Hey everyone, I told you that I'd have the next one up soon. Now the reason it took me even longer to post aside from school and computer issues. I was working diligently on Chapter 8 after posting 7, but I decided that I wanted to work on Chapter 9 as well so that I'd be slightly ahead. However, as time went on and issues came, I started springing more ideas for 9 and as I got more into it, I completely forgot about chapter 8(the real one). So I'm finally almost done with chapter 9 when I realize that there is a strange time jump in between 7 & 9 and that's when I finally realized that I was missing chapter 8, FOR I THOUGHT MY CHAPTER 9 WAS CHAPTER 8. So after realizing, I had to stop where I was, and catch up chapter 8 to where it should be before I posted it yesterday.
IN THIS CHAPTER THERE WILL BE PLENTY THAT ARE AT LEAST MOSTLY VERBATIM WITH THE 4TH AND 6TH HARRY POTTER BOOKS, SINCE I'M TRYING TO KEEP CLOSE ENOUGH TO THE CANON AS I CAN GET. THEY WILL NOT BE IN BOLD BECAUSE IT WILL DISTURB THE FLOW OF THE STORY (IN MY PERSONAL OPINION).
So don't sue for plagiarism!
However, enjoy chapter 9!
Disclaimer- I do not own any teen titan or Harry Potter character, or plot.
Chapter 9
The following day entailed cleaning the kitchen again, the living room, the bathroom, and the windows. Harry wondered whether Uncle Vernon just made messes so that Harry wouldn't "slob around like lazy bum" sometimes.
Finally the night of departure arrived, and Harry was passed out on the window "keeping a lookout for Dumbledore". Due to recent issues with the headmaster, he was a bit skeptical about Dumbledore actually coming to take him away from the Dursleys. Raven told him plenty of times that he will be there at eleven and he should finish packing whether he thinks he's coming or not. She's not going to be the one scrambling around when he gets there.
This was the position he was in when he sprang from the bed when they both heard the doorbell ring. Raven watched smugly as Harry ran back and forth throughout the room trying to smuggle things into his already jammed trunk.
"Hello Mr. Dursley, I am Professor Dumbledore, your nephew's teacher at school." Vernon continued to glare suspiciously at him. "And I will guess that he did not mention that I was coming, going by the surprised look on your face." He did not sound disappointed, only amused and shrewd. "I will assume that you will so kindly let me inside your home and offer me a drink." Raven and Harry both rushed down the stairs, their trunks in tow. "Ah, Harry, Raven nice to see you two again. However, before we leave, I would like to discuss something with you and your relatives."
They all got themselves comfortable on the couches and chairs (The Dursleys by force of course), and Dumbledore offered some oak-matured mead around the room. When he flicked his hand towards the mead, that's when Harry saw it. A blackened hand was on the end of Dumbledore's arm.
"Professor what happened to your arm?" Harry asked looking extremely worried. The answer he received was even more confusing. "Ah nothing but slow reflexes, Harry, perhaps I tell it to you later." He then, turned back to the Dursleys, "But right now to start this out, let me remind you of the promise that you accepted when taking young Harry into your care: that you would care for him as you would care for you own son. But you have not followed through with that promise—"
"Excuse me, you will not come in my home, and threaten my family over some freak that has caused nothing but trouble for us since we took him in." Vernon yelled, irate.
"I apologize if you feel threatened; however, you've mistreated a boy who hasn't been anything worse than nice and a good boy to you. Now, I have one request of you. I would like for you to allow Harry the ability to come stay here for one more summer. You see, Harry become of age by that time and—"
"What! That can't be possible! Our Dudders doesn't even turn 18 yet, let alone the boy being an adult! Dudders is older than him!" Vernon yelled, a vein pulsing in his temple.
"Alas, Mr. Dursley that is true, but in the Wizarding World, people become of age at 17 years." Dumbledore shifted his gaze to Harry and Raven.
