Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does. I do not own the concept of the Slayer, Joss Whedon Does.
Chapter Seven: Attack.
The car radio blared erratically as the tunnel swallowed the vehicle. Considering the radio had been turned on full blast, this was nigh on damaging to the eardrums.
Elizabeth winced painfully at the noisily buzzing static and turned the knob on the radio so that it now displayed off. "Sorry about that!"
Harry took this as a sign to remove his palms from over his ears, deciding instead to glare forcefully at his sister.
Elizabeth grimaced at his heated look, and spent the rest of the drive under the tunnel staring determinedly at the road.
"So," Harry finally asked after the Eunos shot out of the tunnel, the night sky glaringly obvious from under the open hood. "Where are we going again?"
"You really are fascinated with the sky, aren't you Babe?"
Harry snapped his head from his perusal of the sky to stare uncomprehendingly at Elizabeth.
She snorted. "You're not even paying attention to what you're saying!" her hand performed a sort of flick upwards. "You were just staring straight up. What's so interesting up there anyway?" She positioned her chin to hang precariously over the wheel, peering up with her brow furrowed, as if she were trying to spot something mysterious.
"The stars," Harry proclaimed, completely truthfully. "It's just that the night sky . . . it's different back in England."
"Ahh, I see now," said Elizabeth, nodding understandingly. "That would be because England is in the northern hemisphere, whereas Australia is in the southern – OY!"
Harry had just shoved her. "I know that!" he exclaimed. "I'm not completely stupid! It's just, it looks really strange when you stare up and see that the sky just doesn't look right somehow . . . I don't know." He looked up again to demonstrate his point.
"Yeah, well I can't say I've had that feeling . . . though I probably will when we move to England next week."
Harry nodded, still staring at the stars. It was strange not to see the familiar twinkles that he'd got to know partially well in Astronomy, thanks to Professor Vector. He especially missed seeing Sirius. Both the star and his godfather.
"So you want to know where we're going." Elizabeth reiterated.
Harry turned back to look at his sister, this time determined to pay her more attention. Little did he realise what an adorable picture he made as he sat there amongst the leather interior of the expensive convertible, displaying his new designer jeans, red pullover, and leather jacket (collar up), his coal black hair looking gorgeously windswept and his emerald eyes appearing far too mysterious and far too unjustly pretty for a boy's. At least, that was what Elizabeth was thinking. If she hadn't been his sister . . . She chuckled inwardly. It was really not difficult at all to love Harry. He just made it so easy. All one had to do was look into those sorrowful eyes that seemed to hold all the secrets of the world and BAM! They were hooked. And it also helped that it seemed he truly did not realise just how beautiful he was. Inside and out. Incredibly, this only made him more appealing. Elizabeth was truly flummoxed as to why he'd never had a girlfriend before. Maybe girls in England were stupid? She shrugged dismissively. Whatever it was it didn't matter. He was her family now and that was the most important thing. That, and the fact that she positively loved showing him off. She had discovered, quite by accident, that it was a weakness of hers; a weakness that she didn't mind being in the least exploited.
"Of course I want to know!" Harry now exclaimed. "Haven't I been asking for the passed ten minutes –!"
"Playground!" Elizabeth drawled, glancing between his face and the road, her left brow lifted a touch outrageously.
Harry's brows creased. He cocked his head to the side, and blinked once. "Sorry?"
"Playground!" she explained, her voice not being able to contain her excitement. "We're going to a children's playground."
Harry, if possible, looked even more confused. "Why?"
"Because that's where I do my volunteer work, Dummy!"
"Oh . . . right then . . ." Harry appeared to shrug a little before settling his gaze once more on the sky.
A little while later they grew tired of staring - Harry at the sky, Elizabeth at the road – and they decided to focus their attentions on more agreeable observations, namely each other. After a couple of minutes of sly scrutiny on Elizabeth's part, she realised a few things about her brother that she'd never acknowledged before; such as, he could do with a piercing in his right ear, or a perhaps a more stylish cut than what he was currently sporting. Or the fact that contacts might finally persuade all those dim-witted chits at Hogwarts to recognise their past transgressions and actually acknowledge his studliness? Perhaps, as his sister, she was just biased? Elizabeth sighed dully. She really needed to stop analysing him and get a life.
Harry on the other hand was thinking about only one thing; and it wasn't a very good thing. In fact it was downright depressing. He'd just previously had the thought that Elizabeth was fully grown, no doubt had many boyfriends already and would have plenty more, and that she might actually marry one of the "plenty mores" that she was likely to have. Where would that leave Harry? He'd just found his only remaining family besides the Dursley's . . . and Sirius, and it was likely he'd only have her for a couple more years – three at the most – before she met a bloke, settled down, had children, and forgot all about him. And that was liable to happen because Elizabeth had to have children if she was to pass on the Slayer duty. There was no discounting it. It wasn't fair!
