A.n Sorry for the long delay. I hope you enjoy this chapter, which is basically a reaction chapter.
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Chapter 8
Even as Harry Potter landed silently on the lawn of Hermione Granger's house and began his self-appointed mission to rescue her and her parents from the dark fate that he had foreseen, other dark forces were at work to apprehend the Boy Who Lived. Never before had such an opportunity arisen in the past fourteen years, for never before had the Dursleys left the boy at home by himself for more than two hours. Now, however, the boy had resided at Privet Drive alone for over thirty hours. And this thirty hour time limit was the point that had needed to be breached in order for the wards that protected number four, Privet Drive to begin crumbling. It was a slow, gradual process, and not even Albus Dumbledore had more than a vague notion of exactly how long it would take for them to vanish completely. All that the great headmaster knew was that if Harry Potter resided alone at Privet Drive for more than this allotted time period, the protections that had been invoked would cease to aid him.
Fortunate it was, therefore, that the Force had directed the young man off on his own.
At first, the middle-class residents of Privet Drive noticed nothing amiss. They arrived home from work, turned on the evening news, enjoyed a cold beer or other beverage as they watched the events that had unfolded during the day, and generally followed the mechanics of living their completely ordinary lives.
And thus it was that when the five dark figures in robes appeared at the corner of Privet Drive and its neighboring lane, no one took notice of them, or the fact that they just seemed to appear out of no where. The five figures moved quickly and silently down the street, making little effort of concealment. Anyone who had looked out of a window and seen the five trudging grimly toward number four would have noticed nothing out of the ordinary save for the strange dress.
The figures made it all the way to the door of number four without incident, then paused. Silence permeated the air like a thick oppressive blanket.
Then, one of the figures nodded toward another. This one moved to the door, unholstering a wand as it went. The sight of a small stick of wood gleaming in a metallic silver hand was quite a sight to see.
The figure muttered a quiet word of command when he encountered a locked door, raising his wand as he did so.
Yet, even though forty hours at least had passed since the Dursleys had left the boy at home, the wards were still up to the task. There was a low rumble, a flash of blue light, and Wormtail was catapulted backward, flying some ten feet in to the air and at least that far backward.
It was a much dizzier and a slightly limping Wormtail that rejoined the group a minute later, swearing quietly under his breath at the futility of his efforts.
And so the Dursley household might have survived had it ended there. Yet, it was no mere servant that led the expedition to destroy Harry Potter. It was no mere mortal that finally grew impatient at his mens' efforts to enter Potter's home. Thin face flushed with a snarl of fury, snake-like eyes glittering red in malice, skeletal form quivering in anticipation, Lord Voldemort drew out his wand, gave a wave, hissed a curse of deadly intent, and the door of number four, Privet Drive, burst in to a million smoldering fragments, taking chunks out of the surrounding wall with it.
Once entry had been gained, the planned attack resumed. Voldemort's men swept the house, going room to room, destroying objects as they went. Dudley's television in the kitchen was sent flying in to the ice box with the single flick of a wand, and the resulting explosion of sparks was enough to ignite Aunt Petunia's expensive wine collection which she had stored just above the ice box. The resulting explosion was enough to spread the fire to surrounding objects, and so it continued.
Leaving the rapidly burning kitchen behind, the figures spread more rapidly through the house, continuing their destruction of the Dursleys' belongings as they searched ever more frantically for the boy.
It was Walden Macnair, the tall broad-shouldered executioner, who found the first clue as to the boy's whereabouts.
It was Macnair's cry of anger that brought Voldemort hurrying up the stairs. Following the sounds of smashing wood as Macnair began destroying the small bedroom, the Dark Lord entered to see a sight that forced a howl of pure rage from his sinister figure.
The window was open, and a bureau was leaning against the frame. It was all made clear in an instant to Harry Potter's would-be murderer.
By the time that the neighbors next door first took note of the smoke that was slowly consuming Number Four, Privet Drive, the dark figures had already fled the house. With the apparition wards still in tact, they were forced to flee on foot. This they did, stopping only long enough for Voldemort to send 'Avada Kedavra' at the old woman standing in front of Privet Drive surrounded by cats. However, the sound of her lifeless body hitting the ground gave no satisfaction. Even as Macnair, venting his own frustration, pointed his wand at the old woman and muttered 'incendio', Voldemort was already striding toward the end of Privet Drive, the rest of the Death Eaters following like obedient dogs.
