Pomfrey released all three of them from the hospital wing after lunch the next day, and Harry had nearly forgotten that the world kept going on without them. The castle was almost entirely deserted, everyone taking advantage of the glorious weather and the lack of exams and the last Hogsmeade visit before the end of the school year. No one had any idea what had happened in the night, how close an innocent man had come to losing his life.
That was the thing about Hogwarts. It never failed to remind you that the universe didn't revolve around you.
Everyone knew, of course, that Sirius Black had been caught and escaped again. The Hogwarts rumour mill was a creature unto itself. But no one knew the truth.
None of the trio felt like going to Hogsmeade after everything that had happened. Ron's leg, despite being fixed up by Madam Pomfrey, was still sore and stiff, and privately Harry thought the redhead was shell-shocked from learning his pet rat had been a grown man the entire time. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to finally be feeling the effects of her overloaded schedule; she'd gone up to bed, telling the boys not to wake her even if she slept through dinner.
That left Harry alone, wandering through the grounds in the bright sunlight, finding himself at the edge of the lake. He could hardly wrap his head around it all — he'd performed a proper Patronus charm, right there, and saved Sirius' life and his own. Hermione had been time-travelling for the entire bloody school year. It was madness.
"Alright, Harry?" It was Neville, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and dirt smudged across his forehead. "You and Ron weren't in the dorms last night. I… what happened? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's… a long story," Harry dismissed with a shake of his head. "What are you up to?"
"I've been helping Professor Sprout get the greenhouses ready for the summer," Neville explained. "With all the students gone, she'll be looking after them all by herself, and some of the plants need to be moved first. I just came to get a bit of fresh air." Neville sat down on the sand beside Harry, briefly bumping the smaller boy's shoulder with his own. "You ready to leave?"
"I never am," Harry replied wryly. Neville knew he didn't like his muggle relatives, and he gave Harry a sympathetic grimace.
"Maybe you could come visit me and gran for a bit," he suggested. "Dumbledore can't keep you locked up with the muggles forever, right?"
Harry wanted to point out that the headmaster could and definitely would if he thought it would help his plans, but he stayed quiet. "Yeah, maybe." That would be nice, going to Neville's house. His gran could help Harry learn about the Wizengamot, and what to do about Dumbledore.
"I wonder what our Defence teacher will be like next year," Neville mused, digging his fingers into the sand. "It's a shame about Professor Lupin. I mean, if he made it this far without eating anyone, clearly he can't be that bad."
"What?" Harry stared at him in alarm. Neville cocked his head.
"You haven't heard? Professor Lupin is a werewolf, Harry. Apparently Snape told all the Slytherins this morning. Everyone in the school knows by now. He's resigned, I heard. Packing up his stuff today."
Harry froze. No, Snape wouldn't… he couldn't. Lupin was leaving?
He scrambled to his feet. "I have to go." Neville called out after him, but Harry was already sprinting back towards the castle. He couldn't let Lupin leave, not yet.
Lupin's office door was open when Harry ran towards it, and he flung himself into the room, gasping. Most of the man's things were already gone, and a steady stream of books were floating off the shelf and packing themselves neatly in a trunk, guided by Lupin's wand. The man looked up when Harry entered, his eyes sad. "Hello, cub," he greeted. "Heard the news?"
"You can't leave," Harry blurted.
"I'm afraid I have to, Harry. This time tomorrow, the owls will start pouring in. Attitudes are better, but there are plenty of parents who won't want a dangerous, bloodthirsty beast living in the castle with their children." His tone was wry, resigned. Harry glared at him.
"You're not dangerous," he insisted. "You're the best Defence teacher we've ever had."
That made Lupin smile. "Thank you, Harry. But I'm afraid not everyone is as open-minded as you."
"I can't believe Snape," Harry growled. "I was just starting to think he might be alright. How dare he tell everyone!"
"Severus didn't say a word," Lupin told him firmly. "I can assure you of that. No, my secret was spilled by… another source. Severus was part of the conversation, but he didn't realise one of his Slytherins was eavesdropping until after Dumbledore left."
Harry looked at his professor, comprehension dawning, and his face grew dark when Lupin nodded. Dumbledore. Of course. "He did it on purpose." He had no proof, but he didn't need it. Remus nodded in agreement.
