As everyone who'd studied magical transportation knew, the three fundamental keys to successful Apparition were destination, determination, and deliberation.
Destination: a clear, precise mental image of where you wanted to go.
Determination: the unwavering will to reach that location, no matter what.
Deliberation: the careful, purposeful movement through space without rushing or panicking.
The Ministry's official instructors always emphasized these three D's until students could recite them in their sleep. They were simple in theory, difficult in practice, and absolutely critical to avoiding catastrophic splinching.
Harry genuinely believed he was fully capable of mastering this particular branch of magic. He had the magical power—that wasn't in question. He had the focus and discipline from years of dangerous situations requiring split-second decisions. He had excellent motivation, having nearly died multiple times when escape would have been useful.
He had everything theoretically needed to succeed.
However, perhaps because the practice time had been far too rushed and compressed or perhaps because the psychological pressure of knowing he might accidentally splinch himself made him unconsciously hesitant and second-guess his movements, Harry's actual progress had been less than satisfactory.
It wasn't until the very day school started that Harry could barely, just barely, manage to use Apparition.
At the same time, Adrian had also become surprisingly proficient in treating people who had splinched during Apparition attempts.
That medical textbook had proven very useful indeed.
September 1st - Departure Day
The Hogwarts Express was scheduled to depart from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at eleven o'clock in the morning, as it had every first of September for over a century.
It was currently only half-past eight. There was still plenty of time, nearly two and a half hours before they needed to be anywhere near King's Cross Station.
At the breakfast table in Adrian's cozy shop, surrounded by the pleasant morning light, Harry spread strawberry jam on his toast. The scraping of his knife against the bread provided a rhythmic contrast to his wandering thoughts.
His mind wasn't on the food, though. Instead, he found himself reflecting deeply on everything that had happened over this remarkable summer holiday—arguably the strangest, most intense, and most educational summer of his entire life.
The attack by Dementors and the Death Eater. Learning Apparition despite his age. The Dursleys being forced to relocate. Training constantly with Adrian in advanced magic. Joining the Order of the Phoenix as its youngest member.
So much had changed in just a few short weeks.
As he thought about it all, Harry felt a vague anxiety he couldn't quite place gnawing at the edges of his mind.
His gaze unconsciously drifted across the small breakfast table to Adrian sitting opposite him who was completely focused, his attention entirely absorbed by something beside his plate.
The cloth's color was dull and faded, a grayish-black that seemed to absorb light. Irregular tears and holes marked its edges, as if something had been violently ripped away or dissolved by some corrosive force.
Adrian kept turning it over in his hands, examining it from different angles, occasionally holding it up to the light coming through the window.
"What is that?" Harry finally couldn't contain his curiosity any longer and asked, setting down his jam-covered knife.
"Something left behind by a Dementor," Adrian replied casually, still not looking up from his examination. His fingers traced along one torn edge with attention, as if searching for something invisible to normal sight. "A piece of their robes, specifically. One of the ones I destroyed during the attack."
"A Dementor?" Harry repeated in surprise, unconsciously leaning back slightly in his chair as if the cloth might suddenly come alive and attack him.
"Mm," Adrian responded, still completely focused on examining the cloth. "From the ones that attacked you and the Dursleys."
"Is there magic on it?" Harry stared at the seemingly ordinary rag with growing unease, thinking it might be some kind of dark magical object imbued with dangerous enchantments or curses. "Dark magic residue or something? Is that why you keep studying it?"
Adrian rubbed the fabric's edge between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully, then shook his head.
"No, unfortunately not. It's just an ordinary piece of cloth, as far as I can determine. Nothings special about it except for some accumulated dust and grime."
With that assessment, he tossed the crumpled rag dismissively into the corner near where Flick's pot sat, clearly done with wasting his time on it.
In fact, Adrian had been studying that particular scrap of Dementor robe intensively for an entire week now—running every diagnostic spell he knew, testing it with various potions and reagents, comparing it to samples of normal cloth, even consulting several obscure texts on dark creature biology.
But he hadn't gained anything useful or interesting from the examination.
This thing was apparently no different from any common rag one might find in a cleaning cupboard, except for a very faint, barely perceptible chill that emanated from it and felt unpleasant when touched though that sensation was probably just psychological rather than any actual magical property.
Just then, interrupting the comfortable morning quiet, a knock sounded at the shop's front door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Adrian instinctively looked up toward the entrance, his relaxed posture becoming slightly more alert.
