Chapter 7: Errands in Surrey

PRESENT: EARLY JULY

Meli's new position as a teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts required her to run several errands outside of Hogsmeade and its environs. Some of her shopping could be done on Diagon Alley, but most of what she required (primarily literature and visual aids) could only be found in Muggle shops. Her approach to teaching anything was always a bit odd, but since memory retention was far more important in this class than in any other she had before taught, she was in the process of refining that odd approach into something so eccentric that her students would remember the material whether they wanted to or not. She knew what Voldemort and his cronies were like; teaching defenses against them was not a task that she could, in good conscience, perform shoddily, and job security had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

Thus, in the space of a week following her approval by the governors, she had laid out a month's worth of lesson plans, most of which needed some article or other that could only be obtained from Muggles. On speaking of this to Dumbledore, however, she found that he had been about to speak to her in hopes that she would perform an errand in his behalf.

"I was going to ask you to do it," he told her, "but you've come to me before I could." He smiled, his eyes twinkling. "You have excellent timing, Meli."

"Thank you, sir," she replied. "And I have no objection to running one more errand, provided it has nothing to do with sugar."

"Oh, no," Dumbledore assured her. "Far from it. I should think it more sour than sweet in nature."

Meli arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "Go on."

"I need not tell you, of course, that you are not the only person important to Hogwarts who hails from Surrey," Dumbledore began.

"If you're referring to Harry Potter," Meli replied, "then no, you need not. I taught him for a year in the Muggle school there." She grimaced. "And I've met his miserable relatives a few times," she added, sorely tempted to refer to the Dursleys instead as "They-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named".

Dumbledore, seeming to catch her drift, unspoken though it was, smiled. "And, naturally, as someone who lived with similar protections, you are probably aware that certain precautions have been taken to keep Harry safe even while living with his Muggle relatives."

"Naturally." She did not add that she hoped these protective devices were in effect year-round, even when Harry was at Hogwarts.

Then again, she thought, the Dursleys wouldn't be missed by anyone decent if the Death Eaters should get to them.

She immediately reproached herself for the thought. As miserable of people as the Dursleys were, they were far from deserving a similar fate to that of her parents, and Harry, if deprived of them, would probably still mourn their loss after a fashion.

"Since Voldemort's return," Dumbledore continued, "the security around Harry has been increased. In addition to protective wards around the Dursleys' house, there are now a number of wizards and witches in Little Whinging who have been keeping a constant, silent watch over him."

"Very wise," Meli said. "But since, of course, Harry's own vigilance will be more acute than ever, you have the problem that he may well conclude that he's being followed by the wrong side."

Dumbledore nodded. "That is why someone trusted by both him and his family must speak with him, to tell him that these people are friends."

Meli laughed mirthlessly. "With all due respect, sir, I don't know that the Dursleys do trust me," she warned him. "It was my personal mission to humble—or humiliate, as the case may be—their darling little Dudley at every opportunity."

The headmaster shrugged with a lightness indicative of some darker previous dealings. "I think you'll find that the Dursleys have only the vaguest memory of you," he replied.

Meli darted a narrow, suspicious look at him. "I don't suppose they had help with that," she said in a tone that belied the words.

Dumbledore smiled, but there was some strain to it. "I believe one of Harry's protectors may have taken the liberty," he allowed.

Only one person I can think of would be so inconsiderate and so brazen . . . "Mr. Black, perhaps?" she suggested lightly.

And then she saw something she had never thought to see on Albus Dumbledore's face: surprise. He, a man who gave the appearance of knowing everything because of his wisdom and calculation, had evoked that reaction in nearly every magical person she knew, but she had never once seen it evoked in him.

The disturbingly unfamiliar expression soon—thankfully—faded into one of congratulation. "Very good, Meli," he said after that terrible moment. "Your powers of mental calculation have developed well over time."

She swallowed. "Thank you, sir," she replied, though it hardly seemed appropriate to the rest of the conversation. "It . . . seemed to be something he would do, based upon what I know of him." She cleared her throat and changed the subject. "So, then, I'm to go to Little Whinging, take advantage of my Muggle history with the Dursleys, and by some artful means communicate to Harry the motives of the people following him about."