"Most likely. I got too close to you, Harry. He doesn't like that." Lupin reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a familiar piece of old parchment. "However, now I'm no longer your teacher, I feel no remorse about giving you this back. This, too; Severus retrieved it from the Shack this morning." He brought Harry's invisibility cloak out from behind his chair, neatly folded. "From one Marauder to another. The legacy you should've had since the very start."
Harry's breath caught in his throat as he took both items from Lupin. It was ridiculous, he'd had both of them in his possession before, but being given them now felt… bigger. His father's legacy. "Keep them safe, Harry."
"I don't want you to go," Harry said quietly, sounding far younger than his thirteen years. Lupin smiled, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.
"It's for the best, cub. I'm about to have some other priorities, once I catch up with an old friend," he said with a pointed glance. "And you could do with more allies outside the castle."
"But I just got you back." Harry hated how desperate it came out. Lupin softened, pulling him into a brief, tight hug.
"You still have me, cub, I promise," he vowed, lips pressed to Harry's hair. He let go, smiling. "I'm not about to let you slip out of my life a second time, regardless of what happens. You're family."
"Family," Harry echoed, a slow smile creeping across his face. He'd never had one of those he actually liked before. "I'm proud of you, you know," Lupin said, turning back to his packing. Harry stowed his map and cloak away in his bag, raising an eyebrow. "Rumour has it, you performed quite the Patronus charm last night."
"It was a stag," Harry boasted, and Lupin beamed. "That was Prongs, right?"
"Indeed it was. Your father's animagus form was really quite something. James would be over the moon to see your Patronus take after him."
Harry beamed at the thought, his heart clenching. At least this way it was like he had his dad with him still, after a fashion. "Are you alright?" he asked, brows furrowing in concern. Lupin seemed to be moving a little stiffly. "After last night and everything."
"Oh, don't worry about me, cub. I'm more than used to the whole process by now," Lupin assured with a shake of his head. "I'm just glad none of you got hurt. I've not been that irresponsible about a moon since… well. Never mind. I suppose, under the circumstances, priorities were a little off last night. But Severus got me back to the castle safely this morning, and I'll be right as rain in a day or two."
Harry bit his lip; it was awful to think that his friendly, quiet professor had to go through such a painful-looking ordeal every month, that he was so accustomed to it he didn't even flinch at the memory. Lupin was far stronger than he looked; stronger than Harry had given him credit for.
The latter half of the man's words made Harry pause, his thoughts returning to the night before. "Look. Um. About Sn— Professor Snape." The professor paused in his packing, face turning apprehensive. "I know you said that you know him differently — I mean, clearly; you went to school together and all. And he was decent last night. But all the rest of the time… he hates me. He's constantly singling me out and giving me detention even though my Potions' work is no worse than Ron's, and it's way better than Neville's! He's awful to me all the time and I know he hated my dad but I'm not him, and surely— can you talk to him, or something?"
He winced at the slight crack in his voice; the last thing he wanted was to sound like a whiny little child. He just didn't understand. Snape seemed to have two totally different personalities these days, and Harry brought out the worst in him. Lupin sighed, leaning against his desk. "Professor Snape doesn't hate you, Harry, I can promise you that," he declared. Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm serious. Yes, the history between him and James — and him and Sirius — is… complicated, to say the least. And I don't doubt that Severus uses James' name against you far more often than he should. But you have to understand, cub; when we were younger, it was even harder to be a Slytherin than it is now. Severus' contemporaries were the likes of Avery and Lestrange and Malfoy. Being a Slytherin of particular talents, he was — and still is — expected to run in certain circles."
It started to dawn on Harry with a sickening sort of clarity. "Circles that wouldn't like hearing he'd been nice to Harry Potter in class," he finished dully. Lupin grimaced, but nodded.
"He walks a dangerous line. With Dumbledore on one side, and… others waiting in the shadows. He must act as he is expected to act, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter. But I promise you can trust him, Harry. Now more so than ever, if I won't be in the castle. He's a good ally to have." His lips quirked wryly. "I trust him with my life, and he has earned that trust a dozen times over. Regardless of any… issues we may have had as schoolboys." Lupin clapped Harry on the shoulder, squeezing gently. "Does that help to hear?"
