"Dementors," Tonks murmured, her voice tense. "Two of them. Harry, get Dudley behind you."
Harry grabbed his cousin's arm, pulling the larger boy behind him despite Dudley's weak protests. "Stay behind me if you want to live," he hissed, and something in his tone must have convinced Dudley, who fell silent.
The Dementors were closing in, and Harry could feel their effects intensifying. Voices were beginning to echo in his head – his mother's screams, Voldemort's high, cold laugh, his torturous screams, Voldemort's resurrection…
"Expecto Patronum!" Tonks shouted, raising her wand. A silver shape burst forth – some kind of four-legged animal that Harry couldn't quite make out – but it flickered and faded almost immediately. "Damn it!"
The Patronus Charm was one of the toughest spells to cast, especially in high-pressure situations, and this was as clear an evidence as any.
Gritting his teeth, Harry raised his own wand, focusing with all his might on his happiest memory – but what was his happiest memory? Images flashed through his mind – winning the Quidditch Cup, finding out he was a wizard, meeting Sirius... but none of them seemed strong enough in the face of the encroaching darkness. He dared not think of his parents right now, not when his mother's screams were ringing in his ears.
Then, unbidden, an image came to him – Tonks, her hair wild and her face flushed, laughing as they lay tangled together on his bed, her eyes bright with affection and desire. The memory of warmth, of connection, of feeling truly seen and wanted.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry roared, and a brilliant silver stag erupted from his wand, charging toward the nearest Dementor with lowered antlers.
The creature recoiled, forced back by the power of the Patronus. Harry directed the stag toward the second Dementor, which was bearing down on Tonks, who had fallen to her knees, her face ashen.
The stag drove both Dementors away, its silver light illuminating the tunnel as it pursued them through the end and into the stormy sky. Only when Harry was sure they were gone did he let the Patronus fade, rushing to Tonks's side.
"Nym," he said urgently, kneeling beside her. "Are you alright?"
She was shaking violently, her hair a dull gray color Harry had never seen before. "I... I couldn't..." she began, her voice barely a whisper.
"It's okay," Harry assured her, helping her to her feet. "They're gone now."
Dudley was standing frozen where Harry had left him, his face a mask of terror. "What... what was that?" he stammered. "What h-happened?"
"Dementors," Harry explained shortly, still supporting Tonks. "Dark creatures. They make you relive your worst memories, feel like you'll never be happy again."
Dudley didn't seem to fully comprehend, but he nodded numbly, his eyes wide and unfocused. "I heard... I saw..."
"I know," Harry said, surprisingly gentle. Whatever Dudley had experienced, Harry wouldn't wish it on anyone – not even his bullying cousin.
"We need to get back," Tonks said, her voice stronger now though she was still pale. "They might come back. And the Ministry will have detected your magic, Harry."
Harry grimaced, knowing she was right. Underage magic outside of school – he was in for it now. At least it was in the presence of another magical person and a muggle who knew about magic already.
"Can you walk?" he asked Dudley, who nodded shakily.
"I... I think so."
"Then let's go," Harry said firmly, still keeping an arm around Tonks. "Stay close."
They made their way slowly back toward Privet Drive, the storm abating as mysteriously as it had arrived. By the time they reached the street, the rain had stopped entirely, and hints of sunlight were breaking through the dispersing clouds.
"Harry," Tonks said suddenly, her voice urgent, "someone's coming."
Harry tensed, ready to raise his wand again, but Tonks put a hand on his arm. "No, wait. I know her."
An elderly woman was hurrying toward them, shopping bags clutched in her gnarled hands, cats weaving around her ankles. It took Harry a moment to recognize Mrs. Figg, the batty old woman who used to babysit him when the Dursleys went out.
"Don't put your wand away, boy!" she called as she approached. "They might come back!"
Harry stared at her in shock. "You... you know about wands? About magic?"
"Of course I do," Mrs. Figg replied impatiently. "I'm a Squib. Dumbledore sent me to keep an eye on you years ago."
Harry felt a surge of indignation. "You knew? All this time, and you never said anything?"
