The carriage flew through the morning sky, blue as the cornflowers, the sun shone down brightly. Paige had been fascinated to know the carriage was drawn by creatures known as thestrals. Skeletal horse like beings which come at the scent of blood. They are invisible to the naked eye. Only those who had a close brush with death would see them. The sisters could see them clearly; skin stretched over skeletal frames, leathery wings beating in the sky as blank eyes stared straight ahead. Paige was fascinated to know such creatures existed, and was grilling Harry who was seated beside her on the magical creatures over here in England. Piper had a mixture of revulsion and awe at the thestrals. Phoebe was uncomfortable at having their carriage drawn a hundred feet up in the air by the Grim Reaper's steed and voiced about it to Piper. Only Wyatt was quiet, staring out at the window, in deep thoughts.
They passed by green hills, grassy fields dotted with trees and bright flowers, some dotted with the year end's harvest standing like golden thatched huts among the green. It was a beautiful postcard scene, one which should have been enjoyed and taken in. The sisters and Wyatt were burdened with worries for Chris to enjoy such a view. They were woken up early this morning by Harry who told them Dumbledore wanted them moved to another safe house. One out in the country. Phoebe had thought of a farm with cows, chickens and pigs, and could see that she was not far off from the thought. She had always wanted to see the English countryside.
The thestrals landed on a dirt pathway leading up to the house they were supposedly staying for the duration they remain here. The Burrow, Harry told them fondly, after helping them down from the carriage. The thestrals snorted then leapt into the air, pulling the carriage high into the sky, disappearing among the cotton clouds.
The sisters and Wyatt goggled at the sight before them. Harry had obviously been here before for he seemed nonplussed about it, as if it was an everyday thing he see. The Halliwells, however, were still getting used to being around so much magic and its oddities, and the house before them takes the cake of being the strangest thing they've ever seen.
It stood at least three floors high, not counting the attic, if the window near the roof was an indication. It looked like it just came out of some children's storybook or an architect gone mad with designs. The house was whimsical, strange and just plain funny. Not that there was anything to laugh about. Judging from the windows around the building, it was cleared someone had gone decor happy with their wand, conjuring up new rooms to squeeze into the already tight space.
"What is that?" Phoebe asked – no, demanded, jabbing a finger at it.
"The Burrow," Harry replied. "It's where I stayed during the summer when I was still at school. Ron lives here with his family. Mrs Weasley have left for Romania for a holiday since last month. Only Mr Weasley is at home. He's at work at the moment. Come on then, only Ron and Hermione are home."
"Are you sure it's safe to go in?" Paige asked, hurrying after him, eyes still glued to the house. "Won't it just, well, fall?"
Harry lead them round the back, pushing open the door, into the kitchen. "Welcome to the Burrow. My second home," he said with a flourish.
The kitchen was quaint was how Piper would describe it. It felt homely and lived in, the spots and stains on the floor speaking of the children who lived here coming and going, it told her of the Christmas dinners cooked and stories shared here and the lively debate taking place at the table. Paige saw the magic teeming in the place, could already sensed it in the air when she set foot inside. The brushes scrubbing the copper pots and pans clean in the sink by themselves, the water rinsing them clean off grease and grime. The teakettle boiling merrily away on the stove and the bacon sizzling in the pan which flipped the bacon up to its other side to be cooked evenly. There was a clock which instead of numbers showed the names of each child of the house with hands pointing to words from 'travel' to 'home' to 'work'.
"Fascinating," Paige murmured, studying the clock more closely. It was like a tracking device for the entire family, letting members at home know where they are at without worries.
"Take a seat," said Harry, gesturing at the table. "I'm going to let Ron and Hermione know you're all here." He disappeared up the stairs.
"Nice place, kind of homey." Phoebe sat down at the table. Paige took the seat across her and Piper sat next to Wyatt.
The table top was worn with use and there were various stains on it which even the strongest cleaning spell were unable to removed. One looked like a blob of ketchup while another looked like some sauce or other.
"Not bad to live in a place where magic can be used freely," Paige remarked, to them or to herself they weren't sure. Out of the sisters, Paige still wanted to be able to use magic without consequences.
"They use only around places where magic can be used," Wyatt pointed out. "Besides, Harry did mention they can't use it outside of the magical community."
"Oh, you're all here already," Hermione said, coming down the stairs, followed closely by Ron and Harry. "Just in time for some breakfast then. I'm sure you're all hungry. How was the trip?" she said it all in one breath as she made her way to the stove to check the bacon.
"It was creepy," Phoebe replied. "The, ah, Grim Reaper's horses pulling the carriage."
"Ah, you meant the thestrals," Ron said knowingly. "Luckily, I can't see them. Only if you sort died and come back to life again then you'll be able to see them."
