Harry woke to the feeling of an old sheet sticking to his sweaty cheek and sharp pain in his head. He pressed a hand against his scar in a useless attempt to keep it from aching. Forcefully, he opened his eyes to escape the lingering nightmare. His hands were shaking. Fear of Voldemort was coursing through his veins. Vaguely he became aware of a familiar scent surrounding him. Slowly the realization of what had happened washed over him. Despite the adrenaline still pumping through his body, a part of him recognized what was really going on. Harry grinned, while the image of Cedric's dead body had barely started to fade.
For the first time in years, he felt alive.
Pulling himself together, Harry shoved the irrational fear of Voldemort aside. He hadn't remembered the night on the graveyard so clearly in years. He felt incredibly young and old at the same time. Despite the darkness, Harry knew exactly where he was. The sickly moonlight falling through the only window illuminated enough of his surroundings to get a good grasp of his location. But even then he was quite certain that he wouldn't have needed to see the shabby wardrobe in the corner, the bookcase full of dusty books that Dudley had never bothered to read and the familiar bedside table, to realize that he was back in his old bedroom.
Back with the Dursleys in Little Whinging.
Harry wanted to laugh. Out of all places, Death had to bring him here.
His creepy twin was sitting on his desk on the other side of the room, letting his legs dangle from the edge. Harry swore it was darker where he sat.
Out of habit, Harry wanted to adjust his glasses but he realized that he wasn't wearing them at all. He spotted them on the bedside drawer. But as he reached to grab them he paused. Curiously he stared at his hands. They were smaller. Skinnier. And they lacked a familiar scar. Suddenly confusion at why he expected a faint line in his own handwriting scarring his skin pushed to the forefront of his mind. Harry shook his head to rid himself of the weird sensation. He had the strange feeling of two opinions on that matter clashing in his mind.
"Harryyy..."
A whisper from the other side of the room caused him to turn his head and once more his brain seemed not able to choose which emotion it should settle on.
"Death," Harry said eventually, while simultaneously trying to convince himself that he wasn't hallucinating this other version of himself in his bedroom. Perhaps this was dark magic and- Harry forcefully shoved the notion down. He had been a damn Auror for half a decade. He knew what dark magic looked like. Meanwhile, the creature smirked at him, seemingly waiting for Harry to regain control over his brain.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "So this is what your version of fun looks like?" he asked and immediately recoiled from the sound of his younger voice.
Death's smirk broadened. "Would you have wanted two versions of yourself running around?"
Harry scowled. "That's easy for you to say. I'm currently fighting the urge to pack my things and call Dumbledore because this looks awfully like something caused by Voldemort to mess with my mind."
"Your soul will get used to it."
Harry scoffed. Death continued to watch him and suddenly Harry realized that the creature was wearing jeans and an ordinary shirt. The whole idea of it was so bizarre that he didn't quite know how to react. Oddly enough, it was this image that eradicated the smidgen of fear, which a part of him had still felt while looking at Death.
The being still seemed weirdly out of place, but more real. Its shape was no longer blurred at the edges, instead, it appeared more tangible and its hair seemed to have settled, mostly. Also, the clothes were a rather human touch. Even when Death began to purr, the sound no longer echoed from the walls and actually came closer to the noise a kneazle might make instead of thunder.
"Are you visible to other people too?" Harry wondered out loud and he looked at Death with a curiosity he couldn't quite link to his older self.
"For now," it answered cryptically, all attention fixated on Harry.
A creaking sound downstairs had Harry freeze. A wave of anxiety rolled through him.
Someone was in the house.
The first thought was that somehow Death Eaters had found him. He could only thank Merlin that at least the Dursleys had left earlier this evening.
Where the hell was his wand?!
As soon as the thought had fully formed in his mind, a wand appeared on top of the ratty blanket on his lap. Innocently it laid there as if it hadn't just appeared out of nowhere. But while a part of him was still confused, Harry recognized it immediately.
This was the Elder Wand. The one he'd put back in Dumbledore's grave after the war.
He hesitated for a moment but then reached for it. As soon as Harry touched the smooth wood, the wand grew cold. So cold that for a moment, he feared flames licking at the end of his nerves instead of ice, yet he didn't seem to be able to let go.
He watched with widened eyes how the famous Death Stick dissolved into a dark fog. Like cool smoke, it hung in the air for a moment and then slowly sank into his skin. Harry stared in shock. He blinked, once, twice and then quickly turned his hand to inspect it, rubbing his thumb over his skin feeling and searching for a trace that wasn't there.