"Now Harry, I need to speak to you with regards of your godfather's estate."
Godfather. The avoided subject has finally been reached. Harry paled a bit and felt his stomach clenching slightly at the thought, as Dumbledore continued.
"Ever since what happened at the Department of Mysteries, the minister has not been able to deny the return of Voldemort any longer, and has of course been sacked. However, the Order has deemed Grimmauld Place unsafe for future meetings until it has been clarified the owner of it. While Sirius was alive his intent was to make you the new owner of it in case something happened to him."
"Me?! Own Grimmauld Place? Why would I want to be at the place that my godfather was stuck at before he died; a place he hated." Harry argued in shock.
"His godfather's dead?" Vernon questioned in bluntly, not caring that this may be a touchy subject for his nephew.
"Would you rather Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius' murderer, take over your house then, along with a house elf that worships her and had the knowledge of our previous Order meetings?" Harry tensed at this, fists clenched and eyes blaring.
"I will not have Sirius' killer overtake his house!"
"Good. Now, there is one more thing we have to do to verify that it is in your hands." "What is that?" "This." Dumbledore snapped his fingers, and on the floor banging his fists at the carpet was Kreacher.
"KREACHER WON'T! KREACHER WON'T! KREACHER WON'T! KREACHER BELONGS TO HIS MISTRESS, NOT A HALF-BLOOD, FRIEND OF HIS MISTRESS'S DISAPPOINTING SON! KREACHER WON'T!" Kreacher's stubby legs and arms continued to pound the carpet.
How will this help prove that I own it?" Harry wrinkled his nose at the very creature that betrayed his godfather to Voldemort.
"Because if Sirius played his cards right, then only the owner of Grimmauld Place can have Kreacher at his command. Go ahead, give him an order." Dumbledore stared at him tiredly.
"KREACHER WON'T! KREACHER WON'T! KREACHER WON'T!" Kreacher yelled. "Kreacher shut up!" Harry yelled back. Kreacher started making a choking noise and threw his hand s up to his throat and his tantrum grew silent. He still threw up his hands and felt around though.
"Professor, do I have to keep track of Kreacher at all times?"
"No, you can have him work in the kitchens at Hogwarts if you like." "That would be better."
"Alright then." Dumbledore snapped his fingers, and Kreacher popped away from the living room.
"OI!" Vernon yelled. The three of them turn to see the glasses banging against the Dursleys' heads. Raven smirked.
"Oh, so sorry. But it would've been more polite to drink it. Come now, you must finish packing so that we can allow Mrs. Weasley to worry on how peaky you look." Dumbledore led the way back into the hallway. Raven ran up behind Harry into the bedroom, and grabbed all of her cases while Harry packed. She looked at him once more, smirking.
"You need any help with that?" Harry looked back for a moment, analyzing her smirk and finally scoffed, "Shut up." Raven went ahead downstairs still smirking with Harry following soon after.
Dumbledore awaited them at the threshold pleasant faced and eyes twinkling as he watched the two make their way back down the steps. "Now if all has been cared for we must make haste so that I don't keep Molly waiting, and I don't want to keep you longer than you need to be kept."
Striding down to the end of Magnolia Crescent, Dumbledore cocked his head towards them as he spoke, "You'll be having a new teacher this semester. His name is Professor Horace Slughorn. Very nice man overall, but tricky that one. Be careful of him."
"Why do you say that?" Raven said, her eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.
"I say that because Professor Slughorn always had an affinity for people or objects with potential. He never liked being famous himself no, no. But he likes to work behind the scenes, so that he could still get his share off of it."
"What does that have to do with me?" Harry asked.
"I repeat, he is a very nice man overall, but be mindful: he likes to collect people. He's formed his own club called the Slug Club-only for people that in his mind have great potential for fame, and potential to get him free things. Not just you Harry, but you as well Raven."