"It does, actually. Thank you." Harry had been learning all year about the roles people had to play in public — including the roles he himself was destined to hide behind. Clearly it was all far more complicated than Lupin made it seem; but Harry hadn't expected him to air Snape's personal business to a student, even his cub. Something settled in his chest at the confirmation, though — Snape was just keeping up appearances, the same as the rest of them.
Harry could work with that.
He was about to ask another question when they were interrupted by a knock on the open door — Professor Dumbledore, looking apologetic. "I'm afraid it's time. Your carriage is at the gates, Remus. I thought I might escort you down." He didn't look entirely thrilled to see Harry in there talking to Lupin, and Harry tried not to glare at the old man.
"I'll come with you," Harry said, daring the headmaster to tell him otherwise. Lupin sent the last of his things into his trunk with a wave of his wand, then levitated it out of the room, following behind Dumbledore with Harry at his side.
"Why so glum, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, turning back to him as they walked. "You should be very proud of what you accomplished last night. You saved an innocent man from a terrible fate."
A memory flashed behind Harry's eyes. Trelawney rigid in her chair. Greater and more terrible than ever before. How could he have forgotten? "Professor," he asked, looking up at the headmaster. "Has Professor Trelawney ever made a genuine prediction?"
Dumbledore froze, his eyes going wide and panicked for the briefest of seconds. Harry almost missed it. A blink later, and he was back to his genial self. "Professor Trelawney? Why, I believe she must have made some correct ones, in her time. Why do you ask?"
"I think she made one after my Divination exam yesterday. She said Voldemort's servant would set out to return to him before midnight, and he'd help him rise to power." Harry didn't want to tell Dumbledore the exact wording of the prophecy, just in case he knew more than Harry did. All the same, the man looked a little too happy to get news like that. Again, he hid it quickly, but Harry was watching closely enough to see the satisfied smirk whip across the headmaster's face. Beside Harry, Lupin looked grim.
"One thing you'll learn about prophecies, Harry, is that they are inevitable. Nothing you could have done last night would have changed the outcome — if that is what is to come to pass, then that is what will be. You cannot blame yourself for the whims of fate."
"But we have to be ready, if Voldemort is really coming back!" Harry wanted to know if Dumbledore was truly going to keep him docile, tugging him along like a lamb to slaughter. Would he let Harry prepare himself?
"I think that's best left to the adults, don't you, Harry?" Dumbledore replied lightly. "You merely need to worry yourself about enjoying your summer freedom."
When the headmaster wasn't looking, Harry shared a look with Remus. Just what was the old man planning, and why did it involve keeping Harry in the dark with his powers bound in the face of something so dangerous?
At Dumbledore's prompting, Harry said goodbye to Lupin at the Entrance Hall, making no move to suggest their relationship was anything more than student and favoured professor. He watched the pair walk down the drive, the cogs turning in his brain. There were so many secrets, so many things he didn't know. Harry didn't like it.
He wanted to know what Dumbledore was up to, before the man's plans got him killed.
.-.-.
A few days before the end of term, Harry got a letter from Sirius, carried by an owl that looked like a fluffy grey tennis ball.
Dear Harry,
I hope this reaches you before you leave Hogwarts. I have a few doubts about the owl's reliability, but he's the best I could find.
I'm safe. We both are. I won't tell you anything more, just in case, but I'm safe. The dementors are still searching, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I'm going to let some muggles get a glimpse of me soon, far from Hogwarts. Hopefully they'll lift the security on the castle for next year.
Also, I have a confession to make. I sent you the Firebolt, with a little help from Crookshanks. Think of it as twelve birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather.
I won't say much more, in case this letter gets into the wrong hands. But know I'm thinking of you, and there's a little Maraudering afoot. You'll know more when the time comes. For now, keep your head down, and your ears sharp.
I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable.
If you ever need me, send word. I love you, pup. I'll write again soon.
Sirius.
PS - I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat.
Harry hesitated to show the letter to Ron and Hermione, but they were both with him when the letter was delivered, so he couldn't really say no. To his surprise, Ron held the owl up to Crookshanks for inspection before claiming the little creature, wanting to check it wasn't hiding anything. Harry was overjoyed by the small piece of parchment included in the envelope; signed permission from Sirius for Harry to visit Hogsmeade. That would be good enough for Dumbledore, he hoped.
"What does he mean, there's Maraudering afoot?" Hermione asked, reading the letter carefully. Harry, who hadn't shared the entire history of his father's legacy with his friends, merely shrugged.