"Orders," Mrs. Figg said curtly. "Wasn't allowed to tell you anything. Might have made your time with me a bit more bearable if I could have, but there you are."
Tonks stepped forward, seemingly recovered enough to take charge. "Mrs. Figg, we need to get Harry and his cousin back to Privet Drive."
Mrs. Figg nodded, then let out a small gasp as she recognized Tonks. "Oh! You're one of the Order members, aren't you? The one with the... the..."
"Hair. Yes," Tonks confirmed shortly. "Tonks, Auror. We need to move, now."
Mrs. Figg nodded again, more decisively this time. "Right. I've sent word to Dumbledore about what happened."
"Right," Tonks cut her off. "Let's get moving."
The strange procession made its way down Privet Drive – Harry supporting Tonks, Dudley shuffling along beside them, his face pale and his eyes unseeing, and Mrs. Figg bringing up the rear.
When they reached Number Four, Mrs. Figg stopped at the garden gate. "I'll leave you here," she said. "Need to get home and wait for Dumbledore's response. Keep your wands out, just in case."
She hurried off, her shopping bags swinging wildly, cats scattering in all directions. Harry turned to Tonks, concerned by her still-pale complexion.
"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked quietly.
Tonks nodded, though her hair remained a dull color. "I will be. Dementors... they bring back things I'd rather not remember."
Harry understood all too well. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Later," she promised, squeezing his hand briefly. "Right now, we need to deal with your family."
Dudley had already reached the front door and was fumbling with the handle, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. Before Harry could move to help, the door flew open to reveal Aunt Petunia, her face tight with annoyance.
"Where have you been, Duddikins? You're late for..." She trailed off as she took in Dudley's state. "Dudley? What's wrong? What's happened to you?"
Dudley swayed on his feet, then abruptly leaned over and vomited on the doormat. Petunia let out a shriek of dismay, reaching for her son as he straightened up, his face greenish-white.
"He... him..." Dudley raised a shaking hand to point at Harry. "He did it..."
Petunia's head whipped around, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Harry and Tonks approaching. "What did you do to him?" she demanded. "What have you done to my son?"
"I didn't do anything to him," Harry replied, his patience wearing thin. "I saved him."
"Saved him?" Vernon's voice boomed as he appeared behind Petunia, his face rapidly purpling as he took in the scene. "What nonsense is this? What have you done, boy?"
"Mr. Dursley," Tonks began, stepping forward with as much authority as she could muster in her weakened state. "There was an incident at the park. Harry protected your son from a serious threat."
Vernon's small eyes darted between Tonks and Harry, suspicion evident in every line of his face. "What kind of incident? What threat?"
Before either Harry or Tonks could respond, a large barn owl swooped down the street, its wings silent against the now-calm evening air. It dropped a letter at Harry's feet before banking sharply and disappearing over the rooftops.
Harry bent to pick up the letter, recognizing the Ministry of Magic seal with a sinking feeling. He broke it open, scanning the contents quickly as Vernon continued to bluster.
"What's that? Who's writing to you?"
Harry looked up from the letter, his expression grim. "I've been expelled from Hogwarts."
Tonks's head snapped around. "What? Let me see that."
She took the letter, reading it with growing indignation. "This is ridiculous! It was self-defense! They can't expel you without a hearing – it's against the law!"
"Expelled?" Vernon repeated, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You're expelled from that freak school?"
However, it was Petunia who connected the dots first and she whirled around to face Tonks. "You know about all this? You… You're one of them! You're a freak!"
Vernon's eyes bugged out and he stared at Tonks who couldn't be bothered with them right now.
"It's not final," she said firmly, handing the letter back to Harry. "They can't do this. We'll fight it."
"You're not going anywhere," Vernon declared, his voice almost gleeful even though he was glaring at Harry and Tonks with utter loathing. "Get inside, all of you. I want to know exactly what happened and what's been going on in my house."
Harry hesitated, looking at Tonks. She nodded slightly, indicating they should comply for now. They followed Vernon into the house, Petunia supporting a still-shaky Dudley, who kept throwing fearful glances at Harry.