Their portion of the night's mission had failed. For they now knew that the house at Privet Drive was empty, and Potter had gone.
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The doors of Hogwarts, enchanted to recognize friend from foe, swung smoothly open as the figure approached. Not even pausing a moment to take in the welcoming decor of the grand entrance hall, the figure bounded up the spiral staircase with seemingly endless energy. A few turns and another staircase later, it stopped before a rather imposing gargoyle. Only outside the entrance to the headmaster's office did the huge black dog transform. With a soft pop, a man was standing where the dog had been.
Sirius Black had certainly filled out some since he had last been to Hogwarts to visit his godson. Though still on the run from the Ministry of Magic, the fact that he had been getting somewhat regular meals and had undergone a haircut worked wonders on his formerly emaciated appearance. So too did the fact that he had been able to purchase a new wand while under the effects of the Polyjuice Potion.
The summer had been a busy one for Black. Following Dumbledore's orders at the disastrous end of the previous school year and the regeneration of Voldemort, Sirius had been busy rushing from one end of England to the other. Not having a wand had made things difficult. He had needed to avoid people as much as possible as he'd had no way to perform any Concealment Charms. Luckily for him, the list of contacts Dumbledore had given him had been rather brief, and he was as happy as he'd been in many years to see that the first stop was the residence of one of his best mates from his own days at Hogwarts: the werewolf, Remus Lupin.
Luckily, Lupin had been there in person to see Peter Pettigrew revealed to still be alive and well in his Animagus form, and had witnessed first-hand the tearful confession of a once dear friend with regard to the actual betrayal of the Potters those twelve years ago.
With Lupin, it had been merely a matter of filling him in on the rebirth of the Dark Lord for which Sirius was extremely grateful. He knew others of the Order would be far more difficult to convince. Yet, his good luck hadn't stopped there. Upon hearing of his mission to contact the other members of the Order, at least those who were still alive, Remus had immediately agreed to accompany him. This was both good and bad, as Sirius had not been able to travel as fast in his dog form, having to wait on the slower human to keep up with him. They could have traveled by Floo; however, as Remus was quick to point out, Sirius would have to travel in human form, and that would probably not be a wise course of action until all the explanations were made.
And so, after a good night's rest, they had set out. Diagon Alley had been the first stop, where, aided by the Polyjuice, he had acquired his new wand. Arabella Figg had been the first person to contact. While not a fully qualified witch, it was Figg's job to keep an eye on the wards surrounding Privet Drive and to be ready to sound the alarm at a moment's notice in case of trouble. Figg, too, had been relatively easy to convince. Perhaps the fact that he and Remus had once saved her life might have had something to do with that.
He had wanted to visit Harry while at Figg's, but Remus had absolutely forbidden it. Remus had pointed out in no uncertain terms that even though Harry would be happy to see him, the Dursleys would not and would probably be able to make all sorts of undesirable attention be drawn to the fact that he, Sirius Black, had been spotted at Privet Drive, bringing down trouble not only on himself, but probably Harry as well, as the boy was already generally mistrusted by the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Finally, reluctantly, he had agreed, and they had taken their leave of Arabella.
The others had not been so easy, with the sole exceptions of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Both of them had known of Sirius's innocence since Molly had seen him in the infirmary at the end of the tragic Triwizard Tournament. Their old school mate, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had merely nodded in a thoughtful way, after Remus released him from the Body Bind they'd had to use on him when he had gone for his wand at the sight of Sirius, and said in his baritone growl, "guess I'll need to send some lads to Canada to follow up on that Sirius Black sighting after all". Sirius was more than pleased to learn that Shacklebolt was tasked with his recapture, which meant the formidable black man would be able to devote more of his time to the Order while leading the aurors on wild chases.
Sirius's favorite reaction, though, came from old scruffy Mundungus Fletcher. That worthy gentleman had stood there at the sight of the fugitive tapping his foot impatiently while the two men explained Black's innocence. When they had finished, he had simply stood there blinking owlishly for a moment before reaching for a fresh bottle of Ogden's best. He had taken a long swig from the bottle, not his first of the day, before bending over slightly, farting in a long drawn-out trumpet blast, and muttering loudly "z'all well an' good, but where'd the l'lle doggy go?" Once out of the dubious presence of Fletcher, both men had laughed themselves to hysterical tears.
