Chapter Sixty-Two - The Portkey

There would be very little time between the World Cup and Harry's return to Hogwarts. Remus suggested a shopping trip the day before, so that Harry and his friends could get their supplies for the approaching school year. Remus had volunteered to chaperone, but at the last moment, Sirius decided to join, as well.

He would be going as Padfoot, the name they all used when speaking of Sirius in his dog form. They planned an excursion to Diagon Alley, a hotspot for the wizarding community, and Sirius still drew too much attention to be comfortable in public. Although he had been forced to register as an animagus, a fact which did not fail to make the papers, the general public would not recognize his canine appearance as easily as his human shape.

Sirius and Millie had great fun practicing their transformations together. It wasn't unusual for Harry to be nearly trampled by Padfoot in the hall as he chased Millie in her winged frame. Millie had mastered the transformative process to become an animagus last year. She was a peregrine falcon, and welcomed any opportunity to show off her skill. Sirius often teased Harry and Blaise for failing in the ritual themselves. The sight of Millie's outstretched wings paired with this mocking motivated the boys to give the process a second try. They made it only two hours before spitting out the mandrake leaf again.

"We can buy more at the apothecary," Sirius offered as they were getting ready to leave. Harry and Blaise had used the last of the mandrake leaf in their futile attempt to catch up to Millie. "That is, if you're determined to try again?"

"We'd better leave it till next summer," Harry said, "We won't be able to keep our mouth's shut during the Cup. We'll be cheering for Bulgaria."

"Bulgaria?" Remus said with a kidding smile, "What will your Irish classmates say?"

"Who cares what they think?" Blaise retorted, coming to Harry's aid, "I mean sure, the Irish are good, but Bulgaria has Viktor Krum, and he's the best seeker in the world!"

"Quidditch is won by teams, not a single player," Remus said, still grinning.

"Yeah, but a hundred and fifty points for catching the snitch helps," Harry countered. Like Blaise, he was partial to Bulgaria for their seeker. It was the same position Harry held on the Slytherin team, so he may have been biased, but everything he had read on the subject reported that Krum was the best Quidditch player in the last decade. Harry couldn't wait to see him play in person.

"I've never heard of him," Millie said, almost proud of her own ignorance. Harry and Blaise proceeded to chastise her for not taking a greater interest in Quidditch. But Millie was more than capable of holding her own, and with a toss of her dark hair, said to Blaise in a haughty tone, "You're only interested because you have a crush on half the players in the league."

Blaise laughed at the accusation and swiftly replied, "The only players I fancy are the Holyhead Harpies, and they won't be playing."

They continued to debate the merits of both the Bulgarian and Irish teams as they made their way from Grimmauld Place, through the Leaky Cauldron, and into Diagon Alley. Remus and Millie took the part of Ireland while Blaise and Harry steadfastly defended the Bulgarian's chances. Only Sirius remained silent on the subject, being a dog, but his wagging tail and lolling pink tongue clearly displayed his happiness to be outdoors for a change. Occasionally, he would bark to show his support of a point made by the others, though he yapped just as often for Remus as he did for Harry and Blaise. It was impossible to know which side he was on.

Their lively debate continued as they began shopping, though Millie found it convenient halfway through to adopt her falcon form and perch on Harry's shoulder. He didn't complain about the admiring looks he got from people as he walked down the street, until they had picked up their school books. It was then he realized Millie had tricked him into carrying both of their supplies.

"You just don't want to carry your own bags!" Harry complained.

Millie, preening her feathers, merely gave a sharp bird cry that had Harry's ears ringing. She suddenly spread her wings and took flight. For a moment, Harry assumed she was merely escaping responsibility for a moment, but then he saw her alight on the shoulder of a very familiar figure.

Hagrid was easy to spot anywhere he went, given his unusually large size. He seemed flustered but pleased by the falcon's presence, and his smile only grew as the bird jumped from his shoulder and glided to the ground, where it instantly resumed the appearance of Millie.

"Blimey, Millie!" Hagrid said, his voice carrying to where Harry stood, "I wasn' expectin' ter see yeh today! And as a bird, no less!"

"Hello Hagrid!" Harry said, drawing up to the gamekeeper's side.

"An' Harry, too! Good ter see yeh again, Remus."

He exchanged a handshake with his former coworker as Blaise offered his hello. Hagrid explained that he was in Diagon Alley picking up some supplies for the school year. Harry wondered aloud what he had planned for their Care of Magical Creatures course, but Hagrid, in an uncharacteristically cryptic way, hinted that he was not here for his lesson plans.

"What are you planning for, then?" Harry asked, but Hagrid simply smiled and shook his head.

"Yeh'll just have ter wait an' see," he said.

