He was, again, very frustrated. He understood now why Dumbledore insisted he spend at least part of his holidays here with the Dursleys. It did not make the actual experience any pleasanter. Of course, life had improved immensely thanks to the scare tactics employed by certain members of the Order of the Phoenix when seeing him off at King's Cross. Between Mad Eye's rolling eye and Tonks' electric hair, the Dursleys were – Harry grinned – persuaded – that mistreating him too badly would be a mistake.
This was the first time in years, however, that Harry had been obliged to spend Christmas here in Privet Drive. He suspected it was because all key members of Hogwarts staff were heavily involved in Order of the Phoenix business. The school was closed. No student had been allowed to remain for the holidays. Those who usually did so had been sent to stay with friends or relatives. Dumbledore had insisted Harry come here to the Dursleys for at least a week.
Christmas with the Dursleys! What a dreadful idea… Harry's thoughts involuntarily flew to the memory of the previous Christmas, with Sirius, at 12 Grimmauld Place. The familiar pain flooded him. He tried to push it aside and cheer himself up by reflecting that he would soon be back at the Burrow, enjoying a Weasley-filled New Year. He imagined wistfully what the Weasley household would be like for Christmas itself. Bill and Charlie were both in England; Percy had patched things up with his family sufficiently that he would be there, although his brothers and Ginny still thought he was a complete prat. Fred, George, Ron, Ginny…Harry sighed regretfully. They would all be wearing clashing hand-knitted jumpers, and the smell of plentiful good food would fill the house. It would be noisy and cosy, and Mrs Weasley would undoubtedly be shouting at the twins about something or other – probably a Weasley Wizarding Wheeze gone horribly wrong.
Being shouted at was something Harry could experience all for himself, right here in Little Whinging. As he lay there, he became aware that Uncle Vernon was bellowing up the stairs at him about something or other. Reluctantly, Harry pulled himself to his feet.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" He was trying his best to be polite.
Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously through his piggy little eyes.
"Boy," he barked. "What are you up to?" Harry did not consider this worthy of a response. It seemed anyway to be an automatic question, for Uncle Vernon continued straight on. "Christmas," he said. "Mrs Figg just offered to have you for the day. Says she wants someone to clean the drains. Says she understands we'll want some family time without a delinquent hanging around the house. Damn good of her."
Harry suppressed a smile. Uncle Vernon had no idea that Mrs Figg was actually part of the wizarding world. Even so, he doubted that spending Christmas day with her and her numerous cats would be a barrel of laughs. But it had to be better than spending it here with the Dursleys. He had already been informed that he would be confined to his room for the day. "Can't have you ruining the big lad's Christmas!" Uncle Vernon had roared. "What's the point in spending a fortune on presents for the tyke if you're going to spoil it all by sitting in the same room as us?"
As Harry had no desire to sit in the same room with the Dursleys, he had not been too disappointed by this. However, spending the day shut into his room in solitary confinement had not been his idea of a great Christmas either. Going over to Mrs Figg's had got to be better than that. Maybe she would have the most recent editions of the Daily Prophet for him to look at….
Harry had not been getting any news at all from his friends. Hedwig was with Hagrid. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been quite horrified enough at seeing Harry again before the next summer. As Uncle Vernon had developed a near-phobia for owls, Harry had reluctantly agreed to leave Hedwig behind. She had been most put out. She had pecked his ear so hard it nearly bled, and gazed at him reproachfully with enormous yellow eyes.
Uncle's Vernon's little eyes were now on him.
"OK," said Harry. "Mrs Figg's for Christmas. Fine. Can I go now?"
Uncle Vernon thought hard. His face went even redder with the effort. "No," he said eventually. "You can go and wash my car. Do you good, you worthless layabout."
Harry sighed. He had promised Dumbledore he would make a sincere effort not to blow anyone up this time. He supposed cleaning Uncle Vernon's car wouldn't kill him. Even if it was dark and raining.
He had second thoughts about that an hour later as he laboured under the harsh light of the security lamp. It was very cold. His hands, wet with suds, were frozen almost solid. The air was filled with a dank, dirty drizzle which made the whole task seem pointless in the extreme. Grimly, Harry persevered, chilled to the bone and shivering. But he couldn't complain to his Auror friends because he had been told to wash a car…. Not that he could even contact them thanks to Uncle Vernon's loathing of Hedwig, he thought bitterly.
To add to the pleasure of the occasion, Dudley was lounging very visibly in the lighted window, making rude gestures at Harry. He had opened the curtains and pulled aside the nets specially. Harry finally got thoroughly sick of this. He made as if to pull his wand out of his jeans pockets… it was always fun watching Dudley's reaction to this…
"MUUUMMMMMMMMM!" Dudley howled. Harry could hear him even outside. "HE'S POINTING HIS – HIS YOU-KNOW AT ME!"
"I'm not," Harry said to Aunt Petunia as her long, thin nose appeared around the corner of the front door. "Look. You can see I'm not."
The nose sniffed. Without a word, Aunt Petunia whisked back into the house.
Next minute, more screams assaulted Harry's ears. Startled, he dropped the chamois leather, grabbed for his wand, and ran inside.
Had Voldemort found a way around the protections? Had he sent ….something ….to 4, Privet Drive?
He belted into the living room, his wand held high, then skidded to a halt, and burst out laughing.