The rest had gone by in a timeless blur for the Animagus, until finally the nervous and slightly high-strung Dedalus Diggle was convinced of Black's innocence. Only then did he bid Remus goodbye and head back to Hogwarts.
It was time to talk to Albus about getting Harry out of the viper's den for the rest of the summer. It had taken all of his will power, and some he had borrowed from Moony, to keep from going by the Dursleys to visit Harry while stopping at Figg's. Now, though, his current mission was completed, and it was time to think of Harry.
Muttering the password now to the headmaster's office he waited until the gargoyle slid aside and then bounded quickly up the moving stairs and burst through the door of the office.
He barely had time to register the fact that there was no headmaster sitting behind the beautiful oak desk before he was assaulted by a white blur, hooting anxiously and pecking at his hand in impatience. Recognizing the bird, Black felt a slight tinge of unease wash over him as he tried to calm the Snowy Owl while removing the letter which Hedwig was insistently thrusting toward him. It was but the work of a second to tear open the envelope and to recognize the thin spidery handwriting that was Harry's trademark.
Dear Professor Dumbledore:
I have reason to believe that Hermione Granger's house will be attacked by Death Eaters in the near future. I have had a vision of such an attack happening at night, and I can not afford to think that what I have seen has already happened. Please send help to her location as soon as you can. I am going myself, and I will do whatever I must to get there, Ministry of Magic or no.
Please help,
Harry
Sirius Black spoke fluent Spanish and German as well as his native English. However, his knowledge of swear words expanded to also include French, Chinese, Russian, and Arabic. It therefore took almost two minutes for him to shout out every one he knew. Once his outrage and frustration had worn off, he immediately moved to act on his information.
Dashing over to the lit fireplace (the one in the headmaster's office was always lit in case of emergencies) and snatched a handful of Floo Powder.
"Albus Dumbledore," the man roared once the fire had turned green.
The wait was only seconds, but Sirius could feel each one as a near physical blow. Finally, the wrinkled face of the Hogwarts headmaster appeared in the flames.
"Sirius, what--" Dumbledore began, taking in Black's surroundings and widening his eyes slightly.
"Harry has left Privet Drive, sir." Black's voice nearly oozed with impatience.
The little twinkle remaining in Dumbledore's eyes vanished completely.
"Stand back, Sirius, I'm coming through."
It only took a second for the headmaster's whirling form to return to his office. However, seconds later, another figure followed him. This man was tall, slightly balding, and with the look of a man who had been getting very little sleep.
"Albus, Arthur," Black continued impatiently, offering Weasley a hand up even as he spoke. "I just arrived here and was bombarded by Hedwig. She brought me this letter."
He showed the two men the hastily scribbled note from Harry, and paced impatiently as they read it.
"My God," Arthur Weasley mumbled softly under his breath, wringing his hands in a state of near panic. "We have no idea how long ago this letter was written."
Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but Dumbledore beat him to it. "Follow me."
His voice contained a power very rarely displayed by the old man. Gathering another pinch of powder from the urn on the hearth, Dumbledore through it in to the fire, immediately calling out "Figg Fortress".
No sooner did Dumbledore's tall thin form vanish, then Black moved to follow, wondering if the old man had lost another marble or two.
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The three men stood stunned outside Arabella Figg's house. For a moment, one moment of utter horror and denial, gazing fixedly at the smoke that was wafting from the general direction of Privet Drive.
Sirius moved first. Uncaring of whether or not he was recognized, he tore off in a panicked frenzy toward the smoke. Dumbledore and Weasley stood still for another moment before tearing after their impulsive companion.
It was worse than they could imagine.
Number four, Privet Drive, was a total loss. Flames had already laid bare the outer walls, and nothing that the numerous firefighters and other volunteers could do seemed to affect the flames in the least. The only bit of good news was that the fire, although fierce, was not spreading to the neighboring houses. In the back of his mind, Arthur Weasley was deeply grateful for a nearly windless night.
There seemed to be only one casualty. The local police were bending over a small prone figure in front of the burning abode. Stepping carefully after his companions, Arthur was able to use his height advantage to peer over the heads of other curious onlookers. What he saw made the last shreds of hope dessert him completely.