Once in the living room, Vernon rounded on Harry. "Now, boy. Explain."
Harry exchanged another look with Tonks, who gave him an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, he began to explain about the Dementors, about their effect on Dudley, and about his use of the Patronus Charm to drive them away.
Vernon's face grew redder with each word. "Dementoids? What utter rubbish! You expect us to believe that?"
"They're called Dementors, Mr. Dursley," Tonks said, her professional tone returning despite her pallor. "And they're very real. They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban."
"You," Vernon pointed a pudgy finger at her, "I'll be pressing charges on you, you better believe that. But that comes later. Tell me what would these... these prison guards be doing in Little Whinging?" He demanded.
"That," said Harry grimly, "is the question, isn't it?"
Before Vernon could respond, another owl swooped through the open window, dropping a letter on Harry's head before flying out again. With trembling fingers, Harry opened it, recognizing Sirius's handwriting.
"Harry – Arthur's just told us what's happened. Don't leave the house again, whatever you do. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND. Sirius"
"More owls?" Vernon bellowed. "I will not have them in my house!"
A third owl shot through the window like a feathery cannonball, colliding with Vernon's head before dropping yet another letter in Harry's lap and zooming back out. This one was from Arthur Weasley, urging him to stay put and not to use magic again.
"Enough!" Vernon roared as Harry finished reading. "I want to know what's going on! Why are these Dementy-whatsits after my son?"
"They weren't after Dudley," Harry said tiredly. "They were after me."
"After you? Why would they be after you?"
Harry hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. Tonks stepped in smoothly.
"Harry is a person of interest in our world, Mr. Dursley. As I'm sure you're aware, he has... powerful enemies."
Vernon's face went through a remarkable series of color changes – red to purple to a grayish white. "You mean... you mean that Lord fellow? The one who killed your parents?" he asked Harry.
"Voldemort," Harry confirmed grimly. "Yes."
Petunia made a small, frightened noise, her arms tightening around Dudley. "But... but he's gone. That's what they said. He's gone."
"He's back," Harry said simply. "He returned at the end of the school year. That's what I've been trying to tell you all summer. That's why Nym's been here. To make sure I and… my relatives are safe."
A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by Dudley's shaky breathing. Vernon and Petunia exchanged a look that contained a mixture of fear, anger, and resignation.
"I think," Vernon said finally, his voice trembling with suppressed rage, "that you should leave this house. Now."
Petunia gasped. "Vernon!"
"I've had enough," Vernon continued, glaring at Harry. "Dudley attacked, owls flying in and out, talk of Dark Lords returning – I want you out!"
"B-But Vernon," Petunia began, her voice shaking as she held her son, "the boy needs to stay here. The protection—"
"Protection? The one that old coot talked about?" Vernon scoffed. "Fat lot of good it did today! My son was attacked!"
"And Harry saved him," Tonks pointed out. "If he hadn't been there, if he hadn't used magic, your son might have lost his soul."
This statement was met with confused silence from Vernon and Petunia, but Dudley nodded shakily, seemingly understanding on some level what had been at stake.
"His... soul?" Petunia whispered.
"That's what Dementors do," Harry explained quietly. "They suck out your soul. Leave you worse than dead."
A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of Dudley's labored breathing. Petunia clutched her son tighter, her eyes wide with horror.
"I don't believe a word of it," Vernon declared, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. "This is just another one of your freakish—"
"I don't care if you believe it or not," Tonks interrupted, her hair slowly shifting from gray to a deep, angry red. "It happened. Your son was attacked, Harry saved him, and now the Ministry is trying to punish him for it."
Vernon's face purpled again. "Then I want both of you out! Out of my house! You've brought nothing but trouble since the day you arrived," he jabbed a finger at Harry, "and you," he turned to Tonks, "sneaking around my house, lying and impersonating—"
"Mr. Dursley," Tonks said, her voice dangerously calm as she straightened to her full height, "I was planning on doing exactly that."
Vernon blinked, clearly not expecting this response.
"Harry's leaving," Tonks continued firmly. "With me. Right now. But not because you're throwing him out. He's leaving because he deserves better than to be trapped in a house with people who treat him like garbage."
