As the train neared King’s Cross, Harry slammed the book on wandlore shut in frustration.
He had learned a fair amount and gained a new respect for the craftsmanship behind them, but the text offered nothing useful about his own wand’s troubling behavior.
He drew the holly wand from his sleeve and stared at it, turning it slowly between his fingers.
“Why won’t you work?” he muttered.
A loud crack pulled him from his thoughts.
Dobby and Winky appeared in the compartment, carrying a large trunk between them.
“Dobby and Winky are finished selling, Harry Potter sir,” Dobby announced, sounding tired but pleased.
“Already?” Harry asked, genuinely surprised by their speed.
“Dobby and Winky knew what we were doing,” Winky replied with a firm nod.
“That’s brilliant,” Harry said, a rare smile breaking across his face.
“How much did you get?”
“We got almost four million galleons, Harry Potter sir,” Dobby answered.
“Is that being enough?”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up.
“Four million?”
The elves nodded.
“Shopkeepers in the dark places thought Dobby was still a Malfoy elf,” Dobby explained with a mischievous grin.
“They paid top prices very quickly.”
Harry shook his head in disbelief, momentarily stunned by the staggering sum.
“Thank you. Both of you. I want you to take as much as you like from it.”
Winky looked deeply offended, while Dobby shook his head vigorously.
“We is not wanting galleons, Harry Potter sir,” Dobby said firmly.
“Dobby is happy with his one galleon a month, and Winky is not wanting to be paid.”
Harry sighed, knowing better than to argue with house-elf pride.
“All right. But if there’s ever anything I can do for either of you, just say the word.”
“We is only wanting to work, sir,” Winky replied. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“The castle is empty now.”
“How about this,” Harry offered hesitantly.
“I’ll call for you both if I need anything done over the summer?”
Both elves’ eyes lit up with delight, and they bounced excitedly on the spot.
“We is being very happy with that!” Dobby exclaimed before they vanished with a final crack.
Harry shook his head fondly at the pair, then turned his attention to the new trunk.
After several frustrating attempts with his increasingly unreliable wand, he managed to shrink it and tucked it safely inside his own trunk alongside the books.
Soon the train pulled into the station.
Harry moved quickly, slipping off the carriage and exiting the platform before any of his friends could find him.
He wasn’t in the mood for Ron’s sulking or Hermione’s well-meaning lectures about grief.
He had already guessed they wouldn’t be allowed to write to him over the summer, just like the previous year.
Spotting the Dursleys, he started toward them—only to frown at the scene ahead.
Several members of the Order were speaking with his relatives.
Even from a distance, Harry could tell the conversation was tense.
Vernon’s face had turned a dangerous shade of purple, while Petunia glanced around nervously, clearly terrified someone they knew might see them talking to this strange group.
Harry strode forward and inserted himself between them, facing his aunt and uncle.
“Go wait in the car,” he said calmly but firmly.
“I’ll handle this.”
Vernon looked ready to argue, but Petunia laid a hand on his arm and gently steered him away.
As she did, she shot Harry what he thought might have been a look of gratitude.
Harry turned to the four Order members, shaking his head.
“My summers with them are miserable enough without your interference,” he said quietly.
“All you’ve done is give them more reasons to lock me up, starve me, or beat the hell out of me. Thanks for that.”
“Well, don’t,” Harry replied sharply.
“Dumbledore wouldn’t leave you there if it was that bad,” Tonks protested.
Harry shrugged.
“And yet here we are. I just want to be left alone. I know you’ll all be on babysitting duty because Dumbledore ordered it, but I don’t want to see any of you.”
“Harry, you need to talk to someone,” Remus said desperately.
He looked worse than Harry had ever seen him—gaunt and hollow-eyed.
“Isolating yourself from your friends won’t help.”
Harry shook his head.
“So Hermione wrote to you. I’m sorry about Sirius, Remus. I really am. But I have more important things to focus on right now. If you don’t know what those are, take it up with Dumbledore—unless he’s actually bothered to tell any of you the truth?”
Silence.
Even Moody said nothing.
“I didn’t think so,” Harry muttered.
“Just leave me alone.” With that, he turned and walked away.
“What the hell was that about?” Remus asked softly once Harry was out of earshot.
“I don’t know,” Moody growled, “but I’m going to have words with Albus. Something’s very off about that boy.”
“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, concerned.
“He reminds me of a lad I knew right before he turned into a ruthless bastard,” Moody said darkly.
“A dark one, at that.”
The others exchanged uneasy glances.
“Who?” Tonks whispered.
Moody’s lips curled into a grim, sinister smile.
“Me.” He turned and limped away, his wooden leg thudding heavily against the platform with every other step.