King's Cross Station was bustling with the same frenetic energy it had every June when the Hogwarts Express arrived. Steam billowed in great rolling clouds as the scarlet locomotive hissed to a stop, and the platform filled with the sound of excited voices, clattering trunks, and the shrill whistles of the conductors.
Harry sat near the window, a book propped open in his hands—Advanced Defensive Hexes and Their Practical Application. The words blurred slightly, not because he was tired, but because his mind was already on what came next.
Freedom.
Beside him, Hermione was just as focused on her own book, a treatise on magical law she'd borrowed from the library. Her hair was pinned back in a practical knot, though a few curls had escaped and drifted across her cheek.
Across the compartment, Ron was scowling at them both, arms folded tightly.
"Oi—Hermione," he snapped for the third time. "Are you going to pretend I'm invisible all summer?"
Hermione didn't look up. "Depends. Are you going to apologize?"
Ron reddened. "For what? For telling the truth about your ruddy cat—?"
Hermione turned a page serenely, as if he hadn't spoken.
Harry closed his book with a quiet thump.
"Ron," he said mildly, "just leave it."
Ron looked at him, clearly expecting Harry to play peacemaker. But Harry didn't move. He wasn't interested in patching over petty squabbles anymore.
Ron muttered something under his breath and slouched in his seat.
Hermione let out a tiny sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing.
The minutes ticked by, the platform outside a blur of parents craning to see their children. One by one, students began hauling trunks down from the racks.
"Ready?" Harry asked quietly when the last compartment door slid open.
Hermione looked up, her brown eyes softer. "Yes."
Harry stood and pulled down her trunk first—it was wedged behind his own. She offered him a small smile as she took it.
"Thank you."
"No problem."
They followed the trickle of students to the exit. Outside, the great iron arch of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters loomed overhead.
The Weasleys were there in full force. Mrs. Weasley waved frantically the moment she saw them, her face alight.
"Harry! Hermione! Ron!" she called, her arms already opening to gather them all in a hug.
Ron brightened, if only a little, and hurried toward his family. Percy was standing stiffly beside Mr. Weasley, trying to look important. Fred and George were making rude gestures behind his back. Ginny was smiling shyly, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.
Mrs. Weasley pulled Harry into a hug so fierce he thought his ribs might crack.
"Oh, Harry dear, you look thinner—are you eating enough?"
Harry laughed under his breath. "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley."
Mr. Weasley clapped him on the shoulder. "Heard you had an…eventful term," he said with a meaningful glance.
"You could say that," Harry said dryly.
Before Mrs. Weasley could fuss any more, a tall, familiar figure appeared beside them.
Remus Lupin, looking tired but content, inclined his head in greeting. And next to him, sitting patiently with a faintly amused doggy expression, was Padfoot.
The Weasleys went very quiet.
Hermione let out a tiny gasp, her eyes flicking between the enormous black dog and Lupin.
"Hello, Harry," Lupin said warmly.
"Professor," Harry greeted, smiling.
Padfoot let out a soft woof and pressed his shaggy head against Harry's side.
Fred opened his mouth—clearly about to ask something—but Hermione shook her head firmly.
"Not here," she murmured.
Harry and Hermione guided their trolleys toward the barrier. They paused before stepping through.
Ron hesitated behind them, looking like he wanted to say something.
"See you," he muttered finally, not quite meeting Harry's eyes.
"Yeah," Harry said evenly. "See you, Ron."
Hermione nodded politely. "Bye."
They stepped through the arch together.
The noise of the magical platform vanished in an instant, replaced by the more familiar chaos of Muggle King's Cross.
Sunlight streamed through the high windows, turning the polished floor into a sheet of gold.
Waiting near the benches were Hermione's parents, waving frantically.
"There they are!" Mrs. Granger called, beaming.
Hermione practically flew into her mother's arms.
Mr. Granger smiled warmly at Harry. "Good to see you again, Harry."
"You too, sir," Harry said politely.
Hermione turned, breathless. "Mum, Dad—this is Professor Lupin. He's our Defense teacher."
Remus inclined his head with a courteous smile. "A pleasure."