"Sort of died?" Hermione asked crisply. "Honestly, Ron, what kind of explanation is that?"
"Better than your word for word narration from books," retorted Ron, sitting down next to Wyatt. He gave the twice blessed a wink, enjoying himself in irking her. Wyatt smiled. "You're the only person I know who read Hogwarts: A History from cover to cover."
"Some people have more important educational matters in mind than Quidditch and girls," sniffed Hermione primly, using her wand to direct the eggs over the pan. The eggs cracked themselves on the side of the pan and poured themselves into it to be cooked. The shells were then discarded into the bin. All done in one swish of the wand.
"Quidditch?" Wyatt questioned.
"Oh, no," Hermione groaned, not at the eggs for they are turning out nicely but at Wyatt. "You shouldn't say that. He'll give you ten years' worth of Qudditch history."
"I am not!" Ron snapped. "I have better restraint than someone I know."
Harry sat down next to Paige who leaned over to whisper to his ear. "Are they always like this?"
"Everyday of their lives," Harry replied. "You'd think after being engaged, they'll settle down a bit but it seems to have created some sort of spark between them."
"Wedding jitters," Phoebe said knowingly.
"Wyatt, is something wrong?" Piper asked, seeing how quiet he had been since he woke up.
"I don't know, Mom. I just have a bad feeling about something." Wyatt sighed. "I didn't get much sleep last night."
"Oh, sweetie, we're worried for Chris as much as you do," Paige said, reaching over and patting his hand.
"I know you do." Wyatt smiled weakly at them all. The remnants of the dream refused to leave him alone. Of Chris diving down to the ground below, his family standing to one side with frozen plastic smiles, letting him be. He shivered, banishing the thoughts way.
Piper was about to say something but was interrupted when Hermione began to serve up breakfast. The heavenly smell enticed a rumble from Ron's stomach to which he flushed in embarrassment. Somehow that relieved the heavy air and everyone dug into their plates.
Traveling by Floo Network was the most improper manner, meant for the more commonly wizards, not for someone like him. Not only do you need to use the powder in a lit fire grate, you need to shout the proper name of your destination. You arrived at the destined fire grate all sooty, with soot in your hair, under your fingernails and even in your underwear. Draco Malfoy cursed whoever invented such a way of travel when he landed head over heels, coming to a stop on his back in the pristine floors of his apartment, getting soot everywhere. He lifted his head, eyeing Ginny suspiciously as she stood there, dusting her robes carelessly. Only a smudge touched her cheek. Otherwise, she looked as if she had just actually Apparated here, instead of travel by Floo with him.
"How did you get so– so soot free?" he demanded, getting up, performing a simple cleaning spell to get rid of the soot.
"It takes skill to travel by Floo, my dear," she answered smugly, whirling away from him, her shoes making clomping noises as she headed towards the stairs. "Are you sure the porter said our luggage will arrive shortly?"
"Yes, yes." Draco followed her. "He send them right after he saw us off. What is the hurry? We're not going to report back until tomorrow."
"No, but I do so want to see Ron," she said from the bedroom. "Didn't you wan to give him warts?"
"Warts. Bah." He caught up with her, giving her a devilish smile. "I'll give him the Bat-Bogey hex as well if that's what you wanted."
"Not now, Draco." Ginny wriggled free from his grasp. He pouted like a petulant three year old who had just been told there was no Santa Claus. She giggled at his expression. "We'll have plenty of that. I promised we'd report to Dumbledore as soon as we arrive."
"You know," said Draco, "there's a chance the old dingbat might be tuning to The Beatles in his underwear at the moment or – " his voice dropped lower " – he might be having hot, monkey sex with McGonagall."
Ginny's face screwed up in disgust but her eyes were dancing with mirth. "Draco Malfoy, that is just yucky."
"So, you won't be haring off to his place now?" A hopeful tone that was begging for her to stay and let them make up for the lost two days with mad sex.
"Actually, I am. Might be interesting to see if he's actually having earth shaking, passionate sex with McGonagall." Ginny grinned evilly, heading downstairs.
Draco stood rooted to the spot for a minute before he pelted after her frantically. "Ginny! You can't be serious! I'm coming with you, do you hear me, Ginny? I'm coming with you!"
With that he pelted after her into the fire grate just as she called out the destination name. With a loud whoosh and fiery explosion, they vanished from the grate.
Leo Wyatt was not having as much a good time as one would imagine. He had stayed Up There for the duration of the day after he had seen the sisters and his son off to England, discussing pointlessly, uselessly with the rest of the Elders on the looming threat. As usual, they were divided with their will not to intervene and to intervene. The debate had gone on for hours on end with no visible results and no closer to getting any help at all for the sisters. You would think, Leo thought irritably, that after the fiasco with Gideon, they would have come to their senses.