"Now see here—" Vernon began, but Tonks cut him off with a raised hand.
"No, you see here. I've watched how you treat him. I've seen the cupboard under the stairs. I know about the cat flap and the bars on his window." Her voice was steady but her eyes flashed dangerously. "The only reason I haven't reported you to child services is because it would complicate matters at a time when we need to focus on keeping Harry safe."
Vernon's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Petunia had gone very still, her face pale.
Harry, momentarily forgotten in the tension between Tonks and his uncle, remembered something important. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly squashed chocolate bar—a remnant from his secret stash of sweets.
"Here," he said, approaching Dudley cautiously and holding the chocolate out. "Eat this. It helps... with what the Dementors did."
Petunia stared at the chocolate suspiciously while Dudley glanced at it, then at Harry, clearly torn between his fear of anything Harry offered and his desperate need for comfort.
"It's just chocolate," Harry said, his voice softening. "Trust me on this. It helps."
Slowly, Dudley reached out and took the chocolate. He unwrapped it with trembling fingers and took a tiny bite. Almost immediately, some color returned to his ashen face.
"We need to pack your things," Tonks said to Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go upstairs."
Harry nodded, casting one last look at the Dursleys before following Tonks up to his small bedroom. As soon as the door closed behind them, Tonks pulled him into a tight hug.
"Are you okay?" she whispered against his neck.
Harry nodded against her shoulder, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. "Yeah. Better now that we're leaving."
Between the two of them, it didn't take long to pack Harry's meager possessions. Tonks shrunk his trunk and tucked it into her pocket, while Harry coaxed a reluctant Hedwig into her cage.
"Ready?" she asked.
Harry looked around the small room that had been his prison for so many summers. "More than ready."
They descended the stairs to find the Dursleys assembled in the living room, Vernon and Petunia sitting on either side of Dudley, who was nibbling on the chocolate and shivering considerably less than before.
"I'm leaving," Harry announced without preamble.
Vernon grunted, not meeting his eyes. Dudley stared at him with an unreadable expression. But it was Petunia who surprised him.
"Where will you go?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Somewhere safe," Harry replied. "I won't be coming back. You won't have to worry about me anymore."
Petunia's lips thinned, a flicker of something—regret? relief?—crossing her features.
"You should consider leaving too," Harry continued, addressing all three of them. "Voldemort's back, and he knows where I live. There's a chance he might come here, even if I'm gone."
Vernon scoffed, but there was fear in his eyes. "More freakish nonsense."
"It's not nonsense," Harry said quietly. "He killed my parents. He tried to kill me. He doesn't care about muggles—non-magical people. He kills them for sport."
A heavy silence followed his words. Dudley looked up, his eyes meeting Harry's with newfound understanding.
"You really saved me?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "From those... things?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. I did."
Dudley swallowed hard. "Thanks," he muttered, the word clearly unfamiliar on his tongue when directed at Harry.
Harry blinked in surprise. "You're welcome," he said after a moment. He turned to leave, but Petunia's voice stopped him.
"Wait."
Harry turned back, raising an eyebrow in question. Petunia stood, wringing her hands nervously.
"Your mother," she began, then stopped, seeming to struggle with herself. "Lily... when those creatures came for her... did she... could she fight them?"
The question caught Harry off guard. "I don't know," he admitted. "But she was brilliant at charms. Everyone says so. I think she probably could."
Petunia nodded, a strange expression on her face. "She was always good at everything she tried," she said, a hint of bitterness in her voice, but something else too—a reluctant pride. "Even before she knew what she was."
Harry felt a lump form in his throat. This was the most his aunt had ever voluntarily spoken about his mother.
"I think..." Petunia continued, her voice strained, "I think she would be proud. Of what you did today."
Harry stared at her, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. "Thank you," he managed to say, his voice barely audible.
Petunia gave a stiff nod, then turned away, signaling the end of the conversation. Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"Goodbye," he said simply, to all of them.
With that, he and Tonks left the house, stepping out into the cool evening air. Harry felt lighter somehow, as if he'd put down a heavy burden he'd been carrying for years.
