"Anything you need before I go?" Lupin stood at the door to Harry's room with a leashed Snuffles, keeping a cautious eye on Hedwig, who was making low noises in her throat and bobbing her head threateningly. Snuffles lowered his head and gave her the slightest of growls.

Not from you, the young wizard thought resentfully, but all he said was, "I'm fine." He kept tossing stuff into his bag, refusing to look at Lupin.

The man stepped forward into the room. Hedwig did not like that; she bobbed her head more deeply and made a sound halfway between a "Kreck" and a hiss, clacking her beak and spreading her wings.

Snuffles yipped and growled at her more loudly.

"Stop it, you two." Harry said sharply, looking up from his packing. Both his familiars subsided: Snuffles with that look of shame dogs sometimes get, Hedwig with more dignity, merely folding her wings and turning her head away from the intruders.

Lupin gave him an evaluating look,  nodded, "We'll see you day after tomorrow, then."

Harry shrugged, "Whatever," he muttered. He sort of liked the way the word felt in his mouth. The minor insolence made him feel a bit more in control.

The professor made to walk away, but Snuffles tugged against the leash and whined. Harry left his packing to come over and give his dog a scratch behind the ears. "Sorry about this," he told the animal quietly, "but you'll be okay with Hagrid." One last pat and a scratch and Harry let the animal go with the professor.

The rest of the morning passed quietly. Harry heard Snape put on some of his music in the living room. The record was one he was apparently fond of, as Harry had heard him play it several times. It suited Harry's mood too, dark and angry. Some of the lyrics could have been pulled from his own head.

"...cold as a razor blade,

Tight as a tourniquet,

Dry as a funeral drum."

The boy smiled bitterly, as the next bit sounded like someone throwing things around and shouting at someone to musical accompaniment. The singer said something about looking for his favorite ax. Harry thought he'd quite like an ax at the moment.

He threw the Invisibility Cloak into his bag, after some consideration. Hedwig, still alert on her perch, looked at him enquiringly.

"We're going to the Burrow," Harry told her. "You meet us there, okay?"

She bobbed her head and nipped his fingers affectionately. Harry opened the window for her, then settled down onto his bed with Tales of Beadle the Bard. He was restless, though, nervous about seeing Ron again. He was just happy not to have to face Hermione yet.

The phone ringing startled Harry out of his thoughts. The music cut off.

"Hello?" Snape's voice said. "Yes, this is he." A pause. "Ah." A longer pause, then Snape's voice became too quiet to hear from where Harry sat on the bed.

Curious about who could be calling, Harry crept out onto the landing. It didn't sound like Mrs. Granger; Snape's voice sounded very formal, as though he were speaking to a stranger.

"We'll be in Ottery St Catchpole tonight and for the next two days," Snape told whoever it was. "Yes," the man's voice was smooth and urbane, "I quite understand...That would be most convenient, yes. I beg your pardon, but could you hold for just a moment?"

The sound from downstairs abruptly cut off. Snape must have cast a silencing spell.

Harry settled himself to sit on the top step anyway.

After about fifteen minutes, Snape emerged from the kitchen. He turned and saw Harry sitting on the top step. He stood at the bottom. "Are you packed?" he asked.

Harry nodded, thinking that Snape was looking very haggard from all the drama that morning. For a second, the boy felt bad for upsetting the man when he was still so clearly ill. Then he reminded himself that Snape and Lupin had decided that drugging him was a good idea. Snape also thought that leaving him with the Dursleys when he was a baby was a good idea.

How often had Harry dreamed as a small child of someone coming to rescue him from the damned cupboard? Snape could have done so at any time. Whatever Dumbledore's game was, Snape hadn't needed to play it.

A small voice in the back of Harry's head reminded him that Snape had said that he really had thought that Aunt Petunia would be a good guardian.

Angrily, Harry dismissed that. Back in the summer, they all thought Aunt Petunia had been a good enough guardian, but now she was up on charges?

Taking a chance, Harry took a deep breath as Snape climbed the stairs. "Did they say why Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia got arrested?" he asked as the man brushed past him.

"The Scots Child Protection notified English authorities, who must have filed the charges," Snape replied, pausing on the stairs.

"Scots…?" Harry repeated slowly. "Where does Scotland come into this?"

Snape was standing on the same step Harry was sitting on. He walked down a couple stairs and sat next to the child. He looked at his hands as he spoke. "Hogwarts is in Scotland," he said quietly. "Madam Pomfrey had me give Mrs. Granger your file to take to a social worker friend of hers. The file said that your school made a report and that you have been put into my custody by Scots Child Protection. It meant that they would have to charge the Dursleys in England. Your file has a charm on it that ensures that it will find its way back to Arthur Weasley. It also has an obfuscation charm, which is likely why so many facts in the story are wrong." The man sighed heavily. "It never occurred to me that they'd be arrested so publicly or on a slow news day."

"You…? And Madam Pomfrey…?" Harry felt befuddled and hurt. "But...why?" He never thought Madam Pomfrey would be added to the list of people who'd betrayed his trust.

Snape's black eyes were snapping with anger when he turned to look at Harry. "Because what they did was criminal, Harry." His voice was soft, even though he looked murderous. "We cannot bring them to justice in the Wizarding world, but we can have them brought up on charges in the Muggle court."

"You gave me your word you wouldn't tell anyone," Harry said softly.

"I didn't..." Snape denied, but then he stopped, blew out a long breath. He started over in almost a whisper. "Sadly, not all promises can be kept, despite our best efforts." His voice gained volume as he continued, "I assumed that what was most important to you was that the Ministry and the Prophet stay out of it."

Well, yes, that was true, but Harry hadn't wanted to get into the Muggle papers, either.

