Chapter Twenty-five.
Very Bad News.
But oh, was I scared…
Voldermort, Hazel, the whole nine yards. It all made good motivation for me to teach them about the World beyond; how to get around in it, and how to defend themselves in it—especially with the tricks Sky passed along to me about Wandless Magic. That alone would be especially helpful against a group that despises all Mundane things, and would expect the other side to act like good little wizards and witches—not to suddenly vanish into a crowd, eat fast food, argue with ATM Machines, and use firearms.
Granted, there are defensive spells to defeat the latter. But, they are only useful if such weaponry is expected by the other side. And considering things, guns wouldn't be expected right off—giving the good guys a half-minute advantage before the villains gather their wits for a counter attack.
But the added burden of juggling a shield spell, along with their attacks, still leaves them vulnerable to a point in battle. Powerful wizards can do it, as long as they don't suffer major amounts of distraction (injured fellows screaming for help is a good example) which could ruin it for them easily. Then again, Voldermort's bunch doesn't strike me as the compassionate sort of group. They're more like sharks; they get a long fine and dandy with each other until one of them start bleeding.
But, again, this is what I hear. Having no time to really study them, beyond picking Moody's battle-scarred brain during those few and far-between times during the planning of Harry's escape really leaves me in a quandary on the matter…
Like Snape…
The unmentionable person that made Harry suddenly become very cold towards one of his dearest friends, was the badest of the bad in his mind. Bad enough to betray all those who trusted him within the Order of the Phoenix, as a double spy no less, and destroy them quite literally with one highly calculated slice—all for his Master, Lord Voldermort.
Oh I herd a lot about him, from Harry and several of those former friends.
Yet, I am totally dumbfounded by the man's behavior.
When Harry first became a Hogwarts' student, there was the matter of the Sorcerer's Stone. Voldermort, as it turned out, wanted this Alchemist's jewel for its ability to produce a life prolonging elixir which would have helped him return faster than drinking Unicorn's blood. Snape was among those professors who designed the elaborate defenses for the Stone, his Logic Puzzle is a stroke of sheer genius, a Sabot that binds up the plans of any thief by way of it's surprising presence. But in hearing the adventure from Harry, I was left wondering why he didn't blow through the defenses, (which he was more than capable of doing, Fluffy not in counting), and get the stone for his Master…
Or, simply make him one. His skills were highly compatible to the project's scope…
Yet he didn't.
Nor did he fudge Harry's desperate message about his Godfather being tortured at the Ministry that fateful night. His attitude towards Umbridge, not withstanding, was pale compared to his feelings towards one Sirius Black. Yet, not only did he keep what Harry so dramatically mentioned right in front of Umbridge a secret (which at that moment was all Umbridge needed to burn Harry at the stake) but delivered the message to Dumbledore—thus thwarting Voldermort's plan at the Ministry.
He could have also arranged for Harry to be kidnapped from Hogwarts, which could be easily done; a dash of some time-activated narcotic, administered stealthily so that Harry would fall victim at that right place (perhaps on his way to serving detention) and be gathered up by other Voldermort agents who'd enter and leave Hogwarts by one of the secret passages so depicted on the Marauder's Map—which an agent of Voldermort, disguised as Moody, actually had in his possession for several weeks.
Long enough to copy…
Yet again, he didn't.
Even for one who could lie right in God's face and get away with it, he didn't even try.
And that's where it falls down, at least in my mind.
Snape isn't just a double agent, working the line between Dumbledore and Voldermort, I have the feeling he's working his own game into this boiling cauldron of misery. The Grand Conductor, playing both sides to their shattering climax to better effect his own escape from the destruction…
No, wait…
I just don't know.
I need more time with this, even while keeping watch for Hazel.
As days turned to weeks, Fred, George, and Harry became accustomed to the Mundane World—the American side of it at least. Language, mannerism, even real driving skills on the Road and being able to spot the Bureau Agents keeping watch over them either from their big black cars or keeping track of who was around them whenever we went out on occasion. They even got a suntan out of it, the color did them good.
Ginny was too, but kicking and screaming the whole time in a figurative way. I don't know what caused this to happen. Everything was peaches and crème right up til' we left England, now even her brothers are at whit's end with her behavior. Me, myself, and I resolve to stick it out for the remaining two weeks before the Start of Term at Hogwarts.
I don't need to be wound up now by Ginny's attitude. Thankfully Harry's right there, deflecting most of her anger while keeping her reasonably civil whenever we do the town. I need my wit's ready for the return to England, and the 'reception' I'm expecting to get from the Ministry. From the news I'm getting from the WizNet about the Ministry's newest (harshest as some call it) ways of dealing with Voldermort's captured followers (if they actually ever were. Most likely they're nothing more than critics of the Ministry), I certainly hope Bone's willing to stick it out there for me in the end.
