Close to Home
The sun struggled to shine through the clouds that morning and the wind was chilly from blowing through the rain in the distance. None of the inhabitants of Privet Drive showed any signs of venturing outside their houses, even though it was ten o'clock on a Saturday. The day had all the markings of being a nasty one. For Harry, this meant bliss.
He could run all he wanted—free from the neighbors' strange looks—and sit on the merry-go-round with out little kids shouting at him to get off; that it was their turn. No-one was out, and that was just how Harry liked it.
He ran past the park but did not stop; the cold air hitting his sweaty face was somehow too refreshing. It was a wonderful morning for Harry, and so far he hadn't even thought about his godfather...
"I will not think about that right now..." He said to himself under his breath. Not right now...
What, are you trying to forget him? Said a voice in the back of his mind.
No, I just...
Sirius was falling...
Not right now...
Harry looked down at his feet again and began counting his steps in hopes of distracting himself.
One,
Two,
Three,
Four,
Five,
Six...
He was in the Department of Mysteries...
It was no use. The memories would not leave him, and he could almost feel himself being sucked down into the depths of his consciousness....
Several hours later, Harry was lying wet on the bar atop the swing set, watching the grass grow below in the dim light of the setting sun. Suddenly, a movement at the street corner caught his eye. It was a tabby cat with white squares around its eyes, a cat he hadn't seen in over three years; Professor McGonagall.
"Profes—"Harry began, but was cut off by a shake of the cat's head.
"Not right now." She seemed to be saying.
Though aggravated, he obeyed and turned over to watch the stars move this time.
An orange glow erupted above a house in the distance, followed by a bloodcurdling scream. Harry stood up quickly, balancing himself precariously on the wet bar of the swing set. But what he saw made him fall off.
Mrs. Figg, along with several of her cats, were floating above the flames of her house, which was surrounded by Death Eaters. It was almost the exact same scene from the World Quidditch Cup...
From the ground, Harry saw the Dark Mark slowly rising in the night sky.
Professor McGonagall was streaking down the wall of the house, from whose roof she had just been watching the scene on Magnolia Crescent. She jumped halfway down the latticework, and just as she hit the ground, turned into her human form. It was hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, she needed a cane.
"Potter, hurry! Follow me." She said as she began to run down the street, surprisingly well for being so old. Harry got up, but with some difficulty; he had bruised his back from the fall.
Hoping that wherever they were going, it wasn't far, as the wind had been knocked out of him—also by the fall—he followed his Professor.
"Mr. Potter, I must insist that you move more quickly!" She said in an aggravated tone as she turned around, but, to Harry's dismay, kept running all the same.
"I...can't...breathe!" He managed to gasp, but she took no notice.
McGonagall turned onto Privet Drive, which surprised Harry. With much effort, he caught up to her and asked, "Why aren't we going to Mrs. Figg's house?"
She looked at him as if he was out of his mind. "No indeed! The Order and the Ministry will be there any moment now, and I have to get you out of here! Do you really want those Death Eaters to see you?!"
"Maybe I do..." He mumbled angrily, but again, she took no notice. If Lestrange is there... But Harry just followed his professor, like a good little boy...
They reached number four. McGonagall was just about to tear the door open, when Aunt Petunia beat her to it. Undoubtedly, she had seen the Mark while "washing the dishes,"—her usual cover-up for spying on the neighbors—and was going to see for herself.
"Who are you?" Uncle Vernon said bluntly, pushing his wife aside, who was standing frozen in the doorway, and odd expression of confusion and thoughtfulness.
"I," Professor McGonagall said, obviously annoyed by the untimely question, "am Professor Minerva McGonagall, of Hogwarts, and we need to leave, now." She took her wand out of her pocket, at the sight of which Dudley paled considerably and he let out a small "yelp."
She ignored him, like she had Harry, pointed her wand at the nearest flowerpot, and muttered "portus." The pot shook violently and glowed blue for a moment. Harry could see the look of disapproval on his aunt's face.
"Why?" Harry's uncle asked, his face reddening. "Why should we leave, with—with you?"
"Mr. Dursley, can't you see the fire over there?" McGonagall asked, pointing to the fire in the distance, doing her best to keep her voice from shaking with outrage. "The symbol?"
"I DO AND I BELIEVE I AM PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF PROTECTING MY OWN FAMILY!" He said, now shouting.
"WELL, DURSLEY, QUITE FRANKLY, I DON'T GIVE A DAMN IF YOU DIE, BUT I CAN ASSURE YOU, YOU WILL IF YOU STAY HERE, AND THE HEADMASTER FOR SOME REASON SEEMS TO THINK YOU ARE WORTH KEEPING ALIVE! So, take hold of this, NOW!" She said, thrusting the flowerpot at them. "You too, Harry."
Harry put a finger on it, as did the Dursleys, though rather hesitantly. Their eyes widened with horror as they were lifted off the ground. The look did not fade when they arrived in, of all places, King's Cross. No-one seemed to notice their arrival, and Harry wondered for a moment if McGonagall was taking them to Hogwarts. This suspicion was immediately deterred when Mr. Weasley, Snape, and Mundungus appeared beside them, and Professor McGonagall began making another portkey, this time with a nearby forgotten magazine.
"Severus, Arthur, you will stay here with the Dursleys until further notice. Do your best to blend in." She said, eyeing their robes, which were now attracting attention amongst the mobs of late commuters and travelers. Mr. Weasley seemed to be on the edge of his non-existent seat, trying to contain his excitement at being chosen to stay with the muggles.
"Mundungus, you will escort Mr. Potter with myself to another location from which to depart." She said, tackling the matter with military-like efficiency. "You know what to do if something goes happens." With a nod from each of them, they left the wizards and the Dursleys, who still looked completely baffled.
They had walked nearly two blocks from the train station before the professor was satisfied that they were far away enough to use the portkey.
"We don't want to attract to much attention by using too much magic in one place." She had said, and Harry was pretty sure she wasn't talking about causing a scene with the muggles.
They stood under the somewhat-shielded awning of a corner store, which had already closed for the night, and grabbed hold of the magazine.
A/N: Thanks to Miss Piratess! You really would not believe how happy your review made me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks, too, for answering my questions!
And, I've decided to leave "deceased telltale" up, because, as I was reading through it, I found it was actually pretty good, writing-wise—much better than I thought. Plotwise, it was pretty poor; I really didn't have a firm grasp on it. I let it grow as it wanted, and thus, there was no structure.
I didn't even get to edit this chapter; I just wanted to get it up before I left for 3 weeks, so, you know.... I won't be updating for a while ( sorry! But go read "Acquainted with the Night"" by hilarity, "I'd kill you if you weren't already dead" by miss pirates and ""Harry potter and the wands of invention" by sarily! They're the best fics I've ever read! (no lie)
-liseli