𝐕𝐈. 𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄 ➵ 𝐏𝐉𝐎 𝐱 𝐇𝐏

004.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

⟻ NEPENTHE ⟼

004.

the seven potters.

——— ☾𖤓 ———

HARRY LOOKED AROUND AT THE STACKED SHOES and umbrellas, remembering how he used to wake every morning looking up at the underside of the staircase, which was more often than not adorned with a spider or two. Those had been the days before he had known anything about his true identity; before he had found out how his parents had died or why such strange things often happen around him.

But Harry could still remember the dreams that had dogged him, even in those days: confused dreams involving flashes of green light and once— Uncle Vernon had nearly crashed the car when Harry had recounted it—a flying motorbike . . .

There was a sudden, deafening roar from somewhere nearby. Harry straightened up with a jerk and smacked the top of his head on the low door frame. Pausing only to employ a few of Uncle Vernon's choicest swear words, he staggered back into the kitchen, clutching his head and staring out of the window into the back garden.

The darkness seemed to be rippling, the air itself quivering. Then, one by one, figures began to pop into sight as their Disillusionment Charms lifted. Dominating the scene was Hagrid, wearing a helmet and goggles and sitting astride an enormous motorbike with a black sidecar attached. All around him other people were dismounting from brooms and, in two cases, skeletal, black winged horses.

Wrenching open the back door, Harry hurtled into their midst. There was a general cry of greeting as Hermione flung her arms around him, Ron clapped him on the back, and Hagrid said, "All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?"

"Definitely," said Harry, beaming around at them all. "But I wasn't expecting this many of you!" "Change of plan," growled Mad-Eye, who was holding two enormous, bulging sacks, and whose magical eye was spinning from darkening sky to house to garden with dizzying rapidity.

Then, Harry met eyes with the one and only Sirius Black. "Sirius!" He beamed, rushing to jump on his god-father's arms. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be underground!"

"Hello, Harry." Sirius smiled down at him, "I couldn't be the one to take you here the night your parents died. I figured I should be the one to bring you out of this place as well. I'll be right by your side."

"Let's get undercover before we talk you through it." Harry led them all back into the kitchen where, laughing and chattering, they settled on chairs, sat themselves upon Aunt Petunia's gleaming work surfaces, or leaned up against her spotless appliances: Ron, long and lanky; Hermione, her bushy hair tied back in a long plait.

Fred and George, grinning identically; Bill, badly scarred and long-haired; Mr. Weasley, kind-faced, balding, his spectacles a little awry; Mad-Eye, battle-worn, one-legged, his bright blue magical eye whizzing in its socket; Tonks, whose short hair was her favorite shade of bright pink; Lupin, grayer, more lined; Fleur, slender and beautiful, with her long silvery blonde hair.

Kingsley, taller and broad-shouldered; Hagrid, with his wild hair and beard, standing hunchbacked to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling; and Mundungus Fletcher, small, dirty, and hangdog, with his droopy bloodhound's eyes and matted hair. Harry's heart seemed to expand and glow at the sight.

He felt incredibly fond of all of them, even Mundungus, whom he had tried to strangle the last time they had met. "Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?" he called across the room.