It was while she was getting directions to the train bound for Surrey that Ivy encountered Harry Potter.
"Hey, Harry," she smiled as he pushed his trunk-laden trolley up the platform. He stopped at the sound of her voice.
"Ivy...." he ventured. "What.... What are you doing here?"
"Professor Dumbledore asked me to go to Little Whinging for a while," she began, and then she groaned in disbelief. This was not the way she'd meant to make her presence known to the boy.
"He must really think I've cracked then. Sending in a babysitter...."
"Not a babysitter, Harry," Ivy explained apologetically. "I've been thinking this over all the way from Hogsmeade. Professor Dumbledore knows I have no magic, so he couldn't have sent me here to protect you from anything. He knows you've been through some very hard times this year, and I think he wanted you to have a safe place to go, if life with your aunt and uncle gets unbearable. So you don't feel like you have to run away again. A... comfort zone, if you know what I mean."
"Like your basement in Hogsmeade?" Harry said, nearly managing a smile.
"Exactly," Ivy replied.
"Nobody knows how bad it is, Ivy, having to live with those Muggles. If it's anything like last summer.... Sometimes I'd rather run away. Even if it meant I could never go back to Hogwarts. You just can't imagine -" Harry stopped. He'd paled considerably by the time Ivy figured out what had caught his gaze.
"There's the fat whale, now," Harry muttered. His grip on the luggage trolley tightened so that his knuckles turned white.
"I'll make you a deal," he said, reaching for Hedwig's cage. "You take her. Then at least one of us won't have to spend the whole summer under lock and key." He thrust the owl's cage into Ivy's arms, then spun her around so that the fast approaching Vernon Dursley wouldn't notice.
Ivy gave his hand a quick squeeze. "We'll see you in a bit," she promised. Harry stole a look at her from underneath the hair that kept wanting to fall into his eyes. Then he was gone, pushing his luggage forward so that Dursley wouldn't come too close.
"Fang!" Ivy hissed at the dog, who was gazing longingly at Harry's disappearing form. "You stay right here with me. We'll see Harry soon." Fang whined, but sat obediently as Ivy's feet. When Ivy felt it was safe, she turned toward the train bound for Surrey, trying to look as normal as possible with a caged owl in her arms and a boarhound at her heels.
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Dear Hagrid,
We made it to Little Whinging today. It's a very boring little Muggle suburb. Not a vegetable patch as far as the eye can see. Now I know why Harry hates it here. Fang is doing fine. As soon as this letter is off I'm going to make him some rock cakes. I think he misses you. And so do I. Have you started north yet? Will it take very long to find the giants? Maxime hasn't tried making any moves on you has she? She'd better keep those big-boned hands to herself. Even a person with no magical abilities can pull off a Perennial Pain Potion, if coached by just the right young wizard. (Only joking, though I happen to know that Hermione Granger would help me if I asked her.)
Never forget who loves you,
Ivy
Rolling her letter up, she gave it to the little screech owl Professor Dumbledore left in the attic on Boxwood Drive. Hedwig had offered, but Ivy thought it was best for her to wait until after dark to do any flying, at first. Opening the window, she released the owl, and then glanced down at Fang.
"Come on," she said, patting his head. "Let's go see what else Professor Dumbledore left us. I saw a bag of lemon drops on the kitchen table." She closed the window, then opened Hedwig's cage. "The attic's yours, girl," she murmured. Hedwig hooted softly, and then climbed to the top of her cage. "I'll be back to let you outside in a bit."
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Dear Ivy,
We are heddin north to Greenland as I write this letter. Sorry bout Little Whinging. I been there a few times, myself. Didn't much care for the place. Maxime's behavin so far. I would tell her about the Pain Potion, but she's too busy complainin bout everthing. We brung along a man whats supposed ter no where the giants ar hidin. His name is Olaf. He said we'd see wild Hippogriffs once we get ter the foothills. I'm thinkin maybe I could swipe me an egg or 2 from one a there nests. What do ya think? Wanna help me raise a hatchling hippogriff?
