AUTHOR'S NOTE: Time for another warning, just in case there are any fainthearted individuals left out there who are still reading this fic. I am one of those horrible, nasty people who does not believe that the sun rises and sets on Harry Potter. In fact, he really pissed me off in Book 5. Snarky and I have gone easy on him in these stories because our extra-canonical Harry is, of necessity, not as big of a moronic jerk as the canonical one (our actual term for him will not appear anywhere in this story or the author notes, just in case someone not old enough for the M-rating slipped in under the rope). That said, however, please keep in mind that this fanfic is told from the perspectives of Severus Snape and his close friends. If you think Meli's being too hard on Harry and too easy on a certain other person shortly to appear on the scene, remember that, grateful though she is to him for giving her some reprieve from her seizures back in the day, he is still capable of getting on her nerves, and she sees a lot more clearly from Snape's point of view than from Harry's.

She also is one of those pitiable individuals who sees fit, when proven wrong, to go a little too far sometimes in trying to make up for having been wrong in the first place. Just a little psychological insight to set the mood for ya.
AE

Chapter 16: Cut Adrift

PRESENT: 31 OCTOBER

Meli's work as Rasa kept her rather busy on a day-to-day basis, and that was as she liked it. She was never bored, what with showing up suddenly on people's doorsteps, dashing off to Hogwarts to give activity reports, and disappearing anyone the Order considered to be in danger, and the only time she required for herself was an occasional couple of hours here and there to read or to stare contemplatively at a wall. She found adequate time for both of these activities, and on a particularly quiet day, she found herself in want of a familiar and so spent the afternoon tracking one down.

Alfred got on quite well with the garter snake, whom she had dubbed Suspender, and he knew Meli herself well enough by now to ask, with a wicked gleam in his eye, if Suspender's predecessor had, in fact, been a bull snake named John. Meli had refrained from answering, knowing as she did that the house elf would probably know as much about Monty Python as Ron Weasley had done and not wanting a conversation that would remind her—again—of the events surrounding Collum Fell's death.

She had, in fact, gotten so caught up in her work that she'd lost all sense of time and had trouble remembering the day of the week, much less the particular date. She had a vague notion that the end of October was approaching, but beyond that she had no concept of time, so Halloween caught her completely off-guard.

It was fortunate that she was in that evening, for her late-night visitor was one who would not have reacted well at all to Alfred as a caretaker. This particular person wasn't the sort to react well to anyone under the circumstances, but the presence of another human, as opposed to any kind of magical creature, was almost therapeutic for him in its way.

Meli had rigged an alarm to sound whenever someone portkeyed into Snape Manor. The only portkeys that allowed access to the house at any time were the escape rings used by Order members and certain others that wanted protection, and they brought their wearers directly to the parlor Meli had set up in what had once been the dungeon guards' room. The alarm sounded just before one in the morning, and she rushed to this parlor to find one of the last people she wanted to see—not for any flaw in him but because of what his appearance must necessarily mean.

There in her parlor, white as a sheet and shivering with reaction, stood Dudley Dursley. He hardly seemed to notice her entrance, but his surroundings seemed to have further unnerved him; he stared at the torches, at the dark furniture, at the garter snake coiled in the corner. Suspender, to his credit, was going to great lengths to stay out of sight and not to make any sudden movements, threatening or otherwise.

Meli ducked out of the parlor to summon Alfred. The house elf appeared with a bow, then took a posture of patient listening while he awaited his instructions.

"Bring a tea tray," Meli told him quietly. "Black tea—the stronger the better—and a pot of chamomile, too. Two cups. Then send an owl with a coded message to Dumbledore. Tell him the Dursleys have been taken, but Dudley is here at the Bat Cave."

Alfred bowed again, then disappeared to carry out her orders. Meli returned to the parlor to find that Dudley hadn't budged. Again, he gave no indication that he had noticed her entrance.

"Dudley?" she said softly, crossing to him. She caught his hand and tried to lead him to a chair, but his bulk would not move without his voluntary effort, and he was making none. "Dudley, it's all right. You're safe now. Come on, I need you to sit before you drop."

