Absconditus Draco Accubo
"Master," said the small voice from the doorway. "Master, there is a letter for you. Would you like to read it?"
"Of course I would like to read it you fool," he retorted from his seat beside the fire.
The balding man entered the richly furnished room with a small piece of parchment and quietly walked over to the chair. He moved around the scarlet red velveteen chair and held the paper out for him. The letter was snatched from his hand and Wormtail flinched slightly and moved away. Walking carefully he made his way back to the doorway and shut it with a quiet click as he left.
Voldemort looked at the writing on the envelope and didn't recognize it. "Himself," it said in an untidy black scrawl. He cautiously turned the envelope over and read the two small words above the red wax seal. "Albus Flamula."
"White Fire?" he muttered to himself, intensely curious by now. "What on earth does that mean?"
Voldemort claimed to know everything, and most took that as a sign that he was some sort of seer. In truth he was nothing of the sort, he just had many spies and an acute sense of hearing which he put to good use. Never would he admit to not knowing something in front of his followers, because to show any sign of humanly weakness was to risk losing their respect and fear.
Voldemort had always believed that fear was the key to an obedient follower, unlike that muggle-lover Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore chose respect and goodwill to keep his followers in line, yet that had its weaknesses. As did fear, but fear was much less likely to lose followers because of the risk to lives. Theirs and others.
He shook his head briefly, ridding himself of childish thoughts that would clutter his mind and interfere with the designing of his plan. He undid the wax seal that had an unfamiliar picture on it and opened up the flap, revealing a slightly torn piece of parchment within.
He pulled it from its resting-place, immensely relieved that he always wore gloves. Not that he thought anyone knew where he was, and for another thing... who would dare have the gall to bring him news by owl post? Whoever it is, is going to get a severe tongue-lashing and probably a very deserved Cruciatus Curse.
Again, he shook his head. All these petty amusements filling up his head and reducing the intent to continue with his plan. He couldn't afford any mistakes, no flaws, and that meant no interruptions.
He unfolded the parchment and saw again, the same untidy black scrawl. This time though it was done with more care. The words had obviously been pondered tediously because every new sentence the style of writing changed a little. That showed that each sentence had been written a certain amount of time after the last.
He read through the letter and sighed heavily.
"To Yourself,
You will know who this is, I am sure. I have written to inform you of the circumstances at present. So far there has been no movement to obtain 'what was lost' from the antiquitas, but it is early days yet. As I am sure you know already, the world is at a turning point, and the removal of 'what was lost' from its resting-place has resulted in a large unbalance. All that is left to do before our plan may be carried out is to retrieve the other half of what we already have.
I'm sure you understand the cryptic within this message and I must apologize in advance for any trouble that may come of sending this via owl.
As you know the importance of the subject I speak, you must also realize that this letter must be burnt and its ashes spread to the seas so it does not tell of what was said within. Should this be intercepted, whomsoever is reading this without being invited, this very letter is going to blow you to pieces.... Now.
I pray this reaches your undoubtedly gloved hands safely.
Regards,
Myself."
Although Voldemort had no time for cryptic, this letter involved the plan in itself. In fact, without this information there wouldn't be a plan, so he gave in to figuring out the meaning behind it and ignored the knock on the door.
The knock came again when he didn't answer and Voldemort decided that if that person knocked again then they would die a scrupulous death.
Knock, Knock, Knock.
"Men are not to be trusted, Ares," Ladon said, swishing his tail angrily. "Some are patient, I'll grant you that, but they are far too greedy to be trusted with something as important as this."
"Ladon, you are being hasty. And I know that humans are patient, Jordan is evidence enough of that. He waited over four hundred years before finally letting someone succeed in taking the Chalice. It may have been simply because he was tired of guarding, or he may have other reasons but he paid with his life. We will have the Chalice back in no time but it cannot be done without the aid of a human."
Ladon lowered his voice as a group of young hatchlings walked by. "But paying with your life is not enough, Ares. Unless you paid valiantly, guarding until your last breath. But he didn't! He even had the nerve to come back to the castle and apologize. Apologize for losing the most important artifact in the world, theirs and ours."