I love you too,
Hagrid
PS: tell Fang ter behave. I'll be home soon.
Ivy giggled as she read over Hagrid's letter. "An egg or two," she told Fang, who thumped his tail happily. "He'll bring home the whole nest if he can get away with it. Come on. Let's go see if Harry's outside. Maybe it's time for us to meet the Muggles." She tucked the letter in her pocket. "I mean... the Dursleys."
They pushed open the back door. Ivy could see most of the Dursley's back garden from the top step. Since moving in she'd seen nothing of Harry, but this morning she thought she'd spied him working in a rose bed. Motioning to Fang, she crossed the lawn, pretending to examine the hedge that grew along the property line. Almost immediately she saw Harry round the corner of the house, pushing a wheelbarrow full of dirt.
"Hello!" Ivy called out, reaching high over her head and waving. Harry dropped the handles of the wheelbarrow and it tipped over, spilling most of the dirt out onto the lawn. He'd just bent down to scoop it up when his back door slammed. Ivy's eyes widened as the fattest boy she'd ever seen approached Harry.
He jabbed at Harry with a fist, speaking through clenched teeth, but Ivy heard every word. "You'd better clean that up quick, worm, before Father sees what you've done. Matter of fact... I think Mum should know -"
She cut him off from across the hedge.
"That was all my fault!" she hollered brightly. "I was only trying to meet my new neighbors. I think I frightened your little brother, there." She broadened her vowel sounds, affecting as an American accent as she could remember.
"Him?" Dudley Dursley shuddered. "He's not my brother." He leaned over Harry. "He's a freak."
The huge boy straightened up and put on a leering grin. He sauntered over to the hedge, eyeing Ivy up and down.
"Did you say 'new neighbor'?" he asked in an oily voice, reaching across the hedge to shake Ivy's hand.
"Umm," Ivy studied his hand for a moment, then gingerly grasped his fingertips, shook them, and pulled her hand back across the hedge. "Yes. Just moved in. I've relocated from the States. Ivy Ollivander." She gave him a quick smile, then leaned over so she could see around Dudley to check on Harry.
"Who's this then?" she pointed at Harry, who was staring at her, open-mouthed.
"A cousin," Dudley smirked, giving Harry a wave from his place at the hedge. The branch he was leaning on broke just then. Dudley lost his balance and fell into the prickly holly leaves.
"Ow!" he shouted, attempting to stand to his feet. Ivy saw the opportunity she'd need to get into the Dursley's good graces. Pushing up her sleeves, and throwing Harry a grimace, she bent over the hedge, reaching as far as she could to help Dudley up before he hurt himself.
By this time Petunia Dursley had noticed that her son was no longer in front of his Playstation. She'd come outside to investigate, just in time to see a pretty young woman push through her back hedge to grab Dudley.
"What on earth?" she managed, pushing past Harry. "What are you doing to my son?"
Ivy brushed the prickly holly leaves off her arms, taking note of the criss-crossing bloody scratches, before she answered.
"This handsome young man is your son?" Ivy asked, narrowing her eyes in Harry's direction. He was doubled over, snickering.
The tall, dangerously thin woman rounded on him, viciously. "Don't you dare laugh at my Duddumms, you weak little -"
Ivy coughed. She didn't want to hear fat Dudley's mother call Harry any names.
"I tried to help," she purred. "Your son here was being quite the gentleman, introducing himself to a lonely new neighbor. I'm Ivy Ollivander, by the way. Just moved into the neighborhood from the States. And you are?"
Petunia turned an appraising gaze on Ivy, then turned back to her son. "Petunia Dursley," she said through the thinnest lips Ivy'd ever seen. "Are you sure you're alright, Duddy, sweet?"
"Yes," Dudley insisted, cutting his eyes toward Ivy. At once she was reminded of Zachary Zonko. "Take a minute and say hello to our new neighbor, Mother." He nodded his head in Ivy's direction, waggling his eyebrows. "She was kind enough to help me when I slipped on the hedge."