For a full minute he did not move, even to blink, then he slowly turned his head and rested his eyes on her face. She smiled as encouragingly as she could, and, in that warmth, it seemed that he unfroze, at least enough to follow her when she led him to the nearest chair, a black-upholstered winged-back. He mechanically sat, and Meli knelt before him and looked him full in the face.

"Dudley, what's happened?" she asked. "Where are your parents?" Please, let it be a mistake somehow, she silently begged. Not when her ring was so close to ready!

Dumbledore had owled her only two days ago, telling her that Petunia's ring would be ready for delivery in a week. Five days—only five days left! It couldn't have happened now, not when Petunia was so close to being safe—!

He turned solemn, dead eyes on her. "With them," he whispered, and the last of her faint hopes died. "They came—all black, with masks—" He broke off, shuddering.

Meli swallowed and barely suppressed the irrational urge to hug him. She'd known, of course, the likely scenario, but knowing it for the final truth was far different. She might before have disliked the bully Dudley, but she pitied this pale, terrified creature in front of her. She had been bereaved of her parents, as well, but the Staffords had been practical strangers in comparison; Dudley had known and loved his parents his entire life.

There was a subdued clattering behind Dudley, and Meli looked to the side in time to see Alfred tiptoeing out of the room. The house elf caught her eye and pointed exaggeratedly at the tea table, then crept silently away.

Meli looked back to Dudley, who eyed her fearfully. She forced another smile for him. "Forgive me," she said. "I've forgotten my manners. My name is Lucy Honeychurch; I'm a friend of Bella Rokesmith and Ivan Gregoriyan, whom I believe you've met. You can call me either Lucy or Rasa."

Dudley managed something like a nod. Meli stood and stepped to the table, where she poured a cup of chamomile for Dudley and a cup of industrial-strength Earl Grey for herself. She handed the frozen Muggle his tea, and he mechanically accepted it and took a sip. The drink revived him a bit more, enough to take another sip and look down at his hands.

For her part, Meli took her cup all in one draft, then paced to the fireplace, keeping Dudley always in her view. She had no idea how he might behave as his shock wore off, and the pragmatist in her thought it best to be prepared for anything. As things stood now, however, the sooner he revived, the better. Snape Manor was hidden and well-defended, of course, but she had to get him out of the Bat Cave as soon as possible, and he would have to be disappeared immediately. For the moment, at least, she could take him to Hogwarts, but he could not long remain there, either. He needed a real home, and he needed to be well away from the students in general and from Harry Potter in particular.

"Oh, God," she groaned, covering her face with her hand. Harry would have to be told.

That thought triggered another in close succession: Harry could no longer spend holidays with the Dursleys, and the next most logical place would be the Weasleys' home, where he had no blood relations. While Dudley and Harry didn't see eye to eye—to say the very least—Meli shied away from the thought of separating them; each was now the only family the other had. Dudley might now find himself in need of the protection of near blood, and Harry's need for it could only be increased by his aunt and uncle's deaths; it was vital that the two remain together.

Setting Harry entirely aside for the moment, though, the Weasleys were among the best candidates for Dudley's foster parents. Molly, in particular, seemed the ideal type of comforting mother that he required just now, and he need have no fear of anyone bothering him—Molly's reputation as a fierce mama-bear was well-established. He needed a home and a family, and he needed psychological protection; Meli could think of now better source for any of it.

Now if she could only convince the Weasleys of that…

Well, that was where Dumbledore came in.

"Where am I?"

Meli jumped, startled, then turned to face Dudley fully. "You're in a parlor at my home," she replied. "There's no official name for it, but we call it the Bat Cave." She smiled wryly, then added, "But don't worry about bats—there aren't any; it's just a nickname."

Dudley relaxed slightly. "And your name is Lucy?"

She nodded. "For the moment."

"This isn't…Harry's school?"

"No." Meli cleared her throat. "Though we will be going to Hogwarts shortly. You'll be safer there until we find a better place for you to stay."

"What kind of place?" Dudley asked suspiciously, a slight darkening in his features turning his face into a sudden replica of his father's.

