"This is a really stupid idea, Harry."
Wynn and Remus Lupin were in Harry's room, watching as the young man threw various items into his suitcase and buzzed about, reaching for a sock here, crawling under the bed for a wand there. It was the last day of November, and in the morning eleven fledgling Aurors were being unleashed on the unsuspecting Muggle world. May God have mercy on their souls.
"What, not enough jumpers?" Harry asked, frowning at his wardrobe. While on school grounds, he could easily cast a warming charm on lighter clothes and not have to worry about the biting British frost. But out in the real world, it would look a bit odd if you were walking around London dressed in jeans and short sleeves. And, even though Harry wasn't too concerned about it, the trainees were being evaluated on their ability to blend.
"I think Wynn meant that the whole outing is stupid," Remus clarified, his articulate tongue wanted to rebel at the crude phrasing.
Harry had expected this argument to come up sooner. In fact, he'd been waiting to be pulled aside by Dumbledore and kindly forbidden to leave Hogwarts. But when the date of departure drew ever nearer and still no one had made a move to clip Harry's wings, so to speak, he'd slipped off to the nearest telephone and, before he knew it, the first annual Manic reunion was in the works. Andy, Emma, Dee and Flik were already waiting for him in some youth hostel in Kensington, and the plan was that they'd go from there to the block of flats the school had rented for the students near Hyde Park. So, needless to say, this last minute attempt by his drinking pals was doomed to fail.
"It's not as if I'm going out there alone," Harry reminded them. "For one thing, all the other trainees are going to be living practically in the same building. For another, Dumbledore explained that someone will be spying on us most days to make sure that we're blending with the Muggles, studying their ways, making a few friends in case we ever get into trouble and can't contact the magical world. And also, I have had three months training for this."
"So what do you do when a Death Eater, or Voldemort himself, comes to pay you a little visit?" challenged Wynn, adopting that authoritarian father routine that he would occasionally affect, on nights when Harry was heading towards a catastrophic hangover or when it looked as if he was ignoring his work or, even worse, ignoring Wynn in favor of Severus. Those times, Harry had found it slightly endearing. Now, he was tempted to just roll his eyes and yell out a melodramatic "You're not my father!". Maybe he would have if he wasn't certain that bringing James Potter into this would kill Wynn, and really piss Remus off.
"Look, when I get to the flat, I'm going to set up those security wards Dumbledore taught us, of course. And I'll be keeping my eyes open when we go out. But, in the unlikely event that a Death Eater gets into my flat, or makes a move against me in broad daylight, because I'm not daft enough to go out at night without all of the trainees around me, then I'll do what I was taught. Try to incapacitate him while defending myself the best way I know how, and follow all the protocol. And if Voldemort shows up, well, I'm not sure what you expect me to say about that. Really, who'd know what to do in that situation, beside put up a hell of a good fight?"
"Or pretend to go along with it," Remus entered.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"You know what he means," Wynn answered. "If there's a way to give him what he wants while maintaining your integrity, you're not to go about dying heroically."
"Go about dying heroically?" Harry laughed. "Well put, Wynn. I'll keep that in mind."
"This is serious," Remus reminded.
"I know," Harry answered, looking pointedly at Wynn, who just sighed at the joke and looked as if he was about to tell Harry off, before he was interrupted. "Look, you can't keep me here forever," Harry continued. "What did you think you were training me for?"
"To be a stay-at-home Auror?" Wynn answered.
"Harry, we hope you have fun with your friends," Remus answered at the same time, earning a softened glare from Wynn.
"Oh, we always do," Harry grinned. "What are you going to do for Christmas?"
"The Headmaster always does the castle up for the students who are staying behind," Remus answered. "Other than that, I have no plans."
"How about you, Wynn?"
"I'm staying here with Remus. Going to drink some Butterbeer, eat some ice mice, open a few presents," Wynn answered.
"Well, I'm probably going to come back here for Christmas," Harry said, having failed to wrap his news up in a nice bow, but Wynn looked so depressed about Harry's decision to leave that Harry figured his planned surprise would do more good now rather than later.
"Why?" Wynn asked, struggling to form the 'W' with his mouth hanging open in a grin that looked like it belonged to someone knocked senseless by a bludger to the head.
"Andy and the rest have to go back before the holiday, preparing for exams and spending some time with their families. Besides, Ron was saying the other day that I had to see Hogwarts at Christmas, and this might be the only chance I have," Harry answered, leaving out the sentimental bit about wanting to be with Wynn and Remus and Severus and Minerva for this Christmas.
"That's wonderful," Remus beamed. "Oh, it's almost two! We better leave you to finish packing and get to bed."