Who could possibly be visiting this early in the morning?
Without getting up from his seat, Adrian pointed casually toward the door with one finger.
The Devil's Snare plant that had been huddled peacefully in the corner near the entrance immediately perked up and understood its master's intention. The thick, rope-like vines extended smoothly across the floor with a soft rustling sound, reached up to the door handle, and pulled it open with ease.
Unexpectedly, standing on the doorstep in the morning with traces of mist still clinging to the street behind him, was Remus Lupin. He looked tired as always, but his expression was warm and relaxed.
"Good morning," Remus greeted them with a polite nod, stepping carefully over the threshold. His gaze lingered for a brief, fascinated moment on the Devil's Snare vines that were now slowly, sinuously retreating back to their corner like well-trained serpents.
He'd never quite gotten used to Adrian's casual use of dangerous appearing magical plants as household servants.
Remus spoke in his usual calm tone. "I apologize for the early intrusion. The doorbell seems to be broken or disconnected. I pressed it several times with no response, so I had to resort to knocking."
"Well, no one usually bothers to press it anyway," Adrian shrugged with complete unconcern, gesturing for Remus to come in properly and close the door behind him. "So why are you here so early, Remus? Let me guess...you're bringing bad news??"
"Neither particularly good nor particularly bad news, Adrian," Remus replied, his tone neutral as he gently closed the door behind him with a soft click.
He walked into the hall and naturally sat himself down in the empty chair beside Harry at the breakfast table and gave him a warm smile as a greeting.
"Good morning, Harry. Excited for the new term?"
Harry managed a smile in return, though it was somewhat strained with the anxiety still gnawing at him. "Morning, Professor Lupin. I suppose so."
At that moment, a soft popping sound echoed through the air.
Pop!
Dobby appeared in the middle of the room, wearing an oddly matched but very clean outfit that resembled some kind of formal suit.
Incidentally, Dobby had made all these clothes himself. This was because Adrian had gently told him that his old tea towel and pillowcase were simply too worn out and shabby, and that Dobby deserved better as a free elf with proper employment.
"Mr. Lupin, sir!" Dobby squeaked enthusiastically in his high-pitched voice. "Does Mr. Lupin need breakfast? Dobby can prepare it immediately!!"
"No need to trouble yourself, Dobby, but thank you very much for the kind offer," Remus said warmly, waving his hand in polite refusal. "Just a glass of water would be perfect, please. I've already eaten this morning."
Dobby snapped his long fingers with a crack, and a tall glass of clear, cool water immediately appeared on the table directly in front of Remus with perfect placement.
He executed a formal bow that nearly bent him double, then disappeared with another soft pop.
"Let's get to business, Remus," Adrian said, redirecting his friend's attention. "You didn't walk all the way here at eight-thirty in the morning just to test my doorbell and chat about the weather. What's going on?"
Remus took a sip of his water, gathering his thoughts, and his expression shifted subtly to become slightly more serious and concerned.
"First matter and probably the most immediately relevant for you—it concerns Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position for this year."
Adrian raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of knowing understanding. "What? You've become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor again?"
"No, of course not me." Remus shook his head.
He didn't want to challenge the Dark Lord's curse again.
"The position has been filled by... well, it's a political appointment. Cornelius Fudge, he insisted on placing one of his own people at Hogwarts to fill the Defense position."
"Fudge's person?" Adrian's brow furrowed with disapproval. "Who specifically? Which Ministry lackey has he shoved into the school?"
"A woman named Dolores Umbridge," Remus said the name, watching Adrian's face for reaction. His tone showed absolute certainty.
"You should know her, or at least know of her. She's worked at the Ministry for many years in various capacities. Especially after Fudge came to power and promoted her repeatedly, she's become one of his most trusted advisors."
Adrian nodded slowly.
Sure enough, despite all the changes and divergences this timeline had experienced, things had returned to a certain familiar track. Some events seemed destined to occur regardless of interference.
However, Adrian wasn't particularly surprised by this development when he thought about it logically.
After going through such a dramatic series of events recently—the Triwizard Tournament disaster, Karkaroff's & Crouch's death, the Azkaban breakout, Death Eater attacks, the return of Voldemort that Fudge refused to acknowledge, the Minister would certainly feel deeply uneasy and paranoid about Hogwarts and Dumbledore's influence.