Meli didn't so much as blink. "A place more like a home than a bolt-hole," she answered. "A house, rather than an apartment in a castle where you'd have to stay out of sight. In short, a place that feels both safe and more or less normal." She smiled benignly. "We don't treat Muggles any differently from wizards."

Dudley's expression turned inward, and it suddenly occurred to Meli that he was weighing and considering her words, engaging in precisely the kind of critical thinking of which she had thought him entirely incapable when she had been his teacher. She had always thought of him as a thick, mean thug, and he had never done anything to prove her wrong—

Or perhaps he did, and I wasn't watching.

Her mind returned to the conversation she'd had with her colleagues in Surrey the night of Voldemort's return, and she realized now, to her shame, that she was guilty of the same kind of judgment with Dudley that Don and Jim had been guilty of with Harry. She flushed, but there was no way she could apologize now, not without blowing her cover.

"I've nothing to lose at this point, have I?" Dudley said at last, breaking into her thoughts. "At worst, you'll turn out to be one of them, and I'll be no worse off than…" He trailed off, clenching his jaw to stave off a trembling lip. He cleared his throat and continued firmly. "But at the best, I can trust you, and I'll turn out better off in the end."

Meli bit her lip, feeling again the stab of conscience at his eloquence. Perhaps he had been an underachiever, but he certainly was no fool. "You're far wiser than I am, Dudley Dursley," she said softly, almost meekly. "And it may puzzle you, but I'm honored and humbled by your trust. I…didn't think you would agree, and I beg your pardon for thinking so little of you."

Dudley stared at her in open wonder. "Do I know you?" he asked abruptly.

She smiled. "Not really," she replied. "But that may change; I'm your guardian for now, so you'll be seeing a lot of me." She cocked her head inquisitively. "Why? Do I seem familiar?"

He shook his head, as if to clear it. "You did for a minute," he conceded. "But it's gone now."

"Believe it or not, I've heard that before," Meli informed him dryly. "I rarely wear the same face twice, so people often meet me for the first time a few times."

Dudley raised his eyebrows. "You're a good one for riddles, you are," he declared.

"In more ways than one," she rejoined sardonically, a sour taste filling her mouth in the wake of that dark pun. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. "It's time we went."

"How far is it?" Dudley asked.

Meli smirked. "No further than that fireplace," she replied.

ooo

Dudley was an astute learner when he had a teacher who didn't consider him a blithering idiot; it required only one demonstration of floo powder for him to understand its proper use and application. That he was using a magical substance was not lost on him, and he seemed simultaneously terrified and fascinated by it. He asked several times if Harry had ever used floo powder, and Meli had the sobering epiphany that Dudley actually felt somehow inferior to his wizard cousin. She told him truthfully that Harry had probably used it at least once but that he, Dudley, had learned far faster than many wizards and witches did—herself included. This revelation seemed to encourage the unfortunate boy, and she did not begrudge him any earned praise; it was the least she could do after her prior verbal abuse of him, and it might be a ray of sunshine in what had suddenly become a dark life.

Once Dudley had a good grasp of floo powder, they stepped through to Dumbledore's office, Dudley going first. Meli arrived a few seconds behind him to find that Dumbledore was ready for them. The headmaster had set up a table with tea and scones, and Meli caught the scent of chocolate somewhere nearby.

Not surprising, really; he has no way of knowing if Dudley had a brush with one of Voldemort's pet Dementors.

A cold shudder ran through her, and she shook the thought away.

"Dudley," she said, smiling to cover up her brief chill, "this is Professor Albus Dumbledore. Professor, I'd like you to meet Dudley Dursley."

Dumbledore beamed at him. "Dudley, it's an honor and a pleasure to meet you," he said. His eyes flicked to Meli. "Rasa, welcome back. What might your name be today?"

Meli smirked. "It's Lucy Honeychurch at the moment," she told him.

Dumbledore looked confidingly to Dudley. "Has Rasa explained to you her many names and faces?" he asked.

"Sort of," Dudley replied, showing mild amusement. "It's really true, though? I thought she was exaggerating."