Harry and Blaise were not above wheedling information out of their large friend, but just then Hagrid became interested in Padfoot. He began patting him on the head fondly, calling him a fine looking boy, and mentioning his own dog, Fang, back at home. Hagrid was very fond of animals and beasts of all kinds, and it appeared Padfoot was no exception.

"Did yeh get yer birthday gift, Harry?" Hagrid asked, "I wasn't sure I had addressed it correctly."

"Er, yeah, I did…" Harry said. Hagrid was still patting Padfoot on the head. Sirius seemed quite pleased to let him continue.

"An' is Sirius doin' well?" Hagrid continued, "Come ter think on it, I got a bit o' property that belongs ter him. I was thinkin' of returning it now that… Well, now that I've got the chance. Didn' he come with you all?"

"Hagrid," Remus said, hardly able to refrain from laughing, "You're currently rubbing his belly."

Hagrid, who had indeed moved on from stroking Padfoot's head to rubbing all over his dark fur, looked at Remus absently before glancing back down at the dog. Padfoot had started to give a light, cough-like bark that Harry recognized as his laughter when he was in canine form. Hagrid could do nothing but laugh himself at his mistake.

"What sort of property is it, Hagrid?" Remus asked after he had finished scolding Sirius for being so shameless, "I don't suppose you can send it by owl?"

"Oh no, that definitely wouldn' work," Hagrid said. He was still acting mysterious, and seemed pleased by the possibility of surprising them. Harry looked at Padfoot to see if he had some idea of what Hagrid was talking about, but judging by the tilt of his head, he was just as perplexed.

"I suppose you could come by tomorrow morning," Remus said after consideration, "But we'll be taking the kids to the World Cup. If you come, it will have to be early."

"Oh, tha' won' be a problem at all," Hagrid replied heartily, "In fact, it'll be better ter bring it by before the muggles are up, I think."

Remus hesitated. Harry thought he knew what he was thinking. He trusted Hagrid implicitly, but Remus was the Secret Keeper. Their location was already known to Mrs. Zabini, Blaise, Millie, and Harry suspected Dumbledore as well. And while Hagrid was enjoying his new enigmatic role, he was not someone to be trusted with a secret in general.

In the end, Remus did not reveal the exact location of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, but he gave Hagrid instructions on how he could get to the square. Hagrid gave Sirius a final affectionate pat, then waved them off with promises of his early arrival the following day.

Harry had assumed he would barely get any sleep due to excitement, when in fact he had soon been lost to more dreams. They started normally enough. He dreamt he was flying to the World Cup on the back of Hedwig, who was either very large or he had become very small. He hadn't quite solved this mystery when she touched down, and Harry landed in a field filled with tents.

He began to walk through them, searching for a sign of Sirius or Remus, but the tents had become huge hedges, and Harry seemed to be moving through a maze. He wasn't alarmed by this, though he rather wished he could find his way out of the maze and back to the tournament soon.

He saw a man walking in front of him. He was old, slightly bent over, and walked with a pronounced limp. Harry tried calling out to him, but this seemed to be one of those dreams where he couldn't speak. He settled for following the old man until they were no longer in the hedge maze, but in a sort of garden.

The man was walking toward an old house set on a hill, he moved slowly, leaning heavily on a walking stick. Harry realized it was night and the moon was high, though it had appeared to be daylight only a moment ago. He followed the man through the dark and around the back of the house, where they encountered a side door, almost completely obscured by ivy. The man had a key which he placed into the lock, and the door swung open without a sound.

Curious to see what the old man would do next, Harry followed him inside. The door led into a cavernous kitchen, though they did not linger very long. The man had soon led him into the hall and up a staircase. He paused on the landing, and Harry instantly saw why. There was a light at the end of a long corridor, and voices floating down the hall.

The old man gripped his walking stick firmly and proceeded toward the room. Harry stayed close behind him. He could not see who was in the room beyond, but through the sliver of open door he could make out a fire in the grate. The voices were in heated conversation, and Harry thought he could make out something about Quidditch.

There was no mistaking the voice, and while Harry couldn't imagine why he would be talking about the sport, he knew it was Wormtail who asked in a quavering voice, "Why should we wait until the World Cup is over?"

Harry did not recognize the high, cold voice that responded to Wormtail, but the sound of it caused his hair to stand on end. It was then that Harry wondered if this were really all just a dream, and if so, how could it cause him to feel such a shiver up his spine?

Wormtail had begun to pledge his devotion to the second voice, and Harry feared the worst for what he might find if he just glimpsed around the door. The old man had taken no notice of him, but Harry worried that the pair in the next room would be more observant. Before he could make a decision one way or another, he saw the old man turn and freeze in terror.