They walked a short distance from the house before Tonks pulled him into the shadow of a large tree. "Ready for your first side-along apparition?" she asked with a mischievous grin.
Harry nodded, though he had no idea what to expect. "As I'll ever be."
"Hold tight to my arm and don't let go," she instructed, wrapping an arm around his waist. "It's not a pleasant sensation the first time. Or the hundredth, if I'm honest."
Harry gripped her arm firmly, and suddenly the world compressed around him. He felt as if he were being forced through a very tight rubber tube, pressure squeezing him from all sides, his eyeballs pushed back into his head, his chest so constricted he couldn't breathe—
And then it was over. Harry gasped for air, his knees buckling slightly as his feet hit solid ground. Only Tonks's arm around his waist kept him upright.
"Alright there?" she asked, steadying him.
"That was..." Harry shook his head, unable to find the right words. "Let's just say I prefer brooms."
"Most people do," Tonks said with a chuckle before she pulled back slightly, her eyes serious. "Harry, I need to tell you something important." She leaned close, her lips nearly touching his ear, and whispered, "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."
Harry felt a strange sensation, as if a key had just turned in his mind, unlocking a hidden compartment. "What was that?"
"Fidelius Charm," Tonks explained, already moving to help him pack. "Dumbledore's the Secret Keeper. You couldn't know the location until someone told you the secret. I couldn't tell you anything near Privet Drive, but now, everything's fair."
"The Order of the Phoenix? What's that?"
"Dumbledore's resistance group from the first war," Tonks replied, using her wand to fix their appearances up right away. "He's reformed it now that he's back."
"And Sirius? He is there?"
Tonks nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's his house, actually. Family home. He hates it, but it's perfect as headquarters—unplottable, protected by every security measure known to wizardkind." She paused, watching as Harry carefully looked around. "He's been going mental wanting to see you. Been arguing with Dumbledore about it for weeks."
Harry felt a surge of warmth at the thought of Sirius fighting for him. At least someone wanted him around.
"Look there." She pointed across the small park.
Harry followed her gesture and saw a row of shabby townhouses. His eyes moved from Number 11 to Number 13, and then—understanding what he was meant to see now that he knew the secret—he watched as Number 12 pushed its way into existence between them, shoving its neighbors aside without disturbing them in the slightest.
"Wicked," he breathed.
"Come on," Tonks said, guiding him toward the newly visible house. "I'm sure there's a lot of people anxious to see you."
"I bet there are," Harry muttered, thinking about a couple of them in particular.
As they approached the front door, Harry felt a mixture of emotions churning inside him—relief at being away from the Dursleys, excitement at seeing Sirius again, but also a simmering anger that had been building all summer. Anger at being kept in the dark, at being abandoned at Privet Drive with only scraps of information from his friends.
"You alright?" Tonks asked quietly, noticing his expression.
"Just thinking," Harry replied, his jaw tight.
Tonks studied him for a moment, then nodded in understanding. "It's okay to be angry, you know. I would be too, in your position."
Before Harry could respond, she tapped her wand on the door. A series of metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain sounded from within, and then the door creaked open.
They stepped into a dim, musty hallway. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet worn thin, and an overwhelming sense of neglect hung in the air. Harry immediately understood why Sirius hated the place.
From somewhere deeper in the house, raised voices could be heard. As they moved quietly down the hallway—Tonks putting a finger to her lips and pointing to a set of curtains on the wall which Harry assumed must conceal something noise-sensitive—the voices became clearer.
"—absolutely ridiculous to wait!" That was Sirius, his voice tight with anger. "He's been attacked by Dementors, for Merlin's sake! We need to bring him here now!"
"Be reasonable, Black," a cool voice responded—Snape, Harry realized with a jolt of displeasure. "The boy is perfectly safe where he is. Sending a proper guard to retrieve him tomorrow is the sensible approach."
"Sensible?" Sirius's voice rose dangerously. "What's sensible about leaving him there after he's been targeted? The blood protection only works if he's not attacked in the first place!"