"Ladon, you are being too hasty," the elderly Dragon Father warned him. You forget that though you are a great Dragon, feared and revered amongst all, there are still others who can help you."
"Of course I know that, Ares. But I am the Golden Dragon of legends and Jordan was the knight. The Golden Dragons only human friend. He has brought shame on the human race."
"Yes, exactly," Ares commented. "That is what I have been trying to say. Jordan brought shame upon the human race, not the human race itself. There are those out there who would give their lives just to keep their honorable name, never mind to save the world. You will find someone, I am sure of it,"
Ladon thanked Ares for his help and turned, not bothering to even wave at the large amount of young female dragons waving at him. According to 'Dragon Dredge Weekly' he was the most eligible dragon bachelor. Mainly because of his position in Dragon society and his Golden scales, but he didn't care. He had a world to save.
"Another round?" the innkeeper at the Leaky Cauldron asked as the man in the hood downed another shot of fire whiskey.
"Please," the man said gruffly, with a nod of his head. He turned towards the door as it opened and watched the small group of witches and wizards enter silently and seat themselves in a booth in the corner.
"I'll put it on yer tab then eh?" the innkeeper asked, and the man gave a sharp nod before quickly pouring his drink into his carefully guarded hip- flask and making his way to the other side of the room, where the silent party of people had gone.
He seated himself next to the unmistakable form of a woman and nodded hello. "Tonks."
"Moody," she replied sullenly, much unlike her usual self.
They each acknowledged Mad-Eye Moody in turn and by the end, Moody had said hello to Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley, Mundungus Fletcher, Sturgis Podmore and Hestia Jones.
"Sorry we're late," Hestia said, the small dark haired witch opposite him.
"No worry," he replied and pulled down his hood. His magical eye was rolled into the back of his head, examining two suspicious looking students who he knew were in third year, trying to obtain a glass of fire whiskey each.
"How is teaching going at Hogwarts, Alastor?" Remus asked, sounding interested.
"It's tiring. Did you know they still use the 'my toad ate my homework, Professor,' excuse? Not to mention the amount of students that put their wand in their back pockets! I'm surprised there aren't more of them walking around with no buttocks!"
Tonks sniggered appreciatively. "Did you know, I think that other than evil possums, that subject is very important to you, Alastor. Maybe you should start a campaign!"
The rest of the group laughed heartily, taking the opportunity to relax and enjoy themselves, and amongst the racket you could vaguely hear Moody. "What a fine idea, lass."
Moody instantly stopped laughing and sat, brooding, as he watched someone on the other side of the bar with a scowl on his face.
"Who is it?" Tonks whispered to him, noticing his somber expression and not wanting to disturb the others 'taking a load off.'
"It's a Malfoy," he answered and the magical eye stayed where it was, fixed on its target.
"Sorry to interrupt the festivities," said a cold voice from behind Hestia. "But I'm afraid you're needed at the office, Arthur."
"Can't you see I'm on my break?" Arthur sneered back at Lucius Malfoy.
"Of course I can see you're on your break, and as much as I enjoy chasing you around muggle London, Fudge says it's important."
Arthur scowled and if looks could kill, Malfoy would have been stone cold on the floor, but he stood up nevertheless. "Very well, I am sorry to cut this short, but duty calls."
He left the group as they said their good-byes and promised he'd catch up later.
"Right," Remus said seriously. "We'd better get onto the topic before anyone else is called away."
"I agree," Mundungus said, looking at his watch. "Theres a shipment of Canary Creams coming in at two and I need to be there."
"Canary Creams?" Tonks asked. "Aren't those one of the ingenious inventions by Arthur's boys?"
"Yes, they are," Moody interrupted. "And Fletcher is their supply manager as of last week. Now if you please?"
"Of course, of course. Sorry," Tonks apologized and looked at Remus expectantly.
"Thank-you," Remus said and took a large breath. "Well, as I'm sure you've all heard, there have been some strange goings on lately. For instance the sudden migration of the Augrey has caused a great uproar."
"What's an Augrey?" Sturgis asked looking confused.