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. "Yes," he replied. "I believe that for someone with your skills, it should not prove too challenging."

"No, sir." She grinned briefly, then added, deadpan, "It will be a pleasure."

There was a knock at the door just then. Dumbledore opened it to admit Snape, who stopped short when he saw that the headmaster was in conference. The other beckoned him to enter, however, and Snape did as he was bidden, standing near the door as Dumbledore closed it behind him.

"I apologize for the intrusion," the Potions master said.

"You're not intruding, Severus," Dumbledore replied thoughtfully. "Tell me, are you still planning to go to Diagon Alley next weekend?"

Snape frowned slightly. "Actually," he answered, "I had just come to inform you that I'll need to go sooner." There was an unamused turn to one corner of his mouth. "In inventorying my supply cabinets, I've discovered several more things missing than I had initially expected."

Meli carefully kept her eyes on Dumbledore's desk. Like Zarekael's history, some things simply became common knowledge if one was at Hogwarts long enough, and often—as in the case of young Crouch robbing Snape's office for Polyjuice ingredients—it was still wisest to feign both ignorance and deafness.

Dumbledore had obviously come to a similar conclusion; he ignored Snape's explanation and addressed only the previous answer. "Would you be willing to go as early as tomorrow?" he inquired.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "I could," he replied cautiously, and Meli could almost hear his silent addition of, And what, pray tell, are you hoping to rope me into?

Oh, no, you don't, Meli thought, then protested aloud, "Ah, sir, I really don't require any company." Certainly not the company of someone whose life could be endangered if he's seen with me.

Snape was every bit as perceptive as she'd remembered. "And are you also going to Diagon Alley, Meli?" he asked.

"And Muggle London, and Muggle Surrey," she replied. "It's a full day trip—you'd be bored out of your mind." She raised her eyebrows at Dumbledore. "And I can take care of myself."

To her surprise, though, Snape looked thoughtful. "It's not a question of you taking care of yourself," he told her. "It is a question of any member of Hogwarts' faculty going abroad alone. It may not draw the Dark Lord's attention . . . but it will certainly draw unwanted and suspicious attention from his enemies."

Meli let out a surprised laugh. "You mean to say that if I go out alone, they'll think I'm up to no good, but if I go out with you, they won't?" She smiled wryly. "Forgive me, Severus, but it seems a choice between six and half a dozen."

Snape and Dumbledore exchanged looks that she was not meant to interpret, but which she understood anyway. He has, indeed, gone back to Voldemort. As if I didn't already know that anyway.

"It may neither help nor harm your reputation," Dumbledore said quietly. "But it can only help Severus' case in these times."

Because it will look to Voldemort like he's keeping an eye on me, to see who I contact and if they're vulnerable. While being my friend, he can still stay in Voldemort's good graces.

She carefully maintained an impassive expression while these thoughts passed through her mind. Now she sighed her resignation. "All right, we'll make it a joint expedition." She glanced narrowly at Snape. "But I'm not very pleasant company," she warned.

"You forget to whom you're speaking," Snape countered sardonically.

She smirked. "Not at all, but you understand . . . I had to try."

Snape was never early, and he was never late. At precisely seven-thirty the following morning, there was a clear rap at the door. Meli, who had fully expected this, opened the door immediately after his knock, herself ready to go.

"Come in, Severus," she said cordially. "Will you take tea or some toast before we leave?"

Snape entered, shaking his head. "I breakfasted earlier, but thank you." He paused, then raised inquisitive eyebrows. "Will I adequately pass for a Muggle?" he asked sardonically.

Meli smiled. "Well, you do look unusually put out for a Muggle," she replied lightly, "but your clothing checks out."

"Put out?" he echoed.

"You look twice the brooding wizard when you're not in robes," she explained. "Tell me, Severus, have you ever smiled?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Accidents happen," he replied acidly.

"Ah, yes." She snickered. "There was that memorable time in sixth year Potions." She shuddered. "My, what a nasty day that was."

"Meli, are you finished?"

She grinned. "Yes, sir, I believe so."

"Then by all means," he sighed, "let's get this over with."

