A/N: THIS IS A COMPANION PIECE TO MY STORY HARRY POTTER AND THE GUARDIANS. IF YOU HAVE NOT READ IT, THIS WILL MAKE LITTLE SENSE TO YOU, BUT CONTINUE AND IT MIGHT WHET YOUR APPETITE FOR MORE.
Now, for everyone else who has already read what exists of Harry Potter and the Guardians, I thought you might find this interesting. I'm feeling a little drained after posting so many chapters of that story last week, so I took a break over the weekend by indulging in this piece. It's been an idea for some time, but it's only just started to take form in print. In all of J.K. Rowling's books, I can only think of one chapter where the point of view was not Harry's, and that was Chapter One of Sorcerer's Stone. However, there are a lot of stories out there from other characters' POV, and I thought it might be interesting to write some vignettes from Guardians that aren't from Harry's POV. For example: Professor Thornby taking Harry to Alverbrooke (this chapter), Sirius waiting for Harry to wake up, Lupin's thoughts as he works up the courage to ask Celeste on a date... you get the picture. A lot of my reviewers from Guardians really seem to like Professor Thornby, so maybe this first chapter will be fun for them. Enjoy, everyone, and let me know what you think!
One: Flight from Number Four (Celeste Thornby)
Celeste Thornby looked curiously around her as she walked up the path to Number Four, Privet Drive. She had never lived with Muggles, and their dwellings were still something of a curiosity to her. The houses in the neighborhood were prim and well kept, though they all looked strangely alike. It was the kind of place where status mattered, and it was measured by how fine your roses were, how tender your roasts were, and what color you painted your shutters. The sameness was all a bit unsettling. Not for the first time, Celeste wondered what sort of people the Dursleys really were.
Celeste reached the front door and rang the bell. She heard the sound of the lock scraping, and the door creaked open a few inches. On the other side stood a tall, bony woman with an upturned nose and sharp eyes. It was not a face that gave an impression of warmth. Celeste could see red in that suspicious gaze. This woman was tired and worried.
"May I help you?" the woman said nervously.
"Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Petunia Dursley?" said Celeste.
"You do," she replied, though her tone clearly said that it was anything but a pleasure.
"My name is Celeste Thornby. I am professor of History of Magic at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and –"
Petunia's eyes went wide. She tried to slam the door, but Celeste raised her hand just in time. The door stopped in its path, quivering, though there was nothing visibly blocking its way. Celeste waved her hand and the door swung inward. White-faced, Petunia backed into the hallway.
Celeste took one step into the house and the other woman screamed in terror. Celeste frowned. Dumbledore had told her that the Dursleys could be difficult at times, but he had never indicated that this sort of thing would happen. "Albus Dumbledore has sent me to –"
"We didn't mean to!" Petunia shrieked. "I didn't know what to do!"
A large, beefy man came thundering around the corner followed closely by the roundest boy Celeste had ever seen. This will be Vernon Dursley and Dudley, thought Celeste.
"Petunia, what's –" The man cut off, staring at Celeste. His eyes lit on her pocket from which the handle of her wand was visibly protruding, and his face went as white as his wife's.
Celeste frowned. She had no idea what she'd done to deserve this sort of chilly reception. It was less than thirty seconds into their first meeting and she was already disposed to dislike the Dursleys, but she kept her tone mild and put none of her feelings into her words. "We have heard that Harry is ill," she said.
"Ill?" said Vernon, making a poor attempt at seeming surprised. "However did you hear such a thing? Harry's fine, of course. Never seen him in better health!"
He stepped forward, forcing Celeste to back up toward the open door. Celeste narrowed her eyes. There was something going on here that she didn't understand, and she didn't like it when she didn't understand. "I am very glad to hear it," she said calmly. "Well, I would hate to have come all this way for nothing. Since he is well, then you won't mind if I stop by his room and say hello. I daresay he'd be glad to see a face from Hogwarts." She refrained from mentioning that she had never met Harry in her life.
"He... uh... he's not here," said Vernon. His wife nodded so hard that Celeste thought her head might snap off her neck.
"Not here?" Celeste said suspiciously.
"Ah, no. He's off visiting his Aunt Marge," said Vernon. He took a large handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his brow. "Harry's quite her favorite nephew. They just can't get enough of each other."
