On Lupin's instructions, Harry didn't send a message to Uncle Vernon letting him know when to pick up Harry from the train station. He figured it wouldn't matter much to Uncle Vernon, if he even noticed at all.

Lupin was there to meet him and take him to Grimmauld Place instead. At first, Harry felt like it was all a bit of a waste of time, since he'd just been there, but Lupin insisted that he had to go back to the school and get on the train, or his teachers would worry. Harry ended up being thankful to have the time on the train with his friends.

Once they reached the house, Lupin went right to work preparing tea while Harry sat at a counter in the kitchen. "Sirius will be down in a bit. He's taking care of a couple of cursed objects in one of the spare bedrooms." He placed a steaming cup in front of Harry.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'm not your professor anymore, Harry. You can call me Remus. You call Sirius by his first name, don't you?"

"Er, okay." For some reason, it felt different to him, but he supposed refusing would be even more disrespectful.

Lupin sat down across from him. "Harry, do you want to talk about what happened at your aunt and uncle's house?"

Harry swallowed. He really didn't want to talk about it, but he didn't suppose he really had the choice to back out of that conversation, now that he had brought up the subject. He couldn't exactly regret it, since he didn't have to go back there now. But it was still uncomfortable, especially since the lines weren't as clear. Umbridge had drawn blood; Uncle Vernon never had. "I—I might be overreacting. Honestly, Dudley was the worst part."

"Dudley is your cousin?"

"Yeah. He used to beat me up but, er, he mostly stopped after I started learning magic. And Uncle Vernon, he beat me a few times when I got my first accidental magic, but it's been years. I—I shouldn't have said anything."

"Harry." Lupin's eyes pierced his. "Tell me what's bothering you."

Harry winced. "At the Wizengamot, with Umbridge, I had marks to show, you know?"

"You were afraid to go back to them this summer. You must have had a reason."

"It's just . . . they hate me."

Lupin frowned. "Harry, I'm sure that's not—"

"My aunt and uncle used to get Dudley dozens of presents for every birthday and Christmas. They've ignored my birthday every year since I was ten. And when I turned ten, they gave me a coat hanger."

Harry wanted to kick himself as soon as the words were out—they sounded so petty and childishly envious—but Lupin's eyes widened. "I see," he said.

"That—that wasn't so bad, actually. It's just that they're afraid of magic. The summer before my second year, though, they tried to keep me from going to Hogwarts. They put bars on my window and fed me cold soup through a cat door, I was lucky Fred and George and Ron broke me out." He supposed he should have been thankful they didn't try to do that while he was still living in the cupboard under the stairs.

"The Weasleys knew about this?"

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"I didn't tell them much. It's not really something I talk about."

"Indeed not."

It was quiet for a moment as they both sipped their tea. Harry knew he didn't have to say any more—Lupin would believe him and help him, no matter how much or how little he wanted to talk about.

But the longer they sat, the safer he felt. He'd never told anyone what things had really been like at the Dursleys, and suddenly, the idea of sharing that seemed like it might take a weight off of him.

He started talking about what it had been like to live with the Dursleys—getting kicked out of his room at age three to make way for Dudley to have a second play room, sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs until spiders and darkness didn't scare him anymore. He told Lupin about having to do all of the cooking, cleaning, and gardening, about the days he'd gone without meals, and about being forced to follow Dudley's diet. He talked about Dudley's eleventh birthday, about Aunt Marge and the Night bus, about the dementors that had attacked Dudley—even though Lupin already knew that story—and about Dobby. He even admitted to telling the Dursleys just enough about Sirius to get them to back off a little.

Lupin didn't react to any of Harry's stories with shock or horror, and neither did he brush off anything Harry said as insignificant. He just listened and nodded, concern in his eyes.

As Harry was winding down, less due to running out of stories to tell and more from exhaustion, Sirius entered the kitchen. "Harry?"

"Sirius!" Harry jumped up and embraced his godfather.

"Good to see you, Harry! Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just, um . . ." Harry looked up at Lupin, unsure how much to say.

Lupin nodded. "Go ahead and tell him, Harry. I have an errand I need to run, I'm afraid."

"Okay." Harry smiled, and Lupin gave Sirius a pointed look before disappearing into the Floo.

----------------------------------------

Remus arrived in Albus's office a short while later.

Albus stood from his desk. "Remus. This is a surprise."

Remus had no interest in wasting time on pleasantries. "Did you know about how the Dursleys treated Harry?"

The twinkling in Albus's eyes died away suddenly, and Remus found his teeth clenching.

"You knew."

"Remus, the blood wards—"

"No. Don't tell me about blood wards. Those muggles tormented that boy. It's a wonder he's able to function at all."

"Harry is alive. The same magic that allowed him to defeat Quirrell with a touch is what guards the Dursley household. There's no better protection than that."

"It's not worth it." Remus himself could provide protection for the boy. It might not be as solid as the blood wards, but the blood wards were no good if Harry was so badly abused that he ran away from home every other summer, or if his mind was being destroyed by the abuse.

Albus's eyes flashed. "You've heard the prophecy by now. That boy is the chosen one. The fate of the wizarding world will rest on his shoulders. There's more at stake than merely his life."

"There certainly is. Merlin knows if there's enough left of his mental health to salvage. The wizarding world is depending on it."

"Harry is more resilient than you think."

"That might be." But Remus was concerned how many might fall as casualties of the battle, if Harry was compromised by his inability to express when he was being truly harmed. "But I have already given him my word that he will not be asked to return to his relatives."

Albus sighed. "You should not have given him false hope."

"It's not false hope. I trust you, Albus, and I respect you, but I will not abide by this. I will keep my promise to Harry."

"Would you fight me?"

Remus swallowed. "Would you make me?"

Their eyes locked. Remus couldn't remember having felt so angry with anyone for a long time. All of those stories Harry had told . . . Albus had known. He had allowed it.

"Harry is with Sirius at Grimmauld Place now," Remus said. "He is going to stay the night, and by tomorrow morning, I am going to make a decision about what steps to take next."

Albus's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, then relaxed. He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"I am going to win this, Albus," Remus said.

"I will not fight you. But I would implore you to reconsider. At least explain the blood wards to Harry before making any final decisions."

"Oh, I will. I do not plan to keep the boy in the dark, as you seem inclined to do." Remus stepped toward the Floo.

Albus's expression didn't change at that. "Do not forget, Remus. He is only a boy."

Remus turned back toward Albus once more. "Yes, he is. I haven't forgotten how sensitive a boy can be at that age, nor how impressionable, nor how his imagination might run wild given less than adequate information." With that, Remus picked up a handful of Floo powder and left.