"Thank you, Harry," Wynn murmured when the three of them shook hands in farewell. Harry had the feeling that Wynn had wanted to say "Be careful," or even "Don't go," and was very grateful that he'd restrained himself. In truth, Harry was nervous about this trip. It seemed an inevitability that something would happen. Harry had seen enough horror movies to guarantee an upcoming confrontation. Even Snape had agreed that Harry would most likely be approached. Probably a few days after settling in his flat, since who ever it would be would need time to become familiar with Harry's habits. Probably when he was alone or with very few people, since they wouldn't want to cause a scene. They would want to take Harry alive, unless Voldemort was going to call on him personally. In which case, it wouldn't matter where Harry was or who he was with. Yes, Harry and Snape had nearly every variation of this event planned out. So, of course, nothing went according to plan…
***
"Flash!" Harry barely had time to look up as he stepped out of the cab before being belted by half a dozen snow balls. Of course, his friends hand failed to realize that the tightly packed little suckers had formed a rather strong hydrogen bond and what had started as harmless little snow balls had become rather deadly mini-glaciers.
"Bugger!" Harry screamed, as one collided with his head. Maybe it wasn't big enough to sink the Titanic, but it was enough to knock him off balance, making him trip over his bag and land with a resounding CRACK on the curb, having left his dignity hovering a good five feet above him. Wonderful, the Boy Who Lived Only to be Done in By an Ice Cube, he muttered under his breath. Of course, he didn't have too long to feel sorry for himself, because soon enough the elite of Manic had come running to his aid, only to fall on their arses on the way. "Ah, I can feel the nostalgia already setting in," Harry grinned, pushing away apologetic hands from Dee and Emma, who were trying to touch the gaping head wound above his right eyebrow. "Leave it, just help me up. This puddle of melting snow that I'm sitting in is going to shrink something rather important if I don't stand up and defrost."
"What, wearing the leather thong again?" Andy grinned, offering Harry a hand.
"He can't be, we sold that on Ebay, remember?" Flik entered, grabbing Harry's bag off the road.
"So where's my share?" Harry asked, wiping his cut and whispering a low grade healing charm while trying to remember if he ever owned a leather thong…it was possible, he had to admit. The things he found in his drawers (of his dresser, that is) occasionally left him baffled and swearing to lay off on the beer. Like that feather boa. And where the hell did he get fuzzy lavender handcuffs?
"Went towards auto maintenance, and I can't believe you left him your car," Dee scowled, jerking her thumb at Andy. "I thought we had something, unless you and Andy had the same something, in which case I don't want to know," she shivered.
"I do!" cried Emma.
"Oh no, you'd just print it in your paper and tarnish my legacy," Harry answered.
"I am deeply, deeply offended," Andy pouted.
"Come on, we all know you're nothing to write home about," Flik teased.
"Anyway, I don't write for the paper anymore," Emma announced.
"What happened?" Harry asked, a bit shocked that Emma had given up what had been her life's passion only seven months ago.
"Well, we all took a big bite in the ass for that going away stunt of yours," Andy admitted.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Harry demanded, torn between utter guilt and wariness about a man that had been easing his way towards the group, who were now on the tube, heading towards Harry's rented flat. But the man just kept walking by, not even sparing a second glance at him.
"It wasn't actually that big of a deal," Flik clarified. "Emma wasn't fired or anything, but her editor started giving her shit about writing up Manic stories, so she quit."
"The editor didn't want you writing about Manic?" Harry asked. "I thought that was the only thing that kept people buying the student paper when they started charging for it."
"Well, he seemed to think that we had real news," Emma sneered. "Get this, a big group of tree huggers who were protesting sweat shops volunteered to get themselves arrested for protesting near the Fountain, which is off limits as a public forum."
"So?" asked Harry. "Sweat shops are still bad, right?"
"That's not what's stupid," Andy answered. "It's a noble cause and all that shit, but these kids are really….I mean, they set up Tent city on the green, camped out for two months there, just when pre-frosh tours started up. But they all wear Nike and things made in Taiwan and they aren't really roughing it. They go home to shower and everything. Plus, they made a whole big deal after the arrest about setting up a big march, and you know where they marched to? Back to the fountain! Supposedly a symbolic statement about free speech, but the fountain is like two feet from the tents!"
"Did any of you really get in trouble for the TV show?" Harry asked, after everyone stopped laughing at The Great Unrest at Bulfinch.
"One of our anonymous party crashers snitched on young Flik here, but since the Powers that Be couldn't prove he actually made the tape, nothing happened," Andy answered. "But we're being watched," he whispered, invoking the spirit of his hero, Fox Mulder.
"How do you mean?" Harry asked, glancing about in a theatrical fashion, a cover up for his genuine sweep of the perimeter. By now, they were climbing the stairs to the flat, and Harry hoped that the place was big enough for five people to crash for a few weeks.
"I think some administrators gave words of warning to our professors. They're all getting anal about word count in essays," Dee answered.