Their first series of errands took them through London, but eventually the last item on their list drew them to Little Whinging, and Snape's mood took a subtle turn for the worse. On the one hand, Meli could hardly blame him, but on the other hand, moods in general, and Snape's in particular, tended to rub off.

"So," she said quietly, as they walked steadily toward Privet Drive, "will you speak to him, or shall I?"

Snape glanced sidewise at her. "All things considered," he replied dryly, "I think it's best if you did. He and I don't see precisely eye-to-eye."

"Oh, dear," she sighed. "You're that charming, are you?"

"I've never pretended to charm," he reminded her. "Particularly where Gryffindors are concerned."

"Eh, me, neither," she rejoined. "Rather ironic, given where I housed for seven years, but not the less true."

Further conversation was halted as they simultaneously caught sight of a huge black dog pacing the sidewalk. It stopped its pacing when it saw them, and Meli thought it leveled a glare at Snape. She smiled and walked over to the dog, reaching out a hand to pet it.

"Hello, puppy," she crooned. "You're oh, so far away from home, yes you are."

"That dog is nearly as big as you are," Snape replied testily. "It's hardly a puppy."

Meli ignored him. "Have you lost your master?" she asked, still in a maddening baby-talk voice. "Hmm?"

The dog turned its head to look almost behind it to a grocer's store half a block further on. It woofed hoarsely, glared again at Snape, then turned back to Meli.

"Well, I'd take you home," Meli told him, "but I daresay you've got fleas!" She stood, made a show of wiping her hands off, then rejoined Snape, kicking the dog soundly on her way.

Snape looked understandably surprised, but his mouth came dangerously close to a smile. He offered the dog a glare in return, then stepped out beside Meli once more.

"You do realize who that was, don't you?" he asked in an undertone.

Meli looked mildly at him. "You don't honestly believe I'd have kicked anyone else, do you?" she countered. "I rather despise people like him, truth be known. He reminds me of Dirk Pierce."

Snape seemed about to reply, but suddenly stopped again, staring ahead of him. "What is that?!" he demanded.

Meli raised her eyebrows. "That is called a store, Severus," she said slowly. "And in that particular store, Muggles buy food."

He favored her with a sour look. "Not that," he hissed, then pointed. "That."

She looked where he pointed, then felt her eyes widen incredulously. "It appears to be . . . oh,

my . . .a giant pig who . . . walks on two feet . . . and wears Muggle clothes. Oh, dear. That's got to be Dudley."

"I doubt the grocer will have any food left after he's gone," Snape said, shaking his head. "You know these people?"

"No, thank God," she replied. "I met them a few times and taught Dudley for a year. Nasty family, the Dursleys."

"So what artifices will you use to get into their good graces?" Snape asked darkly.

Meli snorted. "I'm going to take advantage of their natural abysmal stupidity, of course," she answered. "It'll be just like the old days with the Skulkers and Anthony Flint."

Snape merely smirked.

Meli left Snape to ponder produce while she shadowed the Dursleys and Harry Potter for fifteen minutes. At last, though, when chances were minimal that they might think she had followed them in, she waited until they stopped for one of Dudley's frequent tantrums, then slipped into the aisle and artfully contrived to bump into Dudley. Given the fact that his girth spanned three-quarters of the aisle, however, very little art was actually required for it.

Having bumped into him, she now stopped, looked at him carefully, then let spread across her face the broadest smile she had never felt. "Why, if it isn't Dudley Dursley!" she all but gushed. "My, how you've grown—a fit and robust young man if I've ever seen one."

All four of them stared at her, and she had the clear and welcome impression that only Harry remembered her. Still smiling, she turned on Dudley's parents. "And you must be Mr. and Mrs. Dursley," she continued, extending a hand. "Meli Ebony. I had the pleasure of teaching Dudley his last year at primary school."

Dudley still stared stupidly at her, but his parents, every bit as dense in the skull as he, reciprocated her smile now. Mr. Dursley shook her hand firmly, then pompously introduced himself and his wife, then promptly changed the subject to drills. Meli permitted herself a wince, then shouldered her way into the conversation and changed the subject again.

"I know Dudley probably doesn't remember me, but I remember him," she said, still smiling. It was true; since the end of that year, she'd gotten out of practice at verbally abusing abysmally stupid and thuggish students. She sorely missed him.

