Sic: What is it with you needing to know everything about everybody right away?! Keep your pants on, you'll learn, I promise! Sheesh...
Gee, hope my creative juices start flowing this well for my AE fanfic. (Sorry it's been ages since I last updated, Sic!)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Go away.
Chapter the Third
Harry groaned and rolled over, wondering for a moment where he was as he opened bleary eyes and blinked at the fuzzy-looking ceiling. It took him a moment to realize the ceiling was fuzzy because he didn't have his glasses on, and unfamiliar because he wasn't in his room. He was also lying on a hard wood floor, on top of only one blanket, the only extra Dee could find after she "fixed him up." He had to admit, he wasn't aching nearly as much as he had when he had first entered her house.
Harry sat up and groped around on the floor beside him for the glasses he had taken off the night before when he remembered that they had been left on his bedside table in the other room. (A/N Yes, I know I forgot about the glasses in the last chapter.) With a sigh, he stood and made his groggy way out the near-empty room and down the stairs, reviving a little when the smell of biscuits wafted up to him. Following his nose, he made his way into the kitchen.
"Morning, Harry," McKnight said, looking up from the paper spread out over the table. "Have a nice sleep?"
"As well as could be expected," he replied, looking around and squinting, trying to find the source of the enticing smell.
"Counter on your left; have as many as you want. I couldn't find the cereal—it's somewhere within the depths of the boxes."
"Thanks, Ms. McKnight," Harry said, locating the biscuits.
"No need for that. It's Dee. No Miss or Ms. or Mrs. And definitely not madam; had someone call me that in India, I think it was. Annoyed the hell—I mean, heck out of me."
"No need for that. I hear swearing all the time."
"I'll bet you do." She seemed to be struggling between looking amused and looking irritated. Somehow she managed to come across looking like both.
"We'll run over and get your things after you eat." Her attention returned to the paper as Harry bit into the biscuit. It was buttery and practically melted in his mouth. He could barely resist the groan of absolute ecstasy.
"Want some orange juice? It was all I could find."
"Sure." He waited a moment while she rose and went to the refrigerator, getting out the orange juice. "How come you don't know about Voldemort or Death Eaters?"
She glanced over at him. "I'm a part of M.I.C.O.C.A.," she replied patiently, "Meaning I work all over the world, though mostly in the United States, where I was born, Canada, Australia, India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, South Africa or Botswana. To be truthful, this is my first trip to Europe. Believe it or not, Harry, Europe is little compared to much of the rest of the world, especially if you only talk about the U.K. Ever heard of Barack'an?"
"No." Harry shook his head.
"Thought not." She smiled grimly as she handed him a glass of orange juice. "He was a wizarding dictator in Kuwait a few years back. He was, in his own way, even more powerful than your Voldemort. He managed to take over much of the wizard world in Kuwait, and started on the Muggle world as well before we managed to get to him." She shook her head. "The only reason he managed to get our attention was because he raped and murdered the only daughter of a very powerful man. I was part of the group dispatched to bring his rein to an end, and believe me, the path to that was not pretty."
"So Voldemort has gotten the attention of someone powerful?" Harry asked eagerly. "Is that why you're here?"
"I told you, Harry, I'm here on leave. M.I.C.O.C.A. doesn't act unless asked to, and we rarely have any business in the U.K. because the Aurorers are so good." She paused, then said, "Tell you what. Give me a run down on what's going on over here and I'll see if there's anything I can do about it. Unofficially, of course."
"Sure," Harry said eagerly, then stopped and thought. How to explain to someone who knows little about it?
"Well, Voldemort's real name is Tom Riddle," he began slowly as Dee sat back down again, "And he was Slytherin at Hogwarts...about fifty years ago, he started terrorizing the wizarding world—I mean, the U.K. He had followers called Death Eaters, who did his bidding and killed when he told them to. They would leave the Dark Mark—a snake coming from a skull—over the houses of people they killed, and they killed Muggles along with wizards. He was defeated sixteen years ago, but two years ago he came back. Now he's gathering his forces again, Death Eaters and dementers, and everyone's afraid that he'll be in power once more."
