HARRY POTTER AND THE RISING OF THE DARK
by Meta4
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:: Operation Ding Dong Ditch
The following morning, the Circle sat in the Greythorn Manor library with Merriman and Lady Greythorn. The guests had been offered a bed for the night (willing a hundred or so into existence was quite a sight, but one that none of them were allowed to witness) and about half of them accepted, the others being escorted home by Ron, Hermione, Harry and myself.
Will had fallen asleep on Draco's shoulder soon after the singing stopped and had remained asleep until a half-hour or so ago.
"So I'll just call you 'Storm' from now on, shall I?" I grinned as Will tentatively sipped at a cup of sweet tea.
Merriman smiled at the scene, then excused himself and slipped out and down into the main hall.
"I s'pose so," Will smiled back. "That felt so strange - the more the Dark tried to attack, the angrier I felt. When they stopped, I could literally feel the retaliation growing in me - it was really weird... I just knew that I couldn't have stopped it even if I'd wanted it to."
"Why did you cry out?" asked Draco, still not totally convinced that Will was fine.
"Anger, I think - both my own and the Earth's. It's as if it considered the Dark's troops like a naughty boy that needed a spanking - not really angry, I suppose - more annoyed and disappointed in them."
"Shame on you, rider with the silly helmet and pointy antlers - come here and be spanked!"
"A present for you, Hermione," said Merriman, re-entering the library and carrying the charred remains of one of the Yule logs from the fires down stairs.
"Uh, th.. thanks," she stammered, hurredly putting down er own cup of tea as Merriman conjoured a sheet to cover her lap before handing her the log.
"Break it open," replied Merriman, resuming his position by the fireplace.
By now this had piqued my interest and so, like Harry and the others, I was leaning forward to get a better view of the charred mess on Hermione's lap.
Not really knowing where to start, Hermione took either end of what was once a rather substantial Yule log and twisted, causing it to break in a cloud of carbon dust. Amongst the random shaped shards there was a much larger, circular piece. Hermione took this and found that the outer roughness soon gave way to a much smoother, more precise shape.
As she continued to work on it, the appearance of delicately cut, polished wood appeared. It was a ring of wood, approximately three inches in diameter and around a half-inch thick, with its centre quartered by a cross. As Hermione pushed the last remaining charred chunks away from the pristene surface, she gasped as she felt the Sign grow warm in her hand.
"Wood from the burning," said Merriman. "A very rare sign to find: beauty created from destruction. Now I hate to dampen down the Mirth," he continued, "but that was just the very tip of the iceberg. It was but an exploratory test - which we passed with flying colours, I hasten to add - by the Dark to see how prepared we were. Hopefully it will have shaken their confidence more than a little.
"We know that they thought the Circle would not be in place by now, or at worst would be extremely weak. What they were not expecting was for a single member of the circle to be able to drive back nigh on forty of those in their service.
"While they are regrouping - indeed quite probably reformulating their strategy in light of recent events - we must strike back at them."
"Please don't think I'm being impertinent here, but how do you strike back at something that is intangible at best?" asked Draco.
"In order to interact with the corporeal world, the Dark itself must take on corporeal form. Likewise, if we are to engage them in their non-corporeal form, we too must become non-corporeal."
"You mean loose our bodies?" asked Hermione.
"Essentially, yes."
She swallowed.
"It is a daunting prospect, I will grant you that, however it will come with practise. For the moment, though, I think Liam's plan will allow us to rescue those that the Dark is presently holding against their will."
"Dumbledore and Colin?"
"Absolutely. After this demonstration of our power, they will become a liability to the Dark and so we must move quickly."
"Hold on a tic - my plan?" I asked.
"I believe, Liam, you mentioned that you were rather adept at Ding Dong Ditch?"
And so Harry, myself, Ron and Monty found ourselves in London, picking our way through one of the seedier areas of the west end.
"Have you spotted anything yet?" asked Ron.
"Nothing other than the scenes of a half-dozen rapes and an attempted murder," I frowned. "Christ this place is shit..."
"I sort of expected the place to be in a slightly better area," grimaced Ron.
"Makes sense, I suppose," mulled Harry. "I mean where better to hide something nasty than in nasty surroundings?"
"Or perhaps it was the something nasty that turned the area into this shit-heap - one bad apple spoiling the barrel and stuff..."
"True,"
The little terraced houses looked as if they'd been on the Arizona salt flats during the testing of the H-bomb. Windows were broken and cracked bricks were covered in a blanket of soot.
Suddenly I stopped and held my arms out to prevent the others from walking on.
"Can you feel that?"
"Feel what?" asked Ron.
"This," I said, walking out into the road. I must've looked like a right prat stalking out into the middle of a road, waving my hands around with my palms face-down. But I could feel something there. Figuring that there must be a better way of finding the source of whatever I could feel, I stopped and concentrated on the road's snow-covered surface.
