just a criminal, a beggar…” Mrs Dursley cast another despising look on Remus’s clothes, and her tone grew, if possible, even more malicious. “Yes, I’ll tell them you broke into our car and smashed it against the gate. I reckon that was your fault in any case. I’m going to talk to my husband, and if you are still here, when we come back - you’ll be in trouble!”

She turned and walked to the house without looking back and with as long strides as she managed on her heels.

“Let’s go now.” Harry’s voice was weak and urgent.

Remus leant towards him. “I was telling the truth. Harry, I am sorry. I cannot take you now. I’ll go in a moment, but I won’t go far. I trust I’ll see you tonight at Mrs Figg’s. And one day soon, hopefully tomorrow you’ll have an escort to take you to the headquarters. You know Dumbledore would consider it too risky for you to travel with me alone.”

“But they won’t let me go to Mrs Figg’s… Please, can’t we…?”

“Yes, they will let you. They will order you to. I suppose you haven’t been visiting her much this summer?”

“No, not once. I haven’t been…”

“Yes, Mundungus has told us you haven’t been even out on the streets. He’s only seen you on the yard washing the car or cutting the hedge. So the Dursleys don’t know that she could be on our side. Or that you might want to go and work for her. Don’t let them notice you do. Ask them to let you have a rest and not go. So, I will see you there. I was telling the truth. I do want to talk to you, Harry. Now tell me exactly where Mrs Figg’s house is…”

Remus apparated inside a gate which smelled strongly of cats. He immediately saw the front door swing open violently, so that could have been mistaken for the source of the cracking sound, and a cat jumped out of the door as if it had been thrown. The cat stood on the path in front of him only for a moment and then quickly disappeared in the bushes. He waited, squatting by the gate for a few minutes and then, hoping that anybody whose attention might have been attracted by the sound of his apparating had stopped looking, he walked quickly to the door, which had stayed open. He stepped in and on the side, out of sight of anybody who might have been looking at the house.

Then he knocked on the doorframe. “Mrs Figg, excuse me, may I come in?”

She came to the hall immediately, a small old woman. She crossed to the door and stood on the steps for a while looking around and calling strange names, which probably belonged to cats.

After closing the door she turned to Remus with a rather blank look on her face. “Yes?”

“Yes, good afternoon, Mrs Figg. I’m on a duty for the Order…”

“Of course, that I know. Too much trouble with you folks apparating, and in the middle of the afternoon, neighbours returning from work… At least there has not been so many of you this summer. They seem to be able to spare just that cursed Mundungus Fletcher every now and then, and he’s the one who blew it last year, so no use really, just trouble for me… So?”

“My name is Lupin, Remus Lupin.”

Mrs Figg took a few steps back and pulled her cardigan tight around herself. Another cat came to rub herself on her legs and made to do the same to the visitor but suddenly changed her mind and rushed up the stairs. Mrs Figg shuddered, then said slowly, “I have heard about you.”

Remus lifted his hand on his eyes. His mind refused to look for a way to persuade this woman to trust him. All his awareness was suddenly filled with enormous tiredness.

He let out a sigh and said without much conviction in his quiet voice, “Then you have probably heard that Dumbledore trusts me and Mundungus is a friend of mine. Besides, the full moon was a week ago. My condition does not harm anybody except myself. And I did not come here to harm you. But I came to ask for your help. I hoped you would not mind taking a little trouble to help Harry.”

Looking up, Remus saw Mrs Figg turn and walk into a room.

“All right then. Come in!” she said without glancing back.

The room was rather dark, as the curtains were closed, and the air was far from fresh. Mrs Figg walked around small low tables and sat down. Four or five cats sprang up from the carpets and chairs and rushed past Remus and out of the door. He put his briefcase down carefully and sank into the nearest armchair. He felt all this apparating and talking to disapproving women was consuming the rest of his strength. And he had thought he could have shelter for the night in this house.

“So? Tell me… you went to see Harry. I heard the sounds in that direction. How is he?”

Remus described openly all the details of his visit - except the opening of his suitcase.

“Oh my goodness! I should have gone and seen the boy a long time ago! Those worthless hypocrites… those… So do you want me to go and bring him here?”

“Yes,” said Remus, relieved, “but not quite yet. It would be too suspicious, if a neighbour arrived to ask for labour too soon after I mentioned it.”

“Ah, you mean… You are a clever fellow!”