Celeste peered up the stairs. Was that a moan she had just heard?
"That's the cat," Vernon said hastily. "Not feeling well. Been coughing up furballs all day."
"The cat," Celeste said flatly.
"Yes." Vernon laughed nervously.
A thud sounded through the ceiling. "Just how big is this cat?" said Celeste. She pushed past the Dursleys and began to climb the stairs. Something was very wrong here, and Harry was upstairs – she was sure of it.
The Dursleys hurried after her. Petunia had found her voice again and joined her husband in listing reasons why Celeste shouldn't wander around upstairs. Celeste ignored them. She reached the second floor and headed for the only closed door, which was at the very end of the hall. There was no light coming from beneath it.
"You don't want to go in there!" Vernon said in a last-ditch attempt to dissuade her. She reached for the handle, and Vernon's voice took on a desperate edge. "Don't open that door, or I'll –"
Celeste rounded on them, wand in hand. "You'll what?"
The Dursleys backed up. Celeste smiled inwardly; that particular tone never failed to do the trick. She turned back around and opened the door to darkness. "Lumos." An overhead light bulb flared to life, revealing a black-haired young man in the bed by the wall. He was tossing and muttering incoherently as he tried to throw off his blankets. A stool lay on the floor beside the bed, which he had apparently knocked over in his flailing.
In an instant Celeste was by his side. She brushed damp strands of hair away from the boy's forehead and found herself staring at the famous lightning bolt scar. She placed the back of her hand against the scar and quickly drew it away.
"He's burning up!" she exclaimed.
"Milk," he murmured.
Celeste looked down at Harry and gasped at what she saw. His eyes were open, and they looked as if they had been coated in silver. A moment later the silver swirled away, replaced by the brightest green she had ever seen.
Celeste's heart was beating very quickly. She knew what this meant; she had seen a victim of Dragonthistle Potion before. "When did this happen?" she asked sharply.
She was surprised when Petunia answered with resignation in her voice. "I found him like this this morning," she said. "He went down into the kitchen in the middle of the night and drank half the milk. He's been asking for it all day."
"Milk," the boy moaned again.
"Ssshhh," Celeste said, smoothing his hair. "Accio milk! Accio glass!" Moments later a carton and a glass came sailing through the door. The Dursleys flattened themselves against the wall in an effort to get as far from the enchanted objects as possible. Celeste poured the milk into the glass, pulled Harry to a sitting position, and put the glass to his lips. He drank and drank as if he were dying of thirst.
"He has been poisoned," she said, softening her tone. "You know how this happened, or you would not have lied to me."
Vernon and Petunia exchanged an anguished glance.
"Tell me," Celeste ordered. "If he dies, there will be hell to pay."
The Dursleys' eyes widened at the mention of death. "The Mortisons gave it to us!" Petunia exclaimed. "Please, we didn't know it was poisonous! They said it was just a home remedy!"
"A what?" Celeste exclaimed, and the Dursleys cringed. She shook her head; now was not the time to frighten them to death. She needed answers.
"What did the Mortisons look like?" she asked.
"Ah, John... he was tall and thick, with dark hair and a long scar above his left eye –"
That was all Celeste needed to hear. She swore aloud, and the Dursleys jumped. "Those were the Blakes! Death Eaters! They want Harry dead more than anything in the world!"
"They... what? Why would anyone want to kill Harry?" whispered Petunia.
Celeste stared at the cowering family. They didn't know! She couldn't believe it! "Do you mean to tell me," she said, "that you know nothing of Voldemort, of the Death Eaters, of anything?" She was shouting now; she couldn't help herself.
Vernon opened his mouth, a look of complete confusion on his face. Celeste waved her hand. "Not now. I don't care what you know or don't know. I have to take Harry away from here. The Death Eaters will be upon us at any moment."
"What?" shrieked Petunia.
"Is this his trunk?"
"Yes –" Vernon began.
"Are all his possessions in this room?"
"His broomstick's locked in the closet downstairs," said Dudley. It was the first word he'd spoken since Celeste had first seen him.
"Get it," she snapped, and Dudley fairly flew from the room.