Perhaps it was proof that living Up There for so long has cloud their judgment against the good. It made them complacent, less likely to involve themselves in the matters of the mortal realm, always see things in the good side and for their selfish use. None of them seem to realize the threat over their heads. Words were going round and round like the carousel in the fair, repeating itself to a point of tediousness and boredom. Leo wanted to cry from it all. Most of all, he wanted to get up, shout at them, kick a few chairs around and just throw a temper tantrum unlike a three year old's. It was childish he knew, but if it got their attention, so much the better.
"Listen," he began, trying to keep his patience from running out. "Listen to me."
The garble went on, ignoring him. He took a deep breath, slowly uncurling his fists. It took Leo a long time to get angry and when he did, even the sisters stay away from him. He brought his hands down on the wooden table, smacking it loudly with his palms, making everyone jump. Finally, he thought in satisfaction as everyone's eyes turned on him in surprise.
"Leo, what is the matter with you?" one of the Elders, Johnson, barked at him, irritated at being interrupted in his grand speech.
"What's the matter with me? What is the hell matter with all of you!" he nearly shouted. "My family's lives are in danger, my son was just kidnaped by a dark wizard bent on ruling the world, hundreds of lives are at stake and all you can say is what is the matter?" The last part did ended in a shout.
Some of the Elders cowered, taken aback by the sudden outburst from the mild mannered man. The rest murmured among themselves, darting him looks which can be lumped in the category of 'Unfit'. Well then, he might as well just gone mental for all he cared.
"Leo, please, restrain yourself," Jonhson said in a patronizing tone meant for a toddler in a tantrum.
"While all of you are debating here in your cushy chairs, my family is down there searching for the whereabouts of my boy," Leo said, ignoring him. "I've told you that the Dark Wizard is rising and he intends to take over the magical world, blithely destroy anyone who stops him which includes The Charmed Ones and Harry Potter. Wasn't Harry Potter Rory's charge? Is he ready to take on the Dark Lord?" he directed the question at where the Whitelighters sat.
Rory, a mild mannered, freckled face Whitelighter stood up in reverence at being addressed. When he spoke, his tone told of the soft lilt of his original birthplace. "He was born to meet with the Dark Lord. I feel that is ready for it, with his friends by his side and the formidable Charmed Ones."
"Thank you, Rory." Leo smiled at him kindly. The Irish Whitelighter's face flushed as red as his hair as he sat back down.
"Still, what reasons do we have in assisting them?" another Elder demanded pompously. "The magical world has always been able to defend itself for decades. I see no reason to meddle in mortal business that is not ours."
"It is our business when we're the ones who answer to them!" Leo insisted. "We're supposed to protect all the good magic in the world, the witches and all magical creatures. They will come to us for help and protection when it comes to this. Or have you all forgotten who it was that helped us from being killed by the Titans? You all owe me for saving your assess back then and keeping all your heads on your shoulders."
"Are you trying to blackmail us into helping you, Leo?" Johnson's voice was now disdainful and angry. "It will not get you anywhere."
"But Leo is right," said Rebecca, standing up. She cast Johnson a look that silenced his protests. "If it were not for him and the sisters last time, half of us would have been dead. Help was given to us when we least expected it. We owe it to them this much."
"Thank you, Rebecca," Leo said gratefully.
"Rebecca! This is preposterous! I refuse to allow it!" Johnson shouted. "We owe them nothing! The rules!"
"Forget the rules!" another Elder cried out. "Rebecca is right!"
"Don't be foolish, Simon. Johnson is right, we owe them nothing. Not after what happened to Gideon..."
At once a great debate sounded, voices raised, tension thick in the air as the Elders were torn between agreeing with Rebecca and Johnson. Half wanted to offer help and refuge, the other half refused. Bound by the rules they made, they blatantly refused to break away from the very rules which they followed. And to hear someone still supported Gideon after all the years... Leo fumed, glowering at them, his patience already stretched too thin.
"Enough!" he roared.
Stunned silence fell over them. As one, all pairs of eyes turned towards him, wide with disbelief. No one said anything. In the silence, Leo could hear their breathing only. He gave them a look each, staring at them levelly, showing his disapproval and distrust on his face.
"If you won't help me or them... So help me, if anything happened because of your not helping, I will come up here and make you regret this." Leo turned to leave.
"Is that a threat, Leo?" Johnson finally found his voice. It was thin like ice, cold like the first frost.
Leo's voice and demeanor was even colder when he half turned, glaring at the Elder. "Think of it as a warning." With that he orbed out.
