Part Fourteen: FUTURE, PRESENT, AND PAST



"It's impossible, I tell you! The Ministry simply won't allow it!"



"The Ministry has nothing to do with it! I am Harry's guardian. I determine where he stays and with whom! It's my legal right!"



"You are a wanted criminal, Sirius! In their eyes you have no rights!"



"Harry isn't safe on Privet Drive. Dudley almost killed him!"



"You mean Voldemort almost killed him."



"Using Dudley!"



Harry sighed. The argument between Sirius and Albus Dumbledore had been raging for almost an hour and there was still no resolution. They were all in Glynnis' cozy living room. Sunlight slanted in among the trees and filtered through the large bay windows, throwing ever-shifting patterns on the large, rag rug. Harry watched the colorful play of light distractedly. He sighed again and looked over at Glynnis who was trying very hard to remain inconspicuous in the corner. She smiled confidently and Harry relaxed a little.



"And who's to say," Sirius continued, "that he might not succeed next time! And if Harry is returned to those . . . those . . . animals, there will be a next time, I can guarantee it!"



"Well, then, we'll find somewhere else for him," Dumbledore countered. "Somewhere Voldemort won't think to look."



"Like where?" asked Sirius incredulously. "The Weasleys? The Grangers? That will be the first place he'd look! Think, Albus! No one in our world knows about Glynnis."



"Miss Granger knows. And her family."



"Well, then we won't tell them."



"She's an extremely resourceful young lady, Sirius. Don't you think she'd wonder why she's not allowed over at her only aunt's house anymore? Don't you think she'd figure it out eventually?"



"Hermione can keep a secret. She'd not let on to anyone that Harry was here." Sirius had not thought this would be so difficult. It seemed the perfect solution to him. Why was the headmaster being so stubborn?



"What if she were captured? Voldemort has ways of making anyone talk. You know that. He would kill her trying to get the information."



"He would kill her either way, Albus. You know that as well as I do. Knowing or not knowing wouldn't help her. Or the Weasleys."



"And what if the Ministry gets wind of this? If they even think you are on the same continent as Harry they will be looking everywhere for him to protect him from you! There will be no safe place. Not here. Not anywhere!"



"Then you come up with a better idea." Sirius was disgusted with the whole conversation. It was if the wizard most known for his level head had suddenly lost the ability to be reasonable.



"He'll return to Hogwarts with me." Dumbledore said decisively. "Under my guardianship."



"VOLDEMORT HAS ALMOST KILLED HARRY THREE TIMES WHILE IN YOUR GUARDIANSHIP, ALBUS!" Sirius shouted, his patience gone. "YOU MIGHT JUST AS WELL TURN HIM OVER TO VOLDEMORT YOURSELF!"



Dumbledore stared in numb shock at Sirius, his face blanching at the harsh words.



Sirius ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Albus. It's just that . . . "



"You're right," Dumbledore said softly.



Sirius frowned, not sure he'd heard him. "What did you . . . ?"



"I said 'You're right'. I've been a poor guardian. It is my deepest shame that I have been so ignorant to the events happening in my own school. After what happened with Quirrell, and the subsequent safeguards that were put in place, I had let myself believe that Hogwarts was somehow sacrosanct, inviolable. It's been plaguing me all summer. How I could not have known that Mad Eye Moony wasn't himself? How I could have been so unaware of activities going on under my very nose?"



Harry looked on with alarm as the seemingly indefatigable headmaster appeared to age right before his eyes. His blue eyes dimmed and his shoulders sagged. Suddenly, he looked as old as Ron had often speculated he was. Sirius stared, concern etched in every feature, self-censure darkening his face. He hadn't meant to say all those things. He didn't blame Dumbledore for what had happened. No one did. Albus Dumbledore was only one of many people fooled by the impersonation of Mad Eye Moony. And as to the other events, they were beyond anyone's ability to figure out.