Ivy took a very American stance, holding out her hand to shake Petunia's. The older woman held back, until her son stomped his foot and flashed his eyes. Reluctantly, Mrs. Dursley shook Ivy Ollivander's hand.
"Welcome to the neighborhood," she spoke, flatly.
"Yeah," Dudley chimed in. "Mum and Dad will have to have you over for tea sometime. Mum makes out-of-this-world crumpets, don't you, Mum?"
Petunia stared openly at her son. "Whatever you say, love. Now. I really must get back inside. Someone tracked dirty footprints in on my clean kitchen floor." She threw the word 'Someone' viciously at Harry.
"Well, it was nice to meet you," Ivy said throwing out a hip and giving Dudley a big grin.
"And you," Petunia offered grudgingly.
"Mum," Dudley chided Petunia, waggling his eyebrows again. "My father's name is Vernon," he finished the introductions. "Now why don't you go inside and make Ms. Ollivander a nice Yorkshire pudding? She probably hasn't had much chance to eat British food."
"Oh no, really," Ivy smiled, waving a hand. "Don't go to any trouble for me." She bent over to pat Fang on the head.
"This is my boarhound, by the way. His name is Fang, but he's harmless, really. I'm sure we'll all get along well, as soon as we get to know each other." She reached across the hedge and patted Dudley's fat pink hand, grinning broadly.
"Wait a minute," she stopped, as if suddenly remembering something. "I never caught his name, the boy over there in the dirt."
"Harry Potter," Petunia spat, with as much distaste as she could muster. "My nephew. He lives here with us in the summer. During the school year he goes to St. Brutus'."
"Oh... my... goodness," Ivy exclaimed, suddenly inspired as a crazy scheme birthed itself in her head. "I've heard so many stories about that place! I used to work with children with discipline problems." She took a deep breath, eyeing Harry suspiciously. "That is until they shut me down. Can I help it if the crew I hired got a little 'carried away' with their correctional procedures? I mean, how could I have possibly known that some parents no longer consider public flogging a proper form of punishment?"
She gasped, looking over at Petunia for her reaction. "Oh my dear, I've said too much. I am sorry, Mrs. Dursley. Please. Don't let me keep you from your wonderful young son." Turning as if to go back inside, Ivy motioned to Fang.
"Wait!" Petunia called from the hedge. "You... you worked at a school for children with disciplinary problems?"
Ivy feigned embarrassment. "Oh, Mrs. Dursley. Surely you don't want to hear any more about that. Young boys can be... umm... shall we say, challenging, at times? I merely attempted to found a school in the States where people with those kinds of problems could come for help. Strictly as a service to my community. But they didn't see the wisdom."
She punctuated the conversation with a few loud sniffles at this point. "But..." she let out a deep sigh of longing. "Maybe someday my dream will flourish again. In a place where I can be appreciated. And if young Harry there gives you any problems over the summer, you can feel free to send him my way. I've brought some of my um... tools... with me, if you know what I mean." She smirked.
"Handcuffs, a bullwhip, those kinds of things. I'd be happy to help."
Petunia's gaze suddenly got more friendly. She actually managed to smile for the briefest of moments.
"Oh, and I also have a few... shall I say... nasty messes that I'm cleaning up after the last renter. Slugs in the basement, rats in the attic, that sort of thing. Good character building jobs for troubled young men." She threw a look at Harry, who was staring at her as though he'd never seen her before.
"Well," Ivy finished. "I really have kept you kind people far too long. I need to get back to unpacking. It was terribly nice to meet you."
But Petunia Dursley knew a soul-mate when she saw one. (Or at least she thought she did.) She gave Ivy a most gracious smile, then turned to grasp Harry by the shoulders.
"Slug problem, did you say?" she nearly tripped over herself pushing Harry toward the hedge. "In the basement?"
Ivy nodded. "I've put down repellent, but well... they leave such a mess. Very slimy. I still don't know exactly how to clean it up."
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"I still don't know exactly how to clean it up...." Harry doubled over in a fit of laughter as he and Ivy let the door slam between them and the Dursleys.