His eyes narrowed as he looked at the unblemished skin stretching over his palm. There were no burns nor a black stain of ...something like he had expected.
A thought wormed its way into Harry's head. The Elder Wand was a Hallow after all.
I didn't take much effort to make the invisibility cloak appear in a similar manner. Soon it was right in front of him just like the stone of resurrection. And when he touched the Hallows - just like the wand - they too melted into his body after his skin made contact. When Harry finally looked up, Death watched him curiously.
"You are their rightful owner," the creature explained, "So they returned. Their power connected to you as soon as you arrived." Death's inhuman voice echoed through the room like wind.
Before Harry stood up, he found his own holly wand beneath his pillow. A familiar warmth filled him when he grabbed it, causing a smile to appear on his face. But then the part of him that was brimming with anxiety won over. The muffled sounds from downstairs had his hair standing up. Harry crossed his room in a few swift steps. When he tried to open the door to the hallway, it didn't budge. The rattling of a lock on the other side explained the malfunction.
With a frustrated sigh, he let his forehead drop against the barrier and squeezed his eyes shut.
How could he forget his loving relatives? Three days ago he had been locked in by Vernon. His gnawing hunger reminded him that yesterday noon had been the last time he had eaten something. Petunia had pushed a little bit of soup through the cat flap...
His headache spiked and he frowned. But no. This had been years ago, hadn't it?
Harry gave it up to try and separate the foggy memories. Instead, he focused on the present. He knew that he would be able to open the door with the smallest effort of magic, but he was in his younger body. The room and the size of his hands made that clear. The ministry would probably still trace his magic. Harry turned around to look at Death. "Can you open the door for me?"
The being still sitting on the desk seemingly melted into the darkness of the room before it materialized right next to Harry. It put its left hand on the wood of the door and Harry could hear the clicking of a lock. When he tried to open the door again, it worked without resistance. "Thanks," Harry whispered before he walked out into the hallway. When he turned around, he was reminded that Death still looked like Harry's strange twin, with the addition of an eerie aura surrounding its whole body. Harry looked at him for a moment. He hesitated before he opened his mouth.
"Can you, I don't know, make yourself look more ...inconspicuous?" Harry whispered and gestured at their bodies.
The creature tilted its head and then turned into foggy smoke once more. It swirled around till it settled on the form of a gigantic skinny dog, with short fur and impressive teeth. The exact copy of what Professor Trewlany would probably describe as the Grim. Harry suppressed a startled laugh. Of course, Death looked like a hound straight out of hell.
"Maybe try another animal, something smaller?" Harry asked it, while he listened to the sounds coming from downstairs. Once more the creature reshaped itself until it resembled a slim black snake with white eyes.
"Is this preferable?" it said and Harry realized that the voice of the creature sounded very different than it had before. Almost like... Ah yes. Harry smirked. He was able to speak the language of the snakes again.
Had he ever not been able to understand snakes?
On a whim, Harry knelt down and extended his arm. "Come on," he hissed. The sounds of the language barely disturbed the quiet. Downstairs a door was opened. The black snake slithered towards his hand and Harry lifted the creature up to his shoulders. He could swear that Death tried to strangle him the way its lithe form snaked beneath his worn Metallica shirt.
Still, he didn't pay it much mind. His recent memories of Voldemort's rise had him on the edge and thanks to his mixed instincts, Harry fell back into the casual Auror-stance that had been trained into him so thoroughly that even without the muscle memory to accompany this body it came to him almost effortless.
Meanwhile, Death settled with its head just over his collar bone, the other parts of its four feet long body firmly wrapped around Harry's torso and left arm.
There was shuffling coming from down the stairs, almost as if someone was walking through the house.
Harry frowned, dismissing the faint voice in the back of his head, still warning him about a possible Death Eater attack. There had never been Death Eaters in Privet Drive No. 4. That he would remember.
Perhaps somebody was trying to break in?
The sound of voices echoed through the building. Harry pictured the way the invisibility cloak had always hidden him and just like this, he could no longer see the hand that was holding his wand. Apart from a slight tingle running down his spine, he hadn't felt anything and it had taken no effort at all. It was like an instinct to become invisible. As easy as breathing. Even the snake on his shoulders could no longer be seen. Determined Harry raised his head. He smirked.