Wanting to make sure Mrs Figg appreciated all of his action, he hurried to explain, even slightly exaggerating how purposed every detail had been, “Yes, you see, I planned carefully how to appear in front of Mrs Dursley. I decided to make her so angry with me and Harry that she would definitely want to get rid of him, at least temporarily, if I didn’t take him away, and to make her eager to defy all my demands. And so as to make her dare do it, I gave her such an impression that I was no serious threat to her, just a weird beggar, whose moving chairs she could easily stop.”

He grinned and Mrs Figg returned a laugh and even clapped her hands together. “You are a great fellow! Not like those pompous wizards…”

Remus now eyed this old woman more carefully, while she was leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She was wearing several dresses and aprons on top of each other, and it was hard to say if it was muggle or witch fashion and if her appearance was neat and considered or haphazard. Her grey hair was at least carefully arranged in a net. Besides the cardigan she seemed to consider woollen socks in her scarlet slippers necessary on the hottest day of the summer. In case she didn’t fear or even dislike him anymore, she could be a suitable companion for a weary old man like Remus. He estimated that she could have been twice his age, about seventy.

“If you don’t mind the trouble, Mrs Figg, I would suggest you go to the Dursleys’ after a couple of hours and tell them you need some help in cleaning…”

“Yes, cleaning a room where my four eldest cats have stayed and forgotten to use their sandbox. You know, they are getting a bit absentminded, and I can’t really leave that poop and pee there for more than a week, but I hurt my back. So I need a strong young man to move the furniture to clean it all properly!”

“Excellent! The worse the job, the more willing Mrs Dursley will be to sell Harry’s labour to you just to punish him - for eating this afternoon - and to defy me. I wonder if she will ask for a pay, but I don’t think she’ll refuse no matter how little you offer.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind even paying for fooling that cruel woman and helping poor Harry. But I could also pretend to prefer her own son and admire how strong he looks and hesitate when she only offers Harry.”

“What a plotter I’ve found in you, Mrs Figg!”

“Just don’t think I really have any messy room in my house, Mr Lupin. My cats are most cultured, just a bit sensitive and shy sometimes in the unexpected presence of a gentleman. In fact, I have quite a comfortable and warm guestroom upstairs, where I would like to invite you to spend the night. Unless you are in a hurry to leave with Harry.”

“Thank you very much, Mrs Figg. I understood, of course, immediately that the messy room was only a clever trick of yours. And, yes… in fact, I would be very grateful for a chance to stay here overnight. I am not planning to take Harry away tonight. I suppose you know that there is a protection for him, which prevails only while he is at the Dursleys’.”

“Yes, Mr Dumbledore told me about that almost fifteen years ago, when he asked me to move into this neighbourhood.”

Mrs Figg sighed and shook her head, and it took a moment before she continued. “I was supposed to watch over him. But it really got serious only last summer when they said that He Who Must Not… I don’t understand, well I’m just a squib but still, I don’t think much of wizards, if in their wars of power they have to be after a child like him. Even the way they protect him, all his life it’s been torture. Even I was told to give him a hard time, when he was a little boy and I was babysitting when his aunt and uncle took their own son out to have fun. He was not supposed to know that there was a whole other world of people who loved him. I wonder why. Now I think I should have had the courage to disobey their orders. I could have always said I just let it slip… The same this summer, I should have gone myself to see how they treat him. And I wonder how it was possible for him to grow to be such a good boy. I haven’t got much chance to know him closely, but as I joined him on the street right after the attack last summer… He had saved his cousin’s life and he went on and helped him home, no matter what a burden that bloke was - and had been for him all his life…”

She paused and lifted a hand over her mouth. “But the Dementors, Mr Lupin! Are you sure it is safe to get Harry out of that house, if you are not taking him to the Order tonight?”