The body was that of the Squib, Arabella Figg, employed by Dumbledore to watch over Harry Potter.
It was enough. Arthur did not need the aged headmaster to tell him that it was more than likely that the wards had failed or been destroyed. A great wave of guilt slammed in to him as he turned his face away from the lifeless body of Arabella Figg. Why had they not been more insistent that Harry come to the Burrow? After all, there were qualified wizards there who could have protected the boy. Bill and Charlie had both taken a liking to the boy the previous summer when they had met him before the Quidditch World Cup. Either one of them would have been more than happy to apparate home to help with Potter's protection if it had been needed. Percy, while not as athletic or use to dueling as his older brothers, would also have been able to help. Instead, they had let him return to his aunt and uncle, both Muggles, both despising the boy greatly.
This last thought made him turn around quickly, peering at the driveway of the burning house. Frowning, his anxiety growing even more, he realized the absence of a Muggle automobile.
Where were the Dursleys?
And then, like a clap of thunder, the contents of Harry's letter struck him.
"Albus, Sirius," Arthur called over the noise of the crackling flame and hoarse shouts of the firemen, "the Grangers."
Cursing softly under his breath, something neither of his companions had ever heard, Dumbledore motioned the other two to follow him.
Moving quickly back the way they had come, they only waited long enough to be out of the sight of any staring Muggles. With hasty instructions and placing a hand on Sirius's shoulder, Dumbledore and the other man disappeared with a quiet pop, shortly followed by Weasley.
The scene at the Grangers' home was, if possible, even worse. The flames there burned unchecked, with no personnel or neighbors yet arrived. Having apparated so close to the home, the three men had to duck quickly as flying debris continued landing all around them. Seeing no one else around, Dumbledore drew his wand, gave it a curt wave, and a wall of water suddenly seemed to engulf the burning building, snuffing the flames immediately.
Sparing hardly a glance at the results of his spell, the headmaster immediately moved toward the still smoldering pile of debris that had been the Grangers' living room.
It was a steaming wreck. At some point, it appeared the upper floor had given way, adding its contents to the already merrily blazing conflagration. Only one item seemed to have survived the damage. It was a trunk baring the Hogwarts coat of arms.
"Better take it with us," Sirius growled, followed by a bitter smirk. "Hermione would kill us if we didn't. Of course, she'd need to be alive first."
Seeing tears slowly start to roll down the man's face, Arthur was only slightly surprised to find his own eyes moist.
"Only one thing is missing here, just like at the Dursleys," Dumbledore stated in a voice that shook only a little. "The Grangers' vehicle does not appear to be here. There is still hope."
He turned to the two other men and laid a gnarled hand on each shoulder.
"Arthur, we must assume that if these two families were attacked, yours must follow shortly. We need to relocate them before that happens. I will get to work on a place right away."
"I have an idea, sir," Sirius joined the conversation. "I was going to use it as an idea for headquarters of the Order, and while I still think it a good idea, I believe there will be plenty of room for the Weasleys."
"Where is this place, Sirius?"
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"CRUCIO!"
This time it was Lucius Malfoy who writhed under the devastating effects of the pain curse.
"You had five men with you, Malfoy," Voldemort hissed in fury after finally lifting the curse. "Explain to me how two Muggles and one underage Mudblood witch were able to defeat you, causing the death of two of your men in the process."
"Master," Malfoy gasped in agony, somehow finding the strength of will to pull himself in to a kneeling position. "P-Potter was there."
The snake-like face of the Dark Lord was suddenly half an inch from his own, causing Malfoy to unconsciously jerk backward.
"Potter did this,?" The question was asked in a deadly calm voice.
"Y-yes, Master. I'm not even sure how."
"Explain," it was a command.
"Potter somehow blocked a killing curse that had been aimed at the Mudblood and her father using a gold light, the like of which I've never seen. He somehow decapitated Clemens, and was able to reflect the blast of the Killing Curse away from Granger, causing a fire which roasted Dalton.when it was reflected at him."
No more words were spoken at that time. Instead, terrible screams of rage, hate, and, loudest of all, pain filled the cave of Lord Voldemort as the Dark Lord's followers felt his frustration and fury at the failed night's events.
Mercifully, with the last Death Eater having fainted from the Cruciatus, silence returned. It was a silence of thought. A silence of brooding. A silence of cold calculation.
