Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, three-time victor over Lord Voldemort, and co-champion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament (a dubious honor of which he never spoke), was that same evening nearly wishing he had died and never won anything at all. He hated this dungeon. After only two days, he was certain it would drive him mad. The room was bare, containing only a cot, an old, empty desk, and a wooden chair. There had once been a window, but his captors had removed the frame and shingled over it. The door remained locked from the outside; a small opening had been cut, through which his captors fed him. When he was removed twice a day to use the loo, he noticed that an entire hallway had been blocked with debris just to prevent his escape.
He thought of all the people who might rescue him. The Weasleys. Ron and Hermione. His godfather Sirius. Remus Lupin. Albus Dumbledore. None of them had come yet. He almost expected none of them would. The enemy had planned it beautifully, locking him in right before he was supposed to leave. He would never be found. In despair, he sank down on his bed and closed his eyes.
Two blocks away, Grey, Spike and Willow stood on a corner with Ron, Dobby and Hermione, watching the house through binoculars.
"They shingled over the bloody window!" Ron said, amazed.
"Where?" Ron pointed out the spot to Grey where he had pulled Harry into the car. "Probably means he's in there."
"What do you think we should do?" Willow asked Grey nervously. She couldn't believe anyone would hold their nephew captive in their own house. It seemed inhuman. Of course, this was coming from a girl whose mother tried to burn her at the stake, she realized with some dismay.
"Spike?" For the first time, Willow saw a grin cross Grey's face. But it was an evil grin, almost a sneer. Terrifying. The vampire picked up the plan without another word.
"Oh yeah, it would be bloody brilliant, mate. But I can't go in without an invite."
"Who said you have to go in? We just need someone to pass out in the doorway."
"I think I can handle that."
"Ron, Hermione, you guys have to find Harry and get him out of there relatively quickly."
"Dobby can help with that, sir," the elf said. "I'se been here before, helping Harry Potter." Grey looked at him skeptically, then at Hermione.
"Take Dobby in with you. He could be helpful, especially if Harry's idiot cousin makes a fuss. But Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Don't let him out of your sight for a minute. And absolutely no magic." They nodded. "Willow, watch the street for cops."
"Yes, sir, general sir," she teased. He gave her an impassive look. "Like you don't want to smile."
"I am smiling," he said, causing her and the kids to giggle. "This shouldn't be too hard." He took off across the street without another word.
Motioning the kids and Dobby off to the side, he and Spike went to the door together. Grey knocked loudly several times, then heard shuffling inside. The door opened, revealing an enormous man. Grey stifled a laugh; it was like seeing the Caddyshack gofer made human.
"What the devil could you possibly want at this hour?" The voice was loud and irritable, accustomed to getting its way.
"Vernon Dursley?" Grey asked.
"Yes. What of it?" Spike stepped up and brought out his game face, growling loud and long. Dursley's eyes went wide and he gasped, falling to the floor in a heap. Grey stepped past the fallen oaf and into the foyer. Ron, Hermione and Dobby flew past him and up the stairs.
"Grey!" Hermione's excited voice shouted. As he moved to the stairs, Petunia Dursley stepped from the kitched to speak with her husband. Seeing him lying on the floor and a strange man standing in the doorway, she screamed and ducked back into the kitchen.
"Damn," Grey muttered under his breath. He raced to the second floor and saw the problem. What was presumably Harry's room was blocked by a basement full of household junk. Dobby's eyes were wide; the two Gryffindor's merely looked confused.
"Maybe he's not here," Hermione said, confused.
"Then why is there all this shit in the hall?" Ron asked.
"Ronald Weasley, don't swear like that. What would your mother say?"
"My mum? You know her. She'd be swearing up a storm about these people keeping Harry here." Hermione gave him a look of total exasperation.
"Hey! Enough," Grey said.
"How about magic? I bet Dobby could clear this stuff…" Hermione said.
"No," Grey replied. "Dumbledore said no magic if Harry was here."
"Is he?"
Inside the room, Harry heard the loud voices and commotion. When he heard Hermione shout about the swearing, he knew who it was. He began to bang on the door and scream.
"Get me the hell out of here!" The four rescuers turned at the sound. Dobby began to wave his hands. Ron moved to stop him, but he succeeded only in fouling his incantation. They heard a slight fizz, then a loud pop.
The crash thundered out of the house and onto the street. Lights began to come on. Willow and Spike continued to look around nervously for thirty seconds before the redhead finally decided to go look. Stepping inside, she almost screamed.
Dobby had succeeded in removing most of the floor, dropping the four of them and all of the junk into the hallway below. Petunia Dursley, her face white, stood in the kitchen doorway holding a carving knife. Grey was shaking off the effects of the fall. Ron and Hermione were tangled together and groaning in pain. Dobby lay on the floor, unconscious. Upstairs, Harry continued to bang on the door.
Vernon Dursley rose slowly to his feet.
"What … Have …You … Done!?!" His shriek pierced the night.
"We came for Harry," Grey said quietly, brushing dust from his blue sweatshirt. "You locked him up like an animal. We were attempting to unlock him. I think the appropriate question is, what have you done?"
"I did what was best to protect myself from that little freak. He will not leave this house or return to that … that school ever again." Grey thought about threatening him, as he had Snape, but decided he was too angry. Instead, he snapped a kick at Vernon's chest. The fat man flew into the wall; unfazed, he came running back to grab Grey. Figuring a head butt would work nicely, Grey let himself be embraced.
"Separate." Dursley and Grey flew to opposite ends of the room, thudding against the wall. "Disarm." The knife in Petunia's hand slammed into the floor beside her. "Reverse." The floor returned to the upstairs hall.
Rubbing his head from the blow, Grey looked up at the doorway. Willow floated two feet off the ground, her red hair fanning out above and around her. The night crackled with electricity. Her eyes had gone jet black. Deep in his stomach, Grey felt the fear rise.
"Harry leaves now," she said, her voice two octaves lower than normal. "Gather his things," she said to a frightened Ron and Hermione, who went back up the stairs. With a gesture from Willow, Dobby floated out into Spike's arms and Dursley drifted up from the wall to a standing position in front of her. "You should die for this."
"Willow, no…" Grey said, his voice cracking at the memories.
"Red, don't do it," Spike said from the doorway.
"I could also make you hurt for an eternity," she continued heedlessly. "Would that be better?" Dursley, realizing it was true, began to blubber and cry. "I guess not. From now on, Harry does what he wants, when he wants." Dursley nodded. "Say it."
"Y-yes."
"The whole thing."
"H-harry does w-w-what he w-wants, when he w-wants."
"Good." She let him drop like a sack of potatoes and floated out the door. Harry stood with Ron and Hermione, watching from the top of the stairs.
"Who was that?"