Perhaps Death hadn't been so wrong with him being able to have fun. What these intruders would think when they realized that ordinary Harry Potter could rely on the experience of an active Auror?
Harry exhaled, then he slowly walked down the stairs - carefully avoiding the step that creaked - until he reached the hallway downstairs. Years of sneaking through this house to avoid Petunia's wrath enabled him to move through the dark without having to think about it. A beam of light was falling through a gap where the kitchen door stood ajar, illuminating a stripe of a picture frame on the wall and the beaming face of a pudgy 3-year-old Dudley.
"What do you mean he isn't here?" Harry could hear a deep voice say. A familiar voice. With a drawn wand he continued to approach the half-opened door at the end of the hallway.
"I don't know ...goddamn thing, isn't working right since the bastard wore it," somebody grumbled.
There was just enough space for him to squeeze through without having to move it.
Harry's breath hitched and he stopped as soon as he had entered the room. He was faced with a memory - or was it a vision of the future? - because here, in the middle of Petunias scrupulously clean kitchen, stood a bunch of strangers and yet Harry knew exactly who everyone was.
Nine people. Alive and breathing. All of them members of the Order. Harry couldn't believe it. Death had really sent him back in time. He swallowed a laugh and instead walked further into the room, his eyes taking in every person.
Apparently, now that the cloak had merged with his skin, Moody was no longer able to look through it. On Harry's left, Remus shifted his weight, unknowingly moving close enough to touch. Something was different about him. Harry frowned as he examined the crowd. There was no breath-taking relief to see Remus and Tonks alive as he had expected. There was just a mere curiosity as he looked at the people he hadn't seen in a long time. Or perhaps hadn't met yet?
Harry knew these people, he remembered them... but there was no emotional attachment. Memories of feelings and associations remained clear in his mind, but he only felt a distant echo of what they should be. If one of them would try to attack Harry, he wouldn't hesitate to defend himself with all means possible.
It was bizarre. As if all of his relationships had been wiped clean of emotion. Set back to zero.
Though Harry soon dismissed the thought in favour of something else that caught his attention. Because the longer he looked at these people, the clearer he sensed something other surrounding them. Squinting his eyes he tried to make it out more clearly.
He couldn't help but compare it to a sixth sense with which he could make out what he could only call their aura. It wasn't quite seeing and not smelling but something in-between. It was a sensation that couldn't be described and yet it was there. All of the people in the room were surrounded by their own individual energy.
Dedalus Diggle for example. His was light and bright and what could only be his magic surrounded him, curiously bubbling up and then retreating into his body. The greater part of people in here had magic like this. Light and glowing it swirled around them, some in slow spirals others more like veils moved by an unnoticeable breeze.
But Moody's magic was darker. Harry had to think about an old oak, gnarled wood with its roots deep in the ground, a brewing storm on the horizon darkening the sky accompanied by the smell of fallen leaves.
Tonks magic acted similar to Dedalus', but it differed from everybody else' in the room. Somehow more colourful, it swirled around her happily, ever-changing, one time dark then light again. Harry guessed, that this had something to do with her abilities as a metamorphmagus. But even while Tonks' magic was probably the most unique out of the group, Remus stood out the most.
Harry saw him like he never had before. It was not the fact that his brain tried to compare the two images of a teacher he didn't really know -even though he'd liked him - and the man, bled out by the war, dead and cold next to Tonks in the Great Hall.
But this Remus was someone else entirely. Because he was surrounded by something that was outright dark. His magic reminded Harry of blood and chocolate. And for the first time in his life, Harry could feel the wolf in Remus. Like a split personality, there was a second being under his skin. And the creature within him knew something was wrong. Unconsciously, the beast seemed to feel that there was something else in the room, something that smelled of death. Harry could see the hair in Remus' neck rising, his wolf twisting nervously.
The younger part of Harry was afraid, but another found himself deeply fascinated by this. And the latter won out. Harry took a step closer and Remus' shoulders tensed as his magic simultaneously jerked in a fluid full-body motion. Like a wolf whose fur stood on end.
Harry watched it intrigued.
He knew he had to reveal himself eventually, why not now? But could he risk it to act like his twenty-four-year-old self? Probably not. Hell, so far even he himself had a hard time keeping his clashing personalities apart.
Perhaps for now it would be wise to keep his head low for a while. At least till he had sorted himself out.
