Chapter Nine: The Dursleys

All was quiet in the boys dormitory in the Gryffindor Tower. Ron had kicked his covers off with one long, lanky leg resting off of the side of the bed. His rhythmic snoring was only interrupted by the occasional incoherent mutterings of Neville, who was dreaming about a wrestling match between Devil's Snare and mandrakes. The moon hung low in the night sky, signaling that dawn was not far away, when the door to the dormitory opened soundlessly. Professor McGonagall walked slowly towards Harry's bed holding a single yellow candle. Her black hair, normally pulled back in a tight bun, was down and it was clear she had just woken up. She did not want wish to wake Harry, who appeared to be sleeping quite peacefully. There was a deep sadness in her eyes and her face had an expression of remorse and guilt. Leaning over him, McGonagall placed her hand on Harry's arm and gentle shook it.

"Potter. Potter, wake up, please," she whispered.

Harry's eyes fluttered open and he jumped slightly at seeing someone standing over him. He reached over, put on his glasses, and was surprised to see Professor McGonagall standing over him.

"P-Professor?" Harry asked, uncertain if this was a dream.

"Potter, put on your robe and follow me, please. I'll explain everything once we reach my office."

"Professor, what's going on?" Harry whispered urgently, his stomach beginning to tighten with worry and confusion.

"Potter, stop asking questions and do as I tell you," she snapped, then gently added, "It's better if I explain everything to you there. Quietly now, we don't want to wake the others."

Harry, sensing that something was clearly wrong but not wanting to wake his fellow Gryffindors, did as McGonagall ordered. In tense, awkward silence, he followed her back to her office. As they ascended the spiral staircase, Harry's mind raced with reasons why McGonagall was dragging him out of bed at this hour. Harry did not like the pained expression McGonagall had on her face. When they entered the office, Harry saw that all of the portraits were still sleeping, with the exception of one. Dumbledore sat in his portrait, his hands clasped by his frowning mouth, his blue eyes not sparkling like they usually did.

McGonagall motioned to the green armchair in her front of her desk. "Have a seat Potter, the Minister will be here shortly. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you. The Minister? Why is the Minister coming? Professor, what's happened?" The sense of dread in Harry was growing. If the Minister was coming, this was something serious.

McGonagall sighed and sat down behind the desk, rubbing her temple and searching for the right words.

"Have you heard from the Dursleys since you left them last year?" McGonagall finally asked.

"What? Oh, no. I haven't seen or heard from them since the night I left Privet Drive for the last time." Harry had not expected this question. He had not thought about the Dursleys for months. The last time he had, it was because of his elation that he would never have to be subject to their cruelty ever again. "Why do you ask, Professor?"

"There's no easy way to say this, Potter. The, the Dursleys have been murdered."

Murdered? The Dursleys? Harry was now wide awake and unsure of what to say or feel. The Dursleys had verbally, emotionally, and one could probably make an argument for physically, abused him for years. They had only tolerated his existence in their home because of threats from Dumbledore. In the end, the kindest words he ever heard from the Dursleys came out of Dudley on the day of their departure, when he told Harry that he didn't think Harry was a waste of space. Yet, they were his only remaining family, his last blood connection to his parents.

"Harry?" McGonagall asked softly.

Harry looked up, rubbing the back of his neck absentmindedly. "I-I don't know what to say. What happened exactly? When did this happen?"

McGonagall glanced at the portrait of Dumbledore. He gave her a small nod of encouragement. "The Minister will be able to provide you with more specific details but, from what his patronus told me, they were attacked by Death Eaters. The Dark Mark was seen over their house."

Harry swallowed hard. "I don't understand. I thought they were put into hiding, I thought they were suppose to be kept safe in case Voldemort sent Death Eaters after them?"

McGonagall, not knowing how to answer Harry's question, simply said, "You'll have to ask the Minister. I'm sorry, Potter. Now, if you'll stay here, I'm going to go and get us something to eat and drink while we wait for the Minister." With that, she got up quickly, and left the room.

Harry knew that McGonagall could have just called for one of the house elves instead of walking to the kitchen but he was almost certain he saw tears in her eyes as she sped past him and out the door. He knew it was not the death of the Dursleys she was mourning. Maybe it was guilt that the Dursleys had not been better protected? Guilt that once again Harry would have to deal with the fact that more people from his life, even if he was not particularly close to the Dursleys, were taken from him? Or perhaps it was fear, fear that Harry was still not safe, that there were still people wanting him dead, and they were beginning to make their move?

Harry was not sure whether it was the early morning hours that were making it difficult for him to grasp the news he just heard or if he just did not wanting to believe it. Getting up from his chair, he walked over the beautiful scarlet phoenix sitting in the corner.