"Perhaps you should read what was written," Snape said, standing.

Harry shook his head; he had no interest in reading the thing.

“As you wish.” Snape walked up the stairs, into his room. Harry assumed he was getting dressed. A few minutes later, Snape emerged in wizard robes rather than the Muggle clothes he’d been wearing around the house. He glanced down at Harry when he went past, but the boy wouldn’t look at him.

Harry didn’t know how long he sat on the stairs. Long enough that the professor’s album played all the way through. He feared to speculate on what Ron was going to say about this whole mess and Hermione was going to be impossible. His stomach hurt. He wondered if he should mention it to Snape, but then he thought about how the man had slipped him that truth potion and he put that thought right out of his mind.

Someone knocked at the door. “I’ve got it,” Snape called unnecessarily. Unnecessary because Harry wasn’t planning on moving until he absolutely had to.

Mr. Weasley and another redheaded man stood at the door. Mr Weasley smiled at Snape. “Professor Snape, how are you feeling?”

“Well enough,” grunted Snape, stepping aside so the men could come in. Harry thought that this was the longest Snape had been awake since that night.

When they came in, Mr. Weasley and the other man seemed to give Snape a long, appraising look. Harry wondered what they were seeing.

After an uncomfortable pause, the man Harry didn’t know said, “Dad told us what you did for Ginny, sir,” his voice was low, as though speaking to someone who was deathly ill. “When I found out…” he swallowed hard. “That spell hasn’t been used in fifty years or more.” As he spoke, Harry remembered seeing this man in the hospital wing the morning they left Hogwarts.  That must be Bill Weasley, he surmised. The Weasleys had visited him in Egypt last summer.

“I’m aware of that, but it is still taught to healers,” Snape replied stiffly. There was something strange in Snape’s voice. Defensiveness?

The man nodded. “But it’s not exactly normal healing magic, is it? Don’t forget I’m a curse breaker.” The way he said it seemed to imply that he had some special knowledge of the spell.

Bill was not what Harry would have expected. He didn’t dress much like a wizard, nor did he dress like a wizard pretending to be a Muggle.  Like Snape, he seemed to be consciously trying to project an image. In Bill’s case, he wouldn’t have drawn a second look from Muggles on the street, unless it was to admire his style. His hair was longer than Snape’s and also held in a ponytail. He had an earring shaped like a sharp tooth in one ear and boots to match his leather coat. He wouldn’t have looked out of place at a rock concert or a posh nightclub

“Then in that case, I should say as well as can be expected,” Snape growled. “I must admit, your expertise on this spell is probably superior to mine. I only have a few books that reference it, and without access to the library, I haven’t been able to research it adequately.” Snape shocked Harry by this admission of ignorance.

Apparently he surprised the Weasleys, as well. They glanced uncertainly at each other and then Mr Weasley said, “Bill has a great deal of knowledge about… ahh…obscure spells of this type. And…well…I just want you to know—we understand what you’ve done. Anything that is in our power to…”

“At the moment, I believe that all I need is a quiet place to sleep for the next forty-eight hours,” interrupted Snape, impatiently cutting off Mr. Weasley’s hesitant speech.

“Of course, Professor,” said Mr. Weasley deferentially. “Where’s Harry?” He looked around. Spotting Harry at the top of the stairs, he gave him an encouraging smile. “How are you, Harry? Do you need help with anything?”

“I’m fine, Mr Weasley.” Harry smiled back at the man, trying to keep his nervousness from showing.

“Harry?” Snape turned to look up the stairs. “Would you retrieve my bag from my room?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Harry, standing up and doing what he was told. 

He picked up the small leather bag that Snape had left on the bed. It seemed too small to hold a change of clothes, but Harry supposed that was Snape’s problem. He went to his own room, swung his own bag over his shoulder and hurried down the stairs.

“I don’t think you’ve met Bill,” said Mr. Weasley when Harry reached the bottom.

“Hello, Harry.” Bill put out his hand to shake Harry’s. “Good to meet you.”

“Do we have everything?” Mr. Weasley asked.

Snape looked at Harry appraisingly before muttering, “Wait a moment. Accio Harry’s broom.” The closet in Snape’s room banged open and Harry’s broom zipped down the stairs to hover in the air next to him.

Harry took it out of the air, staring at Snape in disbelief. He hadn’t even bothered asking if he could take his broom, on the assumption that Snape would never allow it.

The tall man smiled slightly. “You nearly forgot that,” he said, sounding like it had been a plan all along.

“Right, are we fit?” asked Bill, as though nothing extraordinary had happened. “I’ll take Harry then. Have you ever Apparated?”

The boy shook his head.

“Well, just grab hold of my arm.” Bill took Harry’s free hand and wrapped it around the crook of his elbow. It happened too quickly for Harry to realize what was happening. He felt as though he’d been sucked into a black hole through a straw. Before he really had time to panic, he was on his knees in the front garden of the Burrow.

“All right there, Harry?” Bill asked kindly as he reached down to help Harry up. “It can be a bit unpleasant at first, Apparition.”

Harry swallowed hard, hoping he wasn’t going to puke on Bill. After a second the urge passed.

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley swooped down on him, seemingly out of nowhere, and engulfed him in a brief hug. She backed off to hold him by the shoulders and stare him in the face. “You look a bit peaky,” she said. “Have you been eating? Professor Lupin said you’d been feeling under the weather.”

The boy smiled a little and nodded. “Just haven’t been sleeping well,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, dear,” she said gently. “The lunch is on the table. You go on in with the boys, we’ll be along in a minute.”

Harry gave her a grin and headed into the house. If nothing else, he could look forward to two days of her excellent cooking.