"I remember you," the fourth member of the group said quietly.

Meli turned to face him and hoped he could forgive her for what she had to do next. "And I most certainly remember you," she said distastefully. "Pothead, is it?"

Dudley sniggered, and though Meli had much rather punch him, she beamed at him, then glared at Harry. "Still making a bad name for yourself, I suppose?" she snapped.

Harry made no reply, but he stared at her with a confusion that was almost comical. Not surprising, really, given that all of her verbal abuse as a teacher had been directed always at Dudley and never at himself. On the contrary, she suspected she had been the only teacher ever to treat him kindly.

"But about Dudley," she continued, beaming again. "How is he getting on in the world?"

Vernon Dursley puffed himself up and started in on a litany of Dudley's trumped-up mediocrities. Meli tuned him out, glad that Snape had preferred the company of bananas and grapefruit; his patience could not have withstood such an assault. Once she judged by Dursley's tone that he was starting to wind down, she tuned back in for the very end of it, in order to jump in at the earliest convenient opportunity.

"Fascinating!" she said exuberantly. "Well done, Dudley!" Dudley swelled pridefully, easily taking over the remaining quarter of the aisle. Meli scowled now. "And this . . . other one," she added. "I suppose he's in a fitting place, as well?"

She delighted in seeing the sickening pallor that challenged Dursley's ruddy complexion. "Er, yes," he stammered.

"He has the look of an incurably criminal boy," she continued appraisingly. "Have you considered enrolling him at St. Brutus'?"

Dursley looked suddenly relieved. "Yes!" he replied. "Yes, he's been there four years already."

Harry, she noticed, was suddenly eyeing her very keenly. "Splendid!" she said. "As it happens, I've some friends who teach there, whom he should meet if he continues there much longer." She leaned in confidentially but still spoke loudly enough for Harry to hear. "There is no taskmaster so strict and unrelenting as Mr. Snape, and if Mrs. McGonagall has not altogether transfigured him by the time he's through her class, he'll be good for nothing short of a hanging."

The Dursleys were all smiling now, and Harry was trying hard not to. As anticipated, he had easily picked up on her verbal code—and his ridiculous relations had not. Meli judged that she had them well enough in hand that she could actually do what she'd come to do.

"Mr. Dursley," she said, "I wonder if I might take Potsherd here aside for a word. I would not hesitate to speak it in front of you, except that I fear it may mortify Mrs. Dursley's delicate sensitivities, and it could well shock poor Dudley so badly as to ruin his appetite." Which could only improve him, she added silently.

Dursley smiled his approval, and she took Harry by the shoulder and led him down the aisle, making her motions look rougher than they actually were. When she judged they were far enough away to be out of even Petunia Dursley's hearing, she stopped and turned to face Harry.

"I apologize for my harsh words in front of those scumsucking lifeforms who call themselves your relatives," she said without preamble. "Unfortunately, such pretenses are necessary in these times. Please believe me when I say I have the highest respect for you."

Harry looked as though he might smile, but he carefully restrained himself. "Do you teach at Hogwarts?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. Now I hope you'll forgive me if I glare at you for the scumsuckers' benefit," she replied, then narrowed her eyes in a look of which Snape would have been proud. Harry actually drew back. "I understand you'll be finishing the summer with the Weasleys. Until you go to their house, and even afterward, you may find yourself surrounded by silent guardians. Dumbledore has seen to your safety. Don't draw attention to them, but know that they are there to protect you."

"I think I've seen some of them," Harry said. "One just today and not too far from here."

Meli smirked. "I know the one you mean." She sobered again. "Now, everything we say must be scripted for the benefit of the curious. I happen to have a script already made up, so you won't have to think up a story."

"All right."

She filled him in, quizzed him quickly, then, with an apology ahead of time, dragged him back to the Dursleys. After more cordialities and another narrow dodge of the subject of drills, she patted Dudley fondly on the head, shoved Harry to the side, shook Vernon and Petunia's hands once more, and excused herself. Before returning to the produce section, she sought out a washroom and spent several minutes disinfecting her hands.

Meli had hoped to take Snape by surprise, perhaps by lobbing an orange at his head, but he was far too vigilant for that. She was barely around the corner before he had joined her.