"Hey, Fawkes, I thought you had left Hogwarts for good," Harry said, petting the beautiful bird.

"Actually, that is Fawkes sister, Aurora."

Harry jumped at the grandfatherly voice. Turning around, he looked up at Dumbledore.

"I'm sorry, sir. Did you just say this is Fawkes sister?"

Dumbledore smiled down at Harry, "Indeed it is, my boy. She arrived at the school over the summer, shortly after the battle. I do not know whether Fawkes sent her so that Professor McGonagall would have a companion or if there is another reason for her appearance. Regardless, I am glad Professor McGonagall has her, you never know when a phoenix could come in handy," Dumbledore said, winking at Harry.

Harry grinned, remembering how Fawkes had saved his life in the Chamber of Secrets and allowed Dumbledore to escape when the Umbridge and Fudge tried to have him arrested. Harry gave the phoenix a closer look and realized that there were some differences between her and her brother. She was slightly smaller and her tail had a few blue and green feathers within the bundle of scarlet and gold. As he continued to admire the phoenix, McGonagall entered the office with a tray of pumpkin juice and an assortment of pastries floating in the air behind her. Then Harry remembered why he was here. The Dursleys were dead.

"Help yourself, Potter," McGonagall said, pointing to the tray that had just landed on the edge of her desk. "I expect the Minister will be here shortly."

Harry's stomach was churning again. Deciding he didn't want to worry McGonagall, he poured himself a small glass of pumpkin juice and nibbled the tip of one of the pastries. A few minutes passed, then McGonagall's fireplace roared and Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minster for Magic, stepped out.

"Mornin' Headmistress, Harry." Kingsley's deep voice echoed off the stone walls. "I imagine you have already filled Harry in what has happened?" he said to McGonagall.

"Yes, the basic details," she said, conjuring up a chair next to Harry for him.

"Good," he said, sitting down and turning towards Harry. "Harry, please accept my condolences, you have suffered much over the years, I am sorry that more has been added to that burden."

Harry stared at his hands. It was not grief that was threatening to overwhelm him, but guilt. Guilt that more human lives had been taken because of him.

Kingsley, taking Harry's silence as permission to go on, said, "From what we can tell, the attack happened sometime before midnight. Neighbors who were still awake said they saw flashes of green coming from the house and then four people leave. Three were hooded, one of which cast the Dark Mark. The other appeared to be a teenage boy."

"But I thought they were suppose to be protected? I thought no one was suppose to be able to find them?" Harry asked, anger rising in his voice.

"I am afraid I am to blame for that, Harry," Kingsley said sorrowfully. "After the attack on the Muggle village, I pulled the two Aurors I had watching over your aunt, uncle, and cousin. We needed the extra help for the search and no Death Eaters had been within 50 miles of the Dursleys since they left Privet Drive. Though there were still numerous protective charms in place over their home. They had to have been strong wizards to break through them so easily. I am deeply sorry, Harry. This is my fault."

Harry shook his head, "No, Minister, you couldn't have known they would be the target of an attack after all this time. If anything, it is mine. Whoever attacked them is obviously trying to send me a message." Harry gripped his knees tightly, trying to desire to hop on his broom and go after the Death Eaters who had killed his only remaining family.

"Harry."

McGonagall, Harry, and Kingsley looked up at the portrait of Dumbledore.

"Now is not the time to be making rash decisions. That is exactly what they want you to do. " Dumbledore said, reading Harry's mind.

McGonagall nodded her head, "We will increase the security around the castle and during Hogsmeade visits."

"And I shall contact Arthur about placing some more protective charms around the Burrow, as well as assign two Aurors to begin searching for Miss Granger's parents in Australia," Kingsley added.

Harry's heart plummeted at Kingsley's response. He had not thought about the Weasley's or Hermione's parents also being in danger. It would make sense for the Death Eaters to attack one of them next. Harry pulled at his hair in frustration. What did the Death Eaters want from him? Were they trying to lure him from Hogwarts? Were they merely enacting revenge on Harry for killing Voldemort? Harry needed to get out of McGonagall's office, away from the stares of pity and concern, and go someplace where he could think.

"Thank you, Minister, for letting me know what happened. If you don't mind, Professor, I think I'm going to go sleep for a couple of hours before breakfast," Harry said.

"Alright, Potter. Should you need anything, or need to talk to someone, my door is open," McGonagall said, worry clearly etched on her face.

"Harry, I will keep you updated on any new information we receive. Please, listen to Dumbledore and do not do anything rash. I promise you, the entire Auror department is on the case," Kingsley said, standing to shake Harry's hand.