"And this," Hermione added, trying not to laugh, "is…er…Padfoot. He's very well-trained."
Padfoot wagged his tail solemnly.
While Hermione chattered to her parents, Harry felt a prickling awareness at his back.
The Dursleys.
Uncle Vernon was standing near the car park entrance, his face already purple with impatience. Aunt Petunia clutched her handbag like a shield. Dudley was nowhere to be seen—probably hiding behind the car.
When Vernon saw Harry, he barked, "Come on, boy! We've not got all—"
Harry turned.
"You can go, Uncle Vernon," he said calmly, voice carrying across the station. "I won't be coming with you."
Vernon's mouth fell open. "What—?"
Remus stepped forward, his expression utterly polite. But the ragged scar across his cheek looked almost deliberate in the sunlight.
"Is there a problem?"
Petunia sucked in a breath, her gaze fixed on Lupin's face.
"…Remus," she whispered, voice thin.
"Hello, Petunia," Lupin said evenly. "You look well."
Petunia's lips thinned. She turned to Vernon, her voice clipped.
"He can stay with them," she said tightly. "All year, for all I care."
And with that, she seized Vernon's sleeve and turned away.
They stalked out of the station without another word.
Hermione's parents were watching with wide eyes.
"You're sure you're all right, Harry?" Mrs. Granger asked gently.
Harry smiled, feeling something in his chest loosen.
"For the first time," he said, "yeah. I am."
Hermione hugged him fiercely. "Write me," she demanded.
"I will."
Then she turned and walked away with her parents, waving until she vanished into the crowd.
Harry looked at Remus and Padfoot.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
Sirius' doggy grin said everything.
Remus clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's take you home."
And together, they walked out into the Muggle world—free, at last.
As they stepped into the bright June afternoon beyond King's Cross, Harry breathed in the air—free air, untainted by the Dursleys' clipped scoldings and cold glares.
For a moment, he just stood still, the bustle of London around them blurring into the quiet, golden certainty that his life was about to change forever.
Beside him, Remus adjusted the strap of his worn leather satchel and smiled gently. Padfoot sat on the pavement, tail thumping, tongue lolling out happily.
Harry glanced from one to the other. "Where are we going, Professor?"
Remus tilted his head, amusement softening his tired face. "First, to my place. After that, we'll sort out the Black properties." He paused. "And call me Remus, Harry. I'm not your professor anymore."
Harry felt warmth flood his chest. "All right…Remus."
Remus lifted his hand and flagged down a passing taxi. The driver, a tired-looking man with bristly eyebrows, squinted at Padfoot as they approached.
"Er…you know I don't take dogs, mate," he began warily.
Remus smiled with careful politeness. "He's very well-trained."
Padfoot obligingly sat, then lifted a paw and offered it to the driver with solemn dignity.
The man blinked, then let out a reluctant laugh. "All right, all right. But he stays on the mat."
They piled into the back seat—Harry between Remus and Padfoot. The dog's thick fur was warm against his side, and it felt…safe.
Thirty minutes later, the taxi pulled up in front of a narrow brick house with ivy curling over the lintels. A faded blue door sat beneath a crooked brass number plate.
Remus paid the driver, who gave Padfoot one last wary look before driving away.
Sirius stretched, and with a flicker of magic, he transformed back into himself. He looked healthier already—skin not quite so sallow, shoulders a little straighter, his hollow eyes clearer.
"Much better," Sirius sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Being on four legs is overrated."
Harry grinned. "You look almost…normal."
Sirius gave him a scandalized look. "How dare you," he said solemnly. "I have a reputation to uphold."
Remus snorted softly and unlocked the door. "Come in."
The little house smelled of old books and tea. Shelves sagged under the weight of volumes on every imaginable topic—Defensive Wards, Magical Flora, Ancient Runes. A few photographs were pinned above the hearth: James and Lily laughing beside a lake, Sirius waving from a broom, Remus himself, younger and unscarred, grinning awkwardly at the camera.
Sirius followed Harry's gaze. "We were always getting into trouble," he murmured. "Your dad had no sense of self-preservation."