"An Augrey," Remus said smiling patiently, "is a vulture like bird that emits a mournful cry when heavy rain is approaching. They are very shy creatures and tend to hide away in their nests, but it was very unusual because they migrated to the Americas last week, flying right over London itself, which was a highly unlikely event."
"That's pretty unusual," Tonks commented, looking impressed. "But what about the millions of rats that fled from the sewers and onto the cargo ship heading for America? They wreaked havoc...it was hilarious!"
"So we all agree that something strange is going on?" Remus asked, looking about the group.
"Yes," they all said in unison.
"Blaise? Blaise Honey, are you home?" Hermione called as she entered the door and plopped her bag down on the table. She heard some scrambling in the kitchen and smiled slightly, heading towards the ajar door.
She was about to open it fully but something stopped her and she didn't. Putting her eye closer to the door she listened carefully to the sound of two male voices. One was definitely Blaise, she knew that much, and the other sounded slightly familiar.
"Nope, no clue," Blaise said in a lowered voice. "But she's very smart, if she doesn't find out soon then I'll be very surprised."
"Mmm. Always was a smart one, that Mudblood," said the familiar voice and Hermione struggled to put a finger on it.
There was a scraping of chairs as whoever was in there stood up and Hermione scalded herself for being so nosy and quickly walked over to where her bag sat innocently. She picked it up and put it back over her shoulder, walked over to the door and opened it.
She giggled slightly as she slammed the door, uttered a loud whoops, almost threw her bag onto the table and called out "Blaise?" loudly.
"Yes, dear?" he answered, coming out into the hall unaccompanied.
"I have had a horrible day!" she whimpered, practically falling into his arms. "How was yours?"
"Oh, it wasn't exactly dandy. Fudge was on my back all say for the reports on strange animal activity. He knows I haven't even had a chance to open a book, let alone pick up a pen!"
"I thought you said that you were in meetings all day?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, I was," he said a little too quickly. "IT was a meeting with the panel and they seated me next to him. He didn't even try to listen to Mundungus' attempt at making foreign cauldron shipping legal. He has no manners that man."
"Poor baby. Maybe a nice long bath would do you good?" she asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
Blaise laughed, sounding pleasantly like deep church bells and looked at her sheepishly.
"I agreed to go to dinner with George Alder tonight. Maybe tomorrow?"
Hermione smiled resignedly. "Sure."
"Thanks, gotta run!" he said, grabbing his thick woolen over-robes and ran out the door, snatching up his black leather case on the way out.
"Sure," she said to herself again and walked into the kitchen, pointing her wand and the kettle and making it whistle. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat down at the table where a faintly familiar smell lingered behind her nostrils.
The man. It was the other mans smell. PETER PETTIGREW!! She remembered whom the voice belonged to. It was none other than Lucius Malfoy, notorious criminal and wanted Death Eater. Why on earth would he be in her kitchen speaking with her husband?
The same Peter Pettigrew that was responsible for Harry's parents deaths and Harry's Godfather, Sirius, being sent to Azkaban for twelve years. But she wasn't going to think about that. She wasn't going to think about Harry.
Still, why would he of all people be in her kitchen? It just didn't make sense. She refused to believe what Harry had been trying to tell her about Blaise because it just was not possible. Was it?
She needed to speak to someone who would know what was going on. Someone she could always trust to help her in times of need. She needed to speak to Professor Dumbledore.
Harry climbed down after Hermione had left, making sure he was not walking so fast as to catch up to her, and ignored her as he passed in Knockturn. She, in turn, ignored him also as they passed each other, though Hermione's way was somewhat interrupted as she had to push through people like a common mortal.
Harry walked with ease down the cobbled street and made sure that his hood was pulled over his face. He hated being recognized, and these days, after the defeat of the Dark Lord, every other wizard seemed to deem himself strong enough to take on the 'Almighty Boy Who Lived'.
He stopped in front of the Leaky Cauldron and passed through the brick door, pausing slightly as he saw the congregation of people in the other side of the bar, consisting of many members of the Order. He set his shoulders and seated himself in the corner, opposite the others and could almost imagine Mad Eye Moody's magical eye rolling back in his head and noticing Harry.
