Book 7

Harry Potter and Curse of the Black Wizard

Chapter I: A Dursley's Disappearance

McGonagall, the newest Headmistress of Hogwarts, was to report her decision any day now. Harry, who had been invited to stay with both the members of the Order and the Weasleys, had decided that he would have to visit the Durlseys this summer. Dumbledore instructed Harry that in order for the protection of Lily's love, he would have to step foot in Aunt Petunia's house once more.

But Harry had no intention of staying with the Durlseys. A mere day at the most to say hello was what he planned. Surprisingly, however, when Harry arrived at 4 Privet Drive, a letter was waiting for him attached to a ruddy owl named Pig.

"Come to rescue me already, Ron?" Harry said to himself. Harry dropped his trunk in front of the mailbox and grabbed the letter from the owl's mouth. After petting Pig for a few seconds, Harry returned his attention to the letter.

What was supposed to be happy news of Ron telling Harry that he'd come for him soon turned out to be a very serious and solemn one. Harry could not believe the words. The letter was not from Ron at all but from Ginny.

"Rubbish!" yelled Harry. He rolled up the parchment into a tight ball and tossed it on the ground. Without a second thought of picking it up, Harry grabbed his trunks and stormed into the Dursley's home, his face purple and his eyes red.

"Harry!" Aunt Petunia shouted from the kitchen.

Was she cooking in there? Harry could swear he smelled beets and carrots steaming from a watery pot on the stove. Dudley must have still been on a healthy diet, and for a minute, Harry felt sorrow for the boy. Healthy was one thing, but steamed beets? That was torture.

"I'll be in my room!" Harry shouted back.

He had almost forgot that he could not use magic in front of Muggles. He was not of age yet, and still could not perform even the easiest of levitation spells. And so, Harry dragged his heavy trunk up the stairs and into his room. Following him was the thuds of Aunt Petunia trotting from the vegetable plantation of a kitchen.

"Harry." Aunt Petunia's voice had changed since he had last heard her. She seemed almost concerned with his vehement behavior.

"What? Do you think I want to be here? I'm just going to stay quiet in my room like always. I'm sure that'll make you happy!" Harry said, apparently ignoring Aunt Petunia's change in tone.

Unfortunately for Harry, his Aunt did not give up so easily as she probably would have in the past. Instead, she rushed up the staircase and burst into Harry's room without knocking. Harry did not understand what was so urgent that she could not even knock first.

"Who told you to come here?" she asked quickly.

"Why does it matter?" said Harry turning his back on her. He began to unpack his trunk, unfolding a Weasley sweater from three Christmas's prior which did not fit him anymore since he grew much like an unattended garden weed.

To his shock, Aunt Petunia grabbed Harry's shoulders and pulled him around. He hadn't noticed, but her face was very white and pale. Her arms trembled and her voice was somewhat shaky.

"WHO?" Petunia shouted.

"Well, um," Harry had tried so hard not to remember Dumbledore or even say his name.

He had to witness his mentor's death right in front of his eyes, and even when remembering the happiest of moments, Harry felt lumps of coal choking his throat. Afraid that Aunt Petunia might faint at any moment by the looks of her wavering legs, Harry sucked up as much courage as necessary to whisper, "Professor Dumbledore."

His throat released from the pressure of saying it, and he felt his body soothe into ease. Aunt Petunia shook her head, as if she already knew that was what Harry was going to say.

"How long?"

"What?"

Petunia rubbed her hands together as if they were as cold as icicles before repeating herself.

"How long did he order you to stay?"

The last thing Harry wanted was an interrogation about Dumbledore. He had enough of that the last few days at Hogwarts. It seemed that every corridor he walked down someone was gaping at him, their eyes telling Harry that they were just dying to know what happened.

"Why do you care so damn much? Not like it matters anymore," Harry said quietly. He had managed to wiggle out of his Aunt now trembling grip and turned toward the barred window.

"I'm afraid it matters more than you know…" His Aunt smiled faintly and continued. "Sit down, Harry. I need to talk to you now."

