The scalding sunlight beat down upon Harry Potter's head as he ran towards Number 4, Privet Drive, in obvious haste and alarm. On a normal day, he would have been in his room doing nothing or somewhere else in his Aunt and Uncle's house doing his Aunt and Uncle's bidding. But this day was different, and it was not a "good" different.
He had been gone from his beloved Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for several weeks now, and he had been trying many things to keep from being uninformed and unaware of what was going on in the magical world. His main source of news was Arabella Figg, the Squib who lived just a few streets away. Although she was not a certified witch because of her inability to perform magic, she was usually aware of what was going on in the world that Harry loved, since she received the Daily Prophet and was in contact with Dumbledore, Harry's Headmaster.
Harry had tried to keep in contact with Dumbledore and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, but he found that their answers were all boring and uninformative, as they would not tell him much for fear of their owl being intercepted. Thus, summer, a season which most children enjoyed, had become just another bore, as Harry found nothing to do but sit in his room and think about the adventures he would have when he returned to Hogwarts.
The Daily Prophet, which was lent to him by Mrs. Figg, was not too enlightening either. The writers there were notorious for being under the influence of people who didn't want to believe Voldemort was back, and they had only just admitted he was returning after he left half the Ministry of Magic in rubble in a fight with Dumbledore. There had been many new articles about what Dumbledore had seen, and they would have had a field day interviewing Harry were it not for him being sent off to live with Muggles. Still, they refused to become competent and report news that was important and informative. Still, Harry wondered if there was any important news to report, as Voldemort was notorious for working in secret and keeping his operations hushed-up. It seemed that if he did not want anyone to hear about what he was doing no one would. Secrecy was possibly his strongest point.
Still, all of this seemed not to matter in comparison to what Harry was involved in today. He had taken another visit to Mrs. Figg's house, but he had found her door unlocked and her house empty. There was no sign of Mrs. Figg, and he naturally became worried for her safety. Although he was in great haste to find her, he had taken the time to read the front page of the latest Daily Prophet. He had been shocked by the feature article, and just as shocked that his aunt and uncle had not heard about this yet.
British Prime Minister Assassinated Along With Over 70 Other Muggle Politicians!
Yesterday, over 70 Muggles, including the Prime Minister of Britain himself, were killed instantaneously by what appeared to Muggle authorities to be a lethal bomb. The entire House of Commons went up in flames but the bodies were found entirely undamaged, even though they had been killed and subject to flames. To the magical community, this is obviously the result of Avada Kedavra, one of the Unforgivable Curses, and one of the many charms that can be used to keep bodies from being subject to fire. The Muggles, however, were at a loss for an explanation for the unharmed bodies.
This is the first indication that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been active since his appearance in the Ministry of Magic building. Although there is no evidence, it is almost definite that Voldemort was behind, if not directly involved in, this attack. Also, so many deaths caused so quickly indicates that there were several witches and wizards involved in the attack. Cornelious Fudge could not be found to make a comment on the attack.
This article had made it clear to Harry that he could not be left in the dark anymore. He was going to get to the Order, whether they liked it or not. There was only one real way Harry knew of getting to anywhere from Privet Drive, and that was the Knight Bus. He had accidentally signaled this magical bus between his second and third year at Hogwarts, right before he had met his Godfather, Sirius Black.
Harry had loved Sirius like a real father, and Voldemort had used this against him. By sending Harry visions of Sirius dying, he had forced Harry to rush to the Department of Mysteries within the Ministry of Magic. Voldemort had nearly gained what he was hoping Harry would retrieve for him, and Sirius had been killed by Bellatrix Lestrange in the ensuing crossfire. When Sirius had been hit by the curse, Harry had not been afraid, and he had been sure that Black would get back up, unharmed and eager to fight. However, Sirius did not get back up then, or ever again. Ever since his fateful death, Harry had been able to do little but grieve and think about his lost Godfather, his lost friend. Never again would Harry be the same.
Finally, after several weeks' worth of spontaneous crying, he had in a way gotten over the death of Sirius. However, it was clear that there was a hole inside Harry that Sirius had once occupied, and there was no way to refill that particular hole. Still, the Boy Who Lived fought on, defying all odds and fighting the evil that had infected the magical world like a terrible, all-consuming virus. And he did not intend to stop fighting any time soon.
He abruptly stopped, bringing out his wand and pointing it into the air. He could only hope that no Muggles were looking his way. He set out a jet of sparks into the air, and he sat onto the pavement with his legs crossed and his head bowed in concentration. He thought fiercely about the Knight Bus, wishing for it to come to pick him up.
Within minutes, he heard a familiar rumble from one end of the street, and the huge Knight Bus pulled up to him just as the doors hissed open. A man in a blue uniform stepped out of the bus and helped him up the stairs.
The bus-driver was tall and thin, and his eyes shone light blue. Even though he was not very muscular, he had a commanding presence and he seemed like someone not to be messed with. Harry noticed that he was carrying a wand in his right hand, and his eyes continued to dart towards the street as if he was afraid something would appear there.
"The Ministry has commissioned security guards such as myself to keep your transportation safe," he muttered under his breath as the doors slammed shut and they began to move forward quickly, "I'm Clint, and that man back there is Router. I'll be driving and he'll provide with your accommodations. Where to?"
He pointed towards a short and muscular man in the back with long black hair coming over his shoulders. He looked almost as stern as Clint and was also carrying his wand at his side.
"Number 11, Grimmauld Place."
There were big recliners set up all around the 1st deck of the bus, and small tables in front of each one. Harry took a seat and a plate full of breakfast foods such as eggs and toast sprung up in front of his eyes. He gorged himself as the bus continued to move towards its destination. The Dursleys had been seeing no need to feed him much at all, let alone a full breakfast. Because of this, it was his first full meal since the summer holidays had began.
Router looked down at him, "Hungry?"
Harry's mouth was full, but he managed a nod.
"Want some more?" he asked.
Harry nodded again.
Router raised his wand above his head with his long, thin fingers and muttered some strange words. More breakfast food appeared on his plate.
"It isn't exactly the most interesting magic I've ever learned," he said in his deep, British voice, "But it does come in handy quite often."
Harry looked up at him after taking a bite out of a delicious omelet, "What did you do before you began to work here?"
"I'm a new Auror," he answered, "Just got out of the special training program."
For the first time Harry noticed that the man was quite young, and there were no wrinkles on his face, "Was it hard?"
"Very," he answered, rubbing the stubble on his chin, "but it definitely prepared me for what is to come."
"And what exactly is that?" Harry asked, curious.
"War." He replied gravely, turning away.
And at that, Router left Harry to his breakfast, and he soon fell fast asleep in the comfortable recliner, dreaming about meeting all of his friends at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.