He wished desperately that he wouldn't alert the others to his whereabouts, because if he did, they were sure to join him over here. He kept his head down and didn't look at anyone except the bartender as he came up and asked him what he would like to drink.
Deciding to take a leaf from Moody's book he ordered a closed bottle of fire whiskey, and when it was brought over, he pulled out a small hip flask and poured the contents into it. He looked up and found Moody staring at him over his chunky shoulder. Moody gave a small wink before turning back around and shaking his head at the rest of the group who where inquiring what he was looking at.
Harry gave a sigh of relief. Moody must have guessed that he wanted to be alone or he would have had the whole order over here by now.
After about another quarter of an hour, Moody got up to go to the loo, quite unusual for Moody, but since the downfall of the Dark Lord he hadn't been quite so paranoid. Or maybe he just wanted to have a quiet word with Harry.
Harry decided that was the reason. I mean surely, it was no coincidence that the toilet was situated right next to where Harry sat. In fact, right now, there was a rather unpleasant smell emitting from it and he crinkled his nose in disgust.
"'ello there Harry," Moody said as he walked past and into the toilet, before suddenly appearing right at Harry's left arm, hood pulled up over his face.
"What are ye doing here then?" he asked, nodding at the table in front of him.
"Just came for a drink is all, Moody." He answered, somewhat blankly.
"I haven't seen ye since you were last at Hogwarts, three and a half years ago. Where have ye been?"
"Oh, here and there," he answered lamely again, not looking Moody in the eye.
"Mmmm," Moody said, and it sounded more like a soft growl. "I see. Ye don't wish to speak much do ye?" he asked, and taking the hint when Harry said nothing he disapparated and a few moments later emerged from the toilet door. "I'll see ye then Harry. Take care," he said as he walked past and seated himself with the other members of the Order.
Harry stood up and without thanking the bartender, left the Leaky Cauldron and ignored Lupin's questioning look as he glanced back at them. He knew it was Harry. How he knew, Harry wasn't quite sure.
"Master," said the small voice from the doorway. "Master, there is a letter for you. Would you like to read it?"
"Of course I would like to read it you fool," he retorted from his seat beside the fire.
The balding man entered the richly furnished room with a small piece of parchment and quietly walked over to the chair. He moved around the scarlet red velveteen chair and held the paper out for him. The letter was snatched from his hand and Wormtail flinched slightly and moved away. Walking carefully he made his way back to the doorway and shut it with a quiet click as he left.
Voldemort looked at the writing on the envelope and didn't recognize it. "Himself," it said in an untidy black scrawl. He cautiously turned the envelope over and read the two small words above the red wax seal. "Albus Flamula."
"White Fire?" he muttered to himself, intensely curious by now. "What on earth does that mean?"
Voldemort claimed to know everything, and most took that as a sign that he was some sort of seer. In truth he was nothing of the sort, he just had many spies and an acute sense of hearing which he put to good use. Never would he admit to not knowing something in front of his followers, because to show any sign of humanly weakness was to risk losing their respect and fear.
Voldemort had always believed that fear was the key to an obedient follower, unlike that muggle-lover Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore chose respect and goodwill to keep his followers in line, yet that had its weaknesses. As did fear, but fear was much less likely to lose followers because of the risk to lives. Theirs and others.
He shook his head briefly, ridding himself of childish thoughts that would clutter his mind and interfere with the designing of his plan. He undid the wax seal that had an unfamiliar picture on it and opened up the flap, revealing a slightly torn piece of parchment within.
He pulled it from its resting-place, immensely relieved that he always wore gloves. Not that he thought anyone knew where he was, and for another thing... who would dare have the gall to bring him news by owl post? Whoever it is, is going to get a severe tongue-lashing and probably a very deserved Cruciatus Curse.
Again, he shook his head. All these petty amusements filling up his head and reducing the intent to continue with his plan. He couldn't afford any mistakes, no flaws, and that meant no interruptions.
