It was a long time before Harry fully fell asleep, tossing and turning throughout the night as he contemplated what on earth Sirius could have been talking about. Eventually, his body succumbed to its exhaustion, and it was late in the morning when he awoke. It wasn’t, however, due to the sunlight streaming through the window or anything the like. Rather, it was the redheaded boy and bushy-haired girl leaning over his bed.

“Watching me as I sleep, are you?” Harry muttered grouchily as he sat up in bed. “Well, that’s not creepy at all.”

The two of them had the sense to look abashed, at least, backing away with red-tinted cheeks. Hermione recovered first, offering an overly cheerful, “Good morning, Harry!”

“Is it?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes as he was once again swamped with that overwhelming sick feeling of dread. “I can’t see how.”


Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. “We heard about your family, mate,” Ron said quietly. “D’you think they’re alright?”

“I doubt it,” Harry said honestly. “And I’m not totally sure that I care.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione nearly scolded. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? There’s no reason to lie about it now. The blood wards didn’t break because we were just too happy of a family, you know.”

His two friends didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Harry changed the subject. “So what are you two doing here, anyway?”

Another look exchanged. “Well, we’ve been staying here, actually,” Hermione admitted.

“Oh?” Harry questioned, feigning indifference. “For how long?”

“For a few weeks,” Ron muttered.

Well, that was certainly nice to hear. His two friends had been staying with his godfather, in a house that he, Harry, hadn’t even known existed until the night before.

“Brilliant,” Harry responded cooly.

“Harry-”

“No, really. It’s lovely to hear, nice to know that you two have been here cozying up together in some sort of secret cult headquarters knowing everything while I’ve spent the summer trying to find out anything-”

“It’s not like they’ve told us much of anything about what’s going on either, mate,” Ron said. “We’re as much in the dark as you are.”

“Yeah, well, at least you weren’t alone,” Harry huffed. Or rather, at least they weren’t with the Dursleys. Harry would’ve preferred being alone.

“You’re not alone now,” Hermione offered.

She was right, technically, but somehow Harry felt more alone now than he had all summer.

“Uh, anyway, my mum wanted us to tell you that breakfast is ready, if you feel like eating,” said Ron. “The kitchen is pretty dank, like everything else here, but the food is still as good as it is at home.”

Harry nodded, rubbing his eyes again before putting on his glasses. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

Ron and Hermione left, leaving Harry to get dressed in peace. He was still in his rumpled clothes from the day before and was glad that he’d had the sense of mind to pack his clothes before leaving the Dursleys, crappy as they were. At least he had them. Dudley’s clothes were probably all burned…

Harry shook his head. What did it matter? He could just get new ones. Though his parents weren’t around to buy them, were they?... Well, maybe he’d learn how Harry had felt all these years.

Yesterday’s clothes were really starting to feel itchy, so Harry changed quickly. He ran his fingers through his hair before leaving the room and running down the stairs, bumping into his friends in the hallway.

“Fair warning, Snape is here too,” Ron whispered in his ear.

“What?” Harry hissed back in surprise, but there was no time for conversation as the man himself passed them with his usual glower. Harry returned the dirty look once he’d passed because he could get away with it when his back was turned.

“Kitchen’s this way,” Hermione said, guiding the way. “I imagine you’re starved, Harry.” Technically yes, but really, he didn’t have much of an appetite. Especially not once he saw his cousin sitting at the table, looking severely misplaced.

Harry forgot Dumbledore had said Dudley was going to be staying here too. Suddenly, Harry would like to be staying anywhere else.

Following Ron and Hermione’s lead, Harry went to sit at the table without a word, but not before being engulfed in Mrs. Weasley’s arms. “Harry!” she exclaimed, “It is so good to see you, darling.” She smothered his head in kisses, and Harry could hear Ron snickering in the background. “Too thin, as always. Go, take a seat and eat.”