"...Okay, is that all about him?" Raven asked, getting a slight sinking feeling about this.
"No, in fact, he is very important to our lessons together this year. He holds very valuable information that will be crucial in our stopping of Voldemort down the road."
"Any more questions for me?" Harry and Raven both shook their heads. "Then grasp my arm if you will, preferably my left arm please." They both grasped onto what parts they could and Dumbledore made a sharp turn.
It felt like they were being shoved into an airtight tube. They couldn't move or speak, and it was the most uncomfortable feeling. Finally, they were released and heard a splash as they found themselves in the muddy pond by the broom shed a little ways away from the Burrow, trying to catch their breath.
"Before I send you inside, I would like to discuss something else with each of you. The broom closet will do." The three made their way inside the small closet, just barely fitting the three. "Harry, how have you been this summer?"
"I've been alright."
"I'm proud at how you are handling things since what happened at the ministry. I think that Sirius would be so proud of you as well."
Harry swallowed. "I'll always miss him, however, I decided that I need to move on and keep living my life. That's what he would want. He wouldn't want me to mope and grieve about him, and secluded myself from my friends."
"That he wouldn't. On the other hand, I think your friends have shown that they can be trusted with the information you learned last year. I think that it would be good for you to have friends to share the burden with." finished warmly. Harry nodded politely. He turned to Raven next, "Raven, how are you feeling? I'm sure this is quite a bit to take in."
Raven was about to deny that; she has taken on many villains including Slade and her own father. However, she couldn't help but to admit that she was feeling a little nervous about this whole scheme, and besides, she didn't think that she could lie to Dumbledore so easily. "I admit I am feeling quite nervous about the situation. I don't think that it had fully hit me yet, and I miss my friends. I haven't received any owl or communication of any sort from them yet." It took a lot for her to admit that to Dumbledore, let alone Harry. At least he is polite enough not to comment.
"Well, you're going to have great friends here to be by your side as well, if you're ever down. Don't worry, your friends will get back soon, they probably are still trying to get used to using an owl. Well, let's get you two inside." They stepped out and made their way up to the front door of the Burrow. Dumbledore knocked three times and waited as the door cracked slightly and Mrs. Weasley's voice filled the air. "Who's there? Declare yourself!"
"It is I, Albus Dumbledore, bringing Harry and Raven." She let Harry and Raven in, then turned to Dumbledore asking, "Would you like a bite to eat, Albus?"
"Alas, I can't Molly, I must return to some other matters at hand. Hello Tonks." Tonks came towards the door looking ill and drawn, and she was absent of her usual bubble-gum pink hair. "Oh, hello Professor. Wotcher, Harry, Raven. Well, thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly."
"Oh don't leave due to my arrival, Tonks." Dumbledore assured. Tonks shook her head, "No I really must get going."
"Goodnight, dear." They all watched as she apparated away at the apparition spot a few yards away. "Well, I must be heading back myself, goodnight." Dumbledore made his way to the apparition spot.
"Goodnight." Molly finished, Harry waving behind her. "Oh Harry dear, if only I could keep track of how fast you and Ron have grown. You both are already in need of more robes. You do look very peaky, are you hungry dear? What about you dear, would you like something to eat?" She turned kindly to Raven.
"Yes, thanks Mrs. Weasley." Molly beamed at them, and turned to the kitchen to whip them up a bowl of steaming onion soup. She placed a bowl of onion soup with a loaf of bread and a knife each in front of them, and sat across from them.
"So how was your trip? I actually wasn't expecting you two until morning?" Molly's glanced at the two, as if she were trying to determine the status of their health.
"It was fine, although we had a bit of a setback." Raven smirked at Harry, who pouted and folded his arms.
"Oh hush!" Harry exclaimed in exasperation, rolling his eyes. Raven smirk grew even wider than before.