Behind them, something long and black was slithering down the corridor. Harry wanted to urge the man to run, but before either of them could move, the snake had already slipped through his legs and into the adjoining room. Harry was afraid then, but not for himself. He was afraid for the old man and what was about to happen to him as the high, cold voice said, "According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing right outside this room…"

Perhaps Harry would have experienced the now too familiar pain in his scar had not the dream been interrupted.

He awoke to the sound of raised voices. The disturbance came from downstairs. Harry opened his bleary eyes, instantly forgetting the dream, his terror, and the voices he had heard. Blaise and Millie had also begun to stir. They had elected to spend the night in Harry's room, tucked into the various pillows and blankets strewn about the floor.

"Issit time to leave already?" Millie slurred sleepily.

Blaise groaned and tugged a blanket over his head. "I know we have to leave early, but surely they didn't mean before the sun was up?"

He groped for his glasses in the dark, placing them on his face. They did little to help him see in the morning gloom.

"It sounds like Sirius," Harry said, listening to the low rumble of voices that were carrying on downstairs. "You guys stay here, I'll go check it out."

Tossing a housecoat over his pajamas, Harry made his way down the stairs, careful to avoid a creaky step that might disturb the portrait of Sirius's mother. He was surprised she was not already screeching. As he got closer to the front hall, he realized that what he first thought were voices raised in anger were really shouts of excitement.

The front door was standing open with Remus framed in the doorway, his arms crossed. He appeared to be talking to someone outside.

"Keep it down!" he chided in a voice just as loud as the person's outside.

Harry walked up behind him, a question on his lips, but he stopped when he realized who Remus was speaking to. Hagrid was there, sitting astride a vintage motorcycle. Sirius had thrown himself across the handlebars in ecstasy. It was him who had caused such a commotion.

It was such a bizarre sight that for a moment Harry thought he was still dreaming. A moment later he recognized the bike. He had seen it in photographs in the album Hagrid had made for him. It was the motorcycle Sirius had built with his dad.

Harry eagerly pushed past Remus to get a better look at the bike. There it was, just as fresh as it had appeared in the photographs, and complete with the sidecar Sirius had told him was a surprise present from his father.

"Harry!" Hagrid beamed as soon as he appeared. "Good to see you again!"

Harry said a hurried greeting, then turned to Sirius with a grin, "This is it, isn't it? The one you said could fly?"

"Hagrid has just returned it to me," Sirius said proudly, "And he's kept it in great shape, too. Thank you, Hagrid."

"O' course!" Hagrid exclaimed, "It were the least I could do after…"

Hagrid allowed the sentence to trail off, perhaps considering the import of what he was about to say. He turned back to Harry and explained, "Years ago, when you were still a baby, I used this bike to bring you to yer muggle family. Course, I never knew that one day I'd be bringin' the same bike back to its owner, or that yeh'd be living with him when I did."

"You're the one who brought me to the Dursleys?" Harry said, surprised. He had never heard the story before. He realized from what Hagrid wasn't saying that it must have been the night his parents died. He wondered if Sirius had been there, and where he had gone after loaning Hagrid his bike. But Harry already knew the answer. With his best friend dead and Pettigrew responsible, he had set off for revenge...

"Yeh, seemed only righ' teh return it ter him now tha' yer here, Harry," Hagrid continued, "Sort of proper that yeh should both return at the same time."

Harry thought that both he and the bike were brilliant, and he told him so.

"I wish I could say the same," Remus said, no longer able to remain silent. He stepped outside, where Harry knew he would be visible to Hagrid, and added, "How could you bring such a horror from my past here, Hagrid? I thought we were friends."

Hagrid laughed, "Don' look at me like that, Remus! Yeh see how happy it makes him!"

Hagrid climbed off the bike and patted Harry's shoulder with a heavy, massive hand, saying, "Well then, I'd better push off. You'll be wantin' to head to the Cup soon. Maybe now you can take the bike there?"

"Could we?" Sirius asked, directing a hopeful glance at Remus.

"We are not going on that thing," he replied. He kept his tone light and playful, but Harry could hear a note of displeasure in it. He seemed to be directing a look of reproach at Hagrid for suggesting the idea in the first place.

"Come on, Moony!" Sirius begged, "It would be easy! Look, you can ride on the seat behind me. Harry and Blaise can easily fit into the side car, and Millie will be fine flying alongside us!"

"Ignoring the obvious safety concerns of such a plan, did you forget our luggage? And we have the tent, as well. How do you propose to carry all of that?"

"None of the kids are old enough to apparate," Sirius argued, "If we don't fly, how else will we travel?"

Remus consulted his wristwatch and smoothly replied, "You know very well that a portkey will be leaving in an hour's time. Hagrid was right about one thing, we'd better get a move on."

Sirius knew how to recognize a lost cause. He sadly eyed the bike once more before suggesting, "I don't suppose we could take a little ride to the portkey? Save us a walk?"

