Harry Potter and the heirs of Hogwarts

Chapter 1 – Looking back

"Come on, Harry."

Harry blinked. He had been standing for some minutes on Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross station, pondering that that may have been the last time he would set foot on the Hogwarts Express.

"Harry, your Aunt Petunia's waiting for you, we can see her on the other side of the barrier."

"Aunt Petunia, Ron? No Uncle Vernon?"

"Aunt Petunia, like I said. No Vernon, no Dudley."

Harry took one last glance at the red train, and walked through the barrier. "Hello, Aunt Petunia."

"Hello, Harry." Ron, Hermione and Ginny were being met by Molly, while Arthur stood nearby, obviously watching Harry.

"Where's Uncle Vernon?"

"He's… look, come with me and we'll get your stuff into a taxi. I'll tell you what's up in a minute."

Harry followed Petunia out of the station with his trolley, full as usual with his trunk and Hedwig's cage. He was aware of Remus Lupin following him at a distance – close enough to reassure him, far enough for Petunia not to notice him.

Petunia hailed a taxi, and one was about to pull up when it was suddenly overtaken by another taxi, with a strangely familiar driver. Harry glanced at Petunia; she hadn't noticed.

The taxi driver said "Where to, love?" in a voice Harry couldn't quite place, and shortly they were on their way through London. Occasionally other traffic would move aside to let them through – no, more like they squeezed everyone else aside, or maybe it was his imagination. This was a normal London black taxi wasn't it… with its normal ID plate on the outside.

"Aunt Petunia… are you all right?" Harry looked at his aunt, who looked on the verge of tears.

"Yes… yes, I am…"

"Are you sure?"

She started crying. The taxi driver opened the sliding window and beckoned Harry forward.

"Your aunt has had quite a shock. Go easy on her."

"Wha-?" Harry could ask no further questions, because the sliding window had closed again. He knocked, but the driver ignored him.

Harry put his arm around his aunt, and for the first time, she embraced him. "Thank you Harry… thank you…"

She wouldn't yet reveal to him what was wrong. It was going to be a long journey to Little Whinging.

----

After a surprisingly short journey – Harry had never moved so fast on the M25 – they arrived back in Privet Drive. He helped Petunia out of the taxi, and as he was getting his trunk out he thought he saw a cat from the corner of his eye. He blinked, and it was gone – if it was ever there.

He paid the taxi driver, who drove off quickly. He heard the taxi round the corner, and suddenly there was silence – too suddenly. He knew that driver, but where from?

"Don't just stand there, Harry, get in here. It's not safe!"

Harry turned round to see Arabella Figg. "Your aunt is already inside, stop standing there staring at me!"

Thoroughly bemused, Harry dragged his trunk inside. "Leave your trunk there, Dobby'll take it upstairs…"

"Dobby?" interrupted Harry.

"Yes, Dobby. Now get in here."

Dumbly, Harry compliantly walked into the front room. Cats.

"Mrs Figg, what's going on?"

A new voice answered, "We'll tell you now, Harry. Sit down."

----

Kingsley Shacklebolt opened the door. "You wanted to see me, Prime Minister?"

"Yes, Kingsley. Come in and sit down."

Kingsley sat in the chair opposite the Prime Minister, who continued, "Kingsley, I know you are a wizard. I need to speak to the Minister of Magic immediately."

Kingsley blinked. "That hasn't happened in fifty years, Prime Minister. Not since the fall of Hitler."

"Indeed not, and I am no Winston Churchill. However, I can get no answer from the portrait over there."

"There is a way, Prime Minister, but very few have been shown. Mr Churchill was the last – even your illustrious predecessor couldn't get that information from us."

"That doesn't exactly surprise me. She could be quite demanding."

"Um, yes. I was at school at the time."

"Indeed. However, I am not my predecessor, and you are here, so I will not ask to be shown how to address the portrait. Please call Mr Scrimgeour."

"Yes, Prime Minister."

Kingsley promptly went to the fire and dropped some Floo powder into the flames. He popped his head into the green flames and said "Rufus Scrimgeour!"

Presently, the well-worn portly figure of Cornelius Fudge came out of the fire. "If I wanted the monkey, I would have asked for the monkey. Get the organ-grinder."

"Prime Minister, I'm not sure what you –"

"It's a Muggle term. Means he wants the Minister, not the assistant," explained Kingsley.

"Oh – ah – er – the Minister for Magic is away at the moment."

"Away?" asked the Prime Minister.

"Yes, he's dealing with a difficulty at one of our… um… establishments."

"Hogwarts."

"Um, yes… hang on. How do you know about Hogwarts?"

Kingsley shot the Prime Minister a glance. "Let's just say I've started paying attention to my papers. I know about Dumbledore."

"Oh yes, um…"

"And everything has started making sense. Like October 31st, 1981."

Fudge was dumbfounded. Kingsley twiddled with his earring.

"Five days after the Oxford Street bomb, the world started celebrating. The atmosphere changed very suddenly. Apart from the murder of Robert Bradford a few weeks later, the IRA campaign went quiet for months.

"So, now it's time to talk with Mr Scrimgeour. A lot of things make sense now that used not to."

"Um." Fudge found his voice at last. "I'll try and arrange it at once. It may be a day or two."

"Very well. 12 noon on Thursday the 2nd of July. You may go."

Fudge put some more floo powder on the fire and vanished. Straight-faced, Kingsley said "That is the first time I have seen a Muggle get the better of Fudge – alas, he's been torn apart a few times by fellow Wizards."

"It may not be the last, Kingsley."

"No, Prime Minister, I'm sure it won't." He smiled and left the office.

4