TBC
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Chapter 8
Even as Harry Potter landed silently on the lawn of Hermione Granger's house and began his self-appointed mission to rescue her and her parents from the dark fate that he had foreseen, other dark forces were at work to apprehend the Boy Who Lived. Never before had such an opportunity arisen in the past fourteen years, for never before had the Dursleys left the boy at home by himself for more than two hours. Now, however, the boy had resided at Privet Drive alone for over thirty hours. And this thirty hour time limit was the point that had needed to be breached in order for the wards that protected number four, Privet Drive to begin crumbling. It was a slow, gradual process, and not even Albus Dumbledore had more than a vague notion of exactly how long it would take for them to vanish completely. All that the great headmaster knew was that if Harry Potter resided alone at Privet Drive for more than this allotted time period, the protections that had been invoked would cease to aid him.
Fortunate it was, therefore, that the Force had directed the young man off on his own.
At first, the middle-class residents of Privet Drive noticed nothing amiss. They arrived home from work, turned on the evening news, enjoyed a cold beer or other beverage as they watched the events that had unfolded during the day, and generally followed the mechanics of living their completely ordinary lives.
And thus it was that when the five dark figures in robes appeared at the corner of Privet Drive and its neighboring lane, no one took notice of them, or the fact that they just seemed to appear out of no where. The five figures moved quickly and silently down the street, making little effort of concealment. Anyone who had looked out of a window and seen the five trudging grimly toward number four would have noticed nothing out of the ordinary save for the strange dress.
The figures made it all the way to the door of number four without incident, then paused. Silence permeated the air like a thick oppressive blanket.
Then, one of the figures nodded toward another. This one moved to the door, unholstering a wand as it went. The sight of a small stick of wood gleaming in a metallic silver hand was quite a sight to see.
The figure muttered a quiet word of command when he encountered a locked door, raising his wand as he did so.
Yet, even though forty hours at least had passed since the Dursleys had left the boy at home, the wards were still up to the task. There was a low rumble, a flash of blue light, and Wormtail was catapulted backward, flying some ten feet in to the air and at least that far backward.
It was a much dizzier and a slightly limping Wormtail that rejoined the group a minute later, swearing quietly under his breath at the futility of his efforts.
And so the Dursley household might have survived had it ended there. Yet, it was no mere servant that led the expedition to destroy Harry Potter. It was no mere mortal that finally grew impatient at his mens' efforts to enter Potter's home. Thin face flushed with a snarl of fury, snake-like eyes glittering red in malice, skeletal form quivering in anticipation, Lord Voldemort drew out his wand, gave a wave, hissed a curse of deadly intent, and the door of number four, Privet Drive, burst in to a million smoldering fragments, taking chunks out of the surrounding wall with it.
Once entry had been gained, the planned attack resumed. Voldemort's men swept the house, going room to room, destroying objects as they went. Dudley's television in the kitchen was sent flying in to the ice box with the single flick of a wand, and the resulting explosion of sparks was enough to ignite Aunt Petunia's expensive wine collection which she had stored just above the ice box. The resulting explosion was enough to spread the fire to surrounding objects, and so it continued.
Leaving the rapidly burning kitchen behind, the figures spread more rapidly through the house, continuing their destruction of the Dursleys' belongings as they searched ever more frantically for the boy.
It was Walden Macnair, the tall broad-shouldered executioner, who found the first clue as to the boy's whereabouts.
It was Macnair's cry of anger that brought Voldemort hurrying up the stairs. Following the sounds of smashing wood as Macnair began destroying the small bedroom, the Dark Lord entered to see a sight that forced a howl of pure rage from his sinister figure.
The window was open, and a bureau was leaning against the frame. It was all made clear in an instant to Harry Potter's would-be murderer.
By the time that the neighbors next door first took note of the smoke that was slowly consuming Number Four, Privet Drive, the dark figures had already fled the house. With the apparition wards still in tact, they were forced to flee on foot. This they did, stopping only long enough for Voldemort to send 'Avada Kedavra' at the old woman standing in front of Privet Drive surrounded by cats. However, the sound of her lifeless body hitting the ground gave no satisfaction. Even as Macnair, venting his own frustration, pointed his wand at the old woman and muttered 'incendio', Voldemort was already striding toward the end of Privet Drive, the rest of the Death Eaters following like obedient dogs.