"Hey..." Ivy protested his impression of her performance. "I know I didn't wiggle that much. And you'd better at least wait till we're properly inside before you laugh so loud. They're going to hear."
"Nah," Harry grinned, wiping a tear from his eye. "Dumbledore sound-proofed this place. And there's a password to get in. I... found a letter in my trunk when I started unpacking. He explained everything."
"A password? But I've been running in and out for nearly a week now."
"You don't have to have the password. Just outsiders. The door will stay mysteriously locked without it. Muggles'll think they have the wrong key."
Ivy's eyes widened. "Interesting." She was about to ask him what else the house could do, when he ducked behind the edge of a curtain that decorated the sitting room window.
"What is it?" Ivy asked, leaning over to get a better view of Boxwood Avenue.
"Nothing," Harry shrugged, pushing the curtain back into place. "I just thought I saw someone."
"Who?"
"That guy in the uniform across the street. He looks a little like Peter Pettigrew."
Ivy raised her eyebrows, pushing the curtain back further so she could see who he meant.
"That man is strange," she admitted. "He says he's going 'round the neighborhood making sure everyone's telly license is in order. I told him I hadn't unpacked my TV. Telly. Whatever. He didn't look like he believed me. Then I said he could come back when everything was unpacked if he wanted to inspect the place. He wouldn't come in."
"Or couldn't," Harry scowled. "We better tell Dumbledore. He didn't have a silver hand, did he?"
"A silver hand?" Ivy asked, shaking her head. "No. Well... he had gloves. Yes, I remember now. He had white gloves on, but I might have seen a flash of silver on his arm. I thought it was... you know... jewelry of some sort."
"Voldemort gave Pettigrew a silver hand to replace the one he sacrificed for him," Harry muttered. Ivy saw him shiver at the memory. "That's probably what you saw."
Ivy sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Peter Pettigrew. Right at my front door. Well, maybe he'll come back in a few days. I could invite him in and then lock him in the basement. And get him to confess to framing Sirius! He might even tell us where You-Know-Who's hiding...."
"You'd only blow your cover," Harry warned her. "Don't underestimate Wormtail, Ivy. If he can't get himself out of trouble, his Master will. Always. He's a very loyal servant."
Ivy felt a shiver of her own. "I guess you're right then, we'd better tell Dumbledore." She held up her hand, turning her emerald ring around twice. Immediately the stone glowed a bright neon green. When Ivy peered closely, she could see Albus Dumbledore in the face of the ring. For some reason he was making over exaggerated motions with his mouth, and pointing to the side of his head.
"I think he wants you to use that butterfly thingy you have in your hair," Harry observed.
Ivy scowled. "That's just a barrette I found on the table beside the lemon drops he left me."
"Just try it," Harry insisted, bending over to peer more closely at Dumbledore's likeness in the ring.
Pulling the butterfly out of her hair, Ivy turned the barrette over. A tiny piece of parchment was stuck to it.
"That wasn't there before," she insisted. Pulling it off, she read it's inscription.
"Say the word 'Activate'," she read out loud.
She followed Dumbledore's instructions. Immediately she could hear his voice amplified from the butterfly hair pin.
"Very well done, Ms. Ollivander. Congratulations. You win this round of charades. Now, what was so important that it couldn't wait till after my pedicure?"
Ivy spoke loudly into the ring. "Sorry to bother you, Professor. But Harry and I think we've spotted Peter Pettigrew snooping around for Voldemort."
The ring-Dumbledore covered his ears. "Ivy! Ivy... there is no need to shout. I can hear you perfectly. Even at a whisper." He whispered the last lines, just to convince her, then he continued.
"Peter Pettigrew is in Little Whinging?"
"Yes," Ivy replied, in a normal voice.
"And Harry recognized him?"
"I did, Professor," Harry chimed in. "He's pretending to be some kind of signal inspector, I think. Ivy's already talked to him. He couldn't get into her house."
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I will inform the others. And congratulations on getting Harry away from the Dursley's, Ivy. I didn't expect you to be successful at that quite this soon."
"Thanks, Professor," Ivy beamed. "It was... fun."