He unfolded the parchment and saw again, the same untidy black scrawl. This time though it was done with more care. The words had obviously been pondered tediously because every new sentence the style of writing changed a little. That showed that each sentence had been written a certain amount of time after the last.
He read through the letter and sighed heavily.
"To Yourself,
You will know who this is, I am sure. I have written to inform you of the circumstances at present. So far there has been no movement to obtain 'what was lost' from the antiquitas, but it is early days yet. As I am sure you know already, the world is at a turning point, and the removal of 'what was lost' from its resting-place has resulted in a large unbalance. All that is left to do before our plan may be carried out is to retrieve the other half of what we already have.
I'm sure you understand the cryptic within this message and I must apologize in advance for any trouble that may come of sending this via owl.
As you know the importance of the subject I speak, you must also realize that this letter must be burnt and its ashes spread to the seas so it does not tell of what was said within. Should this be intercepted, whomsoever is reading this without being invited, this very letter is going to blow you to pieces.... Now.
I pray this reaches your undoubtedly gloved hands safely.
Regards,
Myself."
Although Voldemort had no time for cryptic, this letter involved the plan in itself. In fact, without this information there wouldn't be a plan, so he gave in to figuring out the meaning behind it and ignored the knock on the door.
The knock came again when he didn't answer and Voldemort decided that if that person knocked again then they would die a scrupulous death.
Knock, Knock, Knock.
"Men are not to be trusted, Ares," Ladon said, swishing his tail angrily. "Some are patient, I'll grant you that, but they are far too greedy to be trusted with something as important as this."
"Ladon, you are being hasty. And I know that humans are patient, Jordan is evidence enough of that. He waited over four hundred years before finally letting someone succeed in taking the Chalice. It may have been simply because he was tired of guarding, or he may have other reasons but he paid with his life. We will have the Chalice back in no time but it cannot be done without the aid of a human."
Ladon lowered his voice as a group of young hatchlings walked by. "But paying with your life is not enough, Ares. Unless you paid valiantly, guarding until your last breath. But he didn't! He even had the nerve to come back to the castle and apologize. Apologize for losing the most important artifact in the world, theirs and ours."
"Ladon, you are being too hasty," the elderly Dragon Father warned him. You forget that though you are a great Dragon, feared and revered amongst all, there are still others who can help you."
"Of course I know that, Ares. But I am the Golden Dragon of legends and Jordan was the knight. The Golden Dragons only human friend. He has brought shame on the human race."
"Yes, exactly," Ares commented. "That is what I have been trying to say. Jordan brought shame upon the human race, not the human race itself. There are those out there who would give their lives just to keep their honorable name, never mind to save the world. You will find someone, I am sure of it,"
Ladon thanked Ares for his help and turned, not bothering to even wave at the large amount of young female dragons waving at him. According to 'Dragon Dredge Weekly' he was the most eligible dragon bachelor. Mainly because of his position in Dragon society and his Golden scales, but he didn't care. He had a world to save.
"Another round?" the innkeeper at the Leaky Cauldron asked as the man in the hood downed another shot of fire whiskey.
"Please," the man said gruffly, with a nod of his head. He turned towards the door as it opened and watched the small group of witches and wizards enter silently and seat themselves in a booth in the corner.
"I'll put it on yer tab then eh?" the innkeeper asked, and the man gave a sharp nod before quickly pouring his drink into his carefully guarded hip- flask and making his way to the other side of the room, where the silent party of people had gone.
He seated himself next to the unmistakable form of a woman and nodded hello. "Tonks."
"Moody," she replied sullenly, much unlike her usual self.
They each acknowledged Mad-Eye Moody in turn and by the end, Moody had said hello to Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley, Mundungus Fletcher, Sturgis Podmore and Hestia Jones.
"Sorry we're late," Hestia said, the small dark haired witch opposite him.
"No worry," he replied and pulled down his hood. His magical eye was rolled into the back of his head, examining two suspicious looking students who he knew were in third year, trying to obtain a glass of fire whiskey each.
"How is teaching going at Hogwarts, Alastor?" Remus asked, sounding interested.