"Accio possessions!" she shouted, waving her wand around. It was a bit of a vague command, but objects from here and there soared through the air and onto the bed. Celeste quickly rummaged through Harry's trunk. Sirius had said something about... There! She pulled a silvery Invisibility Cloak from the books and bottles. She waved her wand again, and the collected objects on the bed flew into the trunk. Celeste slammed the lid shut and locked it.
Dudley returned with the broomstick, huffing and puffing from the exertion. "Thank you," said Celeste, taking it from him. Just as Sirius had said, it was a limited edition Firebolt. She felt a thrill just touching the handle, but there was no time to admire it just then.
She turned to address the Dursleys. "You three have to leave the house, and leave now. Stay at a hotel, stay with a friend, but do not come back here until at least three days have passed."
"What?" said Vernon. "But we've not packed, we've nothing to change into –"
"They are coming to finish him off, do you understand?" Celeste shouted. "Do you want to be here to face their wrath when they discover that Harry is gone? If you value your lives, then go! Now!"
The Dursleys ran from the room. A minute later Celeste heard the sound of a motor starting. Good, she thought. That will be three fewer casualties today.
"Mobilicorpus!" Harry floated up off the bed, shivering and muttering feverishly. Celeste wrapped the blanket around him. "Reducto!" The trunk shrank to the size of a small box, which Celeste put in her pocket. That just left the snowy owl in the cage on the table. Celeste was unwilling to shrink that for fear she would harm the bird, but there was no way she could fit Harry, herself, and the cage under the Invisibility Cloak at one time. Both ends of the broomstick would be sticking out as it was.
"Your master needs you to be silent tonight," Celeste said, picking up the cage and staring into the owl's amber eyes. "Can you do that?" The owl blinked slowly and swiveled its head. Let's hope that's a yes, she thought.
Celeste sat astride the Firebolt, attached the cage to its tail, and pulled Harry on in front of her. She threw the Invisibility Cloak about her shoulders and snugged it securely over Harry. She had been right; the cage and both ends of the broomstick were visible, but it was the best she could do.
Celeste pulled out her wand and pointed it at the wall. "Effringo!" A tiny hole appeared in the drywall and slowly began to rotate, growing larger and larger until it was big enough for them all to fit through. It was now very dark outside, and cloudy; there was no moon. So much the better, Celeste thought. May fate smile upon us! "Hang in there, Harry," she whispered, and she leaned forward.
The Firebolt soared out the hole and into the cool night. Celeste looked behind her and raised her wand, intent on sealing the wall again. She barely kept herself from gasping aloud; they were not a moment too soon. Nearly a dozen hooded and cloaked figures were converging at the front of the house. Celeste dropped the Firebolt as close to the ground as she dared, leaving the wall the way it was. It would now be obvious that Harry had left by broomstick, but casting a spell with the Death Eaters so close by would be suicidal. She cautiously urged the Firebolt forward, skimming away through the neighborhood's small backyards. The night was absolutely silent; Celeste scarcely dared to breathe.
She lurched at the first crack of thunder behind her as the Death Eaters assaulted the wards. The snowy owl fluttered in her cage, but she made no sound. Harry seemed to be asleep; he didn't even flinch. Celeste urged the broomstick on a little faster as she put some distance between Harry and the enemy.
The booms and crackles were abruptly cut off, and a scream of rage ripped through the air. Their flight had been discovered. Celeste leaned forward and the Firebolt took off as fast as she could make it go. Behind them, the sky was suddenly filled with shapeless figures on broomsticks, swarming around the house like angry bees around a hive. Celeste still kept Harry's broomstick close to the ground; the Death Eaters were looking for them up in the air. Just a little further...
A Stunning spell shot past Celeste's left ear. She risked a glance behind her and saw that the Death Eaters were firing them every which way, trying to hit whoever was fleeing. Celeste leaned forward as far as she could without crushing Harry in order to present as small a target as possible.
After a few tense moments the Stunners stopped, and Celeste breathed a little easier. But now she was faced with another problem: where to go. She had been planning to make for Hogwarts, but that would surely be the first place the Death Eaters would look. There was no place else that Harry knew.
Alverbrooke. It was the only option. There was no one else there; Ardoc, Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore were all gone. Still, they would return soon; she could send to Hogwarts for the antidote she needed, and all would be well. Celeste changed course subtly and flew off across the countryside.