Besides, if he acted like someone who had fought in a war the Order was more likely to believe that he was a Death Eater in disguise than discovering that he was whatever you could call ...this.
His future self and younger self at the same time?
Better to play dumb for now.
Harry tried to recall what he knew. For everyone else, this was the summer just after Voldemort had regained his body. He vividly remembered how angry he had been with Ron and Hermione because they hadn't written one real letter all summer while he had been attacked by dementors.
Harry groaned inwardly when an old memory emerged from the depths of his mind. Merlin, he would have to endure Umbridge again.
He tried to recall what else he remembered about the weeks that were to come. That whole year, he had acted rash and well - like an angry teenager. Sirius had died because Harry had rushed into the ministry.
Although... Perhaps some of the horrid things that had happened could've been prevented if he'd been given more information.
But that was something he could deal with later. For now, he would simply see how things would turn out.
Surprised Harry also realized that he was more annoyed than afraid at the thought of confronting Voldemort. Apparently, the knowledge that he could defeat him did wonders to his younger self's mindset. He almost didn't care what Voldemort was doing, although sooner or later he would most likely have to deal with him. Dumbledore wasn't the only one believing in a prophecy, after all.
The first time around he had been sent into a war by adults, who weren't able to fight for themselves.
Harry smirked.
Good luck to them.
This time, he didn't plan to do anything just to please the men which were pulling the strings. Still, it would probably be best if he stuck to the role that everyone expected him to play. It wasn't like he wasn't used to acting a bit in his everyday life.
Besides, his fifteen-year-old self had met Voldemort by now, had seen how Cedric died. Surely, he would be able to slip some changes into his personality without raising suspicion. Dumbledore hadn't wanted to look into his eyes this year anyway, afraid of the connection with Voldemort in his mind. Now that he thought about it, it would be interesting to know if it was still there... the Horcrux.
"Somebody should go upstairs, and search Potter," a black-haired witch said, pulling him out of his thoughts.
Harry's lips twitched amused. While it was probably better to keep his head down for now it would be so easy to overpower one of the members of the order...taking one by surprise - only to show that he was capable of fighting... Harry's eyes wandered through the room. Moody would be the most impressive, but Kingsley was closer...
Remus turned around when Harry casually strode past him to get closer to the corner where the Auror stood. He was really the best target. There was only a wall behind him. Nobody would be able to attack Harry from behind and he could use Kingsley as a shield. Kingsley was taller than Harry, but he had the moment of surprise on his side. A hard kick aimed towards the knee and Harry would be able to grab him by his throat. Then he could easily point his wand at the Auror.
A part within himself was horrified at his thoughts but he calmed himself down with the fact that a shattered knee could be easily healed with a few spells afterwards anyways. Nonetheless, he discarded this notion. It was a stupid idea anyway.
And yet Harry wondered over his lack of guilt at the thought of going through with this plan.
"You are my Massster. Good and evil... these are human concerns. Your soul was marked as mine, you are no longer a mere mortal," Death hissed.
Harry didn't dare to answer as he wasn't sure he could safely use a silencing spell, but he frowned at the snake which was writhing slowly under his shirt. It was as if Death had plucked the thoughts straight out of his mind.
Perhaps accepting to be Death's master came with more repercussions than he originally anticipated. They would have to have a serious conversation about a few things in the near future.
The fact he didn't care as much as he felt he should have would also have to be addressed...
But even if he considered all his - apparently - lack of morals, Harry had gained a new unique perspective on his life. So far, it promised to become interesting.
His train of thought was cut off by a loud shattering noise. His head snapped up and his gaze landed on Tonks, just like anyone else'. The witch had accidentally elbowed a plate from the counter. All attention was directed at her and Harry grew aware of the opportunity that presented itself.
He shed his invisibility like a second skin with a mere thought and quickly pointed his wand at Kingsley, who was standing closest to him. "Who are you?" Harry asked, mostly to keep up appearances even though he didn't have to play a part of his confusion. The whole crowd turned around and Tonks' sheepish look turned into suspicion.
In the end, it was Lupin who spoke up after the first shock had worn off. "It's me, Remus. We are here to pick you up."
"Prove it," Harry demanded.
