Homecoming
As the train comes screeching to a stop at King's Cross Station, Harry's heart sinks. It's the end of the school year, and while most students look forward to the summer hols, Harry dreads them. Leaving his protective bubble of friends, Professors, and homework for the Dursleys' cold, loveless home is never easy.
“I’ll write to you!” Hermione calls, and then she hops off the train and disappears into the throng of people.
Ron appears at Harry’s shoulder. “I’d write to her too,” he grumbles, “but she’d probably send it back with all the grammar mistakes circled.”
Harry snorts a laugh. “I’ll miss you, mate,” he says. “I’ll write. If Dudley doesn’t smother Hedwig.”
They both step off the train, turning to pull their trunks behind them. Ginny emerges from the next car down, balancing a large pot of what appears to be normal dirt.
“What’s that supposed to be?” Ron asks, wrinkling his nose.
“It’s my homework.” Ginny says proudly. “Professor Sprout said that I did very well in Herbology this year so she gave me this to take home. It’s a mandrake.”
“We never got a plant to take home!” Ron says indignantly. “Right?”
“Well, maybe you two just aren’t good enough at Herbology like me.” Ginny sniffs. She ducks around Ron and disappears through the wall.
“Well, have you ever risked your life for the general safety of the Hogwarts student body?” Ron hollers after her. “Come on, Harry, I wanna put something in there. You haven’t got any cuttings from the Whomping Willow, do you?”
The mention of the Willow forms a pit in Harry’s stomach. He remembers Sirius’s face, hopeful and shining, and Harry’s brief moment of elation before he'd realised he couldn’t possibly go to live with his godfather.
It was a strange feeling, knowing he’d been so close to another life. He could imagine himself getting off the train and seeing Sirius waiting for him on the platform, ready to take him home to somewhere warm and safe.
Speaking of…
“Ron, you see the Dursleys anywhere?” he asks. Part of him begins to formulate a plan. If his aunt and uncle don’t show up, he could run off somewhere in London. Yes, that could work…he could go to his vault, withdraw some Galleons, sell the gold for Muggle money…rent a flat for the summer…
He scans the crowd. No, he doesn’t see any trace of them. Uncle Vernon’s bushy mustache and Dudley’s mop of blonde hair and even Aunt Petunia’s long, birdish neck are decidedly absent from the platform.
“I don’t see them,” Ron says distractedly. “Look, Harry, I’ve got to go, my mum’s waving and she looks mad.”
Harry snaps back to reality. “Yeah, go on. Have a good summer.”
They hug quickly before Ron darts away. Harry hears Ms. Weasley’s voice and quickly ducks into the crowd, wanting to avoid her admonishments.
Harry is about to enact his alone-in-London plan when somebody calls his name.
He turns quickly, at first not spotting the source of the voice. Professor Lupin is standing by one of the huge collumns, and attached to him by a leash is a huge black dog.
“Harry, over here!” Lupin calls, waving to him.
Harry’s heart jumps. Maybe, maybe, he doesn’t have to go with the Durselys, at least not yet. He quickly drags his trunk over, Hedwig hooting dully at Padfoot.
“What’s going on?” he asks, glancing around nervously.
Lupin motions for him to come closer. "Er, Harry...how would you like to spend your summer outside of Little Whinging?"
The dog wags its tail and shoves its wet nose into Harry’s palm. Something like hope begins to fill Harry’s chest and he squats down to pat Padfoot.
“It is you, isn’t it?” he asks, and the dog huffs excitedly, tail sweeping across the tile.
Lupin smiles at the exchange and picks up Harry’s trunk. There’s something nervous about his demeanor.
“We need to get going,” he says, almost too casually. “I don't want to be seen hanging around here. Parents will talk.”
Harry stops. “Why don't you want the parents to talk?” he asks.
Lupin sighs. “Harry, Dumbledore is very adamant about you staying with your mother’s sister. He thinks that being with blood family is very important, but–”
Padfoot barks and paws at Lupin’s leg. Lupin nods as if he understands what Padfoot had said to him. “James and Lily didn't want you to go with your aunt, and Sirius, as your godfather, doesn't either. Given that you don't want to stay with them, which, er, I guess we sort of assumed--”
Harry nods quickly. "No! I don't want to stay there, not at all!"
Lupin puts a warm hand on Harry's shoulder. "That's all that matters. We want you to be safe, Harry."
Harry smiles awkwardly, not sure what to say.
They exit the train station through a back entrance and walk a few blocks to the Underground where Harry and Professor Lupin attempt to use a kiosk to purchase two passes. Though Harry knows his way around Muggle money, he’s never ridden the Underground before (“It’s all hobos and crazy people,” Aunt Petunia had proclaimed).
They get some odd glances, between Padfoot sitting with his head resting on Lupin’s knee and Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s covered cage, but most of the travelers don’t spare them another look.
It’s not a long ride before Lupin motions for Harry to stand up and they get off the train, lugging his trunk up the concrete stairs. They walk only a few blocks until Lupin stops in front of a tall, skinny rowhouse. There’s a tiny yard out front, but the only thing in it is dirt and a couple struggling dandelions.
“My flat.” Lupin announces. “Or, our flat, until we can find somewhere else,” he corrects, glancing sideways at Padfoot. “It’s not huge, but there’s only three of us. Harry, you’ll have your own room, though it might just be a mattress and a bed frame until we can buy some furniture.”