They flew for a full hour before the house finally came into view. All was dark when Celeste landed gently at the front steps. She pushed open the heavy wooden door and waved her wand, and the front hall was suddenly ablaze with candlelight.
"Welcome home, miss!" said a high, squeaky voice. Celeste looked down to see Pip, the head house-elf, standing in the hallway with the others behind him. "Would you like a nice cup of hot tea, or some... Oh, my!" All the house-elves gasped in unison when they saw Harry, who was still asleep on the broomstick.
"This is Harry Potter," said Celeste, and the house-elves chattered excitedly. "He is very sick. I need to look after him until Dumbledore comes from Hogwarts, and I am going to need your help."
The house-elves exchanged troubled glances. Pip began to wring his hands. "Hogwarts, mistress?" he said uncertainly.
"Has something happened?" Celeste said quickly.
"We have had word," said Pip. "Hogsmeade is under attack, and Hogwarts may be next."
Celeste's heart sank. No one would be coming from Hogwarts just yet, and she doubted that any of the house's other occupants would be returning either. But she could still owl Severus about the antidote she needed. "Very well," she said aloud. "It will be up to us, then." The house-elves straightened up. If there was anything they loved more than making humans happy, it was a challenge. "Take Harry upstairs. Wash him and dress him in some clean sleeping clothes, and put him in bed. The green room, I think. I have an owl to send."
"Right away," said Pip, and all the house-elves bowed before swarming around Harry. Celeste watched for a moment as they gently floated him up the stairs. There was no need to tell them to be careful; Dumbledore's house-elves were a very capable lot.
Celeste quickly made her way to her writing desk where she dashed off a letter to Severus, explaining the situation and her need for the antidote. Rather than go hunting for her own owl, she opted to use the one that was still sitting in the hallway. Celeste opened Harry's owl's cage and pulled the snowy bird out. "Find Severus Snape," she said as she tied the letter to its leg. "Your master's life depends on you." The bird hooted softly. "Godspeed." She opened a window, and the owl soared away.
Celeste lost no time in heading for the library. With Hogsmeade under assault she had no guarantee that Severus would even receive her owl, so it was time to see if she could make the antidote herself. She pulled a heavy leather-bound book from one of the shelves and set it on a nearby bookstand. She opened it to the D's and began scanning.
Dragon's blood... dragon heart... dragonstring... Dragonthistle Potion. Celeste ran her finger down the page to "Antidote" and read the list of ingredients.
Powdered dragon fang... six strands of hair from a year-old harpy... lily nectar... phoenix tears...
Celeste let her head fall into her hand. There were no phoenix tears at Alverbrooke. She scanned the list further and realized that it was useless; the antidote had to be stirred with a unicorn's horn to be fully cured, and she didn't have one of those either. Since no one in their right mind would kill a unicorn, they were almost beyond price. Dumbledore did own a unicorn's horn, but it was at Hogwarts with Severus. The Potions Master would certainly have access to phoenix tears as well through the headmaster's pet bird Fawkes. There was nothing for it. She needed Severus' help.
Celeste wasn't giving up yet, though. She couldn't make the antidote for Dragonthistle Potion, but there were other antidotes in the house, and restoratives as well. Perhaps she could even make some of the simpler antidotes while Harry slept.
Celeste climbed the stairs up to the third floor and entered the green room. Harry had been tucked into bed, and she could see that he was wearing fresh pajamas. The house-elves stopped bustling around when she entered and waited for more instructions.
"Excellent work," she said. "Thank you." The house-elves beamed at her. "There is much to do yet, though. Pip, we are going to need milk, and lots of it. We also need to set up a workbench in this room – I am going to make some potions while I watch Harry. I need someone to fetch all the antidotes and restoratives that we have in the house, and then I'm going to need some supper."
"Right away," Pip squeaked. The house-elves bowed disappeared with loud cracks.
Celeste crossed the room to stand by Harry's side. She carefully felt his forehead again; he was still on fire. She dipped a washcloth in a nearby water pitcher, wrung it out, and carefully placed it on top of Harry's scar.
His eyes opened, and he looked at her. "Harry," she said gravely, staring into those strange, silver eyes. "Harry, can you hear me?" His eyes drifted closed again, and she sighed. It was going to be a long night.