"It has been known to happen," Meli allowed. "But not on this particular occasion."

Dumbledore looked downward, and his eye fixed on Dudley's phoenix ring; he sobered. "That ring's makers will be glad to know that you were wearing it," he said gravely. "I certainly am."

Dudley, too, sobered. "Fat lot of good it did my parents, though." There was no bitterness in the comment, but his regret and anguish were palpable. "They're dead…aren't they."

Meli caught Dumbledore's eye and swallowed. It would be cruel to lie, but there seemed to be no gentle way to confirm the boy's words.

"You don't have to worry about me bursting into tears if you say yes," Dudley mumbled. "I know it's probably true."

"It's true," Meli told him quietly.

He nodded, and by the time his head was still again, he seemed twice his own age. "Dad wouldn't take a ring," he stated hollowly. "He wouldn't let Mum or me have one, either. The only reason I'm alive right now is I'm a rotten thief." He stared at the phoenix on his finger. "That Russian fellow, though—he didn't care how I'd got it, just that I had it. I don't deserve it." He slid the ring off and held it out to Dumbledore. "I don't deserve to be alive."

Dumbledore made no move to accept it. "Do any of us deserve to be alive, Dudley?" he countered. "I certainly don't."

"The ring is yours, Dudley," Meli told him firmly. "It was freely given."

"I don't deserve it," he repeated stubbornly.

"No one deserves grace," Meli replied. "That's why it's grace. Your life matters to us more than a past offense ever will."

"Why does it matter to you?" Dudley persisted. "Harry's life, sure—he's a hero to you! But why me? I'm just a thick-headed, dull-witted pig who doesn't know is left hand from his right foot, and I'm a Muggle on top of it all! What's so great about me?"

Meli closed her eyes. She knew he had no specific memory of hearing her say most of those things about or to him—Sirius Black had seen to that when he took the liberty of partially obliviating the Dursleys a year before—but the words had remained with him nevertheless. She was probably not the only one to have called him such things, but that didn't excuse her in the least. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes again, the stubborn, justice-loving Gryffindor lion rearing up within her. "A thick-headed dull-witted pig wouldn't have had the sense to activate his ring," she pointed out. "And someone who doesn't know his left hand from his right foot would hardly have been able to weigh his options and choose to trust a person he doesn't know." She raised her eyebrows. "And as for you being a Muggle, why would I care about that? My family and some of my closest friends are Muggles. I don't find them any less worthwhile as people." She looked sharply at him. "And on both points, I seem to recall that you picked up the proper procedure for using floo powder faster than many wizards do—which shows you to be neither stupid nor inferior. You're as much worth saving as Professor Dumbledore is."

Her words didn't exactly breathe new life into Dudley, but he was subdued, at least for the moment.

Seeing that he was temporarily mollified, Meli turned to Dumbledore, who was regarding her thoughtfully. "He can't stay here, of course," she said in an undertone. "Not for long, anyway. Do you think he could stay with Arthur and Molly?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I believe that would be ideal," he answered. "We don't want him outside of the Order's protection, but I doubt Dudley would very much appreciate being under heavy guard—would you, Dudley?"

The Muggle boy shook his head. "Not if I can avoid it," he replied. "But if you don't mind my asking, who are Arthur and Molly?"

Meli looked to the headmaster and raised her eyebrows, unequivocally yielding the floor to him. Dumbledore gave her a thin smile, then met Dudley's questioning gaze. "Arthur and Molly Weasley," he explained, "are the parents of several students past and present. I believe you may have met Mr. Weasley and his youngest sons—Ron, and the twins Fred and George."

To judge by the look on Dudley's face, he had indeed met them, and he harbored no happy memories of the occasion; this was not an auspicious beginning.

"I see you've experienced the joy of knowing the twins," Meli remarked sardonically.

Dudley wrinkled his nose in distaste. "They dropped a piece of candy that made my tongue swell 'til it was bigger than the rest of me," he told them through his teeth. "Not the best thing I've ever had happen to me. And Ron's a pal of Harry's, which means he probably hates me."