"Setback?" Molly asked, looking a bit worried. "It's nothing to worry about Mrs. Weasley, only that Harry didn't exactly believe Dumbledore would come so he didn't finish all of his packing until after he arrived." Molly eyes focused on Harry in understanding, as Harry blushed in a fit of embarrassment.
Glaring playfully at Raven, Harry cleared his throat and finished his tale, "Dumbledore mentioned how proud of me he was for not letting—things keep me from living on. " His emphasis on things caused Mrs. Weasley to grimace for she knew what or rather who he was talking about.
"He also mentioned something about a man named Slughorn teaching this year. Have you heard of him?" Raven interceded, keeping the subject away from something he obviously didn't want to talk about.
"He taught Arthur and me," said Mrs. Weasley. "He was at Hogwarts for ages, started around the same time as Dumbledore, I think. Do you like him?"
His mouth now full of bread, Harry shrugged and gave a noncommittal jerk of the head. Raven just shook her head, giving a flat out no.
"I know what you mean," said Mrs. Weasley, nodding wisely.
"Of course he can be charming when he wants to be, but Arthur's never liked him much. The Ministry's littered with Slughorn's old favorites, he was always good at giving leg ups, but he never had much time for Arthur-didn't seem to think he was enough of a highflier. Well, that just shows you, even Slughorn makes mistakes. I don't know whether Ron's told you in any of his letters- it's only just happened-but Arthur's been promoted!"
It could not have been clearer that Mrs. Weasley had been bursting to say this.
Harry swallowed a large amount of very hot soup and thought he could feel his throat blistering. "That's great!" he gasped.
"You are sweet," beamed Mrs. Weasley, possibly taking his watering eyes for emotions at the news.
"Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices in response to the present situation, and Arthur's heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. It's a big job, he's got ten people reporting to him now!"
"What exactly-?"
"Well, you see, in all the panic about You-Know-Who, odd things have been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to guard against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. You can imagine the kind of thing-so called protective potions that are really gravy with a bit of bubo tuber pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that actually makes your ears fall off….
Well, in the main the perpetrators are just people like Mundungus Fletcher, who've never done an honest day's work in their lives and are taking advantage of how frightened everybody is, but every now and then something really nasty turns up. The other day Arthur confiscated a box of cursed Sneakoscopes that were certainly planted by a Death Eater. So you see, it's a very important job, and I tell him it's just silly miss dealing with spark plugs and toasters and all the rest of that Muggle rubbish." Mrs. Weasley ended her speech with a stern look, as if it had been Harry suggesting that it was natural to miss spark plugs.
"Is Mr. Weasley still at work?" Harry asked. Raven didn't really know how to respond to any of this so she just sat back and kept quiet, though listening intently for any new information she needs to learn about this wizarding world she was to live in for a while.
"Yes, he is. As a matter of fact, he's a tiny bit late….He said he'd be back around midnight…."
She turned to look at a large clock that was perched awkwardly on top of a pile of sheets in the washing basket at the end of the table. Harry recognized it at once: It had nine hands, each inscribed with the name of a family member, and usually hung on the Weasley's sitting room wall, though its current position suggested that Mrs. Weasley had taken to carrying it around the house with her. Every single one of its nine hands was now pointing at "mortal peril." Raven studied the clock, it would be dead useful if one of the titans were in danger and she couldn't reach or properly track the communicator.
"It's been like that for a while now," said Mrs. Weasley, in an unconvincingly casual voice, "ever since You-Know-Who came back into the open. I suppose everybody's in mortal danger now….I don't think it can be just our family… but I don't know anyone else who's got a clock like this, so I can't check. Oh!"
With a sudden exclamation she pointed at the clock's face. Mr. Weasley's hand had switched to "traveling."
"He's coming!'
And sure enough, a moment later there was a knock on the back door. Mrs. Weasley jumped up and hurried to it; with one hand on the doorknob and her face pressed against the wood she called softly, "Arthur, is that you?"