"Alright, we'll do it," Kingsley added in his dark soothing voice. The man looked down at him with amusement in his eyes. Harry huffed. Of course, being threatened by a fifteen-year-old wouldn't leave much of an impression on an experienced Auror like him. Oddly enough the part that appeared to be his younger self seemed more miffed by the fact that he was not being taken seriously than the other. The mix of wanting to make up for seven years of boredom and feeling offended at being dismissed had Harry going through with his earlier plan. At least partly.
He moved quicker than anyone anticipated, using his smaller frame to his advantage as he dodged the arm raised by Kingsley in an instinctive attempt to defend himself and he snatched the untouched wand from the Aurors thigh-holster as he placed himself behind the man.
Eight wands were pointed at him. But Kingsley had lost his mirthful expression, now faced with two wands pressing into his neck.
Harry had a hard time suppressing a grin. He even got the impression that Death was amused.
"Alright Harry," Remus began again. "Calm down." He was trying to keep his voice low, making himself sound as amicable as he could. Harry had to admit that he was good at it. Probably owed to the many years the man spent worrying about how him being a werewolf would influence other people's opinion of him.
Harry's eyes followed Lupins' movements as he slowly lowered his wand, but he kept his attention on everyone in the room. He ignored the part of him that was panicking and used his years of experience in the Auror Department to keep himself calm. As much as he was able to at least.
But the thrill of this moment alone made his decision to go back here seem like the right one. He licked over his lips while his eyes flickered - seemingly nervous - from one person to the other. Harry revelled in the adrenaline. He felt Kingsley's muscles tense and immediately increased the pressure of his wand against the man's neck. A drop of sweat rolled over the man's dark skin.
Everyone stood with bated breath in Petunia's brightly lit kitchen. The only sound was the loud ticking of the single clock hanging above the sideboard. Harry watched with fascination how everyone's magic seemed to draw tighter around their bodies.
A gruff snort pulled all of them out of their stupor. "Y'all shitting your pants facing a fifteen-year-old boy. He's a bit sharper than Remus let us believe, but we're just wasting our time standing around like a bunch of tooting bandicoots." Mad-Eye Moody's gnarled figure seemed to fill out the whole room as he barked these words. "Now let's get over with this." Moody turned to face Harry. "Come on. Ask Lupin a question only he can answer. And then the other way round. It'd be a nice lookout if we bring some Death Eater impersonating Potter to the headquarters."
Harry threw a last look at the people staring at him before he turned to look at Remus. "What was the first memory I tried to use when you taught me my Patronus?"
"Flying," Lupin replied after a moment. "The first time you rode a broom." Harry's mouth twitched into a smile. He nodded and put down his wand despite the fact that he himself probably had a harder time remembering than Lupin. The tension in the room immediately eased and Kingsley turned around to take back his wand which Harry offered him with an open hand. "No hard feelings," Harry said.
Moody still eyed him suspiciously, while the others had also lowered their wands. "Your turn, Lupin," he said gruffly.
Remus was smiling. "Ready Harry? Then It's my turn. What is the shape of your Patronus?" Lupin asked him and a fond expression rested on the werewolf's face.
Harry reciprocated the smile. "It's a stag," he replied. Not that his older self had ever managed to produce one after the day in the forbidden forest when he'd faced his death. His younger part felt vaguely horrified.
Lupin nodded at Moody and afterwards a moment of awkward silence followed.
"Why do I have the feeling, that you didn't tell us everything about Harry, Remus?" Tonks asked cheerfully. She was already moving towards Harry, her eyes drinking him in curiously, the broken plate forgotten on the floor. "Nice move by the way. Where did you learn to do that?"
Slightly taken aback by having the - currently blonde - metamorphmagus invading his personal space, it took him a moment to find an answer.
"I didn't do nothing all summer, you know. While I couldn't practice doing magic, I thought it wouldn't hurt to learn some other things," Harry replied. His eyes flicked to the side where his gaze was reciprocated by Moody who hummed and grunted something unintelligible before he turned around and headed for the kitchen table. Harry was certain that his magical eye was still fixating him. Some of the Order members followed the Ex-Auror, but everyone shot him quick glances then and now. Tonks appeared to have spotted Death and leaned forward to take a closer look at the snake, which was curled around Harry's neck. Harry had almost forgotten about it.
"Your snake is wicked," she said, "I've never seen one like that. Where'd you get it?"
"I was wondering the same thing," Remus interjected from the sidelines.
Meanwhile, Tonks reached out with her hand and expanded a finger as if to pet the snake. Before she could do so though, Death raised its head and hissed threateningly. Tonks immediately pulled back.