"And do I detect a certain accent?" The Headmaster continued.
"Well..." Ivy blushed. "I thought it might help make me more interesting to Muggles. I wanted them to like me."
"And have you accomplished that feat?"
Ivy laughed. "I think I may have."
"How on earth did you manage that in a week?"
"Long story, Professor. Let's just say that Dudley's growing interest in girls helped."
"Not to mention Ivy's wiggle," Harry called out.
"Harry!" Ivy protested, waving a hand at him. Only it was her ring hand. When she looked down at Dumbledore again he was holding on to the setting for dear life.
"Sorry," Ivy mumbled.
"Not to worry, my dear. You must promise to tell me the whole sordid tale when you get home." He looked a little green, but Ivy couldn't tell if it was his complexion or a tint from the ring's eerie glow.
"We promise," she said.
"We will be in contact soon," Dumbledore assured her. "For now, keep out of Pettigrew's way. No heroics. Understood? And I'm talking to both of you."
"No heroics," Ivy told him.
"We understand," said Harry.
"Very good then. I'll be signing off." Then he was gone, and the ring went back to it's original emerald color. The room lost its ethereal glow.
Ivy looked at Harry. "Well, would you like to go look at slug trails in the basement, or have some tea and rocks cakes? I followed Hagrid's recipe...."
Harry let out a laugh, and soon both of them were nearly hysterical.
"Peter Pettigrew was at my house, Harry," Ivy giggled.
"And you made Hagrid's rock cakes. And did some kind of voodoo on Dudley's raging hormones."
"I did no such thing."
Harry grinned and reached across the table. "Give me a rock cake. I miss Hagrid too."
Fang's tail thumped at their antics from across the room, so Harry grabbed two rock cakes, tossing one of them to the boarhound. He yelped a little when it hit him in the ribs.
"Thanks, Ivy," he muttered past his cake.
"For what?" she grinned. She was wisely soaking hers in a cup of tea.
"For coming to Surrey for the summer."
"Not a problem, Harry," Ivy assured him. "Not a problem."
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Dear Hagrid,
I think you'd better be careful. Robbing a hippogriff nest sounds very dangerous. But I'd love to spend the rest of my life raising them with you. It's been two weeks, now, and I'm really getting homesick. And not just for Hogsmeade. I've been thinking about the teaching job at Hogwarts. Maybe when Harry's safely back in school I should go see my father. Tell him everything. What do you think?
Oh! I almost forgot. Did you find any giants yet? I hope your mission goes well. Fang and I are enjoying your letters, and the rock cakes baked up just like you make them at home. I miss you, Hagrid. Can't wait to see you again.
Love forever,
Ivy
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Dearest Ivy Ollivander,
It is our regret to inform you that there has been a complaint about recent real estate transaction #18947095748 lodged in our offices by one Zillius Zonko and his son Zachary. They contend that you defrauded them out of one two-bedroom home in Hogsmeade, claiming you were Magical at time of purchase. We are currently looking into the appropriate zoning laws in Hogsmeade, which is, as you know, an exclusively magical community. Please fill out these forms in triplicate and send them back to our offices. It may also be in your best interest to hire a barrister of your own.
Regards,
Logapiller, Logapillar, Humphrey, Baggette and Bone
"We're Wizards at Real Estate Law"
Ivy's hands trembled as she read and re-read the letter that threatened to break her heart. Things had been going well in Little Whining. She even had an invitation to tea at the Dursley's for next Sunday afternoon. She'd been working on a plan that could possibly deliver Harry into her care every summer from now until he was old enough to legally take care of himself. But suddenly, with the opening of one very official-looking letter, everything had changed. Even if she did talk the Dursleys into giving her Harry for the next few summers (strictly for disciplinary observation), by the look of things, she wouldn't have a home to take him to.
Her blood ran cold when she remembered her basement. If anyone happened down there and found the secret passageway to Hogwarts, she'd be in even more trouble. And if Sirius happened to be down there.... She shuddered to think that that might even happen.
Pulling out some parchment, she began to write some letters of her own.
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