Chapter 3 ~ No one Messes with my Family

Harry and Ron were awoken early the next morning by a deep exclamation by Percy from downstairs.

"Dad! Dad, come quick!"

Ron and Harry hopped out of bed and ran downstairs. On their way down, they met with Hermione.

"What is going on," she asked.

"That is what we are trying to figure out," Ron exclaimed.

They ran downstairs. Fred and George were already down there, reading a piece of parchment that was held in Percy's hand.

"It is written in mother's handwriting…no doubt she wrote it at his command," George whispered as Ron, Harry and Hermione approached, "Look how sketchy and jolted her writing looks."

Fred took a seat in a nearby chair. Harry had never seen the Weasley twins look so solemn. Something, he thought, must be seriously wrong. Mr. Weasley bustled in, pulling on his last shoe.

"Percy, you have woken everyone up. What is the matter with you?"

It was obvious by the tone of his voice that Mr. Weasley was worried about something. He snatched the roll of parchment out of Percy's hand and began to read. The three who had just arrived watched in horror as he lowered himself into a nearby chair and started to cry.

"Dad, what is the matter," Ron asked with a quivering voice as he walked over to his father.

The roll of parchment dropped from Mr. Weasley's limp hand and Ron picked it up and began reading. He didn't finish with the statement written on the page before he ran upstairs, thrusting the parchment into Harry's hands. It read:

Well, Arthur. You have chosen to mess with one of my Death Eaters. When you mess with my family, you mess with me as well. I don't take kindly to being messed with and you will pay dearly for your decision. I have your beloved wife in my possession. If I were you, Mr. Weasley, I would watch where I step from now on…if you are a good little mudblood lover, I may return Molly in one piece…

Lord Voldemort

The pit of Harry's stomach dropped into his knees. He figured that Mr. Weasley had gotten into a fight with Lucius Malfoy. Hermione burst into tears.

"Not…Mrs. Weasley," she sobbed.

After a moment, Mr. Weasley gained control of himself.

"Where is Ginny," he asked.

"Still asleep," George answered dully.

"Whatever happens, Ginny cannot find out about this yet."

"What will we tell her when she finds mum gone," Fred asked.

"Nothing," Mr. Weasley answered, "Act like everything is normal. Say she went to visit a sick neighbor or something. I will find a way to break the news to her when Percy and I get home tonight."

Percy followed his father out the door and Harry went upstairs to Ron.

"What was dad saying before he left," he asked, wiping tears from his cheeks.

"To tell Ginny that your mum went to visit a sick neighbor."

"I wish that were all it was."

Harry sat on the bed across from Ron, "I am not stepping aside. Not this time. Voldemort has messed with my family. No one messes with Harry Potter's family."

"Harry…"

"No, Ron. I am going after him. I don't know when or how, but I will before he does anything to our mum."


Everybody in the Weasley house drifted off into an uneasy sleep early that night. During the day, no Wizard Wheezes were made, Hermione cried in a room, away from Ginny and Ginny was confused about why everyone looked so sad. The letter that had been found that morning was in the twins' possession, hidden in the bureau in their room. Mr. Weasley and Percy managed to get home early, despite all of the chaos at the Ministry. Mr. Weasley took Ginny up to her room and told her about what really happened to Mrs. Weasley. She spent the rest of the night in shock, either crying hysterically or just staring blankly off into space.

Now, the house was asleep. The atmosphere was still heavy with pain and Harry, who lay awake at three that morning, could feel it. He had finally thought up a plan to rescue Mrs. Weasley.

Quietly, he rolled out of bed, got dressed (in Muggle clothing), grabbed a bag of Galleons and counted out fifty of them. He put them inside a leather bag and attached it to his belt. He grabbed a book bag from out of his trunk and stuffed his invisibility cloak and wand inside of it. On a piece of parchment that Harry found on Ron's desk, he scribbled a note:

Ron,

I have been thinking for several hours now about where your mother may be and I think that I have a fairly good idea where she may be. I am going after her. If I do not return, use the 950 Galleons in the pouch wisely and invent great things.

Live well,

Harry 

He put the note on the bedside table and walked out of the room. As Harry walked slowly down the stairs, he listened. He never wanted to forget how the house sounded when it was completely still – the stillness was something never heard. Not even the ghoul in the attic made noise tonight. Finally, he reached the common room. The fireplace sat fifteen feet away and a bucket of floo powder was hung on one of the corners. Harry stepped forward lightly, making sure that there wasn't a creek made. He was a few steps from the fireplace when a small voice came from behind him.