"All right." Dee was quiet, her gaze fixed on him. "Now tell me where you come into play."
"Voldemort murdered my parents," Harry said evenly, meeting his gaze as much as he could while the world was fuzzy. "He tried to murder me, but the spell rebounded and hit him instead. He fled, and his rein crumbled."
"Leaving you with that scar. Did your parents know he was after them?"
"Yes."
"What did they do to protect themselves?"
"They used a spell to hide their whereabouts, which were known only to the Secret-Keeper."
Dee nodded in understanding. "And this was?"
"Sirius Black at first, my godfather." A bitter taste filled Harry's mouth. "But he convinced them to change to Peter Pettigrew, because he thought Voldemort would never expect Pettigrew to be the Secret-Keeper."
"He betrayed them," she guessed.
"Yes." The familiar fury rose within him, but he choked it back. "Pettigrew betrayed them."
"Did anyone know?"
"No. Everyone still thought Sirius was the Secret-Keeper. He went after Pettigrew and tried to kill him, but Pettigrew was faster. He killed thirteen people with one curse, all of them Muggles, and Sirius took the fall. He went to Azkaban for twelve years."
"Pettigrew escaped...?"
"He's an unregistered Animagus. A rat."
"I take it Black didn't stay in Azkaban."
"No. He escaped—"
"How?"
"Another unregistered Animagus. A black dog."
"So he escaped..."
"And the truth came out. Last year—" Harry stopped, gathered his shaky control. "Last year, Voldemort revealed himself. There was a confrontation, and Sirius died."
There was a long silence.
"Hey, Harry," she said finally.
"Yeah?"
"Unclench your fists before you do some serious damage."
He looked down, and noticed for the first time that his hands were clenched tightly. He relaxed them and when he held his palms close to his face, he could see the outline of four crescent-shaped nail marks on each hand.
"Might want to cut your nails if you plan on telling anyone else about that, or if you think about it too much," Dee noted, folding the newspaper back up. "Done?"
Harry looked at his still-full glass of orange juice and gulped most down. "Yeah."
"Then lets go get your things."
A/N Sorry if anything's spelled wrong or details are wrong. I don't have any references at the moment.
Gee, hope my creative juices start flowing this well for my AE fanfic. (Sorry it's been ages since I last updated, Sic!)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Go away.
Chapter the Third
Harry groaned and rolled over, wondering for a moment where he was as he opened bleary eyes and blinked at the fuzzy-looking ceiling. It took him a moment to realize the ceiling was fuzzy because he didn't have his glasses on, and unfamiliar because he wasn't in his room. He was also lying on a hard wood floor, on top of only one blanket, the only extra Dee could find after she "fixed him up." He had to admit, he wasn't aching nearly as much as he had when he had first entered her house.
Harry sat up and groped around on the floor beside him for the glasses he had taken off the night before when he remembered that they had been left on his bedside table in the other room. (A/N Yes, I know I forgot about the glasses in the last chapter.) With a sigh, he stood and made his groggy way out the near-empty room and down the stairs, reviving a little when the smell of biscuits wafted up to him. Following his nose, he made his way into the kitchen.
"Morning, Harry," McKnight said, looking up from the paper spread out over the table. "Have a nice sleep?"
"As well as could be expected," he replied, looking around and squinting, trying to find the source of the enticing smell.
"Counter on your left; have as many as you want. I couldn't find the cereal—it's somewhere within the depths of the boxes."
"Thanks, Ms. McKnight," Harry said, locating the biscuits.
"No need for that. It's Dee. No Miss or Ms. or Mrs. And definitely not madam; had someone call me that in India, I think it was. Annoyed the hell—I mean, heck out of me."
"No need for that. I hear swearing all the time."
"I'll bet you do." She seemed to be struggling between looking amused and looking irritated. Somehow she managed to come across looking like both.
"We'll run over and get your things after you eat." Her attention returned to the paper as Harry bit into the biscuit. It was buttery and practically melted in his mouth. He could barely resist the groan of absolute ecstasy.
"Want some orange juice? It was all I could find."
"Sure." He waited a moment while she rose and went to the refrigerator, getting out the orange juice. "How come you don't know about Voldemort or Death Eaters?"