Trying to tune my eyes to see whatever I could feel simply wasn't working until I decided to try looking 'either side' of the normal glows I could perceive. I gasped and jumped a foot backwards as a six-foot-wide band of intense green suddenly became visible to me. It appeared to be translucent, emanating from beneath the snow and extending to a height of about ten feet.
It meandered slightly, drifting left and right, but appeared to stay within the constraints of the road or pavement.
"What is it? What can you see?"
"It looks like a path," I replied, taking a cautious step back towards the light. I gently extended my hand towards it.
"Careful, Liam," cautioned Harry.
"It doesn't feel bad. It feels... I dunno... This is going to sound so weird - it feels safe."
"Safe?"
"Like it would protect you if it could. It kinda feels a bit like Merriman."
The other two approached, followed by Monty. Whereas they stopped slightly behind me, Monty pottered onward and walked straight into the green ribbon thing before I could stop him. As he entered, the green rippled slightly and he vanished, but only momentarily as, seconds later, he reappeared on the other side wagging his tail.
"Well, I s'pose that proves its safe," surmised Ron. "Who goes second?"
Harry stepped forward and walked into the ribbon, accompanied by a larger ripple this time, and vanished as well. Monty, visible on the other side, wagged his tail harder and dashed back, presumably to meet Harry.
Ron and I then looked at each other and stepped in after him.
There was a slight tingling sensation as we walked through the wall of green light. I stumbled as I did so as the ground was a good eight inches lower in here than the surrounding tarmac-and-snow combination. Instead of cobbles or paving, there was short cropped green grass. Also, the temperature was appreciably higher. Harry was stood with Monty in his arms, breathing the fresh air that made a wonderful change to the stagnant, carbon-filled atmosphere outside.
"Where are we?" asked Ron.
"I have absolutely no idea. It looks like we're exactly where we were, but in a different time or something..."
"Well, I don't know about you, but I feel a lot better walking along here knowing that we can't be seen," replied Harry.
"This is true."
Looking back out of the path on which we were stood, the green glow appeared to be altogether less visible, but present nonetheless. The sense of security that the path provided lifted all our spirits, giving us confidence in the task we'd been set.
We walked along far more quickly now, the soft grass providing a much better purchase than the rather treacherous snow-clad street. The odd person braving the weather quite clearly couldn't see us, allowing us to pass by without even a glance. One even crossed the street, appearing to us as they crossed our path as a rather blurred, semi-transparent spectre before emerging, oblivious, on the other side.
"Is this what you can see normally, Liam?" asked Ron.
Looking out through the light green wall of the corridor, anyone we saw was surrounded by their aura. I'd kept my glowievision thing turned on, looking for anything out of the ordinary. As he suggested, I looked through 'normally' and yet the auras were still their, albeit far less pronounced.
"Yeah - that's it pretty much."
"How do you read this? I mean work out what people are thinking or what they've done?"
"I don't know, to be honest. I think it must just be an inherent ability or something."
Soon we found the terraced housing opened out into a small industrial area with a litter-ridden green in the centre. Placed between two rather dishevelled factory frontages was a fairly large building that, in its day (which had well and truly passed) would have been suitably impressive.
As it stood, though, with scaffolding obscuring the majority of its face and large "CAUTION: Danger of falling masonry" signs all over the place, it looked dishevelled and miserable, exuding the feeling of decay and abandonment.
What really caught my attention, however, was the building's aura. A deep muddy red glow surrounded it, traces of which appeared to extend towards a particularly turbulent section of sky.
"I take it this would be a potential for Dark HQ," said Ron, eyebrows raised in apprehension.
"So what's the plan?" asked Harry.
"Well, Ding Dong Ditch, I suppose."
"You're just going to go and knock on the door?"
"Don't see why not."
"Wouldn't it be better to go under some pretence or something?"
"Like what? I'm a bit young to be a postman..."
"Pizza delivery?" suggested Harry.
I thought for a moment and then grinned. "C'mon..."
We walked on a little more until the house was just out of sight before stepping out of the corridor and back into real-time. The reassuring feeling provided by the corridor was immediately replaced by an equally strong sense of foreboding, causing me to stagger through shock momentarily. I took a deep breath and forced myself to overcome it, imagining I was projecting a bubble of anti-dark around myself. The pressure could still be felt, but at least it wasn't invading my personal space.
"So, Pizza deliver boy, then?"
Harry grinned and nodded.
I willed one of those detestable 50cc scooters into existence (you know, the ones that sound like a wasp when you've tried to swat it and missed) and pulled on the crash-helmet.
"Right, plan: I'll go up to the front door and try and deliver this pizza. I'll see if I can kick up enough of a fuss to distract whoever answers and then you two might be able to sneak in."
"What if they let you straight in?"