"What are you doing, Harry?"

Harry jumped and turned towards the voice that broke through the heavy silence. A small figure with blazing red hair that could be seen through the darkness was sitting, curled up at one end of the couch.

"I am going to get your mother back, Ginny."

Harry could see Ginny's eyes grow wide, "Do you know where she is?"

"No, not for sure," Harry whispered, walking towards the couch and taking a seat; the cushions beneath him gave way to his weight, "but I know where to begin looking."

Ginny was silent for a moment and then suddenly flung her arms around Harry, "Please be careful!"

She began sobbing into his shoulder and he held her.

"Please don't cry," he begged, "I will be back in no time – I promise you. I will be back with your mum and we will both be safe and sound."

Ginny cried harder and Harry lifted her head, holding her chin in his hand.

"Listen to me, Ginny – shhh, shhh, listen. Everything's going to be all right. I promise."

Harry brushed Ginny's hair out of her eyes. Out of nowhere, Ginny lunged forward and kissed Harry on the cheek. She pulled away quickly, embarrassed about what she had done.

"I – I am sorry…"

"Its okay," he replied and returned the kiss, "I love you, sis. Be good for your brothers. I will not fail you."

With that, Harry stood, took a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.

"Whatever you do, do not follow me and do not tell anyone where I have gone, do you understand," Harry asked sternly.

Ginny nodded, "Yes, Harry."

Harry smiled and dropped the floo powder and exclaimed, "Diagon Alley!"

The familiar spinning motion took over Harry's body and he closed his eyes. He stopped suddenly and dropped out in Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop. Once he regained his balance, he looked around. The shopkeeper seemed surprised to see Harry pop out of the fireplace.

"Is that young Mr. Potter," he asked, "What are you doing here at four in the morning?"

"Um…" Harry stuttered, "Just going out for a walk. I couldn't sleep."

"Well, welcome," the shopkeeper replied.

"Thanks," Harry said, "I'll be coming back through here and will buy when I come back."

 The shopkeeper nodded and Harry stepped out onto Diagon Alley. He headed towards Gringotts and walked in. The bank was pretty much deserted except for one or two goblins, working behind their desks. Harry walked up to the desk, counted out twenty-five Galleons and pushed them towards the goblin.

"Um…excuse me," Harry muttered.

"Yes," the goblin said, looking up from his work.

"May I get these Galleons in Muggle money?"

The goblin nodded, took the Galleons and came back with a sack of Muggle money.

"Four hundred and twenty five pounds," the goblin said, handing him the sack.

"Thanks," Harry replied and left.

He walked down to the end of the alley and into the Leaky Cauldron. He went up to the bar and had a seat.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. Potter," the tavern keeper, Tom, exclaimed, "what can I get for you?"

"Do you have Butterbeer by any chance," Harry asked.

"Why, of course we have Butterbeer!"

Tom went to get the drink as Harry pulled out a menu and looked around. Some wizards had come in to get breakfast before work. There was a wizard asleep in a dark corner that look like he had been hexed. His hair was a flaming pink color and his hands had been transformed into fish fins.

"Here you are, Mr. Potter," Tom said, setting a huge mug of Butterbeer in front of him, "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Er…" Harry looked down at the menu, "Blueberry pancakes and sausage."

Tom went to prepare the food. While he waited, Harry pulled out a Galleon and began to play with it. He had breakfast quietly, left the Galleon that he was playing with on the bar and left the Leaky Cauldron.

Outside the doors of the pub was Muggle London – Charing Cross Road, to be exact. The street was lined with Muggle shops, restaurants and a cinema. The street was deserted except for one or two Muggles. They paid no attention to Harry, who walked up the street, looking into all of the windows. It was almost five and a couple of the shops were opening. Harry decided to look into some of them. Harry put the bag of Galleons in his backpack and pushed open the door of a small clothing store and a bell at the top of it jingled, signaling to the storekeeper that someone had entered.

She saw Harry and the expression on her face was a confused one, "Yes? May I help you?"

Harry looked at the over-sized, stained shirt and the pants with holes at the knees that he was wearing and said, "Do you carry Dickies and Polo?"

"Yes," she replied, "Right this way."