“That’s okay.” Harry says breathlessly. “No, yeah, that’s fine. I don’t need much.”
Lupin shakes his head. “We’ll go shopping,” he says firmly. “You get whatever you like.”
Something flutters in Harry’s chest as he watches Lupin unlock the door. Padfoot leans into his hip, tail thumping on the brick pavement.
“Come on,” Lupin calls. “Don’t want the door open for too long, I haven’t placed any wards yet.”
Padfoot bounds ahead and Harry hurries up the steps with his trunk and Hedwig’s cage. The entryway that he finds himself in is small, boxes stacked up against one wall, and a staircase directly in front of him. Lupin hangs his coat on the banister and motions for Harry to do the same. Padfoot has already disappeared through the wide doorway to Harry’s left, and when Harry follows, it’s not the big black dog that he finds waiting for him but Sirius, beaming down at Harry.
“Harry!” he exclaims. “I’ve missed you. It’s been maybe a week and a half, but you know–”
He stops and pulls Harry into a hug, and Harry’s face mushes against cool leather. Sirius kind of smells like a wet dog, but it’s weirdly comforting in a familial kind of way.
When Sirius finally pulls back, it’s to affix Harry with a look of pride.
“You look just like your father.” Sirius says finally. “I know you hear that all the time, but you really do.”
“Anybody for tea?” Lupin calls. Sirius looks up.
“Yeah, two!” he yells back. He smiles at Harry. “Remus makes a really good earl gray. I don’t like tea most of the time, but when he makes it…”
Harry smiles back. He’s starting to think that with the way Sirius and Lupin look at each other, there's something other than friendship between them.
His wonderings are confirmed when they go into the kitchen to get their tea and Sirius snakes his arms around Lupin, who flushes slightly and smiles.
“Sirius.” Harry hears Lupin whisper. “I am carrying very hot tea. You are going to cause an injury.”
They sit down, Lupin and Harry on the old, worn couch and Sirius lounging in a yellow armchair.
Harry looks down. This is the part where they tell him that the Dursleys are on their way to pick him up and it was all a big mistake.
“Harry…” Lupin starts. Harry rubs the scar on his thigh that Uncle Vernon and a thick brown belt gave him when he was nine.
“First of all, we’re not going to send you back to the Dursleys.” Sirius says hurriedly.
Lupin nods. “You don’t have to go back there,” he agrees. “But, we have to talk about our plans now. This summer, we’re going to be very…quiet. At least in relation to the Wizarding world. We’re, er, considering leaving the country.”
Harry straightens his back. “I have, um, rent money. And I’ll do all the cleaning and stuff.”
Both Lupin and Sirius’s eyes flash to meet his.
“You’re not paying rent money, Harry, we want you here, we can share chores,” Lupin says at the same time as Sirius roars, “Those bloody bastards!”
Lupin puts a steady hand on Harry’s knee. “To put it more simply, Harry, you do not have to earn your place here. We’ll all just split chores, and you’re a kid, you won’t do as much as we do. We’re not like them, Harry, we’re not going to do anything like them.”
Harry swallows nervously and nods. He trusts Lupin, to an extent, but people can change or be hiding beneath a seemingly peaceful exterior. If either Lupin or Sirius does anything…
Well, he has his alone-in-London plan. It’s never too late to enact it.
But he begins to think that maybe his plan won’t need to be acted upon when Sirius helps him lug his trunk up the stairs and Lupin shows him his room, which has two big windows and a twin bed pushed up to the wall.
“We’ll buy furniture this week.” Lupin promises. “But you can do anything you want with this room. Some bookshelves over here, perhaps? Hm…though if we’ll be out of here in a month or so…”
“He’ll be filling those shelves with so many books.” Sirius whispers to Harry. “You don’t have to read them, don’t worry.”
Harry shrugs. He likes reading, and the idea of having a bookshelf and books of his own is exciting.
Once they’ve gotten most of Harry’s trunk unpacked, Lupin and Sirius retreat back downstairs, giving Harry the space he needs to figure out his new room.
“Minerva will be coming by tomorrow, she’ll be bringing some things for the house I’m sure.” Sirius tells him, lingering in the doorway. He pauses. “Goodnight, Harry. I…yeah, sleep well.”
Harry nods. “Yeah, you too.” he says. Sirius smiles, lingers for a second longer, and then ducks away, closing the door almost all the way. A moment later, the hallway light clicks on, and Harry hears the creak of the stairs, and then he is alone again.
Harry flops back on his bed. The old quilt spread across it was soft and warm, and he almost falls asleep right on top of it. But Hedwig hoots sternly at him, so he drags himself up and changes into pajamas, giving the owl a few treats before crawling beneath the covers.
If Harry hadn't been so tired, he would have lain awake for hours, turning thoughts over in his mind, but the only one in his mind now is that if Sirius is to be believed, Professor Minerva McGonogall is coming to this very house in the morning. The thought of seeing her outside of the school year is so disturbing that Harry seriously considers finding a way to fake sick.
Those thoughts, however, fade quickly to background chatter. This bed is so warm and cozy, much more so than Harry’s lumpy mattress at the Dursleys, and Harry finds his eyelids growing heavier and heavier by the minute.
He falls asleep quickly, feeling safer than he has in months.