**********
Celeste put a hand to the small of her back and stretched, feeling little pops all up and down her spine. It was early morning on the third day since she had brought Harry to Alverbrooke. She was incredibly tired, not having slept since returning home. Bottles of Stamina Potion lay drained on the workbench across the room. The cauldron sat cold and empty. Celeste had drunk her last Stamina Potion as the stars had just begun to fade, and she no longer trusted herself to be able to make a brew of any kind; she could barely see straight anymore. Unfortunately, the house-elves could not help her there. They were skilled in many areas but were hopeless when it came to potions.
Celeste knew that she and Harry were both reaching their limits. She could merely sleep until her strength was replenished, but if Harry drifted away, he would never return. He had long since stopped muttering in his sleep and asking for milk. If his eyes opened, they were always silver; the green seemed permanently gone. Celeste stretched out a hand to his head and he flinched away with a soft moan.
"Mistress," said Pip. Celeste wearily turned her head, knowing what he was going to say. She was losing hope that anyone was going to come before it was too late, and it very soon would be.
"Anything?" she said.
"No," said Pip, looking at the floor. His ears drooped, and Celeste knew that he thought he had failed her.
She had used every one of the three owls in the house – including Harry's – until they could no longer make the trip for sheer exhaustion. Harry's owl had held out the longest, but even she had had to sleep after two days of flying. Celeste had sent messages the only other way she could think, by scribbling notes and sticking her hand out of Dumbledore's and Severus' fireplaces via the Floo network. She had never dared leave Harry's side; he was prone to taking sudden turns for the worse when she least expected it. Every time he'd begun to slip she had given him one more of the antidotes and as much milk as he would take. Now there were no more antidotes to administer and she could not make any more. Despite her best efforts, time had run out. It was time to do what she had been dreading since Harry's owl had first come back with no response.
"Would you let me have five minutes alone, please?" she said to Pip. "But return after that with a glass of water, if you will."
Pip bowed solemnly and vanished.
Celeste walked slowly to one of the open windows and stared out at the grounds. It was a beautiful morning, and pale golden sunshine was everywhere. The oak tree next to the window whispered as a breeze drifted past. The light filtering through the branches made the green leaves look almost translucent. A bird trilled from its perch somewhere in the tree, welcoming the new day.
How ironic it seemed that on this morning full of life, a young man just on the edge of adulthood was slipping away before her eyes! In the past two days Celeste had silently cursed fate, the Dursleys, the Blakes... but now she was simply resigned. She had done almost all she could for Harry, and now she had to do the rest. And after that I would pray... if I were conscious to do so, she thought.
Celeste returned to Harry's bedside and took his cold, clammy hand. It seemed strange that his hands should be so cool while his forehead yet smoldered, but she was no Healer and had no explanation. He was very still this morning, having used up all of his strength tossing and turning for hours. Not for the first time, Celeste felt that she had failed him. Dumbledore had entrusted Harry's well being to her and yet her best had not been enough.
"I am so very sorry," she said softly, though he couldn't hear a word she said. He'll never even know that I existed, she thought bitterly.
There was a loud crack as Pip reappeared with a glass of water. Celeste took it with thanks and downed the contents. As she handed the glass back to the house-elf she said, "You have done very well these past few days, Pip. All of you have. I couldn't have made it this far without your help."
Pip beamed from ear to ear. "It is our pleasure to serve, miss."
Celeste was suddenly dizzy. She gripped one of the bedposts to steady herself. It was time to get it over with, or she would collapse before she got the chance.
"When Dumbledore gets here, bring him to Harry immediately," she heard herself say. "I am afraid I won't be awake to receive him."
"Pip does not understand," said the house-elf uncertainly.
"You will in a moment," she said. "You are in charge from now on, Pip. Do everything you can for Harry."
"Pip still does not understand."
Celeste drew her wand and leaned over Harry, placing one hand flat against his chest.
"Donum Vitae!"
The world turned blue. She didn't have much energy left to give and held on for a few moments only, but those moments felt like years. Voices sang to her weary soul, tempting her to hang on a little longer... just a little longer...
Celeste wasn't awake to hear Pip's squeak of shock as she fell.