"Umm - dunno, guess I'll wing it," I grinned. 'Can you hear this?'
The shocked look on Ron and Harry's faces told me they'd heard my voice in their heads.
"How did you do that?" asked Ron, looking totally flabbergasted.
"Like when I showed Draco those images of his dad," I replied. "You try..."
Harry closed his eyes and concentrated.
'...OU HEAR ME?'
"Shit! Not so loud!"
"Oh, sorry,"
"Cool - dunno what range this'll have but it's worth a shot. Wish me luck,"
I kick started the pissed-off wasp and gunned it, slithering off in the general direction of the house.
"I really hope he knows what he's doing," said Ron as he watched me nearly come a cropper twice on the snow.
"Mmm," agreed Harry, looking extremely worried.
I polled up in front of the house and abandoned the scooter rather haphazardly. I pulled the extra-extra-spicy-with-extra-chillis-and-chili-sauce-and-anchovies pizza out of the bag on the scooter and loped up the steps to the front door. Seeing no doorbell, I decided to really get into the spirit of the bored-numb pizza delivery gimp and booted the door as hard as I could a couple of times. I was rather pleased I was still wearing my crash helmet as a chunk of mortar fell from somewhere above me and bounced off the fibreglass shell.
There wasn't a lot of movement from inside, so I booted the door again, this time sending the lower panel flying into the house as my boot dislodged it.
A moment later, there was the sound of a large bold being drawn back from its hasp and the door was opened.
"What?" snapped a rather small, dishevelled man with mousy, stringy hair. I noticed that his little finger was missing from the first joint onwards.
In the best east-London accent I could muster, I began the charade.
"Pizza delivery for..." I consulted the label on the side of the box. "For Lord Vo.. uh... Vol-mee-dork, innit?"
The man looked at me before trying to slam the door. I shoved a boot in the way, causing it to bounce back and glance him across the face. He staggered backwards slightly, allowing me to move forward to the threshold.
"You lot in't fuckin' me arahnd like them last tossers wot I had to deal wiv," I continued. "Somebody owes me fifteen quid for this an' I ain't leavin' 'til I got it!"
The little bloke grabbed the scruff of my jacket and, with surprising force, threw me back out of the door and slammed it. I landed on my back at the bottom of the steps, narrowly missing the scooter. For once, though, the snow did me a favour and cushioned my fall - I didn't want to give the game away by performing any act that might be considered magical.
As quickly as I could, I picked myself up and charged back up the steps, planting my shoulder square at the seam of the doors. Thankfully, they buckled and I stormed into the building, sending the little guy flying.
"Wormtail!" Hissed a voice from up the stairs that made me shiver involuntarily.
"I apologise, my Lord," grovelled the man as he wrangled me into a headlock. "There is a muggle here..."
"I do not have time for these petty disturbances. Throw him in with the others: I have a far more important task for you."
"Yes, my Lord,"
With a wrench on my neck that caused me to gasp as the helmet strap dug in, this Wormtail bloke dragged me across the entrance hall to a heavy-looking wooden door on the adjacent wall. He mumbled something incoherently before opening it and, taking me by surprise again with his strength, threw me inside. I landed with a clatter against a table, sending its contents a sunder.
"FUCKER!" I yelled. "You want to be really scared now coz you're gonna be had up for GBH an' kidnappin' an'..."
"If you want to live to take another breath you won't make another sound," Wormtail growled before slamming the door.
I sat on the threadbare carpet in the semi-darkness for a moment, allowing my eyes to become more accustomed to it. The only light in the room was from a small open fire that was doing its best to try and combust a couple of water-soaked logs, hissing and crackling loudly as it did so.
Panting after my tussle with Wormtail, I undid the clasp on my helmet and pulled it off, then raked my hair out of my eyes.
"Mr. Blackdon," said a familiar voice. "It is most agreeable to see you again."
"Professor Dumbledore!" I whispered back, now just able to make out his familiar profile in the chair by the fire.
"Are you all right, young man? It would appear Mr. Pettigrew was more than a little heavy handed."
"I'm fine, sir, fine. More to the point, how are you?" I asked as I moved closer.
"While it is true to say I have seen far better days, I am fine considering the circumstances."
"And Colin? Is he here?"
"Yes," squeaked an extremely excited whisper from the opposite side of the hearth.
"I am assuming you are here of your own choice?" asked Dumbledore.
"Yessir - I'm hoping this is going to turn into a bit of a jailbreak."
"Are you alone?"
"No - Harry and Ron are outside, waiting for us. I thought that seeing as Voldemort knows both of them, it'd be better if I came."
"Indeed, although I think you may have your work cut out for you."
"Yeah, I can feel it," I replied. And I could - the whole room felt as if it was encased in something approximating a chainmail balloon: I got the impression that the harder you pressed on it, the harder it would press back. How to break it? Press harder than it can withstand.