Harry smiled faintly, feeling something ease in his chest.
"Speaking of self-preservation," Sirius said, brightening, "how did your exams go?"
"Good," Harry said truthfully. "I think I did all right."
"You'll have to show me your results," Sirius declared. "We'll frame them if they're excellent. If not—well, we'll just say the owl ate them."
Remus reappeared from the kitchen, balancing a plate of biscuits. "Don't encourage him, Sirius."
Sirius bit into a biscuit anyway, crumbs scattering onto the worn carpet.
They spent the next hour in companionable quiet, talking about nothing and everything—Quidditch, the best way to trick Peeves, memories of James. Sirius' laugh grew less brittle every time he told a story.
Eventually, Sirius rose, brushing crumbs from his robes. "I'll go check Black Manor," he said. "Make sure no…surprises are lurking."
"Be careful," Remus said, voice low.
Sirius clapped him on the shoulder, winked at Harry, and Disapparated with a crack.
Harry glanced around the cozy sitting room, his gaze catching on the books again. "You've read all these?"
Remus chuckled softly. "Most of them. You're welcome to borrow anything you like."
Harry didn't need telling twice. He pulled down a battered volume on magical dueling and sank into the armchair, losing himself in the curling black script.
Time blurred.
It was nearly dusk when the air rippled and Sirius stepped back into the room, his expression tired but triumphant.
"Bad news," he said, brushing dust off his shoulders. "Good news, too."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"The Manor's empty," Sirius said. "Not a Death Eater, curse, or Boggart in sight. But…" He grimaced. "It's in dreadful condition. Filthy, cobwebbed, furniture all rotting."
Harry set the book aside. "Can we still go?"
Sirius' tired grin was all teeth. "Of course. Just…try not to breathe too deeply."
They stepped into the fireplace together.
"Black Manor," Sirius intoned clearly.
Green flames swallowed them whole.
Harry landed on smooth stone with a thud, coughing out soot. When he straightened, he found himself standing in a cavernous hall lined with carved wooden panels. Heavy iron sconces clung to the walls, their torches guttering low.
"This," Sirius said grandly, spreading his arms, "is the Gatehouse. Every Black who's ever held the family title arrived here first."
Harry turned in a slow circle. The Gatehouse was vast, its ceiling vaulted high overhead. Dust lay thick on every surface. No windows pierced the heavy stone walls.
"How do you get in otherwise?" Harry asked.
"You don't," Sirius said simply. "No road leads here. Only invited guests can Apparate or use the Floo Network."
Remus let out a low whistle. "Paranoid much?"
"Oh, you have no idea," Sirius said dryly.
They walked through double doors into the main corridor. Beyond lay a grand staircase winding up three floors. Tattered curtains drooped over cracked windows. Everywhere Harry looked, cobwebs veiled the portraits, and dust lay like a funeral shroud over everything.
"Charming," Remus muttered.
Harry glanced at Sirius. "What now?"
Sirius raised his wand. "It will take years to clean everywhere."
Harry grinned and closed his eyes.
"Dobby?"
There was a faint pop, and Dobby appeared, beaming from ear to ear.
"Harry Potter, sir—oh!"
Remus actually stepped back.
Dobby wore a neat Basilisk-hide jacket, trousers, polished boots, and a little cap perched jauntily over one ear.
Sirius stared at him—and then threw back his head and howled with laughter.
"Merlin's beard—where did you get the elf?"
Harry grinned. "I tricked Lucius Malfoy into freeing him."
Remus covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking. "You did what?"
Dobby puffed out his thin chest. "Dobby is a free elf, sir—and Harry Potter is giving Dobby wages!"
Sirius wiped tears from his eyes. "James would be proud."
Dobby bobbed a little bow. "Dobby will clean everything, Harry Potter. No more dust!"
As Dobby scurried off, Sirius exhaled. "Well…Black Manor is ours again. But maybe tomorrow, we check Grimmauld Place. Easier to make livable."
Sirius looked around the cavernous, ancient hall, feeling something settle in his chest.
It was falling apart. Haunted by old memories.
But for the first time, it felt like home.