Arthur Weasley shut the door to his rented room for the night at the Leaky Cauldron. He had just gotten off work at The Ministry. After his announcement, as he had predicted, the magical community seemed to flailed with panic at the thought of the Dark Lord's coming attacks. The Fieldses had been there when he gave out his speech of pacifying the people. Liam Fields had given him a dirty look like he was a bug to be squashed and left, dragging poor Maggie along with him, all the while loudly proclaiming the Ministry will offer no protection to 'them common folk' as he called it. It was Wendell who finally had everything under control, stating they have prepared a sanctuary outside the country should the war arrived, the people will be evacuated accordingly and safely. After that had been more shouted questions and flashes of the cameras as Arthur left, Apparating himself to the Leaky Cauldron for solitude.
He wasn't worried about Molly, seeing that she was safe in the far remote of Romania where Charlie currently was, along with the twins who had followed. Bill was still in Egypt, rather far from any threat of Death Eaters attack. Besides, where he was, it was unplottable. Bill can take care of himself as do Percy who was still at the currently upside down Ministry. He smiled slightly, knowing Percy will be up his nose with questions and work. No, he was concerned for his two youngest; Ronald and Ginny. Both will be in the line of duty and danger as Aurors. Ginny, however, was on a honeymooning in France somewhere with his newest son-in-law, Draco Malfoy. If anyone ever told Arthur, he'd have a Malfoy as a son-in-law, he would have laughed. Except he was not laughing nor was he as angry as he thought he might. Malfoy had proven himself worthy as Dumbledore's secret undercover agent with his mother. Everyone had been surprised to find they were against the Dark Lord.
Needing to hear a certain voice and see the face, Arthur dropped his coat onto the bed, dropped into a chair before the fireplace, took a handful of powder and tossed it into the grate. "Romania. Charlie Weasley's tent," he said.
The sound of crackling like phone line over long distance can be heard. Minutes later, the fire burned green and bright and the head and shoulders of his beloved wife appeared.
"Hello, Molly," he said.
"Arthur."
Much to Draco's disappointment, Albus Dumbledore wasn't having mad, passionate sex with McGonagall. He would have given a hundred galleons to see the dirty but sadly, he had to make do with the former headmaster sitting in his library having tea and scones. To his utter disgust, the fire grate which he and Ginny came through was filthy and needed cleaning badly. Both were covered in soot, not even Ginny was spared. He would have made a smart remark except he was too busy dusting himself futilely. He left black powder from the sitting room all the way upstairs to the library.
"You'd think he'd clean out the fire place once in a while," he grumped to her as they made their way towards the library.
Dumbledore's home, while not as impressive as the Manor, was just as lovely. The walls were painted in cream where portraits of wizards hung, dating from Merlin to Nicholas Flemmel. The wizards were moving from one portrait to another to chat up with old friends and to exchange old stories of the old days when magic was used freely without a worry. The ceilings rose high up to disappear into the shadows above. Torches lit the rooms, giving it a warm glow that was almost homely. Ginny's shoes made loud pock, pock sounds on the cool, grey marble floor. They stopped at the high double oak doors, Ginny lifting a hand and rapped on it.
"Come in," came the reply from inside.
They pushed open the door, entering the room, a bit awkwardly because of the soot they were leaving on the nice, plush carpet. The library was like Malfoy Manor's but nicer, more warm. Here, floor to ceiling shelves were crammed with books of imaginable sizes, the racks bent from the weight. There were books dating back to the old days of Merlin to modern times. Books on the history of magic, on spells of every kind, on potions, on magical beasts and creatures ever known. There were also several non-magical books on muggle history. The fireplace kept the room warm and well lit, showing Dumbledore sitting on a cushy chintz armchair with a cup of tea in hand and a scone in the other.
"Doesn't look like he's having much of an anything now, does he?" Ginny whispered to her companion with a mischievous smile.
Draco huffed at her, finding to his distress his hand came away all sooty when he brushed his hair back. He was going to have a long soak in the bath later. Cleaning spells won't do for this case.
"Ms Weasley, Mr Malfoy," said Dumbledore cordially.
"Good evening, Professor," said Ginny politely. She was still in awe of the man, after all he had been the one who can stand up to the Dark Lord.
"Come, have a seat. Tea?"
"Oh, no thank you." Ginny smiled, shaking her head. She sat down on the sofa opposite his. Draco took his customary place beside her.
"You've said it was something of utmost importance to summon us back here," Draco said without much preamble.
"Indeed." Dumbledore set down his delicate China teacup. He waved a hand and a thick sheaf of paper bound by ribbons appeared on the table. "Have a look through while I explain to you both what has been going on in the last few days."
TBC...
AN: The Floo travel was what I got from the second movie when Harry stood in the fire grate and shouted the name of the destination. Of course, one mispronounciation meant flooing off to god knows where. I don't know if it's the same in the books as well.