"Right, I'm going to try something here... You'd better come and stand by me: As the Bishop said to the actress - 'I don't know how big this'll get...'."
Colin stood up and helped Dumbledore out of the chair. His face looked tired and gaunt as he got to his feet and, most damning of all, the omnipresent half-smile was missing.
With Dumbledore and Colin flanking me, I closed my eyes, taking stock of the power that was generating the wards and enchantments keeping us prisoner. The power was confident. It was confident in that it could hold Dumbledore and a Hogwarts student. It knew it could do that.
I, however, knew that it couldn't hold on to me. It wasn't expecting that, not in its wildest dreams. I smiled. I knew I could win.
I constructed my Dark-B-Gone bubble again, this time extending it until its extremities were millimetres from the edges of the room. I held my breath and tensed myself up, feeling the power build within me. It soon reached the level needed to break the curses, but I let it build still further. Twice, four, eight times the power accumulated within me, and I'd have to say that the feeling of certainty that this would work was rather nice!
I took a breath, realising that the power was mine to command. It didn't need taming or channelling - it was already mine, on tap to do my bidding. And so I bade it break the bonds of our incarceration. With an unbelievable bang, the room exploded away from us. The front wall was blown clean off the building, the scaffold webbing being thrown through the air as if they were drinking straws. The ceiling above us was blown straight up, crashing into the ceiling above it, through the roof and into the sky. The back wall disintegrated to gravel, peppering the opposing doors across the entrance hall and removing a large portion of the staircase.
I took a moment to look around as the dust settled: The whole east quarter of the building had been destroyed, leaving a huge gaping hole where once a wall and a chimney breast had been. Also, the aura of that corner of the building had changed from its blood-red to a much more greenish hue, the ill-will having been well and truly dispelled.
A blood-curdling cry went up from somewhere on the upper floor.
'Harry, Ron - we need your help,' I called mentally. Immediately, they ran out from behind the building that was providing them with cover and helped Dumbledore and Colin out and over the rubble. As the five of us ran from the wrecked building, another screech went up. Still running, I turned to see a black, cloaked figure standing on the edge of the dismembered first floor.
Without thinking about it further, I willed the roof to collapse, burying him in a pile of rubble, the house now so weakened structurally it began to fall in on itself. Within a few seconds, it was nothing more than a large mound of rubble.
We continued to run, stopping only when we ran through into the corridor and vanished into non-time.
Dumbledore seemed quite fascinated at the concept of a flying BMW and thoroughly enjoyed the trip back from London to Greythorn Manor. He was astonished to see the extent and severity of the snow, however I was just as astonished to see that it had actually stopped snowing. The clouds were there, but the snow itself had finally come to a halt.
We flew over the city and into the countryside towards Surrey and Greythorn Manor. From the look of things, people were doing their best to pool resources and deal with the hardships of having the majority of their essential services cut off.
A casualty of the snow that I had up until now simply not considered was the livestock. In places, we could see small huddles of sheep and cows doing their best to keep warm and find food, their farmers unable to reach them.
Colin appeared to be unaffected by the whole experience, recounting the most irrelevant anecdotes at high speed to his captive audience, who were all doing their level best to block him out.
Mercifully soon, we spotted the Manor and descended towards it, spiralling until we touched down in front of the grand property. It appeared that quite a few of the surrounding villagers had decided to repay Lady Greythorn's hospitality by clearing the driveways of the majority of the snow and hence we were able to actually drive up to the front door.
Hermione, Draco and Will came dashing out to meet us, immediately interrogating us as to how we got on. There were broad smiles from both Hermione and Draco as Dumbledore climbed out of the car, shortly followed by introductions to Will.
At that moment, Bob came prancing (the guy couldn't simply walk anywhere) out of the Manor, greeting Dumbledore with an extremely low bow and mischevous grin.
"My my, Bob, you do seem to be extremely well travelled," chuckled Dumbledore.
"I do get around," he grinned. "It's good to see you safe, Albus. If I might have a moment of your time?"
"Of course, of course."
Bob threw his arm around Dumbledore's shoulder and ushered him into the Manor, whispering animatedly to him, his free arm gesturing energetically.
"Hi Will, I'm Colin Creevy," gushed Colin, eager to meet anyone who might stand still long enough to be talked at.
"Hi Colin," replied Will as his hand was well and truely shaken.
Colin's omnipresent camera (that had somehow managed to survive his ordeal) was produced and we were ordered to stand infront of the manor as Colin took a group photo.
"You OK?" whispered Harry into my ear after Colin's flash had near-blinded us all for a moment.
I squeezed his hand and smiled back at him. "I'm fine. You?"
"Yeah. Ron?"
"Mmhph?" he replied as he broke his kiss off with Hermione.