He followed her to a section of the store, near the back, where he saw racks of fine clothes for teenage boys like himself. He picked out three pairs of pants and a couple of Polo shirts. He tried on a pair of khaki Dickies and a forest green Polo shirt and looked at himself in the mirror. Never before had he looked this good. The clothes that were passed down to him by Dudley were always stained, faded and way too big. He now looked like a new man. The shirt was just the right size and showed his broad shoulders and the short sleeves showed most of his muscular arms. No doubt the Quidditch he had been playing over the summer contributed to his build. His chest was muscular for a boy his age and his waist was small. Harry looked at himself from all angles in the mirror and finally decided what he wanted to do.

"I would like a few more pairs of these Dickies – one in khaki, one in blue and two in black and four Polo shirts, two black, two navy blue and this outfit that I am wearing now."

"So, five pairs of Dickies and five shirts?"

"That is correct. Oh, and if it isn't any trouble, may I wear this out?"

The saleswoman nodded and led Harry to the counter to ring up his stuff. She cut the tags off of Harry's clothes.

"Do you play any sports," she asked.

"Yes," he answered, "Why?"

"You are very well built," she replied, blushing slightly, "I like your scar, too."

"Er…thanks," Harry said, rubbing his scar, "How much do I owe you?"

"Ninety five pounds," she informed him.

Harry paid and was about to leave with his bag when she said, "What do you want me to do with these clothes?"

"Burn them," Harry ordered without a moment of thought.

She grinned and Harry walked back onto Charing Cross. He put the bag that he had just walked out of the store with in his backpack and walked towards the train station.

It was about six fifteen when he reached the station and looked around for the schedules. He found what he was looking for and brought a ticket. The train was going to leave at six forty five, so Harry had a while to wait. Several Muggles were rushing around, going to work and going to school. They were oblivious to their surroundings, just caring about where they were off to. Harry was just there, waiting for things to happen. While he waited, he observed the things around him – something that Muggles rarely tended to do. They always seemed too busy or too oblivious. Harry knew that one thing was for sure – he was glad that he was what he was.

Finally, it was time for the young hero to catch the train. He got on, found a seat and looked out the window. The scenery sped by so quickly that is was useless to try and enjoy it. Harry soon got bored and decided to explore the train.

As he was walking down the isle, he nearly ran head first into a girl who was coming out of her compartment. She was about an inch shorter than he was and had long, black, waist length hair and green eyes. She looked at Harry and smiled.

"Sorry," she said in a sweet voice.

Harry shook his head, "No, it was my fault. I should have been watching where I was going. After you."

She walked ahead and Harry wasn't far behind. He was slightly entranced by this girl – he believed she was beautiful beyond words.

"I could never get with her," Harry whispered to himself, "She is a Muggle after all."

After a few minutes, the train slowed to a stop. Harry climbed off of the train. A few doors down, he saw the girl get off with her parents and he sighed, a bit dismayed by his loss. Nevertheless, he had to know where he was; he needed to know how to get to Mrs. Weasley. He walked to the front of the station and stood at a bus stop, waiting for the bus that would take him to where he was going. Soon, a huge, red double-decker bus drove up and Harry got on. He climbed to the top and sat there since it was such a beautiful day. The sun had finally risen and was an extremely bright day – a day rarely seen due to the usual weather conditions. It wasn't long before Harry saw what he had come to see.

"Next stop, Godric's Hollow. All who wish to unload prepare to do so."

Harry walked to the lower story of and the bus came to a halt in front of a bus stop sign. He put the appropriate amount of money in the collector and stepped off the bus. As it drove quickly away from him, Harry looked at the big sign located at the entrance to the community. It said "Godric's Hollow" in huge, Old English letters. There was a barrier blocking cars from getting in without the guard knowing and a booth where the guard sat. Harry brushed his hair into his eyes, making sure that his scar was concealed and walked up to the booth.

"Yes," the attendee asked.

"Can you direct me to the house where the Potter family used to live," Harry asked.

"The guard looked confused, "How long ago was this, son?"

"Almost fifteen years."

The guard sighed and got onto his radio, "GH to HQ…GH to HQ, I need some information."

"We read you, GH," a man's voice came out of the radio and answered, "Proceed."

"There is a boy here looking for the house that a Potter family lived in about fifteen years ago."

"We have had several Potter families live in Godric's Hollow. Is there anything else that this boy may be able to tell you?"

The guard looked down at Harry and he sighed.

