𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗲𝘀, harry potter

fourty eight

48 || trapped

HARRY, in simple terms, had had one of the worst summers.

For starters he was back at Privet Drive, though that happened every year it was still torture. Another reason was that his friends had all stopped replying to his letters, he didn't know why. At first it was Ron, then later Hermione. It reminded him of the summer after his first year when Dobby took all his letters, only this time he didn't think it was Dobby.

Not even Adelaide was replying to him, she had done for the first two weeks, making sure he was alright and wasn't being starved by his Aunt and Uncle, then she sent simple letters, one sentence ones, like 'Hope you're okay,' or 'Don't let Dudders eat all the food," now he was down to nothing. And that broke his heart more than Hermione and Ron not replying to him for some reason.

And now, well now he was fucking screwed. Like always doing the good and righteous thing landed him in trouble. He should of let the dementor suck the life out of Dudley, at least that would be one of his problems gone. Because he'd now gone and got himself expelled from Hogwarts.

He's sent letters to Sirius, Ron and Hermione after the Dursley's sent him up to bed, he was stuck in the house, not allowed out, 'Dumbledore was sorting it out,' the most he'd gotten from Dumbledore so far was a hearing to decide what would happen to Harry.

The Dursley's had gone out for the evening after giving Harry strict instructions on what not to do while they were away. Harry lay there in silence, thinking of nothing, maybe about his impending doom, wallowing in self misery. And then he heard a crash from the kitchen.

He bolted up, knowing the Dursley's couldn't be back yet, it was too soon and he hadn't heard the car pull up. It was silent, and then voices sounded. His first thought was burglars, but then he came to the conclusion that burglars would be less likely to make noise and whoever was down in the kitchen was more than intent to sound their entrance.

Harry snatch his wand from the bedside table and stood at his door, listening closely. He jumped as the lock gave a loud click and the door swung open. He stood there, motionless, staring at the dark hallway, silhouetted against the street light were people, about eight or nine of them.

"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," a low, growling voice said. Harry's heart was thumping, he knew that voice, yet he did not lower his wand.

"Professor Moody?" he said uncertainly. "I don't know so much about 'Professor,'" growled the voice, "never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

Harry lowered his wand slightly but did not relax his grip on it, nor did he move. He had very good reason to be suspicious. He had recently spent nine months in what he had thought was Mad-eye Moody's company only to find out that it wasn't Moody at all, but an impostor; an impostor, moreover, who had tried to kill Harry before being unmasked. But before he could make a decision about what to do next, a second, slightly hoarse voice floated upstairs.

"It's alright Harry. We've come to take you away."

Harry's heart leapt. He knew that voice too, though he hadn't heard it for more than a year. "P-Professor Lupin?" he said disbelievingly. "Is that you?"

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" said a third voice, this one completely unfamiliar, a woman's. "Lumos."

A wand-tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. Harry blinked. The people below were crowded around the foot of the stairs, gazing intently up at him, some craning their heads for a better look.
Remus Lupin stood nearest to him. Though still quite young, Lupin looked tired and rather ill; he had more gray hair than when Harry had said good-bye to him, and his robes were more patched and shab- bier than ever. Nevertheless, he was smiling broadly at Harry, who tried to smile back through his shock.