AMARI by ArtemisHowl

Chapter 1

“… can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you, Mr. Potter.”

The harshly spoken words drifted across him as he was hustled down a crowded street in muggle London. He was glowering from beneath the tattered hoodie, at himself for being caught, at the world for be unconcerned, at her for finding him before he could get to the Leaky Cauldron, for dragging him down this horrid street without even telling him where they were going, for … Abruptly his glower became a grimace he was quick to hide as her hand gripped the unnoticed bruises more tightly.

“… worse than anything your father ever did…”

He could sympathize with Ron more than ever when they did that; why did they have to always compare him to James? He had liked it, when he first came to Hogwarts; now it was a mould, in which he’d never fit.

“… worse than your ill-chosen arrival in that, that contraption of Arthur’s…”

Ron. Well, at least his friend couldn’t get into any trouble for this one.

“… Mr. Potter! Are you listening? I asked if you were ready to apparate.”

Harry discreetly looked around. Professor McGonagall had taken them into an alley, behind a pair of dumpsters. Though his mind hadn’t registered their surroundings, his stomach obviously had; he tried to count the number of days it had been since he had really eaten – was he still at the nausea stage or should he be past it now? Either way, he’d be only too glad to get away, even with her, and quickly nodded his consent.

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When it no longer felt as if his the whole rest of his body was compressed into his bowels, the ground was already approaching too fast for him to catch himself. He dug his fingers deep into the cool earth, it was surprisingly comforting as the world tilted around him. ‘Is apparition always this harsh?’ he wondered. But as McGonagall was obviously still on her feet, he decided it was just one more of his weaknesses.

“Mr. Potter?”

“Just stumbled over my own feet, ma’am.” If she couldn’t bring herself to ask after him earlier, he certainly wasn’t going to just tell her now. Full of impatience and criticisms, she obviously didn’t want to be bothered. He didn’t want pity, and anyway, she’d likely balk at a detour to the hospital wing. ‘She’d probably accuse me of just dragging my heels,’ scoffed Harry. ‘I don’t think most of the staff even remains at Hogwarts over the holidays,’ he mused. His thorough distaste of the infirmary, though, probably influenced his silence. He had always managed to get through the start of every year without Madam Pomfrey; he just wasn’t sure when he’d get access to the materials he’d need to help himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by the necessity to look where he was placing his feet, lest he “stumble” again as they made their way up the front steps. Here, Harry allowed himself the tiny moment of awe that always stole through him when he dared to take in the grandeur and magnificence that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Since his first year, Harry had been aware of the sheer power about this castle, and it thrilled him every time he felt its magic lap against his when he entered. He had always wondered why others took the experience for granted, never seeming to take notice or time to react. Perhaps it was just one of those muggle-raised things.

“Hurry along, Mr. Potter. The Headmaster is waiting.”

As he waited outside the gargoyle staircase, Harry wondered what else might be wrong with him. ‘Shouldn’t I be worried, or nervous at least? I mean, here I am, about to have a less than pleasant conversation, no, speech more likely, from the Headmaster himself.’ Yet Harry found that he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering, that he’d actually been doing that since just before McGonagall grabbed him. ‘Why can’t I concentrate?’ Then Harry chuckled at the many reasons Snape had come up with over the last three years.

“I must admit, young Harry, that your levity surprises me.”

Dumbledore’s statement jerked him back from his reflections. When Harry brought his gaze into focus, he found that he and the Headmaster were alone. He hadn’t even noticed when his Head of House had left. ‘Pull it together, Harry!” he chided himself before meeting the Professor’s eyes.

As soon as he did, he immediately wished that he hadn’t. He found little but disappointment in the old eyes. ‘I suppose I should be used to it,’ he thought. But he wasn’t, it hurt, everytime.

“I can not fathom what sound explanation you might have for leaving your family’s house, Harry. Though, perhaps it is merely something reasonable which I have overlooked?” inquired the Headmaster.

‘What haven’t you overlooked?’ thought Harry bitterly, for surely the Headmaster had to know, didn’t he? Would he not have seen for himself over the years, or at least sent someone else? Even his letter of acceptance had been addressed to his cupboard! Harry had long ago surmised that the Headmaster must not want to know, for then he would have to act, to make other arrangements; it was just one more way in which Harry found himself to be an unwanted burden to those around him.