There's nothing worse than being used, especially by those who set you up to do an important task. I've dealt with that before, more than once in fact…
I have the scars to prove it.
Harry is taking it well, with regards to whoever is impersonating him. Actually, he doesn't care a wit, from what I can see, on the matter. But Percy Weasley going to be getting a very rude visit from his brothers. That I can tell when they see the news of his 'Kicking Ass and Taking Names' exploits against reported Death Eaters. And what they whisper between themselves on the matter is exceedingly dark.
September is definitely shaping up to be eventful, yes—sir—ree.
But coming back to the reality of the current moment, while fixing iced teas in the kitchen as the kids are watching the latest global news, I see them react with varying degrees of astonishment and humor at something occurring to some business in England. Especially Harry. Of all, he's the one that gets the closest to the Plasma...
And the one who turns the volume up.
"—reportedly, the deal would have insured Grunnings Drills and Machinery a secure place within the structure of Ridgemon International Manufacturing's hierarchy. But details have arisen concerning serious faults within the documents concerning the agreements, written up by Vernon and Dudley Dursley, which have reportedly cost both companies billions of dollars in lost business revenue—"
"Isn't it wonderful to see such nasty people end up in a bad way, Harry?" Fred broadly smiled.
"Especially from being greedy." George chimed in. "Bet they tried getting a nice lot of loot for themselves before anyone else could."
But Harry didn't reply, or move from the screen. Their pictures were posted like wanted posters behind the newscaster. All three of them.
"British police are currently looking for Vernon Dursley, his son Dudley Dursley, and wife Petunia Dursley, who had been staying with relatives since the mysterious destruction of their home in Little Whinging several weeks ago…"
Which made Fred and George grin like demons.
"Charges have yet to be file in the Case. But sources close to the investigation indicate that that will be occurring soon. Authorities on the European Continent have been put on alert, and all passengers using the Chunnel will expect delays because of this matter."
"Aren't you soooo glad to be out of that dreadful place?" George cheerfully asked Harry, who was now moving back from the screen now that the story was over. He didn't say anything at first, just sat there in a sort of shock even as I set the tall iced tea glass down on the coffee table in front of him. After a few minutes, in which even the twins were becoming concerned (Ginny was already next to Harry), Harry slowly snapped out of it.
"Sorry", he apologized, "Quite surprising, wasn't it."
As it turned out, the effect of the Dursley matter on Harry was the least of my worries.
There was his Owl, and Ron and Hermione.
But later on Hedwig.
In the communications from upper New York State, Hermione's condition was beginning to improve to the point where she didn't need Ron or anyone else to help her—least of all to read.
Speech and memory-recall were another matter entirely.
She could master lengthy sentences, but speak them slowly. Speed made her forget and stammer, which flustered and distressed her to fits of crying that darkened Ron's already positively dark mood even further. You could hear it in his voice over the telephone, and see it in his manner when Doc managed to swing time with the Institute's Broadcaster tuned to my Plasma TV.
He was short with his temper, almost to the point of being utterly nasty with his older brothers when they made seemingly innocent remarks, touching off a good number of verbal rows between them with little effort. Lately, we've been able to keep such incidents to a tense minimal, but it was easy to see his mind, and feelings were solidly on Hermione and not on his brothers or parents.
Harry rose to the challenge of keeping things under quick control, by being able to calm down both sides, with Ginny's aid, that headed off what would have been a royal flame war between him and his brothers on a few occasions while I hung back in case things really got nasty. Harry got them to chill quite nicely without my help. That kid's certainly born for greatness…
But I'm leery of showing Ron what the others already know. That boy's just dying to flatten something, and I'm not about to teach him anything he can use to achieve that goal. If he comes here…
Granted, he'll be behind the others. But there's no doubt he'll play a vicious game of catch-up.
Then, around the fifth video conference, where both Ron and Hermione shared the screen with Crookshanks resting comfortably on Hermione's lap, Ginny wanted to ask her Mother a question…
"Mum's not here, Ginny." Ron flatly replied.
"T-they're..at..Hog-warts." Hermione got out with surprising quickness.
And with equally surprising quickness, the Twins beat us all with their shocked reaction. The rest of us caught up a heartbeat later, but couldn't defeat them at shouting.
"HOGWARTS!!"
"WHAT IN THE HELL—"
"KNOCK IT OFF, BOTH OF YOU!!" Ron shot directly back at them, causing Hermione to jump quite suddenly that poor startled Crookshanks got catapulted towards the camera.
This touched off another word war between the brothers, which between Harry, Ginny, and me lasted for a good ten minutes before things were under some sort of control.
"It was what Mum wanted." Ron frowned bitterly while explaining. "The woods out here don't seem to agree with her, so she, Dad, Moody, McGonagall and Sky went back to England."