Dudley and Aunt Petunia were clutching each other, Aunt Petunia's angular frame squashed in her son's whale-like embrace. Staring at them in bemusement was Mad-Eye Moody. His magical eye rolled in its socket and he acknowledged Harry's presence with a grunt. Even as Harry watched, three more cracks announced the Apparation of Lupin, Tonks and Bill Weasley.
"Hello, Harry!" Bill greeted him.
"Wotcher, Harry!"
"Harry…good to see you."
Harry shook Lupin's hand. He couldn't stop smiling. He had no idea why the four wizards had so suddenly turned up in his aunt's sitting room Maybe, maybe, they had come to fetch him…!
"Hi!" he said, grinning. "What's going on?"
"Come to collect you," Mad-Eye growled. "Dumbledore insisted."
Aunt Petunia and Dudley were still clutching each other, horror-stricken, in the corner. Dudley was doing his best to shrink into the wallpaper, which given his huge size was never going to be a success.
"The Burrow?" Harry said hopefully. His heart plummeted suddenly at the thought that they might be taking him to 12 Grimmauld Place… he didn't think he could bear that…not just yet, not without Sirius…
Mad-Eye, however, was nodding.
"That's right," he growled. "Tonks – help him get his things. Quickly now. No time to waste."
Harry was too bewildered to do more than follow after Tonks, who was making for the stairs. He was just about to demand to know what was going on when Uncle Vernon burst through the front door. He had been in the garage, wrapping up the latest instalment of Dudley's presents. The garage was the only space large enough to store them all under lock and key.
"What – heard – WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" he bawled when he saw Tonks in the hall. She glanced at him with mild curiosity, but did not pause.
"We're just collecting Harry," she said cheerfully over her shoulder. "Won't be long. Come on, Harry. We need to hurry."
Uncle Vernon tottered through into the living room, where Lupin, Bill and Mad-Eye still stood impatiently waiting, and Petunia and Dudley still huddled against the wall. Tonks cocked her head to listen to his angry roars for a moment.
"Bad temper, your uncle," she remarked. "He ought to watch it with that red face of his. He obviously has high blood pressure."
Harry winced as Tonks, in her haste, fell over the hall table, overbalancing a hideous china vase with pink roses on it.
"Oops," she said brightly when it shattered. "Do you really think they want this thing?"
It was a mystery to Harry why anybody would want it in their house, but he nodded.
"Reparo!" muttered Tonks. "There. Good as new."
In no time at all Tonks had set his things bobbing along towards his trunk. She still hadn't mastered the art of folding clothes, Harry noted, grabbing his dress robes and trying to put them away more neatly.
"There. All done. Locomotor trunk! Quickly, Harry, back downstairs!"
Harry shut his mouth again on the questions hovering on his tongue, and they rejoined the others in the living room. Uncle Vernon's eyes bulged even more when he saw Tonks levitating the trunk in front of her with her wand.
"Out – house - " he managed to say in a strangled voice.
"Yeah. With pleasure. Bye then!" Harry smirked at the cowering Dudley as Lupin took his arm and dragged him to the door.
"Harry will see you in the summer," Lupin informed Aunt Petunia as they left. Her bony face fell, if possible, even further at the thought.
None of the Dursleys bothered to say goodbye to Harry as he was swept rapidly out of the house, but he was used to this. Tonks had set the trunk down, and Bill and Mad-Eye were hefting it along between them as fast as they could manage. Its progress was still uneven, largely because Mad-Eye kept going for his wand every time he heard any hint of a noise. He could be heard cursing non-magical modes of transportation under his breath.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked, trotting beside them. "I mean, how are we going?"
"Floo," Mad-Eye grunted. "From Mrs Figg's."
"I thought that was dangerous." The previous summer, they had flown to London on their brooms in case the Floo Network was being watched.
"Don't worry, Harry, we've got it all under control," Lupin assured him, striding along at Harry's side. Harry noticed that he too kept his hand close to where his wand was concealed. "Podmore's going to shut the whole Network down for a couple of minutes, all except for Mrs Figg's and the Burrow. He'll give out that it was just a temporary glitch in service. Nobody else will be able to access it."
"Oh...Professor Lupin, why am I going now? I mean I'm glad and everything, but Dumbledore said I would have to stay here until the New Year…I thought this was supposed to be the safest place…"
"Something's come up. Change of plans," Lupin said briefly, knocking at Mrs Figg's door.
She let them in so quickly she must have been waiting in the hall. She smiled distractedly at Harry, hair falling in wisps out of her hairnet. She ushered them into her lounge, carpet slippers flopping. A number of cats watched them, ears flattening at being disturbed. Harry wrinkled his nose at the remembered smell. He opened his mouth to ask what was happening.
"Just in time," Mrs Figg said breathlessly. "It's nearly six – oh! And there's the signal!"
A flare of purple had blazed in the hearth.
"Quickly now, quickly now, goodbye Harry, take care….oh dear…"
Harry, his head still spinning rather, found himself thrust head-first into the fire as a handful of Floo powder was thrown at it. He sputtered, taken by surprise.
"The Burrow!" he gasped frantically.
There was the familiar whoosh, the lick of emerald flames, and a stomach-churning spinning that lasted far too long for Harry's comfort. Fireplaces whirled past.
Then Harry found himself catapulted forward out of the fire. He sprawled inelegantly onto the Weasleys' kitchen floor.
Just what, he thought in bewilderment, was going on?