Sirius stuttered an apology. "Albus, I didn't mean . . . I was angry . . . please forgive me. It's not your fault, it's mine. I should have . . . "



The old wizard only waved his hand in dismissal. "No, no. Perhaps I needed reminding that even I am not infallible. I am getting old, after all. Perhaps it's time I . . . "



"Excuse me, gentlemen," Glynnis quietly interrupted, "but this depressingly awkward scene isn't getting us anywhere. I think, perhaps," she said pointedly with a smile for Dumbledore, "we should consider getting back to the subject. Which, in case you've both forgotten, is Harry's future home. And since you are both dead set on simply defying each other as opposed to actually resolving anything, I believe a third party should mediate. And since that third party would have to be yours truly, I rule that Harry remains with me and the two of you can take this disagreement outside as I highly resent both bloodshed and maudlin self pity in the house, even if it is mutual."



Albus Dumbledore gaped at the young woman, not entirely certain he'd heard her correctly. "Is she always so forthright, Sirius?" he asked after a moment of silence in which Glynnis only stood there, hands on her hips, regarding them like two schoolboys caught in an undignified act of mischief.



Sirius nodded. "In most things, yes. However, there are other matters about which she is somewhat less than forthcoming."



Dumbledore frowned in confusion. "How so?"



"Well . . . " Sirius began. His letter to Dumbledore had only explained the circumstances surrounding Harry's ordeal in sparse detail. Nothing about Glynnis or her remarkable abilities had been included by a mutual agreement among the three of them. They wanted to have something to use as further incentive just in case Dumbledore balked at the notion of allowing Harry to remain with Glynnis. "Glynnis isn't what you'd call your ordinary Muggle."



"What's that supposed to mean?"



Sirius looked at Glynnis and then at Harry. They both nodded. Dumbledore eyed the three of them suspiciously. "What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"



Sirius cleared his throat. "Glynnis has the Sight. She's also telepathic."



Dumbledore snorted. "Impossible! Why if that were true, she'd have been educated at Hogwarts."



"As near as we can tell, Glynnis' abilities didn't appear until she was twelve."



The old wizard thought this over for a moment, then turned to Glynnis. "Is this true? You have these abilities."



Glynnis nodded. "My Sight is limited, and I am not very comfortable with it. The part about being telepathic is true as well."



"Can you speak with anyone? Over long distances?" Sirius looked at Dumbledore suspiciously. Something was cooking in the headmaster's mind, he was certain of it.



"I don't know," Glynnis replied. "I've never tried."



"Hmmmm." Dumbledore began to pace absently around the living room, stroking his beard. After a long while, he turned around, his face animated once again, the lines of age and fatigue banished. "Alright, Harry. You can stay." A cheer erupted from three throats at once. "For now," he cautioned with a raised finger. "There is much to be considered here. Not the least of which is how Miss Babcock could have possibly been overlooked in her youth. Although, I daresay, it would explain a great deal about Miss Granger's abilities."



It was Glynnis' turn to be confused. "I don't understand."



"It is very rare that a purely Muggle child has the degree of aptitude that Miss Granger has displayed. Usually there is a witch or wizard hiding in their family past somewhere, it is just a matter of finding out where."



"But," Harry interrupted, "my mother was a Muggle and there are no witches in the family that I know of."



Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "She was one of those very rare persons I just mentioned. However, as bright as your mother was, Miss Granger is way ahead of her in respect to not only understanding but implementing her abilities. I have long suspected a skeleton buried in that family's closet. No offense intended, Miss Babcock."



Glynnis waved it off with a laugh. "None taken. Although I'd hardly qualify as a skeleton with this shape, I'm afraid."



"You're perfect," Sirius said solemnly. Glynnis blushed, mumbled something about tea and vanished into the kitchen. Sirius watched her go, his eyes shining. Dumbledore watched this exchange with extreme interest and turned to Harry who just smiled and shrugged. "Ahem. Yes, well. How are you feeling, Harry? Any ill effects from your, ah, experience?" Dumbledore asked.



"I'm fine, sir. I just get tired easily, and Doctor Attlewart says I should be over that in a couple of days."



"Good. He's been keeping up with you then?"



"Yes, sir. He was just here this morning."



"Excellent. Miss Babcock mentioned tea. Why don't you go and see if you can give her a hand, Harry?" Harry's eyes glanced from Sirius to Dumbledore. It was clear that the headmaster wanted to speak with his godfather alone, so he nodded and retreated into the kitchen.