"Don't mind him," Harry said quickly. "He can be a bit of an arse."
The witch didn't seem to be afraid though and looked at Harry with curious eyes. Death seemed to use this opportunity to hide beneath Harry's collar again.
"So, where'd you get it?" she asked.
"Well, I kind of found it," Harry replied in lack of another answer.
"You found it?" Remus asked with a raised brow, a scar cutting through it wrinkling at the motion.
"Um, yeah. At the playground," Harry lied, vaguely gesturing out of the kitchen window.
"Would you mind, if I took a quick look at it, only to check that it's not an Animagus? You can't be too careful these days," Remus said with a hint of bitterness streaking his voice.
"Sure," Harry replied, hoping that the spell wouldn't have any effect on Death. He dug under his shirt to pull out the snake. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked, suddenly remembering that it was perhaps a smart thing to ask the being itself about the matter before he realized that he had unconsciously used the language Voldemort was famous for. The whole group flinched, Moody being the only exception, but his head had snapped towards Harry.
Death didn't answer but instead slithered alongside his arm into his hands. Harry offered Remus the snake, which was now partly wrapped around his forearms and resting in his palms. Remus pointed his wand at the black-scaled being and murmured a spell. Harry gasped in surprise as he could feel the magic wash over his hands as well.
"Nothing," Remus muttered more to himself than Harry. Harry smirked and draped the snake around his shoulders once more, his fingers trailing over the smooth scales. Not because Death was slipping from his grasp but because a normal snake would've never been able to hold this position. It was as if Death wasn't bound to obey gravity at all.
"Where are your glasses?" Remus asked him and nodded towards his face.
Harry blinked at Lupin stupidly. Only now he grew aware of the fact that he hadn't been wearing his glasses at all, not having picked them up as he was too distracted by the unfamiliar sight of his hands. Though it wasn't too hard to figure out why he hadn't noticed. He could see perfectly without them. "Um, they are upstairs," Harry uttered distractedly.
"You are probably wondering where we are going," Remus began, changing the topic and he directed Harry towards the kitchen table. Moody was already sitting there, taking big gulps out of his flask.
"If you could tell me you would've already," Harry replied, while he took a look around Petunia's kitchen. Tonks was repairing the destroyed plate with magic, while the others talked in hushed voices or listened to their conversation. He hadn't been in it for ages but at the same time, he remembered talking to Vernon and Petunia in there just days ago.
"You're not wrong," Remus said, smiling kindly although Harry saw that he eyed Death suspiciously. The snake lazily lifted its head to meet his gaze.
Harry's brows rose an inch at its behaviour.
"Well, but at least I can tell you the names of all these people," Remus said after a short staring contest with the creature. "This-" he pointed at Moody who just squeezed his magical eye out of its socket - "is Alastor Moody"
"Ew, you know that this is gross Mad-Eye," Tonks interjected, but her fascinated look betrayed her words.
"This is Nymphadora Tonks-" she stared at Lupin - "who wants to be called Tonks rather than Nymphadora," Remus continued. "Kingsley Shacklebolt; Dedalus Diggle-"
"We already know each other," the wizard squeaked, and his purple top hat fell from his head.
"Elphias Doge, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore and Hestia Jones," Remus finished after every name had been called.
"About fifteen minutes and we are clear to go," Moody said, "If you want to bring something, you better get it now. And Tonks could you get me a glass of water?" he asked while the electrical blue eye danced in his rough palm. It stared directly at Harry. Remus was still waiting expectantly so he got up and walked out of the room. Lupin followed him.
"Many things have changed over the summer, huh?" the werewolf asked as they were heading up the stairs. Harry nodded and looked at the man.
"How are you, Remus? What have you been up to?" he asked with honest curiosity. A new interest in his former professor had sparked in his mind.
The werewolf seemed to be taken aback by the question. "I can't complain," he said after a while. "I didn't do much during the summer. A lot of cleaning. But you're probably gonna hear the details once we reach the headquarters. I can't tell you much more for now."
Finally, they reached Harry's room. Remus with no word commented on the mess of clothes, dust and paper clippings strewn around. They collected Harry's things in silence and with Remus' help, all was quickly packed.
Not even five minutes after they had arrived downstairs, they were clear to leave. Broom in hand, Harry followed Mad-Eye outside. He took a last look at the house behind him and then they took off.