Harry escaped as soon as he was able, face red as he bolted away from Mrs. Weasley and back to his friends. He glanced at his cousin through his fringe, feeling quite misplaced himself. “Um, hey, Dudley.”

Dudley didn’t look up from the fried eggs he was scrambling on his plate. “Hey,” he responded forlornly.

“Er- how are you?”

Dudley did look up then, staring at him blankly. “How do you think?”

Harry looked away, feeling bad. Dudley was depressed, which was understandable. He’d faced Dementors yesterday, though Harry wondered why it would bother him so much. Even Harry was more resilient about it and he was the one who heard his mother dying anytime the Dementors came near. What was Dudley’s worst memory, not getting the 37th present he desired for his birthday?

It was then that it occurred to Harry that the Dementor attack wasn’t the only thing on his cousin’s mind. Odd, wasn’t it, that his own family could be captured by Voldemort and it somehow just kept slipping his mind.

It was just the kids and Mrs. Weasley in there, the latter of who was in and out, so Ron started up a conversation about Quidditch while Harry joined Dudley in picking at his food. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d ever sat at a table with his cousin where they hadn’t both been wolfing down their food, both for very different reasons.

“I think you’ll make captain next year,” Ron said. “I mean, who else?”

“I dunno,” Harry murmured. “I’m not sure that I’d want the responsibility.”

“Are you kidding?” Ron asked incredulously. “You love Quidditch, why wouldn’t you want to be captain?”

“Honestly, Ronald,” Hermione huffed. “He just said he didn’t want the responsibility.”

“My hearing is just fine, thank you, Hermione,” Ron griped back.

“Then why did you ask such a silly question when you already know the answer?”

“Oh, come on, Hermione. You know there’s always more to things than he initially says.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Harry pointed out. “And I’m not sure why you’re making such a fuss about it when it’s over a year away.”

“I guess,” Ron conceded irritably. “I just don’t see how someone could possibly not want to be team captain, it would be a dream come true for me.”

“How can you guys be so carefree right now?” Dudley spoke up suddenly. “Talking about some- some sport, is it? As if it’s just another day. Don’t you feel even a little upset that a couple of innocent people were kidnapped yesterday?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Innocent people?” Harry scoffed. “I don’t know who you could possibly be referring to.”

Dudley put his fork down, glaring. “You know who I’m talking about. My parents, your aunt and uncle! That old guy, the one with the long beard, he told me they’d been taken by that Voldewart guy you were going on about last night. What does that even mean? Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answered honestly, while Ron snorted at the butchering of Voldemort’s name.

“Are they okay?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said again.

“Well, what do you know, then?” Dudley said angrily. “Surely one of you magical weirdos knows something.”

“Oh, Dudley, I’m sure they’ll be okay,” Hermione offered kindly before Harry could tell Dudley where he could stick his questions. “We just- we don’t know anything right now, and there’s no use in dwelling over it when there’s really nothing we can do. The order will take care of it, I’m sure.”

Dudley eyed her wearily, before nodding. “Alright, then,” he sniffed. “I’m gonna need some clothes.”

“Think there’s a store down the road,” Harry offered.

“You know I can’t leave the house,” Dudley said. “I’ll just wear yours, they’re all mine anyway.”

“Are you sure they’d fit you at this point?” Harry asked snidely. “That is why they’re mine now, after all.”

“Harry, really,” Hermione scolded under her breath while Dudley grew even angrier. “I think they’re probably closer to my size than yours, you scrawny little fre-”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Harry cut across him incredulously, though it did sting a bit. He was rather small for his age, but it was hardly his fault, it wasn’t as though he starved himself. No, Dudley had more control over his weight than Harry ever had, and something about that just made him angry. Something about everything lately made him angry, and Dudley seemed like a fair target.

Even if his house had been burned down and his parents had been captured by Voldemort and he’d been attacked by Dementors all in the same day. Harry didn’t care. Not really.