Their portion of the night's mission had failed. For they now knew that the house at Privet Drive was empty, and Potter had gone.
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The doors of Hogwarts, enchanted to recognize friend from foe, swung smoothly open as the figure approached. Not even pausing a moment to take in the welcoming decor of the grand entrance hall, the figure bounded up the spiral staircase with seemingly endless energy. A few turns and another staircase later, it stopped before a rather imposing gargoyle. Only outside the entrance to the headmaster's office did the huge black dog transform. With a soft pop, a man was standing where the dog had been.
Sirius Black had certainly filled out some since he had last been to Hogwarts to visit his godson. Though still on the run from the Ministry of Magic, the fact that he had been getting somewhat regular meals and had undergone a haircut worked wonders on his formerly emaciated appearance. So too did the fact that he had been able to purchase a new wand while under the effects of the Polyjuice Potion.
The summer had been a busy one for Black. Following Dumbledore's orders at the disastrous end of the previous school year and the regeneration of Voldemort, Sirius had been busy rushing from one end of England to the other. Not having a wand had made things difficult. He had needed to avoid people as much as possible as he'd had no way to perform any Concealment Charms. Luckily for him, the list of contacts Dumbledore had given him had been rather brief, and he was as happy as he'd been in many years to see that the first stop was the residence of one of his best mates from his own days at Hogwarts: the werewolf, Remus Lupin.
Luckily, Lupin had been there in person to see Peter Pettigrew revealed to still be alive and well in his Animagus form, and had witnessed first-hand the tearful confession of a once dear friend with regard to the actual betrayal of the Potters those twelve years ago.
With Lupin, it had been merely a matter of filling him in on the rebirth of the Dark Lord for which Sirius was extremely grateful. He knew others of the Order would be far more difficult to convince. Yet, his good luck hadn't stopped there. Upon hearing of his mission to contact the other members of the Order, at least those who were still alive, Remus had immediately agreed to accompany him. This was both good and bad, as Sirius had not been able to travel as fast in his dog form, having to wait on the slower human to keep up with him. They could have traveled by Floo; however, as Remus was quick to point out, Sirius would have to travel in human form, and that would probably not be a wise course of action until all the explanations were made.
And so, after a good night's rest, they had set out. Diagon Alley had been the first stop, where, aided by the Polyjuice, he had acquired his new wand. Arabella Figg had been the first person to contact. While not a fully qualified witch, it was Figg's job to keep an eye on the wards surrounding Privet Drive and to be ready to sound the alarm at a moment's notice in case of trouble. Figg, too, had been relatively easy to convince. Perhaps the fact that he and Remus had once saved her life might have had something to do with that.
He had wanted to visit Harry while at Figg's, but Remus had absolutely forbidden it. Remus had pointed out in no uncertain terms that even though Harry would be happy to see him, the Dursleys would not and would probably be able to make all sorts of undesirable attention be drawn to the fact that he, Sirius Black, had been spotted at Privet Drive, bringing down trouble not only on himself, but probably Harry as well, as the boy was already generally mistrusted by the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Finally, reluctantly, he had agreed, and they had taken their leave of Arabella.
The others had not been so easy, with the sole exceptions of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Both of them had known of Sirius's innocence since Molly had seen him in the infirmary at the end of the tragic Triwizard Tournament. Their old school mate, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had merely nodded in a thoughtful way, after Remus released him from the Body Bind they'd had to use on him when he had gone for his wand at the sight of Sirius, and said in his baritone growl, "guess I'll need to send some lads to Canada to follow up on that Sirius Black sighting after all". Sirius was more than pleased to learn that Shacklebolt was tasked with his recapture, which meant the formidable black man would be able to devote more of his time to the Order while leading the aurors on wild chases.
Sirius's favorite reaction, though, came from old scruffy Mundungus Fletcher. That worthy gentleman had stood there at the sight of the fugitive tapping his foot impatiently while the two men explained Black's innocence. When they had finished, he had simply stood there blinking owlishly for a moment before reaching for a fresh bottle of Ogden's best. He had taken a long swig from the bottle, not his first of the day, before bending over slightly, farting in a long drawn-out trumpet blast, and muttering loudly "z'all well an' good, but where'd the l'lle doggy go?" Once out of the dubious presence of Fletcher, both men had laughed themselves to hysterical tears.