"I think that's a yes," I grinned. "Fancy a cuppa?"
by Meta4
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:: Operation Ding Dong Ditch
The following morning, the Circle sat in the Greythorn Manor library with Merriman and Lady Greythorn. The guests had been offered a bed for the night (willing a hundred or so into existence was quite a sight, but one that none of them were allowed to witness) and about half of them accepted, the others being escorted home by Ron, Hermione, Harry and myself.
Will had fallen asleep on Draco's shoulder soon after the singing stopped and had remained asleep until a half-hour or so ago.
"So I'll just call you 'Storm' from now on, shall I?" I grinned as Will tentatively sipped at a cup of sweet tea.
Merriman smiled at the scene, then excused himself and slipped out and down into the main hall.
"I s'pose so," Will smiled back. "That felt so strange - the more the Dark tried to attack, the angrier I felt. When they stopped, I could literally feel the retaliation growing in me - it was really weird... I just knew that I couldn't have stopped it even if I'd wanted it to."
"Why did you cry out?" asked Draco, still not totally convinced that Will was fine.
"Anger, I think - both my own and the Earth's. It's as if it considered the Dark's troops like a naughty boy that needed a spanking - not really angry, I suppose - more annoyed and disappointed in them."
"Shame on you, rider with the silly helmet and pointy antlers - come here and be spanked!"
"A present for you, Hermione," said Merriman, re-entering the library and carrying the charred remains of one of the Yule logs from the fires down stairs.
"Uh, th.. thanks," she stammered, hurredly putting down er own cup of tea as Merriman conjoured a sheet to cover her lap before handing her the log.
"Break it open," replied Merriman, resuming his position by the fireplace.
By now this had piqued my interest and so, like Harry and the others, I was leaning forward to get a better view of the charred mess on Hermione's lap.
Not really knowing where to start, Hermione took either end of what was once a rather substantial Yule log and twisted, causing it to break in a cloud of carbon dust. Amongst the random shaped shards there was a much larger, circular piece. Hermione took this and found that the outer roughness soon gave way to a much smoother, more precise shape.
As she continued to work on it, the appearance of delicately cut, polished wood appeared. It was a ring of wood, approximately three inches in diameter and around a half-inch thick, with its centre quartered by a cross. As Hermione pushed the last remaining charred chunks away from the pristene surface, she gasped as she felt the Sign grow warm in her hand.
"Wood from the burning," said Merriman. "A very rare sign to find: beauty created from destruction. Now I hate to dampen down the Mirth," he continued, "but that was just the very tip of the iceberg. It was but an exploratory test - which we passed with flying colours, I hasten to add - by the Dark to see how prepared we were. Hopefully it will have shaken their confidence more than a little.
"We know that they thought the Circle would not be in place by now, or at worst would be extremely weak. What they were not expecting was for a single member of the circle to be able to drive back nigh on forty of those in their service.
"While they are regrouping - indeed quite probably reformulating their strategy in light of recent events - we must strike back at them."
"Please don't think I'm being impertinent here, but how do you strike back at something that is intangible at best?" asked Draco.
"In order to interact with the corporeal world, the Dark itself must take on corporeal form. Likewise, if we are to engage them in their non-corporeal form, we too must become non-corporeal."
"You mean loose our bodies?" asked Hermione.
"Essentially, yes."
She swallowed.
"It is a daunting prospect, I will grant you that, however it will come with practise. For the moment, though, I think Liam's plan will allow us to rescue those that the Dark is presently holding against their will."
"Dumbledore and Colin?"
"Absolutely. After this demonstration of our power, they will become a liability to the Dark and so we must move quickly."
"Hold on a tic - my plan?" I asked.
"I believe, Liam, you mentioned that you were rather adept at Ding Dong Ditch?"
And so Harry, myself, Ron and Monty found ourselves in London, picking our way through one of the seedier areas of the west end.
"Have you spotted anything yet?" asked Ron.
"Nothing other than the scenes of a half-dozen rapes and an attempted murder," I frowned. "Christ this place is shit..."
"I sort of expected the place to be in a slightly better area," grimaced Ron.
"Makes sense, I suppose," mulled Harry. "I mean where better to hide something nasty than in nasty surroundings?"
"Or perhaps it was the something nasty that turned the area into this shit-heap - one bad apple spoiling the barrel and stuff..."
"True,"
The little terraced houses looked as if they'd been on the Arizona salt flats during the testing of the H-bomb. Windows were broken and cracked bricks were covered in a blanket of soot.
Suddenly I stopped and held my arms out to prevent the others from walking on.
"Can you feel that?"
"Feel what?" asked Ron.
"This," I said, walking out into the road. I must've looked like a right prat stalking out into the middle of a road, waving my hands around with my palms face-down. But I could feel something there. Figuring that there must be a better way of finding the source of whatever I could feel, I stopped and concentrated on the road's snow-covered surface.