"Finished comparing apples and oranges?" she quipped as they left the store.

Snape sighed. "It's a terrible pity you're not still a student," he said. "Do you have any idea how many points Gryffindor would have lost just during our errands today?"

"Ooh, I shudder to think!" She grinned. "But I'm sure I'd have found some way to talk you into giving most of them back sooner or later."

"I'm not as lenient as I used to be," Snape told her, punctuating the remark with a kick that sent the still-lurking black dog yelping away.

Meli raised her eyebrows. "Why, Severus, that was positively vindictive of you!"

He glanced at the retreating dog, then looked unconcernedly back to her. "Yes, wasn't it?" he drawled.

"I think I've had a bad influence on you," she sighed, but there was laughter in her eyes.

Harry watched Miss Ebony walk away, rubbing his hands over his arms to brush away chills. He didn't mind her as a person, with the notable exception of her odd, mercurial behavior during this meeting; she was the only teacher from his life before Hogwarts that he remembered with any fondness. However, something about her presence had always set him slightly on-edge. Her approach raised prickles on his arms and the back of his neck, and her countenance, with its vaguely reptilian aura, seemed inexplicably and disturbingly familiar.

Perhaps, he thought now, it was on account of her being magical; he may somehow have sensed it about her, though, if that were the case, she was the only one of whom it was true. He wondered if there was some significance to this.

He had little time to ponder it, however, for as soon as Miss Ebony was out of sight, Uncle Vernon turned on him.

"What did she say to you, boy?" he demanded, leaning his red face in close. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing about Hogwarts, if that's what you mean," Harry lied. "She thinks I'm a perfectly normal incurably criminal boy."

"And what did she tell you?" Uncle Vernon asked again, his eyes still narrowed in suspicion.

"Aren't you worried about Aunt Petunia's delicate sensitivities?" Harry countered coolly.

"Oh, out with it!" Aunt Petunia snapped. "That concern is proper coming from her. You're just being insolent!"

Harry sighed feelingly and made a try at sullenly rolling his eyes. "She told me about a boy who went to St. Brutus' and graduated unrepentant," he grumbled. "He fled England to avoid punishment for his numerous felonies and ended up on a tropical island, where he killed the tribal chief's son. The natives were so outraged that they disemboweled and dismembered him and burned his entrails in front of him, then let him bleed to death. They posted what was left of him to his family as a warning."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Uncle Vernon blustered, throwing a nauseating flutter through Harry's stomach. "Better to burn the entrails before you disembowel him—more painful that way! Honestly, Petunia, what are these primitive societies coming to?"

Harry breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief and turned his thoughts to happier things—like spending his birthday far away from the Dursleys.

AUTUMN 1990, ONE YEAR BEFORE HARRY'S FIRST YEAR AT HOGWARTS

Dudley had been nastier than usual all day, and even the threat of a thrashing at home seemed less of a deterrent than it normally was. Harry's patience was nearly spent; he was sick of taking it in silence. Miss Ebony's lecture on the Magna Charta faded away from his attention as the maddening prodding of Dudley's pencil in his back persisted.

Pressed to explain afterward, Harry never could say what exactly transpired then. All he knew was that his patience ran out, and the next thing of which he was aware was an impossibly loud crash across the room as Dudley met up none too gently with the wall.

Miss Ebony halted her speech immediately, her eyes finding Harry first, then flicking right away to Dudley, who was too stunned to pick himself up.

"Explain yourself, Dursley!" she snapped, her tone uncompromising and unmerciful.

Dudley was still floundering, unable to explain himself even to himself. "Uuh, Harry—"

"And why should he explain your idiocy?" the teacher demanded. "Or are you proposing that he somehow shoved you across three desks and a bookshelf?" Dudley had no reply for this, either. "Get up at once, you massive git, and trade seats with Miss Carson for the rest of the term." She sneered at him in a manner that Harry would later come to associate with Professor Snape. "And there will not be another incident or another pathetic attempt to blame anyone for it, or you will sincerely wish yourself dead and buried. Is that understood?"