Harry thought he’d had the ideal plan for compromise. He would go back to the Dursley’s as expected, but this time he would leave. He would find a way to escape. Escape. Harry knew that wasn’t supposed to be what you called leaving home, but it was for him. If he could only reach his vault, he’d be able to withdraw enough funds, exchange it for muggle money, and find a secluded place to stay. He knew he could live on very little; he’d only have a couple months before school. If nobody from school had ever checked on him before, why would they now? It wasn’t as if the Dursleys themselves would be upset at his absence. He felt confident that they wouldn’t want, or even know how, to contact Hogwarts about him.

He still didn’t have any idea just how McGonagall had found him, and so quickly. He wanted to find out, badly, for the incident only fueled his suspicions that his professors did indeed know how he lived away from school; he just wasn’t worth rescuing.

“Harry?” Dumbledore roused him again. “Have you nothing to say to me? No explanation to give for your recent behaviour?”

It occurred to Harry, then, that while the Headmaster was comfortably seated behind his desk, he had yet to invite Harry to sit down. ‘He hasn’t even offered me candy.’ Though these were minor considerations, the Headmaster had always been quick to offer them before, their absence were added hurts to Harry. He’d have actually welcomed a place to sit; it had been a tiresome day, and the injuries he told himself were hardly anything were wearing on him nonetheless.

“Harry? If it is taking you so long to fabricate a lie, perhaps you should try the truth?”

“The truth is, sir, that I was being careless.” Well, it was the truth; he had been caught hadn’t he. “And, I am really very sorry to have caused any trouble, sir, for anybody.” That, too, was very true.

The Headmaster was quiet, probably hoping that Harry would say more. Finally, he broke the silence, “my dear boy, you do not realize how important it is that you stay with your relatives, at all times, while away from this school.”

Harry was glad that he hadn’t pushed for more answers; he was running out of truthful ones he was willing to talk about. “Yes, sir. I believe Mr. Weasley hinted about that last year, sir, but Sirius is not a threat. He’s innocent. You know that!” For a moment Harry worried that the Headmaster had somehow changed his mind about Sirius.

“There is more than that to it. The house at No. 4 Privet Drive is magically warded, Harry, for your safety.”

Harry’s first thought was how upset his aunt and uncle would be if they knew. His second thought was just how much he’d suffer in the face of that news. His third thought was to wonder why he hadn’t been told before. He didn’t get to his next thought before Dumbledore continued.

“We believe that it was your mother’s will and magic that preserved you that Halloween night 12 years ago, Harry. That so, your mother’s blood, in this case through Mrs. Dursley, can, and has, been used to ward the house against direct attack. To a lesser extent, these protections follow those living in the house for a time upon leaving it.” Dumbledore leveled his gaze at Harry, “But to leave the house alone is to invite danger.”

Harry pondered this information.

“Arrangements have been made for you to stay in your house tower tonight, under the supervision of Professor McGonagall. Tomorrow, you shall be returned to your family.”

When Harry began to protest, the Headmaster held up his hand, “not to worry, my boy, I have already sent word to you family informing them of your safety and whereabouts. While your sudden attempt at consideration for them is laudable, it is perhaps late, wouldn’t you agree?”

Harry was too torn between confusion and rage over these words to verbalize a defense.

“Now, Harry, you are confined to the Gryffindor dorms for the remainder of the day. The good Professor will be checking in on you. I expect you to abide by all rules normally set for the school year. And while I am certain that you do not wish to cause any further trouble, I must impress upon you, again, the importance of doing as we ask of you. We only want what’s best, Harry. I do believe that you can find your way to the tower unattended. I have alerted the house elves of your stay, they will see to you needs. I have also asked them to arrange for proper clothing, I wouldn’t want to worry your relatives further seeing you in such a disguise; though it has me wondering what you were truly intending this day, Harry.”

“What!” blurted Harry. “But, ”

But with that, Dumbledore was ascending a narrow staircase that took him deeper into his offices. It was clear he had been dismissed.

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tbc