“Don’t worry about Dementors. Harry knows how to fight them, at least as well as I do, and I’m the one who taught him to do it. Yes, I’m proud of him, and not only for his ability to conjure a patronus. You are right, Mrs Figg. It is amazing what a character he has developed, but I’m afraid there are such weaknesses which may harm Harry himself, if not others. That is perhaps the strongest reason why I hope he can meet us here tonight. The Order is busier than last year. They say it’s a war now, and I’m not sure they can arrange an escort for Harry even so quickly as for tomorrow. Until then he must not spend a night away from the Dursleys’. That’s why I have this plot to make them let him come here just for a visit and in a way which will allow him a chance to come tomorrow evening again, but just for a few hours. I’m taking a risk, I know. It’s not the Dementors I fear, but this year… Well, anyway I think we must let him have a break from the Dursleys and talk to us before he is too suddenly taken from this life of deprivation to live among the Order and all the expectations… You must find it hard to understand, it’s not easy for any of us, either, but no matter how much Dumbledore tries to keep Harry away from the war, it’s just a matter of time when he must eventually join it, and it’s up to him alone to end it. In any case they have other ways to still protect him outside the Dursleys’, too, and I trust Dumbledore himself would consider it inhuman to force him to stay here any longer. Well, I’m talking too much, it’s such a pleasure to have a conversation with you, Mrs Figg. In fact, I just needed to say that I have to send a word to Dumbledore. The condition of my health makes it impossible for me to apparate all this distance to him. I wonder if I need to take the Knight Bus later tonight, unless Harry tells us he is able to use his owl to send a letter.”

“But you can use that filthy bird Mundungus Flether brought me.”

“Are you telling me you’ve got an owl?”

“Yes, I was given one soon after the beginning of the summer, when they said they could not spare a guard to stay here all the time and it didn’t seem necessary either, as Harry never went out. The bird disturbs my cats and it is messy, and, well, in fact, I keep it in that guestroom, so the room may not be as clean as I would wish.”

“But that is excellent. I’d like to write the letter immediately. I’ve got some parchment and ink and a quill in my briefcase.”

“So, I suggest you go to the guestroom, write and send the letter and then make yourself comfortable. Have a rest until Harry arrives, as you said you are not quite well, either… But for goodness’ sake, I haven’t offered you anything, here I just talk and talk! It’s almost time for tea…”

“No, thank you, it’s all right. As you heard I was offered a lunch at the Dursleys’”, Remus hurried to answer, grinning. “If you don’t mind we could postpone the tea until Harry is here.”

“All right then, I think it’s time for me to be more flexible with my habits. It wasn’t my habit to invite gentlemen for sleepovers in my guestroom, until the Order ordered it last summer. But you are not the least pleasant guest I’ve had. And I will bring you a hot herb drink - that’s something a squib knows something about. I can see you’ve got fever. Come with me. I’ll show you into your room.”

He was flying up into clouds and out again to ever colder layers of air. He felt his damp clothes freeze on his skin and he leant forward trying not to lose the grip on his broomstick. His hands had grown numb and he wanted to slow down and warm one hand for a while inside of his robes. But he had to catch up with Harry and make him turn back. This was not the way they were supposed to go. They were not supposed to go at all. They had better stay locked up in a stinking room and have a rest until the war was ended.

A green lightning bolt illuminated the clouds under him and he saw Harry rushing forward in front of and a little above him. The boy looked back, the messy black hair blown to cover his face. Just like James in quidditch, always ahead of Remus. But the hair had grown so long he looked more like… Harry tossed his head recklessly and the wind blew the hair off his face. And it was Sirius’s face. Another lightning coloured the face green.

Sirius spread his arms, laughing. “Come on!” he yelled. “You can do better than that” And he bent back his graceful head and his whole body and fell off.

“I can do better, I can still catch him, I just reach out a little further than last time,” Remus said to himself. He let go his both hands and fell.

I’ve lost them all. The thought was like an iron belt circling his mind and squeezing it ever tighter. Remus was lying on the floor, his body aching and trembling, covered with cold sweat. They are gone. The phrase was repeated in his mind again and again, until he slowly became aware of a sound of knocking.

“Can you not hear me, Mr. Lupin? Are you sleeping?”

The voice was so cheerful that it suddenly conceived on Remus’s mind an image of a young girl, and almost triumphantly the voice announced, “Harry is here!”

Remus felt like laughing from relief, partial though it was. Harry was there. And Remus laughed at himself. What a child he was, having nightmares while napping in the afternoon, and falling out of bed!

When Remus came down the stairs about ten minutes later, he heard the bubbling of the cheerful voice, and another voice, low and quiet, joining in only for brief infrequent comments. He let the sound of the conversation lead him to the kitchen door.

“There you are, Professor Lupin!”

In a dimly lit room with bunches of herbs hanging from the ceiling Mrs Figg, with one more apron added over her dresses, was standing behind a white-clothed table, holding two bowls, as if she could not find space for them among all the dishes already arranged on it. With his back towards the door, a boy was sitting at the table, his head bent low. Mrs Figg’s exclamation made him straighten his back and he was about to stand up, but Remus stepped quickly to him, put a hand on his shoulder and sat down on his right at the end of the table.