"Gentlemen, please," came another voice—Remus Lupin, Harry thought. "Arguing amongst ourselves won't help. Dumbledore has been notified, and—"
"Actually," Tonks interrupted loudly as they reached the doorway to what appeared to be a large kitchen, "there's no need for an escort."
The room fell silent as everyone turned to stare at the newcomers. Harry took in the scene quickly—a long wooden table surrounded by mismatched chairs, and various people who he assumed must be the Order members seated or standing around it. Sirius had been on his feet, leaning forward with his hands braced on the table, clearly in the middle of a heated argument with Snape, who sat across from him with a characteristically sour expression.
"Harry!" Sirius's face transformed instantly, breaking into a broad grin as he rushed forward.
Before Harry could even respond, he was engulfed in a tight hug. He returned it fiercely, the solid presence of his godfather calming him after the chaos of the evening.
"Thank Merlin you're alright," Sirius murmured, pulling back to look at him, his hands still gripping Harry's shoulders. "When we heard about the Dementors—"
"Mr. Potter," Snape's cold voice cut through the moment, "how very dramatic of you to make such an entrance. Typical of what one would—"
Sirius whirled around, his expression darkening. "Shut it, Snivellus. My godson was just attacked—"
"Sirius," Remus interjected firmly, rising from his seat. He approached Harry with a warm smile. "Harry, it's good to see you, though I wish it were under better circumstances."
As Harry greeted his former professor, the kitchen door burst open again, and several more people poured in—Molly and Arthur Weasley in the lead, followed closely by Ron, Hermione, the twins, and Ginny.
"Harry!" Hermione cried, rushing forward to hug him tightly, a hug that was not returned in the slightest, not that she paid it any mind. "Oh, we've been so worried! When Mr. Weasley told us about the Dementors—"
"You alright, mate?" Ron asked, clapping him on the shoulder as soon as Hermione released him.
"I'm fine," Harry said, his tone cooler than he'd intended. The initial joy of seeing his friends was being tempered by the memory of a summer spent isolated and uninformed.
"What happened?" Arthur asked, looking between Harry and Tonks. "We got Arabella's message, but—"
"Two Dementors attacked Harry and his cousin in Little Whinging," Tonks explained, moving to stand beside Harry. "I was on watch duty and intervened, but Harry was the one who drove them off with his Patronus."
"Brilliant!" Fred exclaimed.
"Proper heroic," George agreed.
"And then the Ministry sent him an owl saying he's been expelled," Tonks continued, her expression hardening. "Which is complete rubbish, of course. They can't expel him without a hearing."
"They've already scheduled it," Arthur said grimly. "August 12th. I was going to tell you when we came to collect you tomorrow."
"Well, that's not necessary now," Molly said, bustling forward to give Harry a hug. "You're here safe and sound. But how—" She looked at Tonks questioningly.
"There was no way I was leaving him there after what happened," Tonks said firmly. "His uncle was going to throw him out anyway. Made a big scene about it."
"He what?" Sirius growled, his eyes flashing dangerously.
"Don't worry about it," Harry said quickly. "I'm out of there now. For good, hopefully."
"Forever, if I have anything to say about it," Sirius muttered.
"But Dumbledore explicitly said Harry shouldn't be moved without a proper guard," Molly fretted.
"With all due respect to Dumbledore," Tonks replied, a hint of defiance in her voice, "the situation changed. Harry was in danger, and he needed to be somewhere safe. I made a judgment call."
"A reckless one," Snape sneered from his corner.
"An Auror's judgment," Tonks countered smoothly. "Last I checked, that counts for something, even to the great Severus Snape."
The twins snickered, and even Sirius's mouth twitched into a brief smile.
"Regardless," Remus interjected, always the peacemaker, "Harry's here now, and he's safe. That's what matters."
"Well, what's done is done. What matters is Harry's here safe and sound," Molly agreed, switching gears rapidly. "And I'm sure he's hungry. Dinner won't be ready for another hour, but I can fix you a sandwich, dear—"
"Actually," Harry interrupted, "I'd like to talk to Ron and Hermione first, if that's alright."