The rest had gone by in a timeless blur for the Animagus, until finally the nervous and slightly high-strung Dedalus Diggle was convinced of Black's innocence. Only then did he bid Remus goodbye and head back to Hogwarts.
It was time to talk to Albus about getting Harry out of the viper's den for the rest of the summer. It had taken all of his will power, and some he had borrowed from Moony, to keep from going by the Dursleys to visit Harry while stopping at Figg's. Now, though, his current mission was completed, and it was time to think of Harry.
Muttering the password now to the headmaster's office he waited until the gargoyle slid aside and then bounded quickly up the moving stairs and burst through the door of the office.
He barely had time to register the fact that there was no headmaster sitting behind the beautiful oak desk before he was assaulted by a white blur, hooting anxiously and pecking at his hand in impatience. Recognizing the bird, Black felt a slight tinge of unease wash over him as he tried to calm the Snowy Owl while removing the letter which Hedwig was insistently thrusting toward him. It was but the work of a second to tear open the envelope and to recognize the thin spidery handwriting that was Harry's trademark.
Dear Professor Dumbledore:
I have reason to believe that Hermione Granger's house will be attacked by Death Eaters in the near future. I have had a vision of such an attack happening at night, and I can not afford to think that what I have seen has already happened. Please send help to her location as soon as you can. I am going myself, and I will do whatever I must to get there, Ministry of Magic or no.
Please help,
Harry
Sirius Black spoke fluent Spanish and German as well as his native English. However, his knowledge of swear words expanded to also include French, Chinese, Russian, and Arabic. It therefore took almost two minutes for him to shout out every one he knew. Once his outrage and frustration had worn off, he immediately moved to act on his information.
Dashing over to the lit fireplace (the one in the headmaster's office was always lit in case of emergencies) and snatched a handful of Floo Powder.
"Albus Dumbledore," the man roared once the fire had turned green.
The wait was only seconds, but Sirius could feel each one as a near physical blow. Finally, the wrinkled face of the Hogwarts headmaster appeared in the flames.
"Sirius, what--" Dumbledore began, taking in Black's surroundings and widening his eyes slightly.
"Harry has left Privet Drive, sir." Black's voice nearly oozed with impatience.
The little twinkle remaining in Dumbledore's eyes vanished completely.
"Stand back, Sirius, I'm coming through."
It only took a second for the headmaster's whirling form to return to his office. However, seconds later, another figure followed him. This man was tall, slightly balding, and with the look of a man who had been getting very little sleep.
"Albus, Arthur," Black continued impatiently, offering Weasley a hand up even as he spoke. "I just arrived here and was bombarded by Hedwig. She brought me this letter."
He showed the two men the hastily scribbled note from Harry, and paced impatiently as they read it.
"My God," Arthur Weasley mumbled softly under his breath, wringing his hands in a state of near panic. "We have no idea how long ago this letter was written."
Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but Dumbledore beat him to it. "Follow me."
His voice contained a power very rarely displayed by the old man. Gathering another pinch of powder from the urn on the hearth, Dumbledore through it in to the fire, immediately calling out "Figg Fortress".
No sooner did Dumbledore's tall thin form vanish, then Black moved to follow, wondering if the old man had lost another marble or two.
__________
The three men stood stunned outside Arabella Figg's house. For a moment, one moment of utter horror and denial, gazing fixedly at the smoke that was wafting from the general direction of Privet Drive.
Sirius moved first. Uncaring of whether or not he was recognized, he tore off in a panicked frenzy toward the smoke. Dumbledore and Weasley stood still for another moment before tearing after their impulsive companion.
It was worse than they could imagine.
Number four, Privet Drive, was a total loss. Flames had already laid bare the outer walls, and nothing that the numerous firefighters and other volunteers could do seemed to affect the flames in the least. The only bit of good news was that the fire, although fierce, was not spreading to the neighboring houses. In the back of his mind, Arthur Weasley was deeply grateful for a nearly windless night.
There seemed to be only one casualty. The local police were bending over a small prone figure in front of the burning abode. Stepping carefully after his companions, Arthur was able to use his height advantage to peer over the heads of other curious onlookers. What he saw made the last shreds of hope dessert him completely.