"Here we are! The playground! Otherwise known as The Children's Battlefield for all those disproving mothers who want to relax every once in a while." Elizabeth had parked the car in front of a large park. The multiple swings, swirly slides and jungle jims were faintly shadowed due to the dim overhead streetlights, of which there was only two. There also resided a large brick wall that ran along the perimeter of the entire right-hand side of the park. There was something on it. It was hard to make out what it was in the dark, but as they walked closer Harry could finally see –
He stared in amazement. His sister had done that? All by herself?
"It's a mural," Elizabeth explained, unnecessarily. "Took me ages to finish. The great thing was that the local Council didn't care how long I took, as long as the finished product was good. They said they didn't care what I painted as long as it was interesting. I told them it was going to be more than interesting, it was going to be di-vine! And I think it's turned out that way, don't you? If you don't, it's alright, I understand. Just give me your honest opinion."
"Right," was all Harry could say. He hadn't really understood what she'd been prattling about; he had been and still was, too busy staring at the wall.
It was a Quidditch match. Elizabeth had painted a Quidditch match. In it's full wizardly glory. Complete with fourteen players, each riding Firebolts. There were the usual two bludgers, quaffle, and he even spotted a golden snitch hovering in the corner of a goalpost. A large crowd, comparable to the one he'd seen last year at the Quidditch World Cup, was also depicted. In fact, if Harry didn't know better, he would say Elizabeth had painted last year's World Cup match. Did that seeker have a hooked nose? And were those Veela? This painting alone was in serious breach of "sub-section 36 of the muggle bylaw" something or other.
Harry cleared his throat and gestured hesitantly at the wall. "Isn't that illegal though? I mean, showing this to the muggles."
Elizabeth shrugged off his concern. "They don't know it's real, do they? Besides, it's a place for kid's to hang out. All children believe in magic Harry. They'll love this."
"And . . . um . . . I couldn't help noticing . . . that you painted last year's World Cup . . ."
Elizabeth turned her head slowly to stare at him. Her expression could only be called surprised. "How the heck did you know that? Unless . . . don't tell me you were there as well!"
Harry only had time to nod slightly before she squealed, her mouth open in shock. "I cannot believe you were there too! And I missed you! Damn it all backwards and forwards! I could have passed you by without knowing! You have to tell me where you visited. Did you go the stall where that guy was selling Quidditch magazines?"
Harry shook his head, still staring amusingly at her bout of annoyed and unwarranted anger.
"Well . . . damn! That's the only one I visited. I didn't have time to go anywhere else, you see. I came just before the game, and left straight after. I shouldn't have though. I should have stayed and beaten those Death Eaters. . . If I'd have known . . ."
"Yeah, that was horrible," Harry said. "They were torturing this muggle family that lived there . . ." he trailed off at the look on Elizabeth's face.
"You were there?" she asked, seeming shocked.
"It was all happening near our tent," he explained in his defence. "I couldn't not be there."
She stared at him for a couple more moments. "Trouble seems to follow you like the plague, Harry," she said dryly.
Harry smiled sheepishly.
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"Got your broom Babe? You better, cause I'm gonna lock the boot . . . starting . . . now!" She turned the key and locked it. "Let's go then."
They were currently at the back entrance of Wrigadoogong, having arrived some fifteen minutes ago. The reason why they'd taken so long to get going was because they'd had to change into their robes. Elizabeth claimed she had absolutely no idea how to transfigure clothes, as all wizards didn't apparently, unless you were Dumbledore, or McGonagall, or someone equally powerful. ("Why do you think we have Gladrags and the like?" she'd asked, rhetorically.) They had then taken a turn changing in the back seat of the Eunos, with the hood up, of course. Harry had changed into his ordinary black school robes, while Elizabeth looked like she'd walked out of Ancient Greece, in dark purple robes complete with corked sandals. If the dress of the other wizards Harry saw in Wrigadoogong was anything to go by, he knew he would, again, be the one singled out.
Elizabeth walked up to the round, metal gate, that, Harry could now see, was disguised as the entrance to a sewer, and tapped on it three times with her wand. It swung open.
She looked back at him, eyebrows raised. "Ready?"
Five minutes later Harry once again found himself standing in the holding area of The Wormhole. A small wizard with crazy brown hair shuffled to them and snatched the brooms out of their grasps. "A Firebolt, my word. That is an expensive broom," he mumbled, before scurrying back to toss their brooms against the sanded wall where a lot of other broomsticks could be found, some lying crookedly in a pile on the ground.
Elizabeth, seeing Harry's horrified expression, assured him. "Nothing will happen to them. They're magically reinforced after all."
He nodded, relieved.
"So where do you want to go? It's your ticket!"
"The pet store."
"The pet store it is! Onwards!"
They entered the fourth tunnel across. They bypassed a potion's supply store that read "Pockmark's Potions Supplies," a luggage store with the name "Leafgood's Leathery Lollings," and a secondhand store that bore "Odds and Ends," as the heading, before finally reaching the pet store, which read "Pets: M&M."
"M&M?" asked Harry, who hadn't noticed the name the first time he'd ventured into it.
"Magical and Muggle," Elizabeth explained. "Or is it, Muggle and Magical?" She shrugged dismissively and entered the store, Harry followed behind her.