"It's tiring. Did you know they still use the 'my toad ate my homework, Professor,' excuse? Not to mention the amount of students that put their wand in their back pockets! I'm surprised there aren't more of them walking around with no buttocks!"
Tonks sniggered appreciatively. "Did you know, I think that other than evil possums, that subject is very important to you, Alastor. Maybe you should start a campaign!"
The rest of the group laughed heartily, taking the opportunity to relax and enjoy themselves, and amongst the racket you could vaguely hear Moody. "What a fine idea, lass."
Moody instantly stopped laughing and sat, brooding, as he watched someone on the other side of the bar with a scowl on his face.
"Who is it?" Tonks whispered to him, noticing his somber expression and not wanting to disturb the others 'taking a load off.'
"It's a Malfoy," he answered and the magical eye stayed where it was, fixed on its target.
"Sorry to interrupt the festivities," said a cold voice from behind Hestia. "But I'm afraid you're needed at the office, Arthur."
"Can't you see I'm on my break?" Arthur sneered back at Lucius Malfoy.
"Of course I can see you're on your break, and as much as I enjoy chasing you around muggle London, Fudge says it's important."
Arthur scowled and if looks could kill, Malfoy would have been stone cold on the floor, but he stood up nevertheless. "Very well, I am sorry to cut this short, but duty calls."
He left the group as they said their good-byes and promised he'd catch up later.
"Right," Remus said seriously. "We'd better get onto the topic before anyone else is called away."
"I agree," Mundungus said, looking at his watch. "Theres a shipment of Canary Creams coming in at two and I need to be there."
"Canary Creams?" Tonks asked. "Aren't those one of the ingenious inventions by Arthur's boys?"
"Yes, they are," Moody interrupted. "And Fletcher is their supply manager as of last week. Now if you please?"
"Of course, of course. Sorry," Tonks apologized and looked at Remus expectantly.
"Thank-you," Remus said and took a large breath. "Well, as I'm sure you've all heard, there have been some strange goings on lately. For instance the sudden migration of the Augrey has caused a great uproar."
"What's an Augrey?" Sturgis asked looking confused.
"An Augrey," Remus said smiling patiently, "is a vulture like bird that emits a mournful cry when heavy rain is approaching. They are very shy creatures and tend to hide away in their nests, but it was very unusual because they migrated to the Americas last week, flying right over London itself, which was a highly unlikely event."
"That's pretty unusual," Tonks commented, looking impressed. "But what about the millions of rats that fled from the sewers and onto the cargo ship heading for America? They wreaked havoc...it was hilarious!"
"So we all agree that something strange is going on?" Remus asked, looking about the group.
"Yes," they all said in unison.
"Blaise? Blaise Honey, are you home?" Hermione called as she entered the door and plopped her bag down on the table. She heard some scrambling in the kitchen and smiled slightly, heading towards the ajar door.
She was about to open it fully but something stopped her and she didn't. Putting her eye closer to the door she listened carefully to the sound of two male voices. One was definitely Blaise, she knew that much, and the other sounded slightly familiar.
"Nope, no clue," Blaise said in a lowered voice. "But she's very smart, if she doesn't find out soon then I'll be very surprised."
"Mmm. Always was a smart one, that Mudblood," said the familiar voice and Hermione struggled to put a finger on it.
There was a scraping of chairs as whoever was in there stood up and Hermione scalded herself for being so nosy and quickly walked over to where her bag sat innocently. She picked it up and put it back over her shoulder, walked over to the door and opened it.
She giggled slightly as she slammed the door, uttered a loud whoops, almost threw her bag onto the table and called out "Blaise?" loudly.
"Yes, dear?" he answered, coming out into the hall unaccompanied.
"I have had a horrible day!" she whimpered, practically falling into his arms. "How was yours?"
"Oh, it wasn't exactly dandy. Fudge was on my back all say for the reports on strange animal activity. He knows I haven't even had a chance to open a book, let alone pick up a pen!"
"I thought you said that you were in meetings all day?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, I was," he said a little too quickly. "IT was a meeting with the panel and they seated me next to him. He didn't even try to listen to Mundungus' attempt at making foreign cauldron shipping legal. He has no manners that man."