Something in his tone made the adults exchange glances. Molly hesitated, glancing around, before she nodded. "Of course, dear. Take all the time you need."
"Use the drawing room on the first floor," Sirius suggested. "It's one of the few rooms we've managed to make halfway habitable."
Harry nodded gratefully, then looked at his friends. "Coming?"
Ron and Hermione followed him out of the kitchen, with Fred, George, and Ginny trailing behind, seemingly sensing that something important was about to happen and not wanting to miss it. Tonks caught Harry's eye as he left, giving him an encouraging nod.
The group made their way up a flight of stairs and into a large, high-ceilinged room. Despite Sirius's claim that it had been made "habitable," Harry could see evidence of neglect everywhere—faded curtains, dusty furniture, and what looked suspiciously like doxy eggs nestled in the folds of the drapes.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Hermione rushed forward again, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Oh, Harry, we're so sorry about everything! We wanted to tell you what was going on, but Dumbledore made us promise not to put anything in writing. He said owls could be intercepted—"
"Calls as well?" Harry cut her off. "You are a muggleborn. You do know how a telephone works, right?"
"But I've been here, Harry, and Dumbledore said—"
"Dumbledore said?" Harry repeated, his voice dangerously quiet. "And you've been here the whole time? Together? While I've been stuck at Privet Drive without a clue about what's going on?"
Ron and Hermione exchanged uncomfortable glances.
"We wanted to tell you, mate," Ron said earnestly. "We really did. But Dumbledore was dead serious about it. Said it was for your own safety."
"My safety," Harry echoed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Right. Because keeping me completely in the dark while Voldemort's out there doing Merlin knows what but making sure I'm greeted by a pair of Dementors is the definition of keeping me safe."
"We know it must have been frustrating—" Hermione began.
"Frustrating?" Harry cut her off, a mirthless chuckle escaping him. "Hermione, I was attacked by Dementors tonight. I could have lost my soul. Dudley could have lost his. Nym could have lost hers. And you know what? I wasn't prepared for it because no one would tell me anything!"
The twins and Ginny had settled onto a dusty sofa, watching the exchange with serious expressions. For once, Fred and George weren't grinning.
"I'm not being dramatic," Harry continued, pacing the worn carpet. "I've been going out of my mind all summer, watching for any sign of Voldemort's return, jumping at every sound, wondering if today would be the day Death Eaters showed up at Privet Drive."
"Harry, we're sorry," Hermione pleaded, tears now streaming down her face. "We really are. We hated keeping you in the dark."
"But you did it anyway, and you convinced the others as well, right?" Harry pointed out, stopping his pacing to face her directly. "Because Dumbledore said so."
"Well, yes," Hermione admitted, wringing her hands. "He's Dumbledore, isn't he?"
Harry stared at her for a long moment. "I need to know something, Hermione. Are you my friend, or are you Dumbledore's?"
Hermione gasped, looking as if he'd slapped her. "How can you even ask that? Of course I'm your friend!"
"Then why did you choose Dumbledore's orders over our friendship?" Harry demanded in as calm a voice as he could muster. "Why didn't you find a way to tell me something—anything—about what was going on?"
"It wasn't like that," Hermione insisted, tears flowing freely now. "We were trying to protect you."
"It looks exactly like that from where I'm standing," Harry said, his voice softening slightly as he saw her distress. "It looks like everyone decided what was best for me without actually asking me."
Ron stepped forward, his expression unusually serious. "We messed up, mate. I know that now. But we really did think we were doing the right thing."
Harry looked between his two oldest friends, the anger inside him warring with the love he felt for them. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
"I know we can't afford to fight amongst ourselves," he said finally. "Not with everything that's going on. But I need some time to process all this. I need to be away from you both for a bit."
Hermione looked stricken. "Harry, please—"
"I'm not saying forever," Harry clarified. "Just... give me some space to work through this."
"We understand," Ron said, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Don't we, Hermione?"
She sniffed, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Of course. We understand, Harry."
Harry nodded curtly. It hurt to realize that they were more loyal to Dumbledore, and although he wasn't certain yet, he had a feeling that things would never be the same with them.
To be continued…
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