Harry's face turned the same purple as it was when he entered the house, infuriated at Ginny's letter. He did not have to talk about Dumbledore and Hogwarts to her. He did not care why she had taken interest in him all of a sudden. All he wanted to do was leave as fast as he could to anymore except the Dursley's.

"Please, Harry," Aunt Petunia said in a voice that made Harry turn around.

Was that compassion in her voice? Harry could not believe the look her eyes. They looked so much like his mother's eyes, the eyes that everyone told him he had. Seeing this, Harry sat down next to his Aunt on his blanketed bed and listened.

"Dudley is gone," she said heartbrokenly.

"Finally ran away did he?" Harry said smugly.

However, Aunt Petunia did not laugh. Instead, a single tear flowed from her eye, and immediately Harry knew this was no laughing matter.

"Three weeks ago Dudley never came home from the playground with his friends. I searched everywhere, asked everyone. I spoke to a Mrs. Figg."

Harry's heart sank. How did his Aunt know about the squib living just around the corner in Little Whinging. Could she and the magical world possibly be involved in Dudley's disappearance? Harry knew the last time he had encountered Mrs. Figg he was with Dudley and dementors were attacking him, sent by that horrible Umbridge.

"What did she have to say?" Harry asked, his voice numb.

"Dudley's gone!" wailed Petunia. "She she she," she stuttered, took a deep breathe, and continued, "my little boy… A group of black hooded figures took him away. Mrs. Figg didn't even report it to the police!"

Harry knew that as a squib, Mrs. Figg could not have helped Dudley if dementors had attacked him. But he was sure that the magical authorities would have known.

"You do know what Mrs. Figg is?" Harry asked, unsure whether or not his Aunt realized this.

"The old cat crazy lunatic of a woman? I don't care. All I know is that she said it was a mistake. The hooded people shouldn't have been there. That they should be at oh, what was that place… Azkaban!"

Harry shuddered. So it was dementors again. But why would they be attacking Muggles? Aunt Petunia broke into tears and fell onto the bed moaning. Harry patted her on the back and stared out his window into the foggy afternoon.

"I'll go and speak to her," said Harry.

"There's no use. Vernon's tried so much… He's out at every police station there is around here, and you better not be here when he comes back."

"Why?"

"I told him what Mrs. Figg said… Vernon, knowing your sorts, thinking you did this, wants you killed."

"So do a lot of people," Harry said to himself.

He sighed, but knew that Aunt Petunia was warning him and telling him all this for a reason. And then it hit him. She knew and remembered about the love that protected him. She knew that he was in danger if he did not return, and knew that Dumbledore had sent him. Perhaps she really did love her sister, Lily, after all.

"I'm going to see Mrs. Figg," said Harry and grabbed his wand, "and get this all sorted out. I'm sure those dementors were after me, with all that's going on…"

And with that Harry left 4 Privet Drive determined to find out why Lord Voldemort would even think Harry was in Little Whinging when he knew perfectly well he was at Hogwarts at the time. Something did not add up for Harry.

As he ran down the dirty driveway, Harry stepped upon the rolled up letter from Ginny. Wincing at it for a second, Harry considered tossing it into the gutter with the rest of the garbage. For whatever reason, however, Harry unfolded the tear soaked letter, and read it again, before sliding it into his back pocket.

Dear Harry,

We miss you very much. I miss you. Don't be angry. You know why it can't be.

You love me. I love you. Goodbye.

For Love's Sake,

Please Don't Write,

Ginny

Harry, his eyes burning, unwrinkled the letter, folded it neatly and placed it in his pocket. He then hurried along Privet Drive, his mind trying to think about other things less unpleasant. But even when he thought about Mrs. Figg and Dudley, his mind shattered into images of Ginny dead, Dumbledore dead and Death Eaters marching down the corridors of Hogwarts.

A batty cat with one eye missing and frizzed hair jumped in front of Harry, causing him to yelp in surprise.

"Don't mind him," said a familiar voice, "he's just a bit jumpy."