The middle-aged owner of the store, who'd been the first Australian wizard Harry had spoken to, was currently engaged in a conversation at the counter with an elderly witch, which gave Harry the time and excuse to drag Elizabeth over to the Bunyip cages, finally stopping in front of the shaggy black Bunyip he'd become acquainted with a week ago. It was sleeping again, its furry head buried in its tiny arms.
"What do you think?" he asked.
Elizabeth cocked her head to the side. "It's a cute little Bunyip," she observed. "I'd name her Runamuck, if she were mine. Muck for short."
Harry stared at her, completely baffled as to why and how she'd chosen that name.
Elizabeth, seeing his questioning look, shrugged. "It just came to me."
"Well I'm buying her," Harry said. "We can share responsibility of looking out for her."
Elizabeth's eyes sparkled. "You mean she'll be ours? As in yours and mine? Not just mine and not just yours? But ours?
"Yeah," Harry said simply.
"Oh," Elizabeth said, her voice trembling. Her eyes watered.
Harry grew alarmed. What had he done?
"Oh you didn't do anything," she said, interpreting the look of alarm on his face. She flapped a hand and sniffled. "It's just, I . . . oh it doesn't matter. Girl stuff. Let's buy her."
Harry nodded, thoroughly relieved. "Okay."
They approached the counter just as the elderly witch walked off, having finished with her purchases.
"Welcome to Pets: M&M." The shop employer said. "How can I help you this fine evening – hey it's you. G'day mate! So, I take it by your presence that you want to buy that Bunyip?"
Harry nodded. "Yes Sir."
The shopkeeper could barely contain his excitement. He seemed to be bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Wonderful! Wonderful! I'll just let her out of the cage then, and give you the food list – recommendation for all our customers you understand, and you'll be free to go!" He paused, and seemed to reconsider. "After you pay for your animal, of course," he added hastily.
Harry and Elizabeth exchanged amused looks.
Harry nodded a little too enthusiastically. "Of course."
The shopkeeper chattered constantly as he walked around the bench and to the cages. "And who's this lovely young lady? Relation of yours I take it? Sister perhaps? Ah, here we are." He pulled out a key from his robes. "I'll just unlock it . . ." He inserted the key in the lock and turned it. Nothing happened. "Ah . . . now . . . that's not supposed to . . . hmm . . . well that was unexpected . . . must be rusted inside." The shopkeeper bent over and peered through the hole in the lock of the cage door. The Bunyip, incredibly, had still not woken up. "I don't understand . . . it worked this morning . . . had to give her food you know."
Elizabeth smirked as Harry sniggered. He cleared his throat. "Why don't you just use Alohamora?" he asked the rattled man, who was currently scratching his head.
"What's that? The unlocking charm? Can't do that. It's specially warded over, the cage I mean. Otherwise any old farmer can come in and steal my animals."
"Oh," said Harry, feeling embarrassed at his slight.
"Perhaps," Elizabeth injected, her tone dry, "you've used the wrong key?"
The shopkeeper blinked, then looked down at the key in his hand. "So I have," he said, sounding surprised. He dug through his robes and brandished a new one, almost identical to the first key. He inserted it in the lock. They all heard a click. The shopkeeper breathed a sigh of relief, and threw them a quick smile before scooping up the sleeping Bunyip, who'd finally woken at being lifted.
"Here you go," said the shopkeeper, depositing the yawning Bunyip in Harry's arms, before toddling off to the counter again. Presently, the Bunyip opened her dark sapphire eyes to stare straight into Harry's brilliant green ones. She squealed, sounding almost identical to Elizabeth, and immediately wrapped her little arms around his neck. Harry couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. Elizabeth smiled seeing him.
At the other end of the store the shopkeeper cleared his throat, his meaning unmistakable.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes playfully. "I'll pay for Muck. You go and explore The Wormhole. Do you know where the ice cream shop is?"
Harry nodded, blinking, because Runamuck had stolen his glasses and placed them over her eyes. He stole them back. "In the first tunnel isn't it?"
"Yep," Elizabeth said staring at him. "Are you sure you'll be able to handle her?"
"Oh shut up," said Harry, to his sister's chortling.
"Well anyway, meet me in the ice cream shop."
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As Harry made his way out of the fourth tunnel towards the first he had to allow that "Runamuck" was certainly an appropriate name for the Bunyip he'd just acquired. Harry could only think that she must have been cooped up too long in that squishy metal cage. As soon they'd arrived at the landing, she'd struggled in his arms until he was forced to put her down, and now she scrambled this way and that, sniffing at people's shoes, causing a little girl to shriek and her mother to look on in disproval, and finally, after examining a pair of hairy legs endorsed with sandals that came up to the knees, she teetered off into the Dark tunnel.
Harry blinked. His Bunyip hadn't just gone into that evil tunnel; the one Dumbledore went to, the one that reminded him so much of Knockturn Alley . . .? Harry sighed, and glancing about him to see if anyone was looking, he dashed into the shadowed tunnel. It was completely dark. He could