Formable group, but Bone's still going to have a fit when hearing about this—or so I though…
"The Bureau arranged for it." Ron added.
"Every..thing." Hermione added with a sure nod.
"Who arranged it?" Harry asked.
Ron just looked at him like he was nuts. But it was Hermione who answered as best as she could, "Den-nis, Mis-ter Bone's a-asist-ant…S-shar-ply dress-ed black man with dred-locks…"
Now Harry looked at me. Yea, that was Bone's Assistant—and anyone else in disguise.
That made me go to the phone.
"What's the big deal?" Ron started wondering. "Even Moody said he was real."
That doesn't mean spit. Moody's not God, and Sky isn't invincible.
I had to be sure, and that meant a call to Sky's cellphone.
If it wasn't him who answered it, I'd know.
And after five rings; "Goddammit, boy! What is it now!?"
Everything was apparently fine. And when Sky calmed down, he filled in the blanks.
"The Misses was making good headway, but homesick—terribly homesick. So, Doc got a hold of Bone and he arranged for transport with protection.
"Now Hogwarts," he added in that not so subtle way of his, " that's something I'm working on. I anit sayin' what because its goin'ta be a surprise."
As if it's not already.
"Couldn't you have at lest told us?" Ginny sharply put in, before I could even say anything.
"No!" was Skywise's reply, and he hung-up.
In that mood, it'll be a week before he'll speak to me again.
"Nice, Ginny." Fred sarcastically smiled at her with his brother, "Very…nice."
"See." Ron called from the Plasma. "I told you so."
On a better note, Harry and Hedwig had patched up their differences. But I was very reluctant to allow the snowy white owl to fly around loose outside, even at night. The problem was what Hedwig was; a big, perfectly white owl—very rare this far south. Such a sight would bring out the Bird Watchers, Animal Control Officers (Owl's aren't considered 'legal' to own out here in California), the News Media, and any sick freak eager for an 'unusual trophy' with the bragging rights to go along with it.
(While I personally have nothing against Guns, I will admit that there are those who have such who never should have ever been allowed such in the first place because they spoil actively spoil the pleasure of having such due to their behavior with such.)
I'd let Hedwig fly around inside the house, and made said offer to Harry on the matter. Since any mess could be cleaned up with a dose of diluted Pine-Sol and a vacuum cleaner. But Harry pointed out the hazards of the ceiling fans, located in most of the rooms, whirling silently away while moving the air around. A definite must for Fresno summers, since Central Air can't do it all by itself. The fan's blades were presswood attached to a metal frame. If Hedwig flew a little too close, it would be similar to a human being bashed in the head by an all wood baseball bat wielded by a professional bodybuilder. Downdrafts and vortices caused by the fans moving the air was another matter, making Hedwig resort to hopping about the living room and kitchen like a squawking bunny rabbit at times.
The matter was finally settled by letting her fly in the only areas that didn't have ceiling fans; the Garage and the corridor leading to the bedrooms. She may not get up to speed, but traveling back and forth repeatedly let her stretch her wings as much as she would…
And the vacuum was quite capable of dealing with the feathers.
And, there were other matters.
Like said, I had been teaching them how to 'Call' items. Or, what they'd call either 'Materialize' or 'Summoning'—Wandless Magic in the extreme. All it takes is concentration, and whatever you focused on appears in your hands. No different than back in the days of their childhood when they unknowingly used their magical ability to protect themselves from harm.
Perfectly simple.
However, it's not easy to unlearn what you've been taught for practically all your life—which is the reliance on the Wand for conjuring. Getting past that self-imposed barrier was a fight they all succeeded at by wearing it down over the course of weeks. The Twins were first, though they were more analytical than Harry or Ginny. With them, I had to explain the psychological aspects of the form in great detail—often going over things several times.
Then, just this past week, they broke through. Paper, pencils, books, video tapes (some still in their shrink wrap), stuff I know I've seen them admire in stores, along with several copies of Playboy magazine, started appearing around the house. All innocent I know.
But when the latest model of the Ferrari 308 sports car 'suddenly' appeared before them in the living room, I just had to draw the line.
"But can we keep it?" George innocently asked.
"Not without getting in trouble with the Bureau." I quickly replied, not yet fully over the shock.
Harry and Ginny were wisely staying out of this. In fact, Harry was holding Ginny who somehow managed a twisting horizontal leap to land on to his lap when the Ferrari arrived just scant feet in front of the couch they were sitting on. Crunching the coffee table their feet had been under just moments before.
On occasion, we would get visits from Fred and Barney—as I came to calling them. "Nothing serious." Fredricks would explain with that wide, sinister smile of his while Barnabus would stand quietly behind him and occasionally turn his head from side to side, "Just checking on the kids' welfare."