Trying to tune my eyes to see whatever I could feel simply wasn't working until I decided to try looking 'either side' of the normal glows I could perceive. I gasped and jumped a foot backwards as a six-foot-wide band of intense green suddenly became visible to me. It appeared to be translucent, emanating from beneath the snow and extending to a height of about ten feet.
It meandered slightly, drifting left and right, but appeared to stay within the constraints of the road or pavement.
"What is it? What can you see?"
"It looks like a path," I replied, taking a cautious step back towards the light. I gently extended my hand towards it.
"Careful, Liam," cautioned Harry.
"It doesn't feel bad. It feels... I dunno... This is going to sound so weird - it feels safe."
"Safe?"
"Like it would protect you if it could. It kinda feels a bit like Merriman."
The other two approached, followed by Monty. Whereas they stopped slightly behind me, Monty pottered onward and walked straight into the green ribbon thing before I could stop him. As he entered, the green rippled slightly and he vanished, but only momentarily as, seconds later, he reappeared on the other side wagging his tail.
"Well, I s'pose that proves its safe," surmised Ron. "Who goes second?"
Harry stepped forward and walked into the ribbon, accompanied by a larger ripple this time, and vanished as well. Monty, visible on the other side, wagged his tail harder and dashed back, presumably to meet Harry.
Ron and I then looked at each other and stepped in after him.
There was a slight tingling sensation as we walked through the wall of green light. I stumbled as I did so as the ground was a good eight inches lower in here than the surrounding tarmac-and-snow combination. Instead of cobbles or paving, there was short cropped green grass. Also, the temperature was appreciably higher. Harry was stood with Monty in his arms, breathing the fresh air that made a wonderful change to the stagnant, carbon-filled atmosphere outside.
"Where are we?" asked Ron.
"I have absolutely no idea. It looks like we're exactly where we were, but in a different time or something..."
"Well, I don't know about you, but I feel a lot better walking along here knowing that we can't be seen," replied Harry.
"This is true."
Looking back out of the path on which we were stood, the green glow appeared to be altogether less visible, but present nonetheless. The sense of security that the path provided lifted all our spirits, giving us confidence in the task we'd been set.
We walked along far more quickly now, the soft grass providing a much better purchase than the rather treacherous snow-clad street. The odd person braving the weather quite clearly couldn't see us, allowing us to pass by without even a glance. One even crossed the street, appearing to us as they crossed our path as a rather blurred, semi-transparent spectre before emerging, oblivious, on the other side.
"Is this what you can see normally, Liam?" asked Ron.
Looking out through the light green wall of the corridor, anyone we saw was surrounded by their aura. I'd kept my glowievision thing turned on, looking for anything out of the ordinary. As he suggested, I looked through 'normally' and yet the auras were still their, albeit far less pronounced.
"Yeah - that's it pretty much."
"How do you read this? I mean work out what people are thinking or what they've done?"
"I don't know, to be honest. I think it must just be an inherent ability or something."
Soon we found the terraced housing opened out into a small industrial area with a litter-ridden green in the centre. Placed between two rather dishevelled factory frontages was a fairly large building that, in its day (which had well and truly passed) would have been suitably impressive.
As it stood, though, with scaffolding obscuring the majority of its face and large "CAUTION: Danger of falling masonry" signs all over the place, it looked dishevelled and miserable, exuding the feeling of decay and abandonment.
What really caught my attention, however, was the building's aura. A deep muddy red glow surrounded it, traces of which appeared to extend towards a particularly turbulent section of sky.
"I take it this would be a potential for Dark HQ," said Ron, eyebrows raised in apprehension.
"So what's the plan?" asked Harry.
"Well, Ding Dong Ditch, I suppose."
"You're just going to go and knock on the door?"
"Don't see why not."
"Wouldn't it be better to go under some pretence or something?"
"Like what? I'm a bit young to be a postman..."
"Pizza delivery?" suggested Harry.
I thought for a moment and then grinned. "C'mon..."
We walked on a little more until the house was just out of sight before stepping out of the corridor and back into real-time. The reassuring feeling provided by the corridor was immediately replaced by an equally strong sense of foreboding, causing me to stagger through shock momentarily. I took a deep breath and forced myself to overcome it, imagining I was projecting a bubble of anti-dark around myself. The pressure could still be felt, but at least it wasn't invading my personal space.
"So, Pizza deliver boy, then?"
Harry grinned and nodded.
I willed one of those detestable 50cc scooters into existence (you know, the ones that sound like a wasp when you've tried to swat it and missed) and pulled on the crash-helmet.
"Right, plan: I'll go up to the front door and try and deliver this pizza. I'll see if I can kick up enough of a fuss to distract whoever answers and then you two might be able to sneak in."
"What if they let you straight in?"