“Harry has just told me what a great teacher you used to be. I’ve now learnt it’s not only chairs and jugs you have the power to jinx. And your plot worked exactly the way you had planned. The Dursley boy came to the door and got excited. He said the job was perfect for his cousin. He went to ask his mother and came back immediately, saying she also thought that helping a neighbour and for no pay, of course, would be a good lesson for her lazy nephew, and Harry just needed to change into proper clothes for this kind of work…

Remus glanced at Harry’s t-shirt, which was clearly less ragged than the one he had been wearing earlier. Suppressing a comment, he examined the table instead. “Well done, well done… But this is a feast! You certainly know how to prepare other stuff than herb drinks, too, Mrs Figg! It looks absolutely mouth-watering!”

“That’s what the two of you need. Well, I hope you don’t mind if I say this, Professor Lupin. You don’t look like you have decent meals every day either. Just help yourselves, I go and get the drinks.”

“Thank you, Mrs Figg. I admit you are right. Well, tug in, Harry. Don’t be ashamed, I am not.”

“I’m not. But I wish you didn’t talk about my starving all the time. I don’t really care. At least it has kept me from thinking too much… about anything else.”

“I know. I sometimes feel I can’t think of much, when… But it still keeps coming to you, even when you are not aware, doesn’t it? Haven’t you got nightmares? I have, I just had another one this afternoon.”

Harry turned his head quickly and met Remus’s eyes for the first time during the conversation - but looked away too soon again, and there was no other response. He had still not touched the food.

Mrs Figg returned with bottles of butterbeer. “Mundungus Fletcher gave a lot of these bottles to me, tried to make me drink, he preferred something stronger himself, so I guess this is not too strong for you, he said all the wizards and witches drink it and you are quite a wizard, Harry, aren’t you…”

Mrs Figg continued her talk in a steady voice, but Remus noticed she did not expect any reaction. She kept glancing cautiously from Harry to Remus and back again as if she sensed a tension between the two of them, or rather just around Harry. She filled plates for them both but did not mention the food anymore in her endless talk.

“You’ve had so much trouble, Mrs Figg.” Remus started eating. “And this is the most delicious…”

“So what did you want me here for, Professor Lupin, if you can’t take me to the headquarters?” Harry said abruptly. “I don’t think you need to watch me eat and to feel pity for me, or do you need a detailed description of how I have suffered?”

“But, Harry, I thought you’d like to have a talk with me, too…”

Remus felt suddenly embarrassed, and Harry made it worse by finally turning to stare at him defiantly. Remus could hardly look at his face. It was not pale but tanned, but his cheekbones looked too high and his eyes behind the scratched lenses of his spectacles were too big and burning of desperate fury.

“And I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself. I would leave, I told you I really wanted to, but…” Harry paused and looked away.

“But…” Remus started cautiously. “Did you decide not to leave, and why?”

“Well, I did… I did not… I thought there’s the risk that the Order finds out, and in case somebody still cares and comes after me… I don’t want anybody anymore to…”

Harry was still looking away from Remus and blinking hard. Mrs Figg had stopped talking but opened her mouth every now and then, perhaps tempted to say that the food was getting cold. Remus wished it had been enough to say that.

“You were right not to leave. Somebody would have come after you, of course. No other manoeuvre of the war would have been more important, not to mention other reasons for some of us to… Please, Harry, I haven’t even had the chance to tell you where I have been. I did not mean to bother or insult you by bringing you here. Would you not mind watching me eat for a while and letting me then talk to you? Then you can choose if you yourself want to talk to me or not.”

“Okay… Sorry,” Harry muttered, not turning to him.

Mrs Figg did still not dare to talk. She pushed Harry’s plate closer to him very cautiously, and Remus was afraid of Harry’s reaction to that, but he was relieved when her next move seemed to be the right one. She opened a bottle of butterbeer and placed it beside Harry’s glass. Harry grabbed the bottle and drank straight from it. Remus pretended to smile only at the delicious look of his portion and just glanced sideways to see that Harry now started eating. The bottle had helped Harry show that he was no baby, so he was not ashamed of eating anymore, and he ate like a man, too. Remus winked at Mrs Figg and began to enjoy his meal.