"Ron and Ginny are both reasonable people," Meli assured him, hoping she was right. "And they're the only ones still living at home—well, except for Percy," she added, smothering a pained look. "He tends to get on everyone's nerves, but fortunately, he practically lives at the office, so you'll see little enough of him. The rest you'll see only over the holidays, and Molly Weasley is more than able to keep the twins on a tight rein—and, in fact, she does it quite readily. You'll have little enough to fear from them."

Dudley hesitated a bit before his next question, but he at last managed to force it out. "Will…Harry be there, too?"

Meli fell silent, and Dumbledore looked measuringly at him for a long moment. "Harry will now be spending his holidays either at Hogwarts or with friends," he answered. "In all likelihood, that means that he will be staying with the Weasleys."

The boy's face was more expressive than Meli had ever thought it could be. Perhaps she had never noticed it, or perhaps he was too weakened by the evening's events to conceal his thoughts and emotions; in any case, she could read him like a book at the moment. Even when he had been the apple of his parents' eye and Harry was the despised invader, Dudley had felt that he stood in his cousin's shadow, and now, when life had turned upside-down, there was no chance of escaping that long, magical shadow. And this time he would be without his parents' shallow, effusive approval—the only type of affirmation he'd probably ever had. Added to that, even more unfortunately, was the very real possibility that Harry might take advantage of circumstances and turn the tables on Dudley, becoming a bully himself.

No, she couldn't blame the boy for not wanting to subject himself to that.

She looked again to Dumbledore, who had plainly read the same information she had. He knew, however, just as she did, the vital importance of keeping the boys together. It was necessary for Harry's protection, and where Dudley was concerned, there truly was no better place for him to go than to the Weasleys.

At the moment, I really couldn't care less about Harry Potter, Meli thought peevishly. If it comes down to it, I'll support keeping him at Hogwarts forever if that's the only way Dudley can live with the Weasleys. It's about bloody time the Boy Who Lived had someone else's needs take precedence—he's as spoiled by wizards as Dudley was by his parents.

"Would the Weasleys see me as—as Harry's awful cousin, or would they just see…Dudley?" he all but blurted out. "I'm a person. I want to be seen as a separate person, not Vernon's son or Harry's cousin or…or whatever else." He looked down. "Even though I suppose I deserve it if they hate me."

He was a behavioral manipulator, not an emotional one, Meli knew; his present forlornness, as pathetic as it was, was not feigned. "Molly and Arthur will think well of you if you give them reason for it," she told him. "And they won't think poorly of you unless you give them ample reason for that." That much, at least, she could promise with certainty. She glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded his confirmation.

Dudley's eyes fixed on the ground in front of him, and he was silent for several minutes. The others said nothing, understanding that the time for words had passed for the moment; it was up to Dudley to convince himself.

At last he looked up, and Meli irrationally took heart in the fact that he met her eye without hesitation. "I want to meet them before I decide for sure," he said. "But…if they're like you say…I'll stay with them." A new thought shot a flicker through his eyes. "Will I be going back to Smeltings?" he asked, his voice suddenly oddly neutral.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Unfortunately, it would be unwise at this time," he answered carefully. "You would be too easily found and attacked there. You will, however, be able to attend another school as soon as your enrollment can be arranged."

The boy's face had become a perfect mask; he appeared neither pleased nor upset by the news, and Meli wondered what was truly going on in his mind. "That's all right, I suppose," he said, sounding thoroughly unconcerned. "What sort of school would it be?"

Meli glanced at Dumbledore and raised an interrogatory eyebrow. The boy was a Muggle; he couldn't very well attend Hogwarts, even if it had been a good idea. She also couldn't help wondering what Dumbledore made of Dudley's lack of emotion on the topic.

The headmaster, true to form, kept all indication of his thoughts to himself. "The easiest school to enroll you in at this time would be Caliban," he answered. "It's near enough to where you'll be living that you need not be a boarder, and once they are made aware of your circumstances—those that are safe to make known, of course," he added, with a reassuring look to Dudley, "the administrators will be glad to have you start there immediately."