"Alright, Sirius," Dumbledore said without preamble, "what else haven't you told me? Attivus has been as closed as a clam on this whole subject. Doctor/patient confidentiality and all that rubbish. But I know that there's more to this story than any of you have let on and I think you should come clean with all of it. The more facts I have at my disposal, the easier it will be to determine what's best for Harry."



Sirius turned away from Dumbledore's inquiring stare and gazed out the window at the sun-filled front garden. "You'd better sit down, Albus," he said without moving. "This is going to take a while."



*********************



"It's too much!" Albus Dumbledore muttered some time later. "Really. I mean what are the odds?" He paced the room thoughtfully, digesting all that Sirius had told him. "There are strange forces at work here, Sirius. Fate has dealt a hand here and we can only let it play out to see where it leads. You're certain of this? All of it?" He turned to face Sirius who was sitting on the window sill.



Sirius nodded. "I'm certain."



"Does Harry know?"



Sirius shook his head. "Not all of it. Glynnis and I wanted to wait until he felt stronger. Attivus agreed. We were going to tell him tonight, if he seemed up to it."



Dumbledore disagreed. "Not tonight. Now. Harry has a right to know. It could effect everything, including his decision to stay."



"What's that?" Harry asked curiously from the doorway, his arms loaded down with a silver tea service. Glynnis followed him in with another tray of small sandwiches and sweets.



"Yes," Glynnis asked with a shy smile. "What are you two plotting?"



"I was just telling Sirius that it was my opinion that Harry should be told everything he missed while unconscious," the headmaster said with a pointed glance. Glynnis stopped smiling.



"Oh, dear," she muttered under her breath as she set the tray down.



"What are you talking about?" Harry asked from behind the end table where he'd set the tea. He noticed at once the serious faces of the adults. "What's going on?"



"Well, Harry. . ." Sirius began.



"No, Sirius. I'll tell him. It's my place. Harry, come sit by me, please. There's something you should know." Glynnis sat on a small sofa and patted the cushion next to her. Harry sat down, frowning. He got the feeling he wasn't going to like this.



Glynnis took his hand and smiled sadly. "I don't know how to begin other than to just say it. I was married once, Harry. A long time ago. My husband was an artist named Seamus Babcock and I loved him very much. He was from Ireland and was studying at Oxford when we met.

He was tall and handsome and loved life so much. We had a son. His name was Derek. He had blue eyes and dark hair, like his father. And he laughed all the time, like his father. He'd just gotten his fourth tooth. They were everything to me. I was working at hospital as a nurse and was going in to interview for a new position. Seamus and Derek were to meet me after at market. They were shopping for my birthday present. I wasn't supposed to know, but I did. Anyway, the interview went smashingly and I knew I had the job. I practically floated over to market, I was so happy. I couldn't wait to tell Seamus. He was so proud of me, you see. Well, I was almost there when I felt the Sight come over me. It was awful. I knew something terrible was going to happen. I fell down, the feeling was so strong. I was close enough to see Seamus looking at me. He knew about my gifts and I'd told him how they affected me. He must have suspected something was wrong because he was coming over to me. He couldn't get through the crowd." Glynnis swallowed. She hadn't spoken of this moment out loud in a very long time. Tears began to run down her face but she was oblivious. For the second time in as many days she was caught in time. Harry watched her with increasing concern as she continued. "When I stood up, I saw two men come running onto the street. They were arguing. Yelling. I couldn't hear what they were saying. Then there was an explosion and I was knocked unconscious. When I awoke, I found out that Seamus and Derek had been killed."



Harry wrapped his arms around Glynnis. "That's terrible!" he cried. "But why did Professor Dumbledore want you to tell me now?" Harry was a little confused.



Glynnis took a breath and continued. "They'd been killed on the street, Harry, along with twelve other people. Almost fifteen years ago, Harry. Derek would be your age."



Harry stared, not certain what she was getting at. He looked at Sirius and saw that tears were streaming down his face as well. With dawning horror he realized what she wasn't saying.



"Pettigrew," he whispered raggedly. "Pettigrew killed your husband and son when Sirius confronted him."



Glynnis nodded. "That's what Professor Dumbledore wanted you to know. We were going to tell you..."



Harry felt dull anger building in his chest. "Tell me? When?" he demanded.



"Doctor Attlewart felt we should wait..."