The body was that of the Squib, Arabella Figg, employed by Dumbledore to watch over Harry Potter.
It was enough. Arthur did not need the aged headmaster to tell him that it was more than likely that the wards had failed or been destroyed. A great wave of guilt slammed in to him as he turned his face away from the lifeless body of Arabella Figg. Why had they not been more insistent that Harry come to the Burrow? After all, there were qualified wizards there who could have protected the boy. Bill and Charlie had both taken a liking to the boy the previous summer when they had met him before the Quidditch World Cup. Either one of them would have been more than happy to apparate home to help with Potter's protection if it had been needed. Percy, while not as athletic or use to dueling as his older brothers, would also have been able to help. Instead, they had let him return to his aunt and uncle, both Muggles, both despising the boy greatly.
This last thought made him turn around quickly, peering at the driveway of the burning house. Frowning, his anxiety growing even more, he realized the absence of a Muggle automobile.
Where were the Dursleys?
And then, like a clap of thunder, the contents of Harry's letter struck him.
"Albus, Sirius," Arthur called over the noise of the crackling flame and hoarse shouts of the firemen, "the Grangers."
Cursing softly under his breath, something neither of his companions had ever heard, Dumbledore motioned the other two to follow him.
Moving quickly back the way they had come, they only waited long enough to be out of the sight of any staring Muggles. With hasty instructions and placing a hand on Sirius's shoulder, Dumbledore and the other man disappeared with a quiet pop, shortly followed by Weasley.
The scene at the Grangers' home was, if possible, even worse. The flames there burned unchecked, with no personnel or neighbors yet arrived. Having apparated so close to the home, the three men had to duck quickly as flying debris continued landing all around them. Seeing no one else around, Dumbledore drew his wand, gave it a curt wave, and a wall of water suddenly seemed to engulf the burning building, snuffing the flames immediately.
Sparing hardly a glance at the results of his spell, the headmaster immediately moved toward the still smoldering pile of debris that had been the Grangers' living room.
It was a steaming wreck. At some point, it appeared the upper floor had given way, adding its contents to the already merrily blazing conflagration. Only one item seemed to have survived the damage. It was a trunk baring the Hogwarts coat of arms.
"Better take it with us," Sirius growled, followed by a bitter smirk. "Hermione would kill us if we didn't. Of course, she'd need to be alive first."
Seeing tears slowly start to roll down the man's face, Arthur was only slightly surprised to find his own eyes moist.
"Only one thing is missing here, just like at the Dursleys," Dumbledore stated in a voice that shook only a little. "The Grangers' vehicle does not appear to be here. There is still hope."
He turned to the two other men and laid a gnarled hand on each shoulder.
"Arthur, we must assume that if these two families were attacked, yours must follow shortly. We need to relocate them before that happens. I will get to work on a place right away."
"I have an idea, sir," Sirius joined the conversation. "I was going to use it as an idea for headquarters of the Order, and while I still think it a good idea, I believe there will be plenty of room for the Weasleys."
"Where is this place, Sirius?"
__________
"CRUCIO!"
This time it was Lucius Malfoy who writhed under the devastating effects of the pain curse.
"You had five men with you, Malfoy," Voldemort hissed in fury after finally lifting the curse. "Explain to me how two Muggles and one underage Mudblood witch were able to defeat you, causing the death of two of your men in the process."
"Master," Malfoy gasped in agony, somehow finding the strength of will to pull himself in to a kneeling position. "P-Potter was there."
The snake-like face of the Dark Lord was suddenly half an inch from his own, causing Malfoy to unconsciously jerk backward.
"Potter did this,?" The question was asked in a deadly calm voice.
"Y-yes, Master. I'm not even sure how."
"Explain," it was a command.
"Potter somehow blocked a killing curse that had been aimed at the Mudblood and her father using a gold light, the like of which I've never seen. He somehow decapitated Clemens, and was able to reflect the blast of the Killing Curse away from Granger, causing a fire which roasted Dalton.when it was reflected at him."
No more words were spoken at that time. Instead, terrible screams of rage, hate, and, loudest of all, pain filled the cave of Lord Voldemort as the Dark Lord's followers felt his frustration and fury at the failed night's events.
Mercifully, with the last Death Eater having fainted from the Cruciatus, silence returned. It was a silence of thought. A silence of brooding. A silence of cold calculation.
TBC