She glanced over at him. "I'm a part of M.I.C.O.C.A.," she replied patiently, "Meaning I work all over the world, though mostly in the United States, where I was born, Canada, Australia, India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, South Africa or Botswana. To be truthful, this is my first trip to Europe. Believe it or not, Harry, Europe is little compared to much of the rest of the world, especially if you only talk about the U.K. Ever heard of Barack'an?"
"No." Harry shook his head.
"Thought not." She smiled grimly as she handed him a glass of orange juice. "He was a wizarding dictator in Kuwait a few years back. He was, in his own way, even more powerful than your Voldemort. He managed to take over much of the wizard world in Kuwait, and started on the Muggle world as well before we managed to get to him." She shook her head. "The only reason he managed to get our attention was because he raped and murdered the only daughter of a very powerful man. I was part of the group dispatched to bring his rein to an end, and believe me, the path to that was not pretty."
"So Voldemort has gotten the attention of someone powerful?" Harry asked eagerly. "Is that why you're here?"
"I told you, Harry, I'm here on leave. M.I.C.O.C.A. doesn't act unless asked to, and we rarely have any business in the U.K. because the Aurorers are so good." She paused, then said, "Tell you what. Give me a run down on what's going on over here and I'll see if there's anything I can do about it. Unofficially, of course."
"Sure," Harry said eagerly, then stopped and thought. How to explain to someone who knows little about it?
"Well, Voldemort's real name is Tom Riddle," he began slowly as Dee sat back down again, "And he was Slytherin at Hogwarts...about fifty years ago, he started terrorizing the wizarding world—I mean, the U.K. He had followers called Death Eaters, who did his bidding and killed when he told them to. They would leave the Dark Mark—a snake coming from a skull—over the houses of people they killed, and they killed Muggles along with wizards. He was defeated sixteen years ago, but two years ago he came back. Now he's gathering his forces again, Death Eaters and dementers, and everyone's afraid that he'll be in power once more."
"All right." Dee was quiet, her gaze fixed on him. "Now tell me where you come into play."
"Voldemort murdered my parents," Harry said evenly, meeting his gaze as much as he could while the world was fuzzy. "He tried to murder me, but the spell rebounded and hit him instead. He fled, and his rein crumbled."
"Leaving you with that scar. Did your parents know he was after them?"
"Yes."
"What did they do to protect themselves?"
"They used a spell to hide their whereabouts, which were known only to the Secret-Keeper."
Dee nodded in understanding. "And this was?"
"Sirius Black at first, my godfather." A bitter taste filled Harry's mouth. "But he convinced them to change to Peter Pettigrew, because he thought Voldemort would never expect Pettigrew to be the Secret-Keeper."
"He betrayed them," she guessed.
"Yes." The familiar fury rose within him, but he choked it back. "Pettigrew betrayed them."
"Did anyone know?"
"No. Everyone still thought Sirius was the Secret-Keeper. He went after Pettigrew and tried to kill him, but Pettigrew was faster. He killed thirteen people with one curse, all of them Muggles, and Sirius took the fall. He went to Azkaban for twelve years."
"Pettigrew escaped...?"
"He's an unregistered Animagus. A rat."
"I take it Black didn't stay in Azkaban."
"No. He escaped—"
"How?"
"Another unregistered Animagus. A black dog."
"So he escaped..."
"And the truth came out. Last year—" Harry stopped, gathered his shaky control. "Last year, Voldemort revealed himself. There was a confrontation, and Sirius died."
There was a long silence.
"Hey, Harry," she said finally.
"Yeah?"
"Unclench your fists before you do some serious damage."
He looked down, and noticed for the first time that his hands were clenched tightly. He relaxed them and when he held his palms close to his face, he could see the outline of four crescent-shaped nail marks on each hand.
"Might want to cut your nails if you plan on telling anyone else about that, or if you think about it too much," Dee noted, folding the newspaper back up. "Done?"
Harry looked at his still-full glass of orange juice and gulped most down. "Yeah."
"Then lets go get your things."
A/N Sorry if anything's spelled wrong or details are wrong. I don't have any references at the moment.