Harry cut her off. "Wait until when? Wait until I left for school and then send me an owl 'Oh, by the way, Harry, the same maniac who betrayed your parents murdered my family'!" Harry's voice was choked with unshed tears. "Wait until I was so happy here that I wouldn't notice you were using me to replace your son!"



"Harry!" Sirius admonished.



"Don't!" he yelled, as he put his trembling hands over his ears and fled from the house.



**********************

Petunia looked around at her new surroundings, her face a mask of disgust. "You can't be serious, Vernon! We can't stay here! It's . . . it's . . . "



"Perfect." Vernon Dursley cut off his wife's protests and deposited their luggage on the grungy floor. "No one would ever think to look for us here. Besides, I have important things going on at work. I can't afford to miss a day."



Petunia wrinkled her nose at the oily smell that pervaded the entire room. "But, Vernon," she whined, "it's a factory!"



And indeed it was. Vernon had decided that the best place to hide his family was at Grunnings, the drill factory which he directed. In a recent expansion project, he'd discovered an apartment used by the original owner, Grimsby G. Grunnings, whenever he had to stay overnight in town or whenever he and Mrs. Grunnings had their little falling-outs. The furnished rooms had long since fallen into disrepair and had been most recently used to store broken spare parts for outdated machinery. Thus, the whole of the place reeked of machine oil and carbon. It was also remarkably dirty, a fact which galled the very fastidious Mrs. Dursley no end.



"You'll have the whole place looking ship shape in no time, Petunia. I've no fear of that. There's a bucket and some cleaning supplies in the janitor's closet down the hall. Help yourself. I've got work to do in the office."



"Wait!" Petunia shrieked. "You expect me to do this by myself!? It'll take a week to get the grime off the windows alone!"



"Ah, now, Petty," Vernon cajoled, using his old nickname for her, "you're a wonder with a broom and a dust rag. By dinnertime I expect you'll have the old place shining like a new penny."



"But . . . but . . . " she sputtered.



Vernon kissed her cheek. "I'll be back soon enough. Use the intercom if you need me."



"What about Dudley? How am I supposed to do any work with him in this condition?" Petunia moaned. She pointed at Dudley who was sitting on the floor, ample arms wrapped around his mother's legs in a death grip. "I can't very well drag him along behind me, now can I?"



Vernon looked at the pathetic creature at his wife's feet. His large son was raising his arms, begging to be picked up, a look of abject terror on his fat face. Vernon looked away at the sight. "Give him that box of crayons we picked up and some coloring books. That should keep him busy for a while." And with that he picked up his briefcase and headed out. The last thing he saw as he headed down the long hallway toward the office wing was Petunia, trying vainly to pry Dudley off of her ankles.



When he finally reached the safety of his office, Vernon allowed himself to shudder at the tragedy they had become. Himself, the director of a large and important manufacturing firm, was hiding out in his factory from his fifteen-year old nephew. Not even a blood nephew, thank God, but a nephew by marriage. It was humiliating. His wife. His wonderful, even-tempered, lovely hostess and keeper of his immaculate home reduced to a screaming harpy. And Dudley. His son. Vernon cringed at the thought of what had happened to his strapping boy as Dudley's terrified face floated in his mind. He loved his son but couldn't help but hate what he'd become. But, as much as he hated this mewling, slobbering caricature that was once his pride and joy, he hated Harry Potter more. And that hate, along with an unquenchable desire for revenge, was all he had to live for now. With that thought driving him, Vernon unlocked his desk and reached into the bottommost drawer. He took out the lock box that rested under the mounds of files and set it on his lap. The lid creaked as he opened it, and nestled in among a large pile of hundred pound notes he'd been garnishing from Grunnings' petty cash allotment over the years was what he endearingly called his 'insurance policy'. A shiny black pistol he'd bought on the black market four years ago. He'd vowed after the debacle in the storm-tossed shack that he would never be caught unaware by them again. He vowed he'd shoot first next time, and ask questions later. Wizard or not, he reckoned they all bled just the same. Dudley'd drawn enough blood from Harry over the years to prove that. And since Harry couldn't legally use that wand of his until he came of age, Vernon felt he had the distinct advantage. An ugly, gloating smile spread across his face as he pictured Harry firmly in his sights, his finger pressing down on the trigger.