"Yes," came Mr. Weasley's weary voice. "But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"
"Oh, honestly…"
"Molly!"
"All right, all right…What is your dearest ambition?"
"To find out how airplanes stay up."
Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but apparently Mr. Weasley was holding tight to it on the other side, because the door remained firmly shut.
"Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"
"Arthur, really, this is just silly…."
"What do you like me to call you when we're alone together?"
Even by the dim light of the lantern Harry and Raven could tell that Mrs. Weasley had turned bright red; both of them felt warm around the ears and neck, and hastily gulped soup, Harry clattering his spoon as loudly as he could against the bowl.
"Mollywobbles," whispered a mortified Mrs. Weasley into the crack at the edge of the door.
"Correct," said Mr. Weasley. "Now you can let me in."
Mrs. Weasley opened the door to reveal her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired wizard wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and a long and dusty traveling cloak.
"I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come home," said Mrs. Weasley, still pink in the face as she helped her husband out of his cloak. "I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonating you!"
"I know, dear, but it's Ministry procedure, and I have to set an example. Something smells good-onion soup?"
Mr. Weasley turned hopefully in the direction of the table.
"Harry! We didn't expect you until morning!"
They shook hands, Mr. Weasley introduced himself to Raven, and dropped into the chair beside Harry as Mrs. Weasley set a bowl of soup in front of him too.
"Thanks, Molly. It's been a tough night. Some idiot's started selling Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them around your neck and you'll be able to chance your appearance at will. A hundred thousand disguises, all for ten Galleons!"
"And what really happens when you put them on?"
"Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange color, but a couple of people have also sprouted tentacle like warts all over their bodies. As if St. Mungo's didn't have enough to do already!"
"It sounds like the sort of thing Fred and George would find funny," said Mrs. Weasley hesitantly. "Are you sure-?"
"Of course I am!" said Mr. Weasley. "The boys wouldn't do anything like that now, not when people are desperate for protection!"
"So is that why you're late, Metamorph-Medals?"
"No, we got wind of a nasty backfiring jinx down in Elephant and Castle, but luckily the Magical Law Enforcement Squad had sorted it out by the time we got there…."
Harry stifled a yawn behind his hand.
"Bed," said an undeceived Mrs. Weasley at once. "I've got Fred and George's room all ready for the both of you; I didn't expect you two until the morning so I couldn't properly get the girls' room ready for you dear. At least Fred and George's room already has two beds inside. Off to bed you get."
"Why, where are they?" Harry asked, confused.
"Oh, they're in Diagon Ally, sleeping in the little flat over their joke shop as they're so busy," said Mrs. Weasley. "I must say, I didn't approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of flair for business! Come on, dear, your trunk's already up there."
"Night, Mr. Weasley ," said Harry pushing back his chair. Raven nodded goodnight to Mr. Weasley as they both carried their things up into the room. Crookshanks leapt lightly from his lap and slunk out of the room.
"G'night, Harry, Raven," said Mr. Weasley.
Harry saw Mrs. Weasley glance at the clock in the washing basket as they left the kitchen. All the hands were once again at "mortal peril."
Fred and George's bedroom was on the second floor. Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at a lamp on the bedside table and it ignited at once, bathing the room in a pleasant golden glow. Though a large vase of flowers had been placed on a desk in front of the small window, their perfume could not disguise the lingering smell of what Harry thought was gunpowder. A considerable amount of floor space was devoted to a vast number of unmarked, sealed cardboard boxes, amongst which stood Harry's and Raven's school trunk and suitcase. The room looked as though it was being used as a temporary warehouse.
They bade Mrs. Weasley good night, put on pajamas, and got into each of the beds. Raven was already asleep on hers, however there was something hard inside Harry's pillowcase. He groped inside it and pulled out a sticky purple-and-orange sweet, which he recognized as a Puking Pastille. Smiling to himself, he rolled over and was instantly asleep.
Fin. Post the next one really soon.