“Just let him borrow the clothes, Harry,” Hermione murmured at last. “He hasn’t got anything else.”

Harry deflated slightly, though his constant fury of late wouldn’t let the matter go entirely. “Fine,” he said. Rising from the table, he couldn’t help but add; “I’m not hungry, anyway. Why don’t you have my portion, Dudders? You usually do.”

Harry pushed his plate toward his cousin before he left the room, though he realized that Ron was the only one who’d eaten any sort of normal portion on that particular morning. As he made his way back up the stairs, he knew in the back of his mind that he was being entirely unfair and even a bit cruel, but he just couldn’t seem to give it up. If Dudley hadn’t told his parents that Harry had tried to kill him when he’d only saved his life, then Harry wouldn’t have been kicked out, the blood wards wouldn’t have been broken, and the Dursleys wouldn’t have been captured. Not that Harry cared a bit about any of it, not at all. He just didn’t see why he should be blamed for his actions when they were simply the result of drastic circumstances caused by others. He had no reason to feel bad about any of it.

Still, as he rummaged through his trunk looking for his least favorite clothing to return to his cousin, he realized that he did feel a bit bad. It was bound to happen, as Harry wasn’t much built for the lifestyle. He could talk the talk but usually stumbled on the walk.

When he returned to the kitchen, a few pairs of clothes in his hands, Ron and Hermione had left. Dudley still remained, though, staring at his untouched plate.

“I’m sorry,” Harry forced out softly as he laid the clothing down on the table. “I don’t know why I said all that to you, I know… I know things can’t be easy for you right now.”

Dudley looked up at him, his eyes watering even more so than usual. “I just don’t understand why you don’t care,” he sniffed. “They’re your family too, you know.”

“I know,” Harry gritted out. “That doesn’t exactly mean much when it comes to us, though, does it?”

Dudley looked away again. “It’s gotten better, though, hasn’t it? I mean, they’ve barely even touched you since you went off to school!”

It was moments like these, rare as they were, that Harry wondered if Dudley was fully aware of just how far the Dursleys’ mistreatment of Harry went. Or maybe he just didn’t get it. Dudley’s parents had always been overly kind to him, and it wasn’t as though Harry was their child. After all, there had been a time when Harry himself had thought that keeping one’s unwanted nephew in a cupboard was totally normal behavior.

Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he knew any better even now.

Harry stared along with his cousin at the grain in the wood of the table. “There aren’t so many days in the summer.”

Dudley looked uncomfortable, though if he’d had any sort of response to give, the opportunity was squelched by the appearance of Snape in the doorway.

The man eyed the two boys suspiciously before he spoke. “Your presence is requested in the sitting room, Mr. Potter,” Snape announced gruffly. “I suggest you come along immediately.”

Really, must he be so dramatic all the time? Surely there wasn’t anything terribly dire going on at nine-thirty in the morning, and his suspicions were proven correct as he left Dudley alone once more and sat on the same couch last night, listening to the adults talk in circles, discussing the Dursley rescue plan. Or lack thereof.

“Why isn’t Dudley here?” Harry asked the room at large after a while of this. “This is about his parents, after all.”

“We wouldn’t want to upset him,” Dumbledore answered distractedly.

Harry wondered why his “presence was requested” in the first place if they were going to mostly ignore him. “Don’t you think he deserves to know that the plan is, well… no plan?”

“We’ll have a plan as soon as we can make one,” Remus said level-headedly. “We simply don’t know enough information to do anything at the moment. We don’t even know for sure that the Dursleys are in Voldemort’s custody, and even if that were confirmed we certainly don’t know where that would be. In the meantime, we don’t want to worry your cousin any more than absolutely necessary.”

But no need to worry about upsetting me, I guess. “Yeah, alright,” Harry agreed.

“Is there anything else we need to discuss with Harry before we conclude?” Dumbledore asked wearily. Was this a discussion? Did I miss something?

