Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter III
Letters
Meanwhile, a few hundred kilometers away at Grimmauld Place Number 12, Severus Snape had to attend yet another mind-numbing meeting of the order of the phoenix. It was the tenth in as many days. Since the boy-who-lived-to-annoy-him-and-steal-his-time had vanished without a trace, the headmaster had called them daily together in a desperate attempt for a coordinated search. Idly, he wondered if he could excuse himself from the newest formed hunting party by citing more worthwhile pursuits.
As far as he was concerned, Potter had run away at the first whiff of danger and now was relaxing somewhere nice no matter the inconvenience he was causing other people. Meaning mainly himself with the waste of time that was the manhunt the headmaster kept on organizing. He gritted his teeth. No, he would be forced to spend another day combing through Knockturn Alley because the others were to squeamish to set foot into that alley and Dumbledore insisted that the boy needed to be found. How exactly the golden boy should have ended up in just that alley was anyone's guess but according to the headmaster, the meddling child - that did not know what was good for him - could be let astray by his natural curiosity. Severus thought the day a Potter roamed Knockturn Alley on his own free will, would be the day were a Malfoy would lower himself to dine with a mudblood.
"Albus, are you sure that Harry is roaming the alleys?", Molly asked again for the tenth time – having asked that very question every chance she got which meant every meeting so far. It had become a habit of hers. One Severus found increasingly annoying. However, instead of shutting that insipid woman up for good, Dumbledore as patient as ever answered her. His voice was grave when he said: "He cannot be anywhere else. Every single one of my scrying attempts so far has failed. Harry has to be either behind strong wards or at a place so saturated with magic that scrying becomes useless. Since all of his friends are here and he has not shown up at Hogwarts, the only logical conclusion is that he is hiding in the alleys."
"But what if … what if you-know-who has him?", Molly whispered fearfully in reply - also for the tenth time.
"We would know if Voldemort had him." At that, Dumbledore and every other order member looked at him. He sighed internally. Oh joy, the questions and the suspicion would start again. Moody's eye swiveled to muster him. "You better tell us everything you know.", he growled.
"How can we be sure old Snivellus would tell us if Harry had been caught? He was always dark and miserable!", the mutt shouted across the table.
"Enough! I trust Severus implicitly and that should be enough for you. We cannot fight with each other at a time like this. It is imperative that we stand together. Now, Harry must be found before one of the Death Eaters finds the boy. Did you learn anything new yesterday, Severus?", Dumbledore proceeded to ask in the full knowledge of the report he had given him just this morning. He sighed again. Obviously, he had to repeat himself in front of these morons. It would be too much to ask of the headmaster to give a short review of his update.
All eyes once more rested on him. Suppressing an eye roll, he started: "Well, as you know the Dark Lord is aware that Potter no longer resides at home. He has come to the same conclusion that the boy must be gallivanting the alleys. He has yet again reinforced the presence of the Death Eaters there. As far as I know, Narcissa now daily lunches and takes her tea at Whimsical Square whereas Lucius has taken to visit his solicitor at Horizontal Alley every morning to have a ready excuse for roaming the alleys. However, the Dark Lord thinks it unlikely that Potter is in Knockturn Alley.", he finished pointedly.
Dumbledore sighed at that. "Severus, I told you, Harry grew up with his muggle relatives. He is unaware of the dark reputation Knockturn Alley carries. He would explore that alley if only to spite that it was forbidden to him at previous trips." He nearly rolled his eyes at that. Dark reputation. Only the prejudice of light aligned wizards had made Knockturn Alley into what it was today. A hub for illegal goods and merchandise of a darker nature which was frowned upon in the upstanding shops of Diagon Alley.
Naturally, the shop owners of Diagon Alley let you pay quite a bit more for the privilege of shopping in a light and upscale environment whereas in Knockturn Alley you could always haggle for a good price if you knew the true value of an item. The shops there offered all the standard fare that Diagon sold plus a few more exotic and dangerous goods. However, mudbloods and light wizards usually stayed clear of that alley preferring to pay more than to lower themselves to set foot into that space.