Everything she had prepared was truly delicious, and different from anything Remus had tasted or even seen before. He could find no words to name anything and hardly any to even describe it, but everything seemed to have been refined by a special art of fragrant herbs. “Mrs Figg, I’ll always be a devoted admirer of you cuisine. This meal is a masterpiece of herbal…”

This time Mrs Figg made sure she was the first to interrupt Remus. “May I ask you, Professor Lupin, if all your work for the Order this summer has been top-secret, or could your start your account of it now when I am here, or should I leave the two of you alone, I mean, Harry must not stay very late and I am curious, too, though I don’t think I’ll change my mind, I told you, I can’t make much sense in all this war…”

“Well, not everything is confidential anymore, now that the Ministry has admitted You Know Who is back. And, Mrs Figg, I trust you won’t talk about these matters to any friends of yours…”

“Oh no, Professor Lupin, whom could I talk to? Don’t you know what this neighbourhood is like? When Mr Dumbledore asked me to move to live here… it was hard for me… it took years before I got a neighbour to return my Good afternoon… I’m sure that you can understand how I’ve felt, both of you, when they’ve all looked down on me, even feared me… And now I catch myself not being any better than these people! I’m afraid I’ve been too ashamed to properly apologise…” Mrs Figg wiped her cheek with her small wrinkled hand and hurried to fill Remus’s plate.

“Don’t worry, Mrs Figg, your hospitality has been far more than enough to compensate…”

Remus noticed that Harry had actually been listening, even if he seemed completely devoted to eating and drinking, as he now lifted his head and cast a questioning look at both Remus and Mrs Figg. It had to be a good sign that Harry showed interest even in something that did not concern him directly. Maybe Harry had been wrong after all. Hunger might, in fact, just have made him get more absorbed in his most painful memories and fears.

“Yes,” Remus continued, turning to Harry with an explanation. “For that too human weakness of prejudice: for her cats being a bit shy when they sensed a werewolf in the house.”

“Yes, the cats, I was wondering where they had all gone,” Harry said with polite interest.

“I laid the table for them in the sitting room. That’s why I had to let you stay in the kitchen. I thought we can be comfortable enough in here, and we are fewer than the cats anyway… But now I’m just wasting our time. Let me bring the puddings to the table and leave, and the two of you can continue… Yes, help yourself, you didn’t taste this yet. I don’t know a name for it myself, either, I invented it and since I’ve got nobody to exchange recipes with…”

“No, please don’t go, Mrs Figg. There’s no hurry with the pudding or did you say puddings? You said you are curious, and I promised to tell you something. We talk about a war now, I mean both the Order and the Ministry do. The Order is no longer secret. The Ministry and more or less everybody, including the enemy, know who the members are, but the headquarters are still hidden. And the whole Ministry is openly opposing the enemy, too. But we have actually started waging a war against prejudice as well. The details are confidential, but I can tell you that this summer everybody in the Order has been busy with contacting different minority and foreign communities. Right after you returned here, Harry, I was sent on a world tour among all major werewolf communities to inform them of the rise of the enemy and to convince them that the British nation of witches and wizards wants to advance a friendly relationship with them.”

“And how did it go?”

“Were they friendly to you?”

The questions did not actually encourage Remus to continue. “Yes, of course, they were friendly, but not extremely interested, maybe because… Well, what was worst was the transportation, except in Persia and Arabia. The carpets are really comfortable, especially if you can afford to rent one with a tent and furniture, but in any case you can lie down and have a rest, while the ride is smoother than on the Knight Bus. I wonder what prejudice prevents us from importing them. Personally, I believe the prejudice is being fed just to maintain the market domination of our local manufacturers and the global companies of western ownership… So, I had to use broomsticks or thestrals on most of the long journeys, and the worst was my flight home from Norway across the North Sea almost a week ago. I was unconscious for a couple of days after I arrived at the headquarters, and then Dumbledore came to visit me and told me both about your letter, Harry, and what the Ministry had done. A few days before there had been an explosion in Diagon Alley. A pet shop had been completely destroyed, and Madam Amelia Susan Bones had just been buying dried rats for her cat…”

Mrs Figg let out a short scream.

“Susan Bones! No, her aunt! She is…” Harry’s voice lost all strength.

