Harry Potter and the Phoenix's Resurrection (cont'd)

Disclaimer : I do not own any of J.K. Rowlings's stuff. Only the plot belongs to me. Heh.

A/N : Sorry for the very long wait… I don't expect a lot of reviews this time, I suppose everyone would have forgotten about my fic. ^___~;  It's quite long, but try reading it anyway. I didn't spend practically two months writing it for nothing. Oh, and before I forget, thanks a bunch to everyone who has reviewed so far!! You're all really great! Thanks for all your support, criticism, etc. And I think someone said that he/she likes the new Dudley. (Can't remember who.) Heheh…well, I figured that it's time puberty catches up with him… *grins evilly*

Chapter 4 : Missing Pieces

It was a bright summer's day. The hot sunlight beat down upon them, the heat stinging Harry's neck almost painfully. It was probably because he hadn't gone outside in a long time, but he thought that it was hotter than usual that day.

'Come on, Harry, we don't have much time on us,' Mrs Figg said, and she began taking longer strides.

            'What's the hurry?' Harry asked grumpily as he tried to drag his trunk and Hedwig's cage and jog at the same time in order to keep up with her. He couldn't help noticing, even as sweat trickled down his glasses, slightly blurring his vision, that Mrs Figg was holding nothing but her bright red purse.

            'Can't talk.'

            There was a tone of finality in her voice, and they continued their short walk wordlessly.

            Soon they reached Mrs Figg's house two blocks away, and after a trek through Mrs Figg's miniature jungle of a garden, they finally made it to the front door. It was there that she began searching her purse for her key.

            'Damn key – just can't find it when I most need it – this can't do…' Mrs Figg began to look very worried. Harry, hot and sweating all over, laid down the trunk on the ground and sat down on it.

            Almost immediately, a red beam of light burst through the door, sending wooden chips and splinters flying everywhere. Harry only ducked just in time, and the red beam grazed past his ear, singeing a few strands of his hair. Mrs Figg let out a shriek of frustration, while Harry could only hope that the tall prickly hedges in the garden were able to block the scene from the view of Muggles. A growling, croaky shout followed.

            'AHA! I KNEW IT!'

            A wizened old wizard burst right through the rest of the door which had remained untouched. Now the whole thing came off the hinges and dropped onto the doorstep with an almighty crash. From the bulging electric blue eyeball (now staring pointedly at Harry) and the wooden clawed leg, Harry was able to tell that it was Moody.

            'Alastor, not again,' Mrs Figg said wearily. 'This must be the fourteenth time this week.'

            Moody completely ignored her, and pointed his wand at Harry. Harry, taken aback, leaned backwards and almost fell over.

            'I knew it,' he repeated, but his voice was low and breathless now. 'For nearly fourteen years Mad-Eye Moody hasn't caught a single Dark wizard red-handed, but look at him now. He's blooming.'

            Harry braved himself enough to say, 'Uh…and why is that?'

            Moody scrutinised him closely, as though trying to see if he was trying to be funny. 'Because I just caught you in the act, that's bloody damned why!'

            Harry fixed a sincerely bewildered look on his face. 'But I didn't do anything! And I'm not a Dark wizard!'

            'Alastor –' Mrs Figg interrupted, but Moody silenced her at once.

            'Arabella, I'll take care of this –'

            'Alastor –'

            '– this wretched scoundrel put a Confundus Charm on you, that's what he did…made you all confused and mixed up –'

            'Alastor –'

            '– made you bring him to the house, so he can ransack it and kill us both!'

            'ALASTOR –'

            'But guess what, sonny, it looks like you won't be going anywhere – anywhere except Azkaban, that is…'

            'ALASTOR!'

            Both Harry and Moody jumped. 'What?' Moody asked, looking annoyed.

            Mrs Figg pulled Harry to his feet and put an arm around him (Moody gasped, 'It's worse than I thought!'), making Harry feel rather like a frail kitten being protected by his mother. 'Now you listen here, Alastor…this boy is Harry Potter.'

            There was a short silence in which Mrs Figg stared at Moody sternly, while Moody gaped, showing several gaps in between the yellowing teeth. Harry pulled back his fringe slightly, revealing his thin scar, and grinned weakly.

            'Walloping warlocks,' Moody said in a hoarse whisper. 'I didn't think I'd live to see The Boy Who Lived himself in person… I'm terribly sorry, Harry, got carried away…'

            'It's okay,' Harry shrugged. 'What about the Muggles though? I mean, I'm sure they must have noticed something?'

            'Nothing to worry about, Harry,' Mrs Figg replied as the three of them stepped over the wreckage and into the house. 'Muggles never notice anything that goes on around here. If they see some magic in action they'll just convince themselves that they're seeing things.' She led Harry to the living room, where she told Harry to make himself comfortable on the sofa. It was old and battered, with occasional springs and strands of wool sticking out at the oddest places. Moody stood at the threshold, grimacing sheepishly to himself while he fixed the door back into place. Mrs Figg went into the kitchen and came back in a short while with a teapot, a plate of cookies and three cups laid out on a tray.