Severus snorted in his mind. He usually bought his potion ingredients from there because it was not only cheaper but also because the quality was far superior. Not to mention that Jinks&Jinks had a far greater selection on sale than Slug&Jiggers Apothecary could ever hope to gather.
Ever since he had been a lowly first year student at Hogwarts had he bought his school materials from Knockturn Alley. He had been too poor to afford anything from Diagon Alley. As such, he could not understand why the Weasleys insisted to buy subpar quality only to be seen shopping in the upscale shops of Diagon Alley if they could get far better quality at a much cheaper price in Knockturn. However, much of what the Weasleys and other light aligned wizards did was beyond his reasoning. They often rather hurt their families for their prejudices than adjust to reality.
And the reality was that the Weasleys were poor. As poor as paupers. They had no longer anything left to their name. No lands, no businesses, no great magicks. Nothing. Nothing was left. Everybody knew that but the Weasleys themselves. They still thought of themselves as landed gentry that simply had fallen on hard times. But with Arthur's dead end job in the ministry that everyone and their owl laughed about, and their too many children, they had become the laughing stock of society.
The mutt's angry shout ripped Severus from his thoughts. "My godson is in danger and you expect me to stay here and do nothing, Dumbledore?", he shouted while banging his fist on the kitchen table.
Ahh, he had missed the usual in-between bickering. Now, they had arrived at the old argument of Black wanting to leave the house to search for the boy-wonder himself. Naturally, he would be shot down. However, Severus figured before Dumbledore did just that he could at least get some type of satisfaction today – miniscule as it would be.
"Black, does it really need to be explained to you again why you can't go running off? Stay put and let us adults deal with the situation.", he mocked.
"Snivellus, you filthy ...", Black started shouting enraged in return. However, he was interrupted by Dumbledore.
"Sirius, please, calm yourself. This does not help Harry at all. I know you want to go and search for him yourself but the alley is crawling with aurors, hitwizards and Death Eaters. The chance of discovery is high. You must stay at Grimmauld Place for your own safety."
After this, the meeting progressed as usual, full of shouting, bickering and digressing from topics at hand. Sometimes, his follow order members were worse than the dunderheads he had to teach at school. At least, he could cow those into silent submission and misery. He closed his eyes. It would be another long meeting followed by another long patrol in Knockturn Alley.
Time had flown by while Harry had been busy with recreating his childhood home. Now summer was nearing its end and with it came the beginning of the new school year at Hogwarts. He had just two brief weeks left to get his affairs in order. Two weeks… not a lot of time but certainly enough to get emancipated, claim his lordship and review his estate. He might even get a start on current politics and the allegiances of house Potter.
Harry finally climbed out of bed and stretched with a yawn. Today would be the first day without either cleaning, repairing or otherwise working around the house! He had put the last finishing touches to the cellars last night and called it a day around midnight. The house seemed to acknowledge his efforts and had let him sleep in today. Now, the only thing remaining that needed a makeover were the vast gardens. However, that could wait quite a while longer. He was not inclined to work around the house – or the gardens – any longer this summer. He had his estate to tend to.
Thus, he planned to spend the morning in the sunroom, drink a nice cup of tea, eat a late breakfast and finally read the newspapers. He hoped that the house no longer tempered with his mail now that he had brought it back in shape.
He was also curious what his so-called friends had written him. He knew from Harry's memories that the uppity mudblood and the jealous blood traitor had only penned short and cryptic sounding letters. Enough to let him know that there was a secret they were let in and he not but not actually spilling said secret. He was not sure whether they were smug that they knew a secret, the great Harry Potter did not for once or whether they were unbelievable stupid to let information slip to their - former – friend like this. Possible a mixture from both. They were happy that they had one over him but probably also wanted to cheer him up with holding said secret over him.