Remus smiled and said in no uncertain terms that he would die before he climbed onto that "screaming metal death trap" again.

Sirius was soundly defeated. Harry offered his apologies, which Sirius returned with a smile and a covert wink.

"Not to worry," he said, "I'll give you a ride some other time."

"Over my dead body!" Remus called, for their conversation had not escaped his notice. He motioned for Harry to come back inside, and said pointedly to Sirius, "Park it. And no flying."

Harry said goodbye to Hagrid, then rushed back upstairs to change and grab the bag he had packed the night before. They had a limited amount of time to get to the portkey, whatever that was. Harry had been so busy getting dressed and telling his friends about the motorcycle that he hadn't asked them where they would be going next. By the time the sun was peeking over the rooftops of London, Harry and his friends were walking down the street, carrying bags, bedrolls, and a tent that seemed too old and shabby to possibly contain their entire group.

"Where exactly are we going?" Harry asked once he realized that they were not walking in the direction of King's Cross Station.

"To find the portkey," Remus answered, "Should be around here somewhere?"

"Right… and what's a port key?"

"Oh, it could be just about anything."

Remus was usually a patient instructor, but this response was not helpful. He was too distracted as he consulted a map that was supposed to lead them to their destination. Harry looked to Blaise and Millie for guidance. They were smirking at each other.

"You've never used one before, Harry?" asked Blaise.

"You would know if I had, wouldn't you?"

"It's an object that's enchanted to move people from place to place," Millie explained.

"Like teleportation?"

"Like what?"

"I suppose you would call it apparition."

Blaise looked very interested in what Harry had said, "Is teleportation what the muggles call it? Amazing! I had no idea they'd developed a way to apparate themselves. How does it work without magic? Is it anything like the telephone?"

Harry thought about correcting Blaise's misunderstanding, but he decided it was funnier to let him think muggles invented a way to teleport. Besides, Blaise was taking a Muggle Studies course at Hogwarts. Sooner or later, they might cover science fiction, and then Blaise would learn the truth.

They had reached a large park a few blocks from Grimmauld Place. Remus continued to consult their map, but it was doing very little to find the item they were looking for. It must be small, Harry reasoned, otherwise it would be too easy for a muggle to grab by accident. He tried asking the others what it might look like, but their answers were vague and unsatisfactory.

"It's not going to be a living thing," Remus said after Harry lamely suggested that one of the nesting pigeons could be a portkey, "You wouldn't want it to be able to move about on its own, would you?"

As he said this, Sirius, who had embarked from the house in his dog form and had just chased a squirrel up a tree, began barking and wagging his tail in excitement. A group of people were approaching them down another lane. The sight of so many strangers making their way through the fog of an early morning might have appeared sinister at any other time, but Sirius seemed pleased by their approach, not guarded.

"Looking for passage to the Cup?" said a man near the front of the group.

"Have you got it?" Remus asked.

"Right here. Should be moving in a minute. Better grab on now."

He held out his arm, and Harry was surprised to see nothing more than a slightly crushed soda can. Remus and the others didn't seem to think this was at all odd. Blaise and Millie quickly joined the others, standing shoulder to shoulder in a tight circle so that everyone could reach the can. Sirius abruptly took human shape, causing several people to gasp, first in surprise, then again when they recognized him from the wanted posters. He gave them a cheeky grin, then stepped forward for his share of the can.

"Come on, Harry. No time to waste. Just a finger ought to do it. That's it…"

Harry did as he was directed, squeezing in between Blaise and Millie so that he could fit one finger onto an exposed bit of can. He wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but before he could utter another question, he felt a strong pull somewhere behind his navel. It was as if someone had him on a string and he was lifted right off his feet. Their group was whirling through the air in a dizzying cyclone of color, wind whistling past his ears. Millie and Blaise seemed to be laughing at the expression on his face, though he couldn't be sure from the noise. He realized that his finger seemed glued to the can. He didn't think he could remove it if he tried. Then, just as suddenly as it all began, it stopped.

Harry's knees gave way as his feet slammed into hard earth and he toppled to the ground. He wasn't alone. Millie and some of the younger members of the group fell unceremoniously to their knees. Only Blaise had remained standing.

Harry scrambled quickly to his feet, looking eagerly around at where they had landed. They seemed to be in the middle of a wide, deserted moor. As he gazed around him, a harassed looking man approached with a long roll of parchment and a quill. He was doing his best to dress as a Muggle, though the combination of kilt and poncho gave him away as one of the magic set.

"London party, just arrived?" he said in a very clipped accent, "This way, this way. Must make room for the next batch. Due in thirty seconds, no time to waste. Oh, yes… Welcome to the World Cup."