Harry was still looking doubtful. Apparently, Mrs Figg saw this and she continued, 'The hedges have been bewitched to be sound-proof, so anyone outside can't hear a thing. The house didn't need that extra Muggle-Repelling charm, until this idiot' – she stared pointedly at Moody – 'came to spend the summer here. I think you're the fifth visitor to be nearly blasted into smithereens this week, Harry. Fudge nearly got it the third time, and I believe Mundungus Fletcher is still in St Mungo's after what happened yesterday. Arthur Weasley came just two days ago, and he hasn't come since. Dumbledore also came a few times, but good thing Moody trusts him more than anyone in the world. Of course, there was also Remus Lupin –'

            Harry's eyes widened. 'Lupin? Lupin came here? And what about –' He was on the verge of saying "Sirius", but quickly stopped himself. He didn't know whether Mrs Figg knew that Sirius was innocent, and it wasn't worth taking the risk. He took a cookie, and stared at the television purposefully, vaguely noticing that there was a holly wreath hung on the screen.

            'Sirius?' Mrs Figg smiled. Harry frowned. She was the third person he'd ever met that seemed able to read thoughts. 'He did come, once,' she continued, pouring tea into two cups. 'About three weeks ago. We haven't heard from him lately, but I reckon he must be alerting the rest of the old crowd. It's no easy task, doing the "business" Dumbledore assigned to him and trying to hide from the Ministry at the same time… I suppose it's a good thing that he's got a useful disguise. Who would expect an adorable mutt to be the convicted murderer on the loose?' She smiled even more widely when Harry's jaw dropped open.

            'How did you know?' he blurted out. 'You're not supposed to know – only Dumbledore and me, and Ron and Hermione –'

            'Well, when he came, I just forced the true story out of him.' Mrs Figg was pouring tea into another cup as Moody had just joined in. He wasn't listening much, though; he seemed rather interested in the television remote control. 'Alastor wasn't helping. He kept throwing suspicious looks at the boy, and he only half-believed the story. Sure, I know Sirius Black was mischievous at your age, Harry – still is, come to think of it – but he's no Dark wizard. James was right to trust him after all, instead of that rat, Peter… I knew there was something twitchy about him right from the start…'

            'Now, now, Bella…I was just being cautious, that's all,' Moody defended distractedly, not looking up and prodding the remote control with his wand. He muttered something and a yellow spark burnt a large hole in the plastic.

            'Cautious?' Mrs Figg snorted. 'If you were any more cautious, you'll start cursing your own reflection in the mirror. And don't call me Bella.'

            Moody chose to remain silent. He took a cookie, took a bite out of it (after inspecting it for at least two minutes) and went back to the TV remote control, now lying in disarray.

            Harry suddenly remembered something. 'You haven't told me yet, Mrs Figg,' he said quickly. 'Why did we have to hurry just now?'

            'Well, Harry, everyone has to be quick on their feet these days,' she replied. 'You never know what could happen if you hang around one street for too long. And you – well, I wanted to make sure that you get here as soon as possible, even if it's just a few minutes' difference. But never mind about that, it doesn't matter now. What matters is that you're here, and you're safe and sound, because no Death Eater can possibly know where you are right now.'

            'Why not?' Harry asked immediately. 'I mean, I'm sure they can get some information about me by blackmailing someone, or they can trace my path since I left King's Cross Station at the end of last term, right?'

            A dark look passed over the old woman's wrinkled face. 'Not unless our secret keeper told,' she said gravely. 'Privet Drive is protected by a very powerful Fidelius Charm, Harry. Dumbledore himself cast it, and as long as the secret keeper keeps his greasy mouth shut, this whole neighbourhood is Unplottable, Untraceable, Unnoticeable, Unpenetratable and Unegressable to any Dark wizard. Furthermore, even if someone like the Dark Lord somehow manages to break the charm, which is impossible, of course, I'll be right here to protect you. Oh, and him too.' She jabbed a long finger at Moody, who jumped and dropped the plastic bits which used to be the TV remote control.

            Harry's head was now full to the brim with puzzles which all seemed to have several important pieces missing. He never knew how much trouble people like Mrs Figg and Dumbledore had gone through just to keep him safe from Voldemort. He didn't know why everyone had to fuss over him so much – after all, he had escaped Voldmert several times, so he wasn't entirely helpless.

            'Who is the secret keeper?' he asked. At least if he knew it was someone like Dumbledore, he didn't have to worry about someone else getting in Voldemort's way because of him.

            Mrs Figg kept silent; her mouth twitched. 'Well, that's not important,' she said quickly. 'I – I'm not sure who it is. All I know is that it's someone we can trust – someone Dumbledore can trust, at least.' She smiled, trying to look reassuring.

            Far from being reassuring, Harry thought there was something strange about the way she was looking at him – almost painfully, as one would look at someone less fortunate. It was hard to decipher what that look meant.

            Mrs Figg's expression changed quickly, however, and in about two seconds she was looking her usual way again. She showed Harry to the spare room and left him by himself for the rest of the afternoon while she and Moody remained downstairs preparing dinner. During dinner, she pressed him for accounts on how Hogwarts was like now and told him about "the old days" in colourful detail, never allowing him to ask the numerous questions on his mind. Harry could only ponder these unsolved mysteries at night – going through all the information he knew over and over in his head, but going nowhere close to finding the answers.