Chapter 24
The end of the summer holidays drew near and Harry found himself reluctant to say goodbye to Mr and Mrs Weasley. It seemed that every time he found an adult who seemed to actual enjoy his company, they were stripped away from him far too soon.
On the last night, Mrs Weasley cooked up a feast. They all helped set up a table outdoors and they are a three course dinner of scotch eggs, potato salad, beef and onion pie and lemon tart under the setting sun. She even let Fred and George let off a few fireworks, their golden sparks blending in with the stars.
The next morning was chaos. Harry and Tim woke up before the sun, their trunks already packed and shrunken but the same could not be said for the rest of the Weasleys. They kept colliding on the stairs with a piece of toast in one hand and toothbrush in the other.
Harry tried to help but it seemed that this was an annual Weasley tradition. He decided to just stay out of their way and settled on the couch with Tim and a copy of the Daily Prophet. The front page was emblazoned with the words: Black still at large. An emaciated man with scraggly hair and manic eyes stared at him. He looked like a reanimated corpse.
“Do you think Joker could have escaped from Azkaban?” Harry asked Tim. Thinking about the clown had grown easier. Sometimes he still saw a flash of green erupting from his hand and the Joker’s body crumble to the ground when he closed his eyes but those visions grew fainter and fainter.
“Hmm,” Tim pondered the question. “Azkaban’s geographical isolation could prove a challenge but I think so, especially if he could recruit a wizard to help him. I’ve read about the Azkaban guards and I doubt they would work on the Joker.”
“The dementors?” Harry sounded out the word. “It says here that the Ministry has sent out dementors to find Black.”
“I’ve read about them,” Tim nodded, “they are blind and rely more on psychological torture than anything else. The Joker is already crazy or was.”
“Black doesn’t look crazy,” Harry considered the mug shot. “Not like the Joker.” He had seen into the Joker’s unnaturally green eyes. There was too much grief and pain in Black’s expression to compare him to the Joker.
Tim shrugged. “He must have found his own way to escape. I bet he had outside help. They could have used time delayed animal transfiguration to allow him to slip through the bars. He wouldn’t have a human mind as an animal but all animals intrinsically long to escape. Once he was through the bars, the spell could fade, leaving him to reorientate himself and swim to shore.”
“Are you talking about Sirius Black?” Mr Weasley wandered into the room, doing up his tie with one hand. “The Ministry has pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far. They only permitted the raids with the hope we’ll find evidence of who might have helped him or where he might be hiding.”
“Why have they done that?” Tim’s eye widened in alarm. “He’s just one man. Is there any evidence that he’ll reoffend?” Harry agreed. If all work stopped when a rogue escaped from Arkam, they would never get anything done.
“He’s one man who killed thirteen people,” Mr Weasley corrected. He lowered his voice and glanced around. “Mrs Weasley wouldn’t like me telling you this but he was a big supporter of You-Know-Who. The guards told Fudge he’s been speaking in his sleep for a while, always the same words: I will find him.” Mr Weasley shuddered. “Black is deranged.”
“Who do you think he’s looking for?” Tim sat up, eyes gleaming.
“I can’t know for sure,” Mr Weasley bent forward, “but I think-.”
“Arthur,” Mrs Weasley marched into the room. “We’re going to be late.”
“Sorry, Molly,” Mr Weasley jumped like he had been burnt. He leapt away, reemerging a minute later, carrying Ginny’s trunk.
“Don’t forget your broom,” Tim called out to Fred, noticing its absence amongst the four large trunks, two owl cages and Ron’s box for Scabbers. Harry couldn’t see how all of this was going to fit into the blue Ford Anglia waiting outside.
“Not a word to Molly,” Mr Weasley whispered to Harry as he opened the car boot, showing off the magically expanded space.
The eight of them were able to fit inside the car with room to spare. Ron nestled beside Harry with Scabbers on his lap.
“I don’t want him to be jostled in the boot,” he explained, holding the box steady. “He’s been looking a bit sick.”
The car peeled away from the Burrow. They were running later than Harry was comfortable with, especially after they had to go back for George’s fireworks but they arrived with ten minutes to spare.
Harry, Tim add Ron slipped through the barrier together. Mrs Weasley hugged Harry goodbye and he might have teared up a little.
“You should come back for Christmas,” Mrs Weasley said, squeezing him tightly, “we’d love to have you.”
Harry waved goodbye and went to find a free compartment with Ron and Tim.
“Go away Ginny,” Ron said, pushing into an empty compartment.
“You can join us,” Harry shoved Ron gently, giving him his best disapproval look.
“That’s alright,” Ginny flicked back her red braid, “I’m going to find Luna. See you at the feast.” She flounced off and Tim closed the compartment door. He released Mortimer from his cage and the raven perched on the window sill, gazing out at the crowd of parents gossiping with each other and hugging their children goodbye.
The train whistle blew and there was a rush outside the compartment as last minute stragglers hurried onto the train. It started chugging forward and Harry leaned back against the seat, petting Hedwig’s feathers.
“There you are,” the compartment door opened back up. Hermione bustled excitedly inside, her arms filled with books. She tipped them onto a spare seat and threw her arms around Harry and Tim. “You never say anything in your letters.”
Neville stood behind her, Trevor held to his chest. He waved shyly. “Can we join you?”
“Get in here,” Harry pat the seat beside him. The sight of two of his best friends made his smile stretch almost painfully wide. It had been too long.
“How was your holiday?” Tim asked Hermione.
While Hermione talked a mile a minute about a summer school she went to, Harry was content to just listen. It was such a familiar situation that Harry could almost believe they had never left Hogwarts.
The conversation changed fluidly to the latest plant Neville had grown in his bedroom and Ron’s recount of the last four weeks. Tim skirted the discussion around everything that had happened in Gotham and quickly changed to questions about what classes they were looking forward to.
“I can’t wait to meet Professor Lockhart,” Hermione said, “I’ve read all his books of course and it sounds like we might actually get someone this year who has done it all.”
“My gran thinks he’s full of himself,” Neville spoke softly.
“If anyone deserves to be, it’s Lockhart,” Hermione’s cheeks were a little pink as she spoke, “not many can say they’ve defeated a kelpie when they were only seventeen.”
“We got to meet him,” Ron said and Hermione’s eyes snapped over to him.
“And?” Hermione promoted, “what was he like?”
“He seemed like a bit of a git,” Ron said.
Harry was relieved when the trolley lady slid open the compartment door and interrupted the discussion. Hermione looked like she was gearing up for a forty-two page power point presentation about how great Lockhart was.
“Anything off the trolley dears?”
Harry bought a few cauldron cakes to share and thanked Mrs Southern.
The conversation was put on hold as they munched on their cakes. Harry had missed Britain’s chocolate. The stuff in Gotham was always bitter and glowed faintly green.
They took turns to change into their school robes and Harry stroked over the Gryffindor crest. The countryside backdrop outside their windows had faded into blackness as the sun set. He considered taking a quick nap when the train started to slow down.
“Why are we stopping?” Ron said, peering out of the window. The glass was fogging up and Harry shivered at the cold air seeping into the compartment.
“We can’t be there yet,” Hermione frowned.
Harry wiped the glass and stared into the night. Something seemed to be moving outside.