"Who knows," he said evasively. He hoped it meant that Lupin had found Sirius, wherever he was.
"Brilliant," Ron declared, staring at his new owl. "Way better than some stupid rat."
Harry laughed, shaking his head. Ron still hadn't completely forgiven Harry and Hermione for going back in time without him. Hopefully the owl would go some way towards soothing his ruffled feathers.
.-.-.
Harry's last night in the castle found him wandering the halls past curfew, safe under his invisibility cloak, enjoying it much more now he didn't have to worry about a mass-murderer coming after him. He glanced down at the crumpled paper in his hand, checking he was in the right place, then snuck into the classroom to his left.
For once, Draco was already in there. He jumped when the door opened, and Harry shrugged the cloak off, revealing himself. The blond's eyes went wide. "You have an invisibility cloak," he realised. "Suddenly a lot of things are making sense."
"It definitely comes in handy," Harry replied, grinning.
Draco shook his head, gesturing for Harry to pull up a chair. "No wonder you're always getting into trouble. I bet you had something to do with Black's little adventure, too — I heard you were in the hospital wing that night."
Biting his lip, Harry met suspicious grey eyes. "Maybe," he admitted eventually. "Sirius Black is innocent, Draco. It's a long story, but he never worked for Voldemort. Peter Pettigrew did. He framed Sirius and faked his own death."
Draco stared at him incredulously. Eventually, he scoffed. "One day, you'll tell me that long story."
"You believe me?" Harry hadn't expected it to be that easy.
"You have no reason to lie to me about something like that," Draco pointed out. "I'll expect an explanation in future. But for now, your word is enough."
It amazed Harry how far they'd come from the year before, where they could barely stand to look at each other without wanting to hex each other. He much preferred this.
"So what are your plans for the summer?" he asked curiously, bringing the conversation round to lighter topics. Draco shrugged.
"I might go with Blaise and his mother to Italy for a while. And Mother wants to spend some time at the family home in France. Father never comes with us, there. He's got too much work to do to take a holiday." Harry imagined spending a week or two without Lucius Malfoy was the highlight of Draco's summer. "Do you… do you think we'll be able to write? Or will Dumbledore find out?"
Brow furrowed, Harry hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know. If I'm back at the Dursleys, I might not be able to write to anyone, let alone you." He'd be lucky if they let him have Hedwig out. Hell, after the way he left, he'd be lucky if they didn't lock him back in his cupboard all summer. "I wonder if I can get away with another bout of 'accidental' magic. Give me an excuse to run to Diagon for the summer again. That was nice." He doubted he'd be allowed to get away with it twice, but it was a nice thought.
"Whatever you do, just be careful," Draco replied. "I know it's hard for you, Potter, but do try and stay out of any life-or-death situations for at least two months." His tone was mocking, but the concern was real, and it warmed Harry's heart.
How far they'd come indeed, for Draco Malfoy to genuinely be worried about the safety and wellbeing of Harry Potter.
.-.-.
The train ride home was a quiet one, especially when he compared it to the one that had brought them to school at the beginning of the year. Harry was surprised at how many people managed to catch him while he was walking to the bathroom at the end of the train, imploring him to keep in touch over the summer. Susan Bones; Parvati Patil; even Daphne Greengrass told him to send her an owl sometime. It felt like he'd stepped into some bizarre alternate universe. He returned to his carriage with Ron and Hermione, where they were also joined by Neville, Ginny, and a girl with pale blonde hair that Harry didn't recognise. "This is Luna," Ginny said by way of introduction. "She's in my year, in Ravenclaw."
The blonde girl stared at him with a somewhat dazed smile. "Hello, Harry Potter. I'm glad to see you don't have wrackspurts on you this year. They looked awfully uncomfortable last year."
Harry blinked. "Uh. What?" Ginny giggled.
"Luna's a bit… interesting, but she means well," she assured. Harry, who still had absolutely no idea what was going on, merely shook his head and sat down between Ron and Neville. Whatever; if Ginny's weird friend wanted to sit with them, that was fine by him.
"Cheer up, Harry," Hermione said as she watched him stare forlornly at the castle disappearing behind the mountains. "I'm sure we'll be able to see you this summer."