Harry realized the voice wasn't talking to him but to the cat who ran away. Harry turned his head to see a woman he had not seen in well over a year. Mrs. Arabella Figg, the cat loving squib, hobbled with a cane toward Harry from her front porch. The unlit porch was littered with half drunken bowls of milk, toys, and balls of fur.

"We need to talk," said Harry firmly.

"I thought you might," she said. "But first, come in for some tea. You look terrible."

Harry hadn't had the best last few weeks. His appearance had taken a toll. His hair had grown so much that it touched his shoulders. He had not shaven so stubble lined his parched dry mouth. Even his brows were untamed and messy, almost as bushy the cat that ran by.

Harry followed the squib into her home up the front porch steps, stepping over a few bottles of white milk. As he entered through the archway, Harry was stunned to see the amount of newspapers bundled up lining the walls of her hallway and living room. The word 'crazy' was not enough to sum up the insanity of clutter.

Where there wasn't the Daily Prophet blocking the wall, hideous gilliweed green and pumpkin orange stripped the wallpaper that peeled along the edges. Harry could not understand how anyone, Muggle or witch, could stand the site of the place. But Mrs. Figg did not seem to notice Harry's shocked face. Instead, she finished pouring a cup of Earl Grey tea into a miniature rose patterned cup and handed it over to Harry.

"Thanks," he said.

"Now, take a seat and we'll discuss everything," she said sweetly and plopped herself on top of a pile of cat treats and papers.

Harry looked around to see if there was any open seating area. He spotted a clear teal ottoman near a bookshelf. As he turned his body and began to sit on it, a black and orange cat flew itself at Harry and scratched his face, causing it to bleed.

"Muffy, bad girl!" Mrs. Figg yelled and chased the cat out of the room. "Well, you can't blame her."

Harry's eyebrow raised as he held his newly wounded cheek. "What?"

"You're sitting in her spot… Cats care very protective you know. But I suppose you may sit there."

Harry did not know whether to be insulted or relieved. In either case, he sat down and waited eagerly for Mrs. Figg to tell him there was some mistake. That Dudley was fine. That his Aunt was delusional.

"You're here today because of Dudley Dursley," she said.

"That's right. Thought you might know. Is it true then? Did they take him?"

"Of course."

Harry was shocked. "They did?"

"Yes, not too long ago."

"And you saw them, right?" Harry asked, panic overtaking him.

"I spoke to them."

"Spoke?" Harry had never recalled that dementors could be spoken to. "You had a conversation with the dementors?"

"Dementors?" Mrs. Figg squealed. "Who said anything about dementors? Where, when?"

Harry shook his head. "I just thought… Petunia said black hooded figures attacked Dudley."

"Well yes," said Mrs. Figg, her terror stricken face now easing a bit. "But no, dear boy, they were not dementors. Those were wizards."

"Wizards? But my Aunt said they were from Azkaban!"

"She would say that… There was one of them, a Lucius Malfoy, who was with the Order at the time."
"MALFOY WITH THE ORDER!" screamed Harry.

Sorry, apprehended is more like it, yes. You see, a wizard named Mundungus followed him out of

Azkaban when he tried to escape recently. The Order quickly followed. Somehow they ended up here."

"Chasing down a Muggle? Who from the Order would do that? I don't understand. And where id Dudley now?" Harry's brain was sizzling with so many thoughts that had completely forgotten about his anger with Ginny.

"I don't know everything!" squeaked Mrs. Figg who now seemed upset over all the questioning. "All I know is that the Order came here following someone."

"Lucius you mean."

"No, he was already apprehended. Weren't you listening? They happened to have just caught him when news spread that there was someone here they were after. And then, poof, Dudley was taken."

"I'm sure it was an accident," said Harry. "I'll go speak to Lupin and Tonks. I'm sure they'll know what's going on. Don't worry. It's all a mistake. He'll be fine."

"If you say so my dear. Oh!"

Mrs. Figg jumped at the sound of Uncle Vernon's old car speeding down the residential street. He was home from his search of his son, meaning Harry could now no longer return to the Dursley home. Harry knew where he had to go and who to question about Dudley's sudden disappearance. He only hoped that someone from the Order was there to help him out.