Planting his own informant and spy directly inside the school, someone who could monitor Dumbledore's activities and challenge his authority, was the politically sensible thing to do from Fudge's perspective.
But Dolores Umbridge? That toad-like woman with her sickly-sweet voice and sadistic streak?
That really was a supremely unpleasant choice, and not a good development for anyone at Hogwarts who valued education or basic human decency.
Adrian could only hope that Voldemort's curse would work overtime and extra efficiently this year, perhaps manifesting early and with particular severity.
Seeing Adrian's intriguing expression, Remus couldn't help but ask with curiosity, "What's wrong??"
Adrian sighed heavily. "I don't think she's remotely suitable for the teaching position, or for being around children in general. This is going to be a disaster."
"I completely agree with that assessment," Remus said feelingly, his voice taking on an edge of bitterness and anger.
He hadn't had personal contact with Dolores Umbridge over the years but he thoroughly detested the woman based on her public record and policies.
Because of the Anti-Werewolf Legislation that Umbridge had drafted and pushed through the Wizengamot several years ago, due to those severely discriminatory clauses and restrictions she'd written it had become nearly impossible for werewolves like himself to find any decent work anywhere in the wizarding world.
The legislation had completely marginalized an already vulnerable population, forcing them into poverty and desperation, treating them as dangerous animals.
After the uncomfortable topic of Umbridge passed and both men sat in brooding silence for a moment—
"There's one more thing I need to tell you," Remus said, his tone shifting back to calmness. "It's about the incident here a few days ago. Fudge already knows about what happened at Privet Drive, including the specific detail that Harry used the Patronus Charm in front of Muggles."
Hearing his own name mentioned, particularly in connection with potential Ministry trouble, Harry immediately tensed up in his chair.
He knew that as an underage wizard, using magic outside of Hogwarts was strictly forbidden by Ministry law. And using magic in front of Muggles was an even more serious violation.
Let alone using it in front of multiple Muggles in a residential neighborhood with a corpse on the ground.
Adrian immediately noticed Harry's tension and asked Remus, "Is there going to be official trouble?"
"From what I can determine and based on conversations with contacts in the Ministry, no—there won't be any formal consequences or disciplinary action," Remus answered reassuringly, and his tone made Harry relax slightly, though not completely.
"Fudge initially didn't want to believe any of the report about Dementors and Death Eaters, actually. He thought we were talking nonsense and deliberately creating anxiety to undermine his authority or make him look bad. He was quite angry about it, apparently, shouting about conspiracies."
Remus shook his head at the Minister's willful blindness.
"It wasn't until someone showed him the physical fragments of those destroyed Dementor robes that he finally had to accept that something had genuinely happened."
"Hmm," Adrian stroked his chin. "Fudge hasn't stepped down yet?"
Remus was momentarily stunned by this blunt and direct question. Then he could only respond with a helpless, wry smile and a slight shrug of his shoulders.
He glanced at the clock on the wall and stood up smoothly, brushing invisible crumbs from his robes.
"It's about time I should head back to Grimmauld Place for final preparations. I should get going. We'll see each other again at King's Cross Station in a few hours."
"The station?" Harry keenly caught that word and looked up sharply in confusion. "You're coming to the station? Why? Is something wrong?"
Remus nodded calmly and explained. "Yes, I'll be there along with several other Order members. Dumbledore asked me to provide protection during your journey to the station and while inside the station itself, to ensure your safety until you're actually on the train and away from London."
He paused, then added as an afterthought, "Oh, and apparently the Ministry will also be sending some Aurors for additional security."
This news about the security arrangements put Harry somewhat more at ease.
After Remus left, the shop fell into a brief, pensive silence.
Only the soft ticking of the wall clock and the occasional rustle of the Devil's Snare in its corner disturbed the silence.
Adrian turned his thoughtful gaze to Harry across the table and spoke in a casual tone.
"Go get your luggage sorted out properly and do a final check to make sure you haven't forgotten anything important. Then try your Apparition. We'll go directly to King's Cross Station."
"Oh, okay."
Harry's heartbeat quickened slightly.
Although he could now barely perform Apparition, he still felt intensely nervous and anxious before each use. Especially after so many failures and close calls with serious splinching injuries.
He absolutely didn't want to accidentally split himself in half in front of a crowd of curious Muggles at King's Cross Station.
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