"Umm - dunno, guess I'll wing it," I grinned. 'Can you hear this?'
The shocked look on Ron and Harry's faces told me they'd heard my voice in their heads.
"How did you do that?" asked Ron, looking totally flabbergasted.
"Like when I showed Draco those images of his dad," I replied. "You try..."
Harry closed his eyes and concentrated.
'...OU HEAR ME?'
"Shit! Not so loud!"
"Oh, sorry,"
"Cool - dunno what range this'll have but it's worth a shot. Wish me luck,"
I kick started the pissed-off wasp and gunned it, slithering off in the general direction of the house.
"I really hope he knows what he's doing," said Ron as he watched me nearly come a cropper twice on the snow.
"Mmm," agreed Harry, looking extremely worried.
I polled up in front of the house and abandoned the scooter rather haphazardly. I pulled the extra-extra-spicy-with-extra-chillis-and-chili-sauce-and-anchovies pizza out of the bag on the scooter and loped up the steps to the front door. Seeing no doorbell, I decided to really get into the spirit of the bored-numb pizza delivery gimp and booted the door as hard as I could a couple of times. I was rather pleased I was still wearing my crash helmet as a chunk of mortar fell from somewhere above me and bounced off the fibreglass shell.
There wasn't a lot of movement from inside, so I booted the door again, this time sending the lower panel flying into the house as my boot dislodged it.
A moment later, there was the sound of a large bold being drawn back from its hasp and the door was opened.
"What?" snapped a rather small, dishevelled man with mousy, stringy hair. I noticed that his little finger was missing from the first joint onwards.
In the best east-London accent I could muster, I began the charade.
"Pizza delivery for..." I consulted the label on the side of the box. "For Lord Vo.. uh... Vol-mee-dork, innit?"
The man looked at me before trying to slam the door. I shoved a boot in the way, causing it to bounce back and glance him across the face. He staggered backwards slightly, allowing me to move forward to the threshold.
"You lot in't fuckin' me arahnd like them last tossers wot I had to deal wiv," I continued. "Somebody owes me fifteen quid for this an' I ain't leavin' 'til I got it!"
The little bloke grabbed the scruff of my jacket and, with surprising force, threw me back out of the door and slammed it. I landed on my back at the bottom of the steps, narrowly missing the scooter. For once, though, the snow did me a favour and cushioned my fall - I didn't want to give the game away by performing any act that might be considered magical.
As quickly as I could, I picked myself up and charged back up the steps, planting my shoulder square at the seam of the doors. Thankfully, they buckled and I stormed into the building, sending the little guy flying.
"Wormtail!" Hissed a voice from up the stairs that made me shiver involuntarily.
"I apologise, my Lord," grovelled the man as he wrangled me into a headlock. "There is a muggle here..."
"I do not have time for these petty disturbances. Throw him in with the others: I have a far more important task for you."
"Yes, my Lord,"
With a wrench on my neck that caused me to gasp as the helmet strap dug in, this Wormtail bloke dragged me across the entrance hall to a heavy-looking wooden door on the adjacent wall. He mumbled something incoherently before opening it and, taking me by surprise again with his strength, threw me inside. I landed with a clatter against a table, sending its contents a sunder.
"FUCKER!" I yelled. "You want to be really scared now coz you're gonna be had up for GBH an' kidnappin' an'..."
"If you want to live to take another breath you won't make another sound," Wormtail growled before slamming the door.
I sat on the threadbare carpet in the semi-darkness for a moment, allowing my eyes to become more accustomed to it. The only light in the room was from a small open fire that was doing its best to try and combust a couple of water-soaked logs, hissing and crackling loudly as it did so.
Panting after my tussle with Wormtail, I undid the clasp on my helmet and pulled it off, then raked my hair out of my eyes.
"Mr. Blackdon," said a familiar voice. "It is most agreeable to see you again."
"Professor Dumbledore!" I whispered back, now just able to make out his familiar profile in the chair by the fire.
"Are you all right, young man? It would appear Mr. Pettigrew was more than a little heavy handed."
"I'm fine, sir, fine. More to the point, how are you?" I asked as I moved closer.
"While it is true to say I have seen far better days, I am fine considering the circumstances."
"And Colin? Is he here?"
"Yes," squeaked an extremely excited whisper from the opposite side of the hearth.
"I am assuming you are here of your own choice?" asked Dumbledore.
"Yessir - I'm hoping this is going to turn into a bit of a jailbreak."
"Are you alone?"
"No - Harry and Ron are outside, waiting for us. I thought that seeing as Voldemort knows both of them, it'd be better if I came."
"Indeed, although I think you may have your work cut out for you."
"Yeah, I can feel it," I replied. And I could - the whole room felt as if it was encased in something approximating a chainmail balloon: I got the impression that the harder you pressed on it, the harder it would press back. How to break it? Press harder than it can withstand.