“I suppose I will be taking Harry to the hearing on Monday?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“Hearing?” Harry questioned. “What hearing?”

“I suppose you missed the news during your great escape,” said Dumbeldore. “I was able to prevent you from being immediately expelled as a result of your use of underage magic, but the ministry still wants to have a hearing-”

“And since the ministry is corrupt, I’m most likely going to be expelled after all, yes?”

“Not necessarily,” Dumbledore sighed. “I’m taking care of it.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“You need not worry about it, Harry. Professor Snape will accompany you to the ministry-”

“What-?”

“Headmaster-”

“Snape?”

“No way in hell is he taking my godson anywhere-”

“And how exactly do you plan to stop me, Black?” Snape asked snidely. “I’m sure the ministry would love for you to pay them a visit, but…”

“But yet a Death Eater can just waltz in there-”

“Better a reformed Death Eater than a wanted mass murderer or known werewolf,” Snape said rather snootily.

“But why not Mr. Weasley?” Harry interjected quietly. “He already said…”

“Arthur does not need to compromise his position in the ministry at this time.”

“And being seen with me would do just that,” Harry said.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Dumbledore said genuinely. “This is just the state of our world right now. It is no reflection on your character.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry replied.

“It’s alright, Harry, I’m sure Severus can handle the task just fine,” Mr. Weasley offered kindly.

“I still object to this!” Sirius practically shouted.

“The matter has been decided, Sirius,” Dumbledore chided. “I’m sorry, but I really must be going now. It was good seeing you all.” He gave them all a nod before he swept out of the room, Snape quickly following.

“That poor man,” Mrs. Weasly murmured dejectedly. “He really has far too much on his plate.”

Dumbledore had seemed worse for wear recently, though Harry wasn’t exactly living his best life himself. He sighed drearily. It would do no good to complain once the headmaster had made up his mind, this Harry knew, but it still sucked. He had enough to worry about when it came to the hearing, and now Snape would be breathing down his neck…

“I know, kid. This blows,” Sirius huffed, plopping down beside him as the others filtered out of the room. “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” he said, though his tone implied that it was something akin to the end of the world.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed easily. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something, if you’re not busy.”

Sirius beamed at him. “I’m all ears!”

“Um, last night,” Harry said, cheeks turning red as he recalled Sirius carrying him to bed and tucking him in like a child, “I heard you and Remus talking before you left the room.”

Sirius frowned, likely trying to recollect if they’d said anything offensive. “Was there something in particular one of us said?”

“Yeah, actually. I, erm- I heard you say something about a prophecy. What prophecy?”

Harry could see the hesitation cross his face before Sirius withdrew completely. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Harry.”

“But I know I heard you-”

“You were rather droopy last night you know, maybe you dreamed it,” Sirius said, shrugging. “Happens to the best of us.” He stood, brushing invisible lint off his clothes. “I really better get back to it, the rooms won’t clean themselves. You should do your homework, or uh-” he fidgeted, eyes lingering on Harry’s bruised neck. “Get some rest, whatever you want to do. It’s summer break, nothing to worry about.”

Harry nodded, looking away in both embarrassment and disappointment.

“Harry, even if- even if there was such a thing… I wouldn’t want you to be worrying over it, alright? Prophecies are, well- they’re just theories, blurted out by mindless firestarters. They only come true if you let them.”

Harry looked back at his godfather, squinting at him suspiciously before he nodded his agreement. Sirius gave him a nervous smile before leaving the room.

If he’d gathered anything from that conversation, it was that Sirius was a much better liar than Harry would have ever given him credit for. If Harry had trusted himself any less, he might’ve fallen for the attempt at gaslighting. He knew that he hadn’t imagined it, though, as he’d spent half the night thinking about it. There was definitely a prophecy, a very important one at that, and Sirius was definitely lying to him about it.

The only question was, why?