Ding-dong! Mr. Dursley heaved himself from his chair towards the door. It was hot on that Saturday in June, and the entire Dursley family was inside, enjoying their air-conditioning. Dudley was screaming at his computer, whose screen had cracked the night before when he threw it off the desk after he died in a video game. Aunt Petunia was sipping lemonade in the kitchen, writing a letter to the mother of one of Dudley's friends, saying "thank you" for the lovely tea party last Thursday. Harry was quietly answering his mail, thankful for his recent solitude. The Dursleys had finally figured out that the less they bothered Harry, the less their lives were disrupted. Harry liked it that way.
Since he had arrived home that summer, Harry had spoken little, been spoken to less, and left the house even less. Both the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic said that they would be in touch, but after over a month of waiting, Harry had heard nothing. He had only heard from Ron, Hermione, and even Neville, who reported that his nose was as good as new. There was not even a hint of official news. Harry was just bundling up his latest assortment of letters for Hedwig when he heard Uncle Vernon answer the door. The door closed swiftly, and the visitor spoke in a hushed voice. Uncle Vernon replied irritably, then Harry heard a stern, commanding, "Now, Mr. Dursley! I come on urgent business that cannot be kept waiting," It was a young woman, obviously not intimidated by Mr. Dursley's bulk.
"Petunia! Dudley! Harry! Come to the parlor please, we have... er... a visitor!" Harry waited until he heard Dudley launch himself down the stairs to open his door and join the Dursleys in the parlor.
Harry had never seen her before. Wearing a black shirt and khaki pants, she could have been any girl in the neighborhood, but judging by his uncle's reaction to her, Harry knew better. She was seated in Uncle Vernon's usual chair, commanding the room. The Dursleys sat together on the opposite sofa. As Harry walked in the room, she rose and smiled, "This must be Harry." She crossed the room to shake Harry's hand. "My name is Elizabeth Morgan Gwydion, and I am here on an official visit from the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Muggle Affairs. I am here about Harry."
"What has he done now? And what business does a girl of your age have running errands for this Ministry Nonsense?" Uncle Vernon was on the verge of detonation, clearly displeased at not being in control. Elizabeth continued, refusing to acknowledge Uncle Vernon's outburst.
"I am here on the behalf of the Ministry of Magic, specifically, the Department of Muggle Affairs, as well as other interested parties." Harry realized that there was more to this meeting than just a visit from the Ministry.
"You have kept Harry safe, clothed, and housed for the past fifteen years, a service that the Ministry can barely begin to repay. And last summer, the full realization of the potential dangers looked you square in the face and yet, Harry is still able to call this place home. The Ministry, and other parties, are aware and wary of these threats, and are watching this house constantly. We believe that you have a right to know the full extent of these dangers, in light of recent events. Over sixteen years ago, the wizarding world witnessed the rise of Lord Voldemort..." She spelled it all out for them: Voldemort's rise, that night in Godric's Hollow, the close encounters of the past five years, including that spring's reunion at the Ministry of Magic itself. It was the truth, but an abbreviated version for the Dursleys, Harry knew. She said nothing of the prophecy. She said nothing of Sirius. She said nothing he didn't already know. "It is quite clear, that we have serious security concerns at the Ministry and have numerous personnel on probation pending a deep investigation. We, at the Ministry, are finding ourselves less and less able to spare agents to maintain constant surveillance on your home. We have therefore decided to temporarily transfer Harry to a more secure location, removing the target of the threats. This will make it easier to protect Harry, and the surveillance here can be conducted from a wider spectrum. We will by no means leave you to fend for yourselves. Once our workforce is again at its full ability, we will have Harry return home." Elizabeth shot a firm look at Aunt Petunia. "Harry needs to leave today to be transported to his temporary residence."
Uncle Vernon and Dudley looked confused and said nothing. Only Aunt Petunia wore an expression of comprehension and was able to respond. "How can we be sure that you're not…"
"How can we be sure that you're not a one of them, luring me into a trap to kill me?" Harry finished her sentence.
"Though I hardly approve of Harry's, um, interesting heritage," Aunt Petunia cut in, "he is my nephew just the same, and I wouldn't knowingly send him into danger." Harry looked at his Aunt in surprise, and for the first time ever, might have seen a look for him other than disgust in her face.
Elizabeth rolled up her sleeves and showed Harry her arms. There was no Dark Mark. "And you should recognize this, Harry," She reached into her bag, and pulled out a large, grey feather, too big to be from any bird. Harry looked at her questioningly.
"Where did you… ?"
"It took a bit of convincing, but they let me pluck it back at headquarters. I knew you'd recognize it." Harry knew that the feather had to be Buckbeak's. Buckbeak still lived where he had been in hiding with Sirius, at number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
"The wings of the phoenix spread far, I guess," Harry said, still not completely convinced. But if the Headquarters had been attacked, surely he would have heard of it.
"As far as dog, stag, or wolf can run," she replied, smiling for only the second time since she had arrived. A silent moment passed in the room. Harry knew that those three animals strung together would never be coincidence.
"She's a friend, Aunt Petunia. We can trust her. I guess I'd better go and pack then."
"I'll help," Elizabeth said, following Harry to his room. The Dursleys remained in the parlor, waiting.
Packing went quickly with Elizabeth there to help. Out of her official role as a Ministry agent, she was friendly and easy to talk to. The first thing she told him was that he could stop calling her "Agent Gwydion" or even "Elizabeth". "Call me Liz," she told him. When the trunk was packed, his broom in hand, and Hedwig settled in her cage, Harry and Liz headed back downstairs.
Dudley and Uncle Vernon were still sitting in the parlor. They were clearly unaccustomed to absorbing new information, and did so at a snail's pace. They didn't even notice that Liz had charmed Harry's things to float down the stairs themselves. Uncle Vernon only glanced at the two standing by the door, shaking his head as he looked away, angry and confused, but relived that Harry was leaving at all. "Dudley, you can go back to your room now," Dudley didn't hesitate a moment, but ran up the stairs to his room like a scared elephant cub. Uncle Vernon, somewhat more sedately, retreated to the kitchen, mumbling "good-bye" and something about "paper work". Liz opened the front door and waved. A man came from the car to get Harry's things. At the same time, Aunt Petunia appeared from the kitchen.
"Here are some sandwiches. Take care Harry," her voice was as crisp and curt as ever as she thrusted the baggies at Harry. "I'll get the door."
"Thank you very much Mrs. Dursley. We'll be in touch," and Liz directed Harry out the door. Somehow, the man had managed to get all of Harry's belongings to the car by himself. A black limousine sat in the Dursley's driveway, the attendant standing ready with the door open. Harry turned to say good-bye to his aunt, but the door was already closed. He followed Liz to the car without even asking where she was taking him.