And Remus was surprised to hear his own toneless voice continue, “She was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and a righteous woman, defender of the rights of all creatures… A tragedy… And it confirmed what kind of a war this is. And how Fudge thinks we should fight. Some people had seen a squat figure leaving the shop just before the explosion. A goblin, the Ministry concluded. They raided the goblin neighbourhood on the same evening and found something that could have been used for making bombs. They didn’t hide anything from the press. A journalist found out that the pet shop was going to sue the Gringotts Bank for killing a flock of geese, which were due to lay golden eggs, by storing them in an airless vault. Now there’s just a debate whether the goblins did the attack because of that alone or on an order from - You Know Who. And two days later, on the morning of the day when Dumbledore came to me, Fudge had legalised the immediate use of the unforgivable curses against any inhuman magical creature caught offending the law.”

Remus stopped to draw breath and continued more slowly, “I’m terrified to think what a turn… just what this means to my mission and a lot of other efforts… Moody and Arthur have got other missions, too, but Tonks in particular has spent the whole summer negotiating with the goblins. And now… One of my first thoughts was, of course, that it had all been wasted… You know the werewolves are legally not human.”

He saw Harry and Mrs Figg stare at him, looking quite terrified, and then quickly drop their gaze. He did not know if he felt shame or pride, but certainly his anger for the Minister’s stupidity was intensifying and gave a new strength to his reproachful voice. “There’s even an argument that the new decree concerning the curses has been drafted in such a way that it could be interpreted to include squibs and muggles as well.”

Mrs Figg covered her mouth with a hand. She failed to notice that she had put one elbow on her plate.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs Figg, I did not mean to make you scared,” Remus hurried to say. “Please, do not think too much about what I said. You know Dumbledore is Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot again, and he has started the procedures to have Fudge’s decree declared to be in violation of the Constitution and the International Declaration of the Rights of the Creatures. Besides, every individual case will be tried in Wizengamot anyway, and Dumbledore is sure not to accept the wider interpretation…”

Remus saw that his talk was just making Mrs Figg more and more confused. He felt like taking her hand and patting it consolingly, but he was afraid she would have sensed the threat of an alien creature in his touch.

“There is really no need for you to worry. Everything will stay quite safe and peaceful in your life here, when as soon as Harry and I have left you need not be in any contact with the magical world until the war is over. Then we will come to visit you again, if you welcome us, and we can have a rest and a feast, too, if you are willing to take the trouble.”

Mrs Figg took a deep breath, wiped her cheeks and stood up briskly. “Now I’ll bring you the first puddings, and you can finish them while I prepare another one. We need now something with chocolate in it.”

“There you are quite right. That’s the one thing I know, while cooking is mainly a mystery to me. Chocolate is the best cure for…” Remus helped by lifting up some of the empty bowls and plates, so that Mrs Figg could put down the ones she had fetched.

She replied, “And another one for me is cooking itself. Oh, my cats will grow so fat when I can’t cook for the two of you but just have to sit here and worry!”

Remus thought he could hear her sobbing in the other end of the kitchen, until she started banging pots and cupboard doors. Bending towards Harry, Remus said in a low voice, “It may, of course, be too late for a cursed creature when the case is taken to a hearing at Wizengamot. So, she’d better be scared enough not to get involved in anything…”

This time, being so close to Harry, who was sitting still with his face quite blank, Remus could not resist the temptation but put his hand on Harry’s hand and pressed it firmly. Harry winced but did not pull his hand away.

“Harry, I hope you can understand now why it’s absolutely impossible for me to take you away from here alone. Maybe also somehow why nobody came before. But I don’t fully understand that myself either. Why did you not tell them - Moody or Tonks or even the Weasley family? And how is it possible the Dursleys ever dared to start treating you this way after we had threatened them?”

“Why… yes…” Harry now pulled his hand away and ran it through his hair. He looked like he did not mind talking about himself anymore, if only he could have remembered anything important to say. In an absentminded tone he started, “They did not treat me badly during the first week. I even used the fellytone, as Mr. Weasley said I should be allowed to.”

Harry grinned vaguely and the smile lingered for a while as he continued, “I talked to Hermione and said I was feeling fine. I lied, of course, but it was true the Dursleys didn’t bother me. I returned Ron’s owl to him and told him the same, and I sent my owl to Moody with thanks for the help from all of you and saying the threat had affected the Dursleys perfectly… But soon after that they locked Hedwig in the cage and it all started. I could, of course, have sent Ron’s owl to anybody I wanted but… I don’t know, I didn’t feel like… And I soon realised it must have all started because of that owl which Uncle Vernon caught.”

“Did your uncle get to read a message somebody in the Order had sent to you?” Remus asked.