"Right, I'm going to try something here... You'd better come and stand by me: As the Bishop said to the actress - 'I don't know how big this'll get...'."
Colin stood up and helped Dumbledore out of the chair. His face looked tired and gaunt as he got to his feet and, most damning of all, the omnipresent half-smile was missing.
With Dumbledore and Colin flanking me, I closed my eyes, taking stock of the power that was generating the wards and enchantments keeping us prisoner. The power was confident. It was confident in that it could hold Dumbledore and a Hogwarts student. It knew it could do that.
I, however, knew that it couldn't hold on to me. It wasn't expecting that, not in its wildest dreams. I smiled. I knew I could win.
I constructed my Dark-B-Gone bubble again, this time extending it until its extremities were millimetres from the edges of the room. I held my breath and tensed myself up, feeling the power build within me. It soon reached the level needed to break the curses, but I let it build still further. Twice, four, eight times the power accumulated within me, and I'd have to say that the feeling of certainty that this would work was rather nice!
I took a breath, realising that the power was mine to command. It didn't need taming or channelling - it was already mine, on tap to do my bidding. And so I bade it break the bonds of our incarceration. With an unbelievable bang, the room exploded away from us. The front wall was blown clean off the building, the scaffold webbing being thrown through the air as if they were drinking straws. The ceiling above us was blown straight up, crashing into the ceiling above it, through the roof and into the sky. The back wall disintegrated to gravel, peppering the opposing doors across the entrance hall and removing a large portion of the staircase.
I took a moment to look around as the dust settled: The whole east quarter of the building had been destroyed, leaving a huge gaping hole where once a wall and a chimney breast had been. Also, the aura of that corner of the building had changed from its blood-red to a much more greenish hue, the ill-will having been well and truly dispelled.
A blood-curdling cry went up from somewhere on the upper floor.
'Harry, Ron - we need your help,' I called mentally. Immediately, they ran out from behind the building that was providing them with cover and helped Dumbledore and Colin out and over the rubble. As the five of us ran from the wrecked building, another screech went up. Still running, I turned to see a black, cloaked figure standing on the edge of the dismembered first floor.
Without thinking about it further, I willed the roof to collapse, burying him in a pile of rubble, the house now so weakened structurally it began to fall in on itself. Within a few seconds, it was nothing more than a large mound of rubble.
We continued to run, stopping only when we ran through into the corridor and vanished into non-time.
Dumbledore seemed quite fascinated at the concept of a flying BMW and thoroughly enjoyed the trip back from London to Greythorn Manor. He was astonished to see the extent and severity of the snow, however I was just as astonished to see that it had actually stopped snowing. The clouds were there, but the snow itself had finally come to a halt.
We flew over the city and into the countryside towards Surrey and Greythorn Manor. From the look of things, people were doing their best to pool resources and deal with the hardships of having the majority of their essential services cut off.
A casualty of the snow that I had up until now simply not considered was the livestock. In places, we could see small huddles of sheep and cows doing their best to keep warm and find food, their farmers unable to reach them.
Colin appeared to be unaffected by the whole experience, recounting the most irrelevant anecdotes at high speed to his captive audience, who were all doing their level best to block him out.
Mercifully soon, we spotted the Manor and descended towards it, spiralling until we touched down in front of the grand property. It appeared that quite a few of the surrounding villagers had decided to repay Lady Greythorn's hospitality by clearing the driveways of the majority of the snow and hence we were able to actually drive up to the front door.
Hermione, Draco and Will came dashing out to meet us, immediately interrogating us as to how we got on. There were broad smiles from both Hermione and Draco as Dumbledore climbed out of the car, shortly followed by introductions to Will.
At that moment, Bob came prancing (the guy couldn't simply walk anywhere) out of the Manor, greeting Dumbledore with an extremely low bow and mischevous grin.
"My my, Bob, you do seem to be extremely well travelled," chuckled Dumbledore.
"I do get around," he grinned. "It's good to see you safe, Albus. If I might have a moment of your time?"
"Of course, of course."
Bob threw his arm around Dumbledore's shoulder and ushered him into the Manor, whispering animatedly to him, his free arm gesturing energetically.
"Hi Will, I'm Colin Creevy," gushed Colin, eager to meet anyone who might stand still long enough to be talked at.
"Hi Colin," replied Will as his hand was well and truely shaken.
Colin's omnipresent camera (that had somehow managed to survive his ordeal) was produced and we were ordered to stand infront of the manor as Colin took a group photo.
"You OK?" whispered Harry into my ear after Colin's flash had near-blinded us all for a moment.
I squeezed his hand and smiled back at him. "I'm fine. You?"
"Yeah. Ron?"
"Mmhph?" he replied as he broke his kiss off with Hermione.
"I think that's a yes," I grinned. "Fancy a cuppa?"