"Yeah, I've been thinking about that," Ron said. "You've got to come stay with us, Harry. It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer, Dad says he can get tickets from work. You can't miss it!"
Harry, who had never been to a live quidditch match but had listened to lots of them on the Wizarding Wireless he'd bought last summer, brightened up considerably at that. "That'd be brilliant. I bet the Dursleys would love to get rid of me." It all boiled down to whether Dumbledore would let him go. Surely he couldn't find an excuse not to? He didn't seem to mind Harry spending time with the Weasleys.
Conversation livened up as Ron and Ginny started debating over which team would win the World Cup, and Harry leaned back in his seat, a small, sad smile on his face.
There had been a whole half hour, a glorious half hour, where he'd thought he would be going to live with Sirius when he left Hogwarts this year.
If only that were the case.
.-.-.-.
As it turned out, having an escaped convict for a godfather was surprisingly good for Harry's continued existence at the Dursleys. By which he meant Uncle Vernon had only smacked him around a little bit for what he'd done to Aunt Marge, rather than beating Harry within an inch of his life like he'd expected. Of course, he didn't expect things to last, once Vernon clocked on to the fact that, being an escaped convict, Sirius would have a difficult time coming to Harry's rescue should anything terrible happen. But until that fact dawned, Harry was happy to live with his relatives in a state of uneasy truce. With any luck, he could get permission to go to the Weasleys' before things got truly awful.
Two days into Harry's summer break, at approximately five-fifteen in the evening, the doorbell rang.
Harry — who was up in his room, staring at the ceiling and debating maybe getting a headstart on his Transfiguration homework — didn't think much of the interruption, though he heard Uncle Vernon muttering about how rude it was to call at such an hour, shouting for his wife to get the door. Harry rolled over on his bed, wincing when it jarred one of the bruises on his back.
Then Aunt Petunia screamed.
On his feet like a shot, Harry hurried down the stairs, wand flicking out of the invisible holster on his wrist. Had Voldemort found him already?
To his utter astonishment, the person in the doorway was not Voldemort. It was Professor Snape, dressed like a muggle in black trousers and a black button-up shirt, his dark eyes fixed on Harry's aunt and a smirk tugging at his lips. "Hello, Petunia," he drawled.
"You," Aunt Petunia gasped, one hand clutching at her chest in shock. "How— you're— that awful Snape boy." The vitriol was clear in her tone. Harry gaped.
"You two know each other?"
Snape's eyes flicked away from Petunia to look at Harry, his smirk widening a fraction. "Your aunt and I are old friends, Potter."
Petunia let out a strange sort of squawking sound. "Friends! As if I ever would have been friends with a freak like you. Telling Lily all about that horrible school until she couldn't wait to go with you, coming home every summer and flaunting your abnormality all over the place."
Harry had known Snape and his mother were friends in school — Lupin had told him that ages ago — but he hadn't realised they'd known each other before Hogwarts.
"May I come in?" Snape requested, already stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, nudging past a still-horrified Petunia. By now, both Vernon and Dudley were in the living room doorway, Dudley's beady little eyes screwed up in confusion.
"Petunia? Who is this man?" Vernon boomed, stepping up towards the stranger in his home as if he had any hope of intimidating Severus Snape. Snape's eyes trailed over him in disgust.
"He's one of them, Vernon. He went to school with the boy's parents!" Petunia took a step towards her husband, whose face began to turn red, and he puffed himself up even further.
"Now look here, you," Vernon started, pointing one fat finger at Snape's face. "You have no right to come into my home and— and frighten my wife! We took the boy back like the old man told us, the rest of it is our business!"
"Are you quite finished?" Snape asked, boredom in his tone. Vernon spluttered, face growing even redder, a vein throbbing above his temple. Harry wondered in vague amusement if this would finally be the moment the man had a stroke. "Potter, pack your things."
"I can't, sir," Harry replied evenly. "They're locked under the stairs." He'd picked the lock and smuggled some of his books and such up his first night back, like he had done last year, but the rest was still locked in his cupboard.
Snape waved a hand, and the padlock on the cupboard fell off, broken. All three Dursleys flinched. Harry laughed when he saw Dudley with his back to the wall, trying to make himself look as small as possible — an incredible feat, at his size — with his hands over his fat bottom. His pig tail had obviously left some fond memories.