“I think so. It was during my second week ‘at home’. One evening when I came down to the kitchen for tea, I saw uncle Vernon trying to hold an owl, while it kept flapping its wings, and then it flew out of an open window. I wondered whom my letter was from. I didn’t recognise the owl.”

“So, did you get it? What happened?”

“Why… no. That was just when they started being nasty. I was eager to get my letter. So, I remember exactly what happened. Uncle Vernon glanced at it, thrust it to Aunt Petunia, she turned away to read it. When I asked them to give it to me, uncle Vernon just said, ‘No.’ And the next morning Aunt Petunia told me I was not allowed to join them for any meals anymore and… and the rest of it came little by little. And she said immediately that I must not go out of the yard without asking for their permission, and if I did she would consider it a violation of the home rules and it would be my home no more.”

“What?”

“That’s what I asked, and she repeated it, so I remember it exactly: violation of the home rules and it would be my home no more. Perhaps they got to read a letter telling me that the Order would not have time to check on me, at least not unless I complained that I had been treated badly. And maybe that I must remember what Dumbledore said about the protection. How I have it only as long as I can call it my home here.”

“I wonder…” Remus could not help frowning. “But why did you not complain?”

Harry did not answer.

Remus considered whether it would be better to leave him alone than to start pleading. He chose not to emphasise the matter too emotionally. “I’ve understood you keep receiving owls from Ron Weasley at least. Have you sent replies to him?”

“Yes, he’s written often enough, about his O.W.L. results and his parents waiting for Dumbledore’s permission for me to visit them, and always how glad he is my relatives are nice to me this summer. So, it was just easier to reply that yes, it’s boring but not too bad… I just couldn’t bear the thought how he… And it’s really not been too bad. I mean I feel I quite deserve it…”

Remus had to force himself to suppress a protest so as not to interrupt Harry.

“I’ve been stupid to think I’d deserve better… I’ve been so stupid… It must have been because at Hogwarts… they all made me believe I’m worth something. I thought I could solve all the mysteries just like that, and I got to the Triwizard Tournament, so it was my fault… and now… if I hadn’t been so stupid and let the dream come and believed it and thought that I’m a great wizard who can just go and save people…”

Harry was now staring straight at Remus and did not seem to mind the tears filling his eyes. He looked desperate to have his confession heard and maybe to check the last hope for forgiveness. Remus had to turn his eyes away for a moment, as he completed Harry’s sentence in his mind: so Sirius would not have died. He had to avoid any trace of blame in his reaction.

“Harry, you are wrong. You cannot be blamed... You should know that. Dumbledore told me he talked to you about it all. And your aunt and uncle have been wrong when making you believe that you are not worth anything. They have been committing a continuous crime when depriving you physically and mentally. Dumbledore can be blamed for the mistake he did by not telling you why it was so important to stop the visions from coming, but he could be blamed for more than that… Harry, the people at Hogwarts were the first after your parents to treat you as a person with rights and dignity. Maybe the difference from your previous ten years was such that you got an excess of self-esteem for a while - but that was just to benefit the whole magical world. I’ve never heard that you used your fame to harm people or even to benefit yourself. You have found your place in the community by acceptable means and with admirable skill, considering especially that for ten years you had little chance to develop that skill. But no matter what you had done, even if you were to blame for anything, you do not deserve what you’ve got from the Dursleys. You’d better always remember this. Nobody deserves to be treated like that. It has been a crime. Every creature has intrinsic dignity and the right to be treated accordingly, to be respected and cared for, and only on the basis of being what it is. Nobody needs to deserve it by anything else but by being a creature.

Mrs Figg had arrived, she had placed another plate of pudding on the table but remained standing, and she now started clapping her hands.

Slight embarrassment somewhat calmed down Remus’s indignation, which had led him to giving such a speech, and he wondered if he had managed to have any effect on Harry’s state of mind. He was about to look up again to check Harry’s face, when some flapping of wings joined in Mrs Figg’s applauding.

Her owl, the feathers of which actually were filthy and which amusingly reminded Remus of unshaven Mundungus Fletcher in his tattered overcoat, flew directly to him and stretched out its leg. He took the letter, and after a quick glance at it he passed it to Harry’s hand and declared, “Albus Dumbledore admits his participation in this crime, as he did not stop it from continuing long ago. And another home is awaiting you, Harry. You will be there tomorrow.”

Chapter Two is here