A Long Road To Safety
Chapter 2: Hayburia House
Clothes were strewn across Dean's bedroom, as he divided the limited clean items he had from the heap of dirty pieces which had been piling up on his chair for over a month. Looking at the amassed mix of dirty hoodies and stained jeans with a pained expression, the young man grabbed the whole pile in frustration and shoved it into his duffel bag.
It was five o'clock in the morning. Along with his clothes, Dean had packed his rucksack with some of his school books, parchment, quills and a money pouch filled with both sterling and galleons. He shoved his wand in the pocket of his bomber jacket and dragged the bag downstairs.
Sitting with a lukewarm coffee at his family's kitchen table, Dean waited for his mother to get up for work. She would be awake in the next half hour to make it in time for her shift at the hospital.
As if he had willed her out of bed, Dean looked up to see Vivienne standing in the doorway. A smile dropped off her face as her eyes landed on Dean's duffel bag. "I take it you won't make our lunch?" she said, disappointed.
Dean stood up. "Mum…" he started. "No, Dean. This isn't acceptable. You have been back home less than a month and are not supposed to leave again until September. Your sisters miss you; I miss you." Vivienne's eyes welled up as her son who towered over her. Dean's arms spread to embrace his mother's small frame. This made tears roll from her eyes; a man stood in front of her and the little boy she had raised was no longer to be found. The growth spurt that had transformed him was something she had almost entirely missed over the past few years.
As her son's arms wrapped around her, Vivienne sobbed, "All we ask is for is a couple of months out of the year that you are here and present. I understand why you must be separated from us for so long but I wish when you came back you really seemed like you wanted to be here."
"I do want to be here," Dean insisted, "It's just much more complicated than I can explain." Vivienne looked up, wiping her eyes, "Try to. For me. You're almost an adult now; I shouldn't have to worry so much."
She gestured Dean to take a seat at the small table and he obliged. Offering her the rest of the cafetière he had made, Dean began to speak. "You know I've explained to you before that, while I feel at home at Hogwarts, there are some witches and wizards who dislike people like me - people with non-magical parents - being part of their world." Vivienne nodded. "Well, the thing is, there's one group like that who are much more radical… I mean, they're sort of racist," he tried to explain in a way Vivienne could comprehend.
Vivienne's eyebrows raised. The idea that something so present in her own world would follow her son to the magical one saddened and frustrated her in equal measure. "This group of wizards now have a lot more power, and I am worried for you, for Hayley and Ava, and also for Michael. If they have the power that I think they do, people like me are not safe. So it is better that I am somewhere they can not find me, somewhere that I am protected, and somewhere far away from you guys."
"But…" his mother started to protest but Dean cut across her. "If they come for me, they have no concerns about harming muggles - I mean you guys - in the process. I am going to Neville's house for now; you met his grandmother in Diagon Alley a couple of years ago. She is very smart and has protected her home from intruders in ways that only magical people can. I will really try and stay in touch but I need to lay low for a while, that's for sure."
"But surely, come September, you will be returning to Hogwarts? It's your final year and you've been working so hard!"
"I really don't think that would be possible. I don't know yet but, the way things are looking, I don't think it will safe for me to go back." Dean looked crestfallen while giving this final response.
"But what if you just didn't continue being a wizard? You're a great artist; that talent doesn't need the skills you're learning at school. You could just stop using magic and stay here. We would support you!" But as Vivienne pleaded with her son, she realised how ridiculous her request was. He couldn't just stop being a wizard; it was a part of him that she could not - in good conscience - demand that he denied.
Dean understood his mother's pleas but did not know really how to answer. Instead, he reached under the table to pull out a box where he had been collecting issues of The Daily Prophet since the previous Christmas. "I know you've seen me reading these before. I thought that these may give you a better understanding of the situation. There's nothing really more I can explain that won't be clearer from these."
Vivienne ran her fingers over the sheets of old newspapers, staring at the moving images of the top page.
"I really should get going," Dean sighed, as he pulled the heavy duffel bag over his shoulder.
The mother stood up to give her son another embrace. "Keep your set of keys, please. I want you to know that you can always find your way back home." Dean smiled at the gesture, knowing full well he could just apparate back into his childhood bedroom.
"Thank you, mum. Really, thank you for everything."
Dean walked out of the apartment and down the stairs, into the deserted car park outside. Gripping his wand tight, Dean closed his eyes, held his breath and focussed on the memory of the bronze gates in front of the Longbottom's home.
—
It was already much lighter in The Pennines than in London. Dean stumbled, the weight of his bag pushing him forward onto his knees. He looked up at the red brick wall and the towering, ornate entrance, with bronze flowers creeping up to the top corners.
He dropped his bag at his side and walked towards the gates. There was no handle for him to open the gates; instead Dean took out his wand and tapped one of the bronze orchids.
A few seconds later, the curt voice of Augusta Longbottom resonated from the centre of the flower, "You're lucky I get up very early, Mr Thomas."
"Sorry, Mrs Longbottom. Seamus told me..." Dean started, but as he was speaking the gates swung open and he saw a figure in a floral housecoat walking down the long driveway towards him.
Augusta Longbottom held out her wand; the light emitting from its tip was illuminating the sky. "Well Mr Thomas, I'm glad to see you got my message," the old lady said. With a flick of her wand, Dean's bag travelled above their head and onwards toward the house.
"Have you heard anything more?" Dean asked, "Seamus's message didn't give much information."
"I have just been speaking to a friend of mine, who was at the Weasley's house for the wedding of Bill Weasley to that French girl," Augusta swiftly responded. "Death Eaters arrived there shortly after the Ministry fell."
Dean suddenly felt very nauseous.
"Muriel told me that they are all fine. Apparently the Death Eaters believed Harry Potter was there. If he was, he made it out before he could be caught." Dean noticed that Augusta was discarding her usually curt way of speaking and, instead, was giving him all the information he could use for some morsel of comfort.
"And the Weasley children," Dean nudged.
"Those who were still there were roughed up a bit, apparently for information on Potter's whereabouts, but the Death Eaters had left just before Muriel contacted me." Augusta paused on the path for a second, drawing out a long cigarette holder and proceeded to smoke. The smell of sandalwood wafted from the orange smoke rings emitting from Augusta's cigarette.
Feeling slightly abashed at his Muggle brand, but also needing a reason to do something with his hands, Dean lit a cigarette as well and said, "I told my mother I probably won't be going back to Hogwarts now. She was not happy about that."
Augusta furrowed her brow. "Yes. Now the Ministry has fallen, I expect that slimey coward will be given free rein of the school." It surprised Dean a little, to hear Augusta referring to Professor Snape with such contempt in her voice. "It would be a pity to see so many talented young minds not getting the cultivation and direction they need."
"But let's cross that bridge when we come to it, Mr Thomas," Augusta continued briskly, not wanting to let Dean ponder too long on matters completely out of his hands. "Right now, you need to come in and have some breakfast. I will wake up the other boys."