The problem was, they came at absolutely odd times. Morning, noon, or night, they'd knock on the door or make a surprise appearance when we were out and about on the town. Though we could spot them before they arrived.
They even came soon after the twins dealt with that Street Gang that had tried chasing us down. They weren't too pleased with the mess, but expressed gratefulness that it hadn't happened in a more public area.
Getting back to the Ferrari, what I didn't need was for Fred and Barney to walk right in, or come knocking on my door, while it was still here.
"Can you send it back?" I hopefully ask. It shouldn't take too much effort to put the car back where they found it, since they had to visualize where it originally was to move it to where it now is; my living room.
Fred was about to answer when lo and behold guess who marched into my home…
You could have herd a pin drop as Fredricks removed his glasses while gazing at the Ferrari for a few moments. Then he turned and asked me; "You have homes in Old Fig Garden, correct?"
I nodded.
"Anywhere else?"
Now the kids were giving me worried looks.
It was time to turn the conversation around. "What's going on?"
Fredricks didn't say a thing as he reached into his jacket, pulling out a folded piece of white paper which he unfolded and gave to me.
"Recognize it?" he asked knowingly.
Oh boy did I. The elliptical circle with three outcroppings, one rising up from the center before curving back downwardly in a gentle arch and the two heading downwards from the end of the elliptical doing the same but heading upward…
Hazel's Sigel.
"It was detected on two properties in Old Fig Garden." Fredricks informed me.
"We haven't found it here—"
Yes, because this place was newer by two years. Purchased originally as a Rental, then bought when the option presented itself.
"Then Hazel's trying to find me." I interrupted him.
The Twins became grim, while Ginny latched onto a very stoic looking Harry.
But then he's used to this.
"Personally, I want all of you out of here." Fredricks flatly stated. "But the Bureau is hesitant. There's no real evidence that Hazel's even up here. But I don't like playing the odds."
Neither do I, when I can help it.
I eye the Ferrari…
"Tell Bone I'll consider it. And have him get a hold of the others in New York…Tell them they may have visitors."
Discretion is the better part of valor. I'd go after Hazel with a few of the locals, just to be rid of her once and for all. Can't do it with the kids around. In fact, I don't even want her knowing they're here.
Getting them out takes precedence. I'll deal with Hazel later.
Turning to leave, Fredricks points out to me, "Nice Ferrari."
"Thanks." I say
The phone rings…
The Twins grin sheepishly.
"Too bad about the coffee table though." He adds while putting his sunglasses on "Looks like it got clipped by the left rear tire."
Nice, but I'll deal with it later. I don't need to tell the kids we're leaving; they're bright enough to realize it…
Then he turns to Harry with Ginny still on his lap.
"You know you shouldn't be doing that in public." He tells them.
But after the fourth ring, the answering machine kicks in with a recognizable voice asking me a question; "Hey Day-man. You have'in trouble with your Gate? People down here in the Tower can't use theirs at all."
And that stopped everything.
Somehow, Hazel managed to set up a Dampener Enchantment, possibly blocking off all Gates in Fresno. Worst, calls around the community go unanswered. And both Sky's and Doc's cellphones aren't responding. That alone, if anything else, pretty much ditched plans for a fast getaway.
"We could Aspirate away." Fred suggested.
"Nice, but how fast can you run while removing the Trace she'll have marked you with? That's how she was able to bag two of my late friends." I ask. "Physical travel is the only way of escaping from this…But…"
The thought just occurred to me; We can't run. Hazel wouldn't have set the Dampener in place without figuring that we would attempt escaping once it was in place… There would be a Snare as well, that would drop us right into her lap if we tried. And the best place for those would be along the Dampener's Border, or as part of the initial barrier.
Cross that, she'd have us. Oh, she laid this out beautifully…
But it, like all her schemes, was reliant upon redundant items…
The Dampener's Anchors...
Disrupt enough of them, the whole Field goes down.
Fredricks was having difficulty conferring on his cellphone in the kitchen while Barnabus stands in the foyer as a silent sentinel watching over us all, when I announced this simple fact.
It stopped Fredricks in mid-sentence, and had him gazing at me in astonishment.
"We could fly out." Harry quickly suggested.
Of course not in daytime on brooms, but I almost forgot that Harry ranks amongst those who've active lived in both worlds.
Airplane…Nice ideal though. Which I cut down by stating that Hazel would have prepared for that possible route of escape as well.
And get back to the task at hand.
"It all depends on where the Anchors are for the Dampener." I tell him as the others listen, "I'm betting recently sold homes, but where is going to take a lot of research with a City Map, the Newspaper Home Ads, and the Internet. And we'd better get the Dampener's boundary right, or we'll pay Hazel an unintended visit."
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