Dudley nodded meekly, at last managing to get to his feet, then, once Miss Ebony's back was turned, glared venomously at Harry. He and Patty Carson traded seats, placing him one row over from Harry and two desks further back.

Miss Ebony, once more her unruffled self, returned to the lecture, leaving Harry to zone out once more in an attempt to figure out how he had managed this latest impossible feat. A few minutes later, the sound of a soft impact shook him from his reverie, and he looked down.

Harry was surprised to see a slip of paper laying suddenly in his open textbook. No one except Miss Ebony had been anywhere nearby since his outburst (as he thought of it) at Dudley ten minutes before, and she had only been by because she habitually paced the aisles as she taught.

He glanced at the paper, then did a double-take and gave it his full attention.

Harry,

Please remain for five minutes

after class.

Miss Ebony

He looked up again, surprise evident on his face. Miss Ebony was facing him now, pausing in her pacing to make a point. She saw Harry looking at her, raised her eyebrows mildly, but continued with her lecture as if she hadn't noticed.

Having caught her attention, Harry thought perhaps it would be wise to tune in for at least the last few minutes of class.

"As an odd bit of trivia to file away to impress someone someday, can anyone tell me what American document took at least some of its inspiration from the Magna Charta?" Miss Ebony asked.

Allison Miller, resident know-it-all, raised her hand. "The Constitution," she sniffed.

Miss Ebony looked disdainfully at her. "Miss Miller, if you have nothing intelligent to say," she growled, "I suggest you do our collective IQ a favor and shut up." As Allison wilted in her desk, the teacher looked around again. "Yes, Ellsworth?"

Ricky Ellsworth swallowed. "The Declaration of Independence?" he guessed tremulously.

Miss Ebony nodded. "Very good, Ellsworth," she replied. "You all now know more about that document than the average American public school graduate. Congratulations."

Then again, maybe it's safer to tune out, Harry thought. Miss Ebony wasn't in a particularly foul mood, but there was no sense in getting a head start on the tongue lashing he was doubtless about to receive in—he checked the clock—five minutes. Somehow she knew what neither he nor Dudley did, and she knew that he had somehow caused it. He had no reason to expect a pleasant little chat.

It was a seeming eternity until the bell rang. Harry took his time gathering his books, allowing the other students to leave ahead of him. Dudley took advantage of Harry's distracted slowness to shove him nearly out of his seat on his way out, an action which Harry made no move to avenge; he was preoccupied with what, exactly Miss Ebony was going to say to him.

When all of his classmates had left, Harry stood reluctantly and walked to the front of the room. Miss Ebony regarded him coolly, but not without kindness. She leaned back against her desk until he arrived at the front row of desks.

"M-Miss Ebony," he stammered. "I—"

"Harry Potter," she interrupted smoothly. "There's no need for explanation. I assure you, I probably understand better than you what just happened. You're not here for a reprimand."

"Oh." He could think of no fitting reply.

She smiled gravely. "I don't blame you for disliking Dudley," she said. "In my personal opinion, he's a pig and a dull-witted thug. I know he mistreats you continually; I would doubtless be angry, as well." The smile faded, and she appeared even more serious. "But please, Harry, don't give in to the temptation to lower yourself to his subterranean level."

Miss Ebony paused a moment for emphasis, then continued. "We carry always with us a likeness of our parents. Having never met yours, I can still see in you that they were people of courage and character. I wish to encourage you, Harry: live up to their examples." She paused again, and Harry felt her eyes searching his. It seemed to him that she recognized something about him that had nothing to do with his parents.

"There are two natures present in you," she murmured at last. "The lion and the snake. I believe the lion will dominate; I hope so. It did with me." Her eyes had fallen out of focus, and Harry wondered nervously if she was all there; she seemed to have faded out of the real world almost entirely. Suddenly, though, her eyes refocused and zoomed in to lock onto his. "Do my words puzzle you, Harry?"

He swallowed, but nodded.

Miss Ebony smiled again. "The day is coming when they will make perfect sense," she assured him. "And before then, I daresay you'll have met a great many people stranger than me." She glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at him. "I've overstayed my five minutes. Have a good afternoon, Harry." Her eyes shone oddly. "And for everyone's sake, not the least your own, keep a rein on your temper."