With the cupboard open, Harry dragged his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage out. His cheeks turned pink in shame when he felt Snape peering over his shoulder, taking in the small space; the ragged cot that had never left, the broken toys piled lovingly on one side, the clear signs that someone had once lived in there. Harry shut the door quickly. "Do I need all of my things, sir?"
"I refuse," Vernon cut in, "to let this man undermine me in my own home! You're not going anywhere, boy."
Harry flinched at the snarled word despite himself. To his utter shock, Snape placed a hand on his shoulder, staring Vernon down in a way that had made even seventh years wet themselves in fear. Vernon let out a tiny 'meep', his moustache trembling.
"You're even more of an idiot than I thought you were if you believe you can order me around, muggle," Snape said sharply. "Potter is coming with me. For the rest of the summer. We may need to… drop in, from time to time. It wouldn't do for certain people to realise he's no longer living here. But you will allow him to come and go as he pleases. Or I might just have to share a few childhood stories with some of your lovely neighbours, Petunia. There are some rather… interesting tales, don't you recall?"
Petunia looked like she was about to faint in horror. "Fine, take the boy," she said, waving a hand. "Just get out! I don't want you anywhere near my family!"
"Believe me, Petunia, I have no desire to be near your… family." Snape's eyes turned to Dudley, making it abundantly clear what he thought of the boy. Dudley whimpered. "Get a move on, Potter. Your godfather is waiting."
Harry's face split into a grin. Snape was taking him to Sirius! He went to drag his trunk up the stairs, but with a wave of Snape's wand it began to levitate up behind him. "Sir," he said quietly, once they were up the stairs and out of earshot of his relatives. "Won't the Ministry be able to track that?" Between breaking the padlock and levitating Harry's trunk, wouldn't he get Harry in trouble?
"I have ways of keeping my magic undetected," Snape assured him. He waited in the doorway to Harry's room, his gaze studying it. Harry's stomach turned when he realised Snape would piece it all together. No normal boy had eight locks on the outside of his bedroom door, or a cat-flap, or the need to hide his homework beneath a loose floorboard. No normal boy had zero signs whatsoever that the room he lived in even belonged to him. He grit his teeth, keeping his head held high. He refused to let Snape mock him for this.
"Hedwig is out hunting," he said, shoving the rest of his possessions into his trunk. He didn't have much — he hadn't dared take out any of his new clothes, in case the Dursleys asked where he got them, and the only magical items he had out were his wand and his homework supplies. "Will she be okay?"
"She'll find you," Snape assured. "Is that everything?"
Harry gave his room one last scan, then nodded. "Yes, sir."
Snape shrunk Harry's trunk down to the size of a matchbox, then led the way back down the stairs, grabbing Hedwig's cage and shrinking that down too. "Ready?"
"Yes, sir." Harry looked to his relatives, quietly amazed that none of them had fainted in fear. If only he'd known sooner that his grouchy Potions' professor could inspire such reactions in his aunt!
"As I said, Petunia. Potter will come and go as he pleases, and if I find out you've told anyone where he is or who he's with, I promise you will regret it," Snape said coldly, staring Petunia right in the eye. She glared at him, arms folded over her chest.
"Your father should've tried harder to beat it out of you," she spat. "You have my word, Snape. We won't say anything."
Harry gaped at his professor, Petunia's words making a sickening realisation come together in his mind. Beat it out of you.
Maybe he and Snape were more alike than he thought.
To his credit, Snape didn't so much as flinch, offering one last sneer before turning to Harry. "Hold my arm, Potter. Tightly, now."
Harry did as bid, gripping tight to Snape's forearm, and all of a sudden the world span on its axis.
It was just for a split second, but Harry felt like he was being shoved through a small tube. His knees buckled slightly when he landed, but Snape kept him upright, walking him forward several steps. "Side-Along Apparition. Not entirely pleasant the first few times," the professor explained. Harry let go of his arm, staring in shock.
They had arrived in the middle of a long gravel driveway, with wide stretches of lawn either side that faded into woodland. At the end of the driveway was an enormous manor house. All dark wood and grey stone, it was an imposing silhouette against the forest behind it, four stories tall and bigger than anything Harry had seen before. "Where are we?" he breathed in amazement, looking for any sort of clue as to where Snape had taken him. Were they even still in England?
Then, the front door of the manor slammed open, and bounding down the steps came an enormous black shaggy dog.