Harry numbly took Kingsley's hand and with a nod towards McGonagall, he left the office. The sun was just beginning to rise outside. Faint traces of golden light began to edge its way over the windows. The castle was silent. As Harry walked down the empty corridor towards Gryffindor tower, he debated whether to go to his office or actually try to get some sleep. In the end, he went up to the dormitory, got dressed, grabbed his broom and headed to the Quidditch pitch. Flying had always helped him clear his head and it would allow him some extra time to avoid having to tell Ron, Hermione, and Ginny what had happened.

The grass was wet with the morning dew and the air was chilly, but Harry didn't notice. He mounted his broom, kicked off from the ground, and began to do laps around the pitch. Less than a day ago, he had been here, listening to hundreds of people chant his name after he caught the Snitch and secured a Gryffindor victory. Now, that moment felt like years ago. Harry flew up above the pitch to where he had a clear view in all directions. He paused for a few minutes and watched the sun continue to rise above the Great Lake, making the water shine brilliant shade of blue. Harry thought about how the Dursleys would never see another sunrise again. He wondered if they knew there about to be killed by the same curse that killed his parents but had failed to kill him. He wondered if they blamed him in their final breath.

Tears began to form in Harry's eyes, as anger, guilt, and a small amount of grief began to grow in his heart. Harry leaned low on his broomstick and took off in a nosedive towards the ground. The wind nearly whipped his glasses from his face. Blood rushed to his head. Adrenaline coursed through his body as the ground got closer and closer and closer. For a brief moment, Harry contemplated not pulling up and letting his body hit the ground at full speed, but only for a moment. Giving the broom handle a hard yank, Harry's feet barely brushed the ground as he leveled out and took to the air once again. Soon, dark clouds covered the sun and moved over the castle grounds. A storm was moving in. The already chilled air became bitterly cold and Harry was starting to lose feeling in his hands. He regretted leaving his gloves in his trunk. Just as the rain began falling, Harry touched down and walked slowly back to the castle, letting the rain pelt him mercilessly.

Harry could hear the sounds of talking and the clatter of silverware coming from the Great Hall. Not hungry and shivering from the cold, Harry headed back upstairs to change into dry clothes and maybe get some sleep before the others came back from breakfast. However, just as he turned the corner up the stairs, he bumped hard into someone.

"Oh! Sorry! I didn't see you," Harry stammered while bending down to pick up his broomstick.

"Harry! Where have you been? We've been searching everywhere for you!"

Hermione was waving her arms wildly, as though to convey exactly how far they had been searching.

"Ron said he woke up this morning and you weren't here. Then when you weren't at breakfast we got worried."

"Oh, yeah. I just decided to for an early morning ride, that's all," Harry said, holding up his broom.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You're also soaking wet. How about next time you leave a note or something so we're not all scared half to death?"

"I will. I'm sorry." Harry managed a meager smile, desperate to end the conversation but apparently, fate was not on his side.

"Harry! Harry!"

"Mate! Where have you been?"

Ron and Ginny came running from behind Harry. Ginny threw herself at Harry, before quickly pulling away once she realized he was dripping with water.

"Why are you wet?"

"Someone decided they wanted to go flying in the rain this morning," Hermione told Ginny.

"Huh?" Ginny looked at Harry confused.

"It wasn't raining when I first got out. I just got caught in it when I was walking back to the castle, that's all," Harry said impatiently. "I'm going to go change, I'll catch up with you all later."

"Oh no you don't," Ginny said, grabbing Harry's arm to prevent him from leaving. She stared into Harry's eyes searchingly. "Something is wrong, I can tell, and you're not leaving until you tell us what."

"Nothing is wrong," Harry said firmly. He was not ready to tell him about the Dursleys or that their families might be in danger simply because they know him. He needed more time to think, to process, to make some sort of plan to fix this. "Now, will you lot please let me go put on some dry clothes?"

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny stepped back, surprised at Harry's tone. As Harry walked away from them, they looked at each other, silently affirming that something was indeed wrong with their friend. Harry slammed the door to his empty dormitory shut and began to change. He wondered how long he could keep from telling his friends about the Dursleys. Kingsley had probably already spoken to Mr. Weasley who, Harry was sure, had spoken to Mrs. Weasley. Harry wondered how long before she sent an owl giving her condolences and telling him not to go looking for trouble. Luckily, for Harry, there was no owl from Mrs. Weasley that day or the next and his friends did not ask him again, what was wrong. Crawling into bed, he quickly fell into an uneasy sleep, his dreams plagued by images of the Dursleys and flashes of green light.