"On November first, 1990, the house was found practically destroyed," Harry replied, softly, but surely.

"Did you get that, HQ," the guard asked, talking into the radio.

"Yeah, I know what house you are talking about."

He gave directions and Harry thanked him."

"Hey, kid," the guard began, "That is a pretty long walk. Do you want a lift?"

Harry looked at the guard and the car that he was pointing to, "No, thanks. I think I can handle the walk."

The guard shrugged and Harry was on his way. He followed the directions given to him to the letter, checking and double-checking himself. The guard was right – it was a long walk. Harry's determination never wavered, however. He walked until finally, he spotted the house.

"I wonder if it was rebuilt the way it stood before it had been destroyed," Harry whispered to himself as he looked up at the towering building.

The house was truly magnificent. It was no doubt bigger then the Dursleys' place and was very old fashioned. It was built of brick and a ten-foot wooden fence surrounded the property.

"The people that live here now must have children," Harry observed, "If mum and dad were still alive, would I be living here? Would I have little brothers and sisters that attended Hogwarts, like me," he sighed and bowed his head, "Harry, its no use trying to imagine things like that. It will just make you hurt more than you already do."

Harry sat on the sidewalk, across from the house he came to see and stared at it for some time, thinking. He was never able to think much – never had time to himself. Though, now, he sat for hours, thinking…wondering…imagining and what if-ing. Finally, he decided to move on. He found his way out of Godric's Hollow and caught the first bus that came by. Instead of climbing to the top, Harry found an empty seat in the very back and plopped down in it.

"A young man like you shouldn't be adventuring off alone."

Harry looked up to see the woman who had interrupted his thoughts.

"Who said I was alone," Harry replied.

"No one," she answered, "You look very alone, however."

Harry studied the woman. She was young – around twenty-seven or so – and had blonde hair that was pulled back into a ponytail.

"Yes, well, you don't look like you have much of a mob following you around, either," Harry shot back.

The woman laughed, "No, I don't, do I? Well, since we are both alone, why don't we travel together?"

"Because I have things to do."

"Oh, like what?"

Harry scowled at this woman, "My mother has been kidnapped by a big, bad guy and now I have to find him and Avada Kedavra his ass back to where he came from."

"Don't you mean 'abracadabra'?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say," Harry answered, rolling his eyes.

"We are stopping soon in downtown London," the driver announced, "Food, shopping and fun for everyone!"

"I would so very much stay and chat," Harry began sarcastically, looking for a quick get away, "but this is my stop."

Harry began getting off the bus and the woman followed. Harry started walking quickly and ducked into an ice cream parlor. Before the woman saw him, he slid into a booth and slouched down. A waitress came up and asked him what he wanted.

"Waffle cone with two scoops of bubblegum ice cream," Harry answered quietly and the waitress left.

"Like I said – you shouldn't be wandering off alone, Mr. potter."

Harry turned around. In the booth behind him was the lady that he was trying to get away from.

"What do you want from me," Harry asked her.

"I want you to realize what kind of danger you could be in right now," she responded, "There are Death Eaters all over London now, and more are being summoned and recruited as we speak. Voldemort is getting stronger and he cannot wait to have you in his grasp."

"Listen to me," Harry ordered suddenly raising his voice, "I am tired of people looking after me like I am some child! I can fend for myself, do you understand? Your warnings are not going to scare me into hiding! I do not fear Voldemort, okay?"

The woman blinked, "I am sorry that you are so naive. Obviously, you have never truly felt Voldemort's wrath like many others have had."

Harry grew extremely offended and didn't fail to show it, "Do not speak of things you know not of! I lost the parents that I never had the chance to talk to, I was sent to live with Muggle relatives that couldn't care less about me and I have faced Voldemort myself three times in the past four years, the last time he came back to power and a friend of mine lost his life, right before my eyes! I have felt Voldemort's wrath much more strongly than anyone else."

The waitress came back with Harry's order. He paid for it and excused himself as the lady stared after him blankly. Harry walked around, waiting for nightfall. It came slowly for him. Finally, when it did arrive, he was sitting in a café having dinner. He pondered upon the events of the afternoon and questioned what made him blow up at the lady he met on the bus. He also planned his actions for the rescue of Mrs. Weasley, but they couldn't be accurate seeing that any little event could change them. After he paid for his dinner, he changed into black clothes and caught a bus that would take him to his final destination.