"And just how much will they know?" Dudley asked, sounding cautious once more.

Here Dumbledore looked to Meli, who shrugged. "They'll know your assumed name, that you're under our protection, and that you've been raised by Muggles. And the only reason they'll need to know that last part is that some of the things the other students take for granted may surprise you at first."

"So it's a magical school?" Dudley inquired, a note of interest sounding in his voice.

"Yes and no," she replied. "It's a squib school. Squibs are people born into magical families who can't do magic; for whatever reason, they simply don't have the ability. Because of their heritage, they know about magic and use some magical devices, but in all other respects, they're like Muggles."

Dudley's expression turned unreadable again, but he didn't seem displeased with what he was hearing. "And…would they know…?"

"No one has to know that you're in any way related to Harry Potter," Dumbledore told him gently. "The Weasleys know because they've met you, but beyond them, no one else will know unless you choose to tell them." He offered Dudley a smile. "No one should have to live in another's shadow, least of all you, and Rasa and I have no intention of tying you to such a shadow—nor will Arthur and Molly."

ooo

From Dumbledore's office, Meli led Dudley through a number of secret passages to an unused corridor near Ravenclaw, where Tippy had prepared one of the guest rooms for habitation. There they found a fire crackling in the fireplace, a fresh set of pajamas across the foot of the bed, and a cup of hot cocoa on the bedside table, all awaiting the Muggle boy.

"These are your rooms until you go to the Weasleys' home," Meli told him. "You probably won't be here above a day or two, but in the meantime, the house elves will take care of your meals and laundry—oh." She smiled tightly. "I should probably explain about house elves."

Dudley was looking a tad overwhelmed. "House elves?" he echoed faintly.

Meli offered him a reassuring look; the events of the night were beginning to catch up to him. "House elves," she explained, "are magical creatures who thrive on serving. There's a great deal more to it than that, but it's not important at the moment. For now, suffice it to say that they have poor grammar, but they're eager to please, so you needn't worry about cleaning up." She gave him a knowing look. "Just…don't go about making unnecessary messes—it makes them feel they've wasted their time, and there's very little as disagreeable as a disgruntled house elf."

The boy managed a smile. "Right, then."

"Would you like to meet a house elf?"

He looked surprised. "Now?"

Meli shrugged. "Sure. It won't take long—it's only an exchange of names."

"All right."

Meli summoned Tippy, who was thrilled to meet her for the first time again, and who was extremely fascinated by Dudley.

"Is it true, is it, that Muggles isn't learning Potions and Charms?" he asked, regarding Dudley with wonder-filled eyes.

The boy nodded, nonplused, but he proved himself quite capable of carrying a conversation. "Is it true that you actually like cleaning?" he inquired, furrowing his brow.

"Oh, yes, sir!" Tippy answered energetically. "Tippy is loving to neaten, to straighten, and even to dust!"

Dudley shook his head while Meli bit her lips to keep from laughing. "My mum would have loved you," he said.

Tippy was so delighted by this statement that he missed what Meli caught: Dudley's countenance darkened, and he suddenly looked very weary.

"Well, now that you've met," she said quickly, "I think it's time you were left alone to rest, Dudley. You look like you could use a good twelve hours' undisturbed sleep."

Indeed he was no idiot; he plainly realized what she was about, and he did not look inclined to argue. "It was nice meeting you, Tippy," he told the house elf quietly. "S'pose I'll see you later."

Tippy favored the boy with his broadest grin, then disappeared again.

"Do you need anything further just now?" Meli asked. "If not, I'll leave you to your rest."

Dudley shook his head. "You've done so much already," he answered. "I'm better off than I would ever have expected."

She smiled. "Well, if you need anything, even just to send a message, call Tippy."

"All right." The adrenaline had worn off, and now his exhaustion had caught up to him. As Meli watched, he drifted toward the bed, evidently in hopes of making it there before he fell over. "'Night."

She waited until she was sure he'd made it, then slipped out and returned the way she'd come. There were a number of things left to work out with Dumbledore before she could seriously entertain any thought of sleep.