"Poor baby. Maybe a nice long bath would do you good?" she asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
Blaise laughed, sounding pleasantly like deep church bells and looked at her sheepishly.
"I agreed to go to dinner with George Alder tonight. Maybe tomorrow?"
Hermione smiled resignedly. "Sure."
"Thanks, gotta run!" he said, grabbing his thick woolen over-robes and ran out the door, snatching up his black leather case on the way out.
"Sure," she said to herself again and walked into the kitchen, pointing her wand and the kettle and making it whistle. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat down at the table where a faintly familiar smell lingered behind her nostrils.
The man. It was the other mans smell. PETER PETTIGREW!! She remembered whom the voice belonged to. It was none other than Lucius Malfoy, notorious criminal and wanted Death Eater. Why on earth would he be in her kitchen speaking with her husband?
The same Peter Pettigrew that was responsible for Harry's parents deaths and Harry's Godfather, Sirius, being sent to Azkaban for twelve years. But she wasn't going to think about that. She wasn't going to think about Harry.
Still, why would he of all people be in her kitchen? It just didn't make sense. She refused to believe what Harry had been trying to tell her about Blaise because it just was not possible. Was it?
She needed to speak to someone who would know what was going on. Someone she could always trust to help her in times of need. She needed to speak to Professor Dumbledore.
Harry climbed down after Hermione had left, making sure he was not walking so fast as to catch up to her, and ignored her as he passed in Knockturn. She, in turn, ignored him also as they passed each other, though Hermione's way was somewhat interrupted as she had to push through people like a common mortal.
Harry walked with ease down the cobbled street and made sure that his hood was pulled over his face. He hated being recognized, and these days, after the defeat of the Dark Lord, every other wizard seemed to deem himself strong enough to take on the 'Almighty Boy Who Lived'.
He stopped in front of the Leaky Cauldron and passed through the brick door, pausing slightly as he saw the congregation of people in the other side of the bar, consisting of many members of the Order. He set his shoulders and seated himself in the corner, opposite the others and could almost imagine Mad Eye Moody's magical eye rolling back in his head and noticing Harry.
He wished desperately that he wouldn't alert the others to his whereabouts, because if he did, they were sure to join him over here. He kept his head down and didn't look at anyone except the bartender as he came up and asked him what he would like to drink.
Deciding to take a leaf from Moody's book he ordered a closed bottle of fire whiskey, and when it was brought over, he pulled out a small hip flask and poured the contents into it. He looked up and found Moody staring at him over his chunky shoulder. Moody gave a small wink before turning back around and shaking his head at the rest of the group who where inquiring what he was looking at.
Harry gave a sigh of relief. Moody must have guessed that he wanted to be alone or he would have had the whole order over here by now.
After about another quarter of an hour, Moody got up to go to the loo, quite unusual for Moody, but since the downfall of the Dark Lord he hadn't been quite so paranoid. Or maybe he just wanted to have a quiet word with Harry.
Harry decided that was the reason. I mean surely, it was no coincidence that the toilet was situated right next to where Harry sat. In fact, right now, there was a rather unpleasant smell emitting from it and he crinkled his nose in disgust.
"'ello there Harry," Moody said as he walked past and into the toilet, before suddenly appearing right at Harry's left arm, hood pulled up over his face.
"What are ye doing here then?" he asked, nodding at the table in front of him.
"Just came for a drink is all, Moody." He answered, somewhat blankly.
"I haven't seen ye since you were last at Hogwarts, three and a half years ago. Where have ye been?"
"Oh, here and there," he answered lamely again, not looking Moody in the eye.
"Mmmm," Moody said, and it sounded more like a soft growl. "I see. Ye don't wish to speak much do ye?" he asked, and taking the hint when Harry said nothing he disapparated and a few moments later emerged from the toilet door. "I'll see ye then Harry. Take care," he said as he walked past and seated himself with the other members of the Order.
Harry stood up and without thanking the bartender, left the Leaky Cauldron and ignored Lupin's questioning look as he glanced back at them. He knew it was Harry. How he knew, Harry wasn't quite sure.