It was exhausting to deal with the riffraff of society. He truly wondered at the boy, his descendant, sometimes. How could he turn out so different from pureblood wizards? He knew from his memories that the actual purebloods the boy had encountered held themselves to a different standard. They had manners, respected the old traditions and generally traversed life with a more confident attitude. Like they knew their place in life and society. The boy obviously had not known a thing.
Icarus – now Harry – scoffed at that. He wondered how he was going to repair the damage the boy and likely his father had caused to House Potter with their negligence and ignorance. He feared it would take an even greater effort than sorting the mess with his home out.
Wandering through the halls to get to his breakfast, he ended up crossing the portrait hall. He swallowed hard. Rows and rows of his ancestors and successors lined the walls. Some he knew from his childhood days, others were foreign to him being born so far after his supposed death. He knew his mother and father were among those watching him now. He almost could feel their eyes on him.
He hurried his steps. He did not feel ready to see them again. To find out what happened to them and his sister. To find out why the row of portraits broke off in the middle of the thirteenth century. Therefore, he crossed this hall quickly without looking back ignoring the various calls of the portraits. He would return before summer ended but not now. Not now when he had that horrible feeling in his chest that made his throat ache and his fist ball. Not now.
He made it to the sunroom with a still aching throat and a constricted chest. Approaching the laid out table, a chair moved back on its own to have him seating at the head. Shortly after sitting down food appeared and he tucked in.
Next to his plate, a stack of newspapers were placed. The headlines of the oldest copy at the top immediately caught his eye.
Dementors in Surrey!
Carnage in the neighbourhood of the boy-who-lived
by Rita Skeeter
Dear Readers,
last night, Dementors attacked the quiet muggle neighborhood in Surrey where no other but our very own Harry Potter, supposed vanquisher of he-who-must-not-be named, lives with his muggle relatives. Approximately at 7pm today, aurors were called to Little Whinging by none other than the former Supreme Mugwump, Albus Dumbledore, himself. What they found on arrival was a horrible scene of carnage. The bodies of several muggles and one squib, Arabella Figg, were discovered without a soul. Laying still in their beds or on the street, this reporter has to say it was a terrible sight to behold. Apparently, our esteemed headmaster reported that upon his arrival two dementors were wandering the streets, breaking into muggle homes and sucking the souls out of these unfortunate muggles. Upon request, headauror Rufus Scrimgeour confirmed:
"The souls of those muggles were definitely sucked out by dementors. However, we urge the public to stay calm. There is no reason to worry. The ministry will conduct an investigation into the matter."
But should we remain calm while the guards of Azkaban roam our streets? Has the ministry lost control of them? It takes a highly qualified wizard to produce the patronus charm – the only known defense against the dark creatures. Most witches and wizards will not be able to defend themselves if attacked.
Lord Malfoy, esteemed member of our society, commented: "While this is highly unusual and very tragic, no wizard or witch has been hurt in the attack. I believe our community is quite safe. We should not listen to those who will use this tragic accident as a reason to spread discontent and unfounded rumors. I am fully convinced that the ministry will discover how this could happen."
Is Lord Malfoy, right? Was it just a tragic accident that is now used by Albus Dumbledore to spread fear through magical Britain?
This reporter will keep you updated!
Harry grinned. It was always nice to create trouble for other people. He seemed to have managed to create a lot of trouble for a great deal of people he currently disliked. Albus Dumbledore and the ministry chief among them. Let's see how it played out in the following days he missed the news.
Turning to the next newspaper, he continued to read.
Boy-who-lived missing!
Where is Harry Potter?
by Rita Skeeter
Dear Readers,
since yesterday morning, Harry Potter, our very own boy-who-lived, has gone missing! After starting the investigation into the unfortunate incident at Private Drive, Surrey, the aurors could not find neither hide nor hair of one Harry Potter, possible witness to the carnage of the dementors. Is he hiding? Did he cause the unusual behavior of the dementors in his youthful carelessness? Or is he a victim?