"Maybe because you're taking real classes now, instead of pottery?" Harry grinned, unlocking the door and taking a thorough inventory of everything inside. Kitchen to the right, hall leading straight back, presumably to a bed room and bath room. Living space with sofa, television, dining table, and, on the far left, four cots pushed against the wall. Obviously, Remus had told Dumbledore about Harry's friends staying with him.
"Aw, no chocolate on my pillow?" Andy whined, tossing his bag onto the nearest bed. "This place is pretty posh. How the hell did you afford it?"
"Don't be stupid Andy," grinned Dee. "We all know he's been pimping himself out for spare change."
"You're just bitter because he charged you double," Emma retorted, shocking Harry to no end. Before he'd left the States, Emma was never the type to get into a sparring match with Dee's bitchiness. She just didn't have it in her. She must have found herself a boyfriend.
"Yeah, what the hell have you been up to, Flash?" Flik asked, as he discovered the computer that was hooked up on a desk in the corner. "How come we never got any interesting postcards from you? Surely you can beat indecent exposure?"
"Not really," Harry admitted. "Just been reacquainting myself with some old friends and living off my inheritance."
"Inheritance? Did your folks die?" Andy asked.
"Yeah, when I was 1," Harry answered. In his happiness at seeing them again, Harry had nearly forgotten how dishonest he'd been with his friends. He'd given them the impression that he had either disowned his family or they had disowned him, but he'd never said anything about being an orphan, or living in a cupboard, or his prick of a cousin, or…anything remotely true to him, other than what he was, at that moment. And he'd told himself that that was all that mattered, but really, he hadn't even done that. Not when he had to hide the biggest part of himself.
"Shit, you never said," Dee mumbled. A trite "sorry" didn't seem appropriate.
"I know, I kind of wanted a clean break from everything when I went to the US."
"Then why'd you come back here?" Emma asked. Harry found himself very uncomfortable under the stare of three sets of eyes (Flik, as per usual, had opted out of the personal moment and was instead scavenging through the fridge for something, like any good friend would).
"I had a chance to help some people who had been wanting to meet me for a long time, old friends of my parents that couldn't be there when I was growing up. Long story, and we don't have time," Harry blurted out.
"Why, where are we going?" Emma asked.
"I told some of my friends that we'd meet them for lunch at the pub," Harry smiled, just trying to imagine how Ron would react around four Muggles. As much as Harry liked his new friend, the poor guy was hopeless when it came to the non-magical world. Hermione had already told him the story of the first time Ron saw a television. After he finally stopped screaming, he'd picked up the closest thing and threw it at the mummy on the screen. Unfortunately, he broke the TV and telephone in one shot. Which was an odd reaction, considering he came from a place where you could have conversations with paintings…
Harry led his friends to the pub Hermione had decided on before they'd left Hogwarts. It was an uneventful trip, except when Andy nearly got himself run over by a double-decker because he had been looking the other way when he crossed the street. Luckily Harry had been working on his wandless skills, and he'd discretely cast a levitation charm on his friend, making it easier to pull him out of the street before being ground into Salisbury steak. Soon enough they were at the Smiling Goat, and Harry was introducing Manic to Ron and Hermione, his "old school friends." He'd wanted to tell them the truth, or something close to it, even toying with the idea of showing off his new skills while perpetrating the biggest prank of modern Manic, but Hermione had nixed the idea straight off, going on about section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlock's Statute of Secrecy or some such nonsense. So in the end they'd decided on a safe story of Ron and Hermione being childhood friends from primary school.
The seven of them settled into their seats and hit it off immediately, even Flik, who was retaining some guise of his antisocial tendency by keeping his face hidden behind a menu. While Flik was hiding, the girls were talking with Hermione about how cute Harry must have been when he was a baby, Ron was gawking at some of the Muggle patrons in the pub, and Andy was howling at the "spotted dick" on the desert menu, Harry was trying desperately to keep his breath steady as he saw a familiar face come through the door. A major portion of Snape's lessons to the Auror trainees was information on all current Death Eaters, and Harry had no doubt that it was Lucius Malfoy walking towards his chair, an oily smile plastered on his face. Before Ron and Hermione even noticed what was happening, Harry had jumped out of his chair, throwing his hands open, eyes narrowed in concentration as the force of his spell threw Malfoy against the wall. Then Harry noticed that Malfoy hadn't even drawn his wand…it was a distraction…it was…
All Harry heard was a shrill scream from Emma, the beginnings of binding spells shouted from Ron and Hermione, a soft laugh, his own gasp, and a faint pop signaling that the Death Eater behind him had apparated away. All Harry felt was a slight sting, and then, when he reached around to feel a warm spot on his back, blood on his hand. All Harry thought, as he fell to the ground, was "Well, that was unexpected…"
To Be Continued…obviously. Mwahaha, cliff hanger for all you lovelies that were so anxious for a new chapter J I know, evil, evil. Don't worry, my summer class load shouldn't keep me as busy this go 'round, and I'll update soon.