This reporter knows from several sources in the ministry who wish to remain anonymously that Albus Dumbledore, current headmaster of Hogwarts, has been questioned about the whereabouts of the boy-who-lived. Does Albus Dumbledore hide his student? Has Harry Potter finally cracked under the pressure and is in need of our help? Was the incident yesterday a desperate call for help?
Neither the ministry nor Albus Dumbledore were available for a comment. But the question remains:
Where is Harry Potter?
This reporter will keep you updated!
Harry frowned. The following headlines continued in the same vain. His sanity and state of mind were called into question. His grasp of reality and according behavior were challenged and judged wanting. His very dignity and social standing were attacked. Attacked by the ministry and its aggressive dog in the press Rita Skeeter. The Daily Prophet seemed to have abandoned all shame to act so impudently against a member of the sacred 28 and lord of an ancient and noble house to boot.
Slander against a youth alone was a crime punishable by a hefty fine. But to actually be stupid enough to attack an ancient and noble house in this vile manner and not any member but its lord… That would cost them. He would make them pay. They would learn to respect and fear the Potter name once more. They might have been beaten and driven to the brink of their existence in the last war but they would never bent.
"Where is Harry Potter?", that question appeared to haunt every single copy of the Daily Prophet in the last two weeks. Dumbledore had not managed to keep his disappearance under wraps, not with the ministry investigation underfoot and his own standing sliding. Now everyone from Dumbledore's cronies and ministry lackeys to the Death Eaters would be on the lookout for him. That made slipping unseen in and out of Gringotts much more complicated.
With the attacks from the press getting more and more vile, claiming the lordship of House Potter and becoming emancipated was more urgent than ever. He would not let his family's name be dragged through the mud. He would not stand by and see how the last of his once great house was discarded and tossed into obscurity, becoming a joke like the Weasleys. This would not be the fate of House Potter. They would rise once more, leaving the fallout of the last war and the mistakes of his father behind.
Sighing, Harry turned to the pile of unopened letters. They, too, were sorted chronologically starting with the oldest. Skimming through Ron's letters which were variations of "Where are you, mate?" followed by exclamations of "Great escape, mate!" and "Mum's so worried." interspersed with begging of "You can tell me, mate!" and "Let me join you, Harry!", Harry snorted. As if. Ron would not be able to keep his mouth shut in front of his mother if his life depended on it. Also, he had absolutely no wish to have that idiot underfoot and be distracted by his whining. No, for now, he would ignore the blood traitor until he had decided on a course of action to deal with his "old friends".
Hermione's letters were of a similar kind if slightly – a lot – more literate. But she, too, raised the same questions over and over again as if that would make him answer her. She seemed to think that if she just often enough expressed how worried she was over him he would finally feel guilty enough to reply to her. Harry laughed at that thought. He would never feel guilty over hurting the feelings of a mudblood and especially of this uppity mudblood. As far as he was concerned, her nagging and self-righteousness were just two points in a long list of her personal failings.
Opening her latest letter, Harry settled for a repetition of what he had already read in one form or another:
Dear Harry,
we heard what happened! I'm so worried for you! Where are you? Are you fine? Professor Dumbledore assured us, you were not harmed in the attack but dementors in Surrey! Still, we are all worried about you. Where are you? Please tell us so that someone can come and pick you up. Professor Dumbledore agreed that you can stay the rest of the summer with us after what has happened at your relatives' home. Dementors in Surrey! I can't believe it. Please tell me that you are alright, Harry. I worry so much about you. If anything happened, tell me!
I assume that you have found new accommodations by now. I hope it is safe wherever you are but please consider writing us. It is so much safer here than where you are now. Ron and I live here with Sirius and the Weasleys. We would all be pleased if you'd join us. We could spend the rest of the summer together like last year!
Onto the topic of last year. I hope you have at least started your summer homework by now. I remember that you and Ron had to rush through them at school last year because you did nothing at all during the hols. This is our OWLs years! It will decide the rest of our future! What classes we can and cannot take. What career we might be able to pursue. Who will hire us. It is very important! Harry, you can't slack off as you have done last year. You have to do better!
Please, let us know where you are!
Best
-Hermione
The last of Hermione's letters had the exact same questions and advises as the ones before. He had been right. It had been utter waste of his time. She seemed to be determined to nag him into a guilty conscience. Too bad for her that he did not have a conscience to begin with.
He laughed at that thought. What a face she would make, what a face they all would make if they could hear that thought. If they would know that their hero, their symbol for all what is light and good in their world, had no morals and no ethics. That, in fact, he was their very enemy they thought to combat. A thousand years old necromancer wearing the face of the national hero who brought down the last dark lord. Fate did have a sense of humor.
With a chuckle, he went on to read Sirius' letters. He hoped that they, at least, were more interesting and did not follow the same repetitive schema. His godfather was an odd conundrum after all. Lord of the ancient and noble House of Black but still on Dumbledore's side. Abandoning his family and all their teachings, only to exhibit their most vicious and cruel characteristics when dealing with Professor Snape. Spending over a decade in Azkaban on behest of the Light Lord but upon escape running back to his protection and being imprisoned again by him in one of the Black properties. Rebelling against all things dark, only to be ultimately betrayed by the light.
He had not decided yet whether his godfather turned out to be an ally or a foe but he started to suspect from his letters that it would be the first. Lord Black seemed to be very unhappy with his current living arrangements going so far as letting slip that he could not leave his own house because of Dumbledore's orders. He could practically hear the bitterness in his godfather's tone. The Weasleys and the mudblood did not appear to help matters. Being raised as a respectable pureblood, Sirius would have problems getting accustomed to the loud and brash behavior of the blood traitors and Granger's nagging. He could only imagine the clash between pureblood manners and a fundamental lack of respect for wizarding traditions. And Sirius, even after everything he had done, was raised a proper pureblood.
Hermione was worried. And when she was worried, she would nibble on her lip and try to make a plan to solve whatever caused her to worry so. However, at the moment, there was nothing she could do. In fact, she believed there was nothing anybody could do. It had been two weeks since Harry had vanished. Two long weeks she had spent worrying, nibbling on her lips and making plans. Only to reach the same conclusion over and over again: If Harry did not contact her, there was nothing she could do.
She had watched Professor Dumbledore come and go, each new meeting appearing more worried and old. At first, she had believed that surely he would find Harry quickly and bring him to safety. But as the days dragged on and no Harry was found, she became less sure and ever more so worried.
She had written Harry letters. Nearly every day, she had owled him in the hope he would finally reply. But nothing. And Hermione became more worried. This was not like Harry at all. Sure, he was angry at her at the moment for not telling him what was going on. But that was for his own good! Surely, he would understand once she could explain herself. Besides, Harry had never failed to reply previously. Sure, he had become short and snappy with her but at least he had replied. But now…
Hermione turned on her heels and paced the length of the bookshelf back. She just could not sit still any longer. Not when her friend, her first friend, was possibly in danger or running from Voldemort or being captured by Death Eaters or … She stopped herself. Harry was fine. She knew that. Harry had a knack for these things. Where she would be completely lost, Harry thrived. Where she was too scared and fearful, Harry rushed ahead and got things done. He always fell on his feet. He would survive and come back to her. He always did. This time would not be different.
But however often Hermione told herself that, she could not stop worrying. Harry, her shining knight in armor, who had come to rescue her from the troll, who had been her first friend ever, who ran headfirst into danger to save his friends, never thinking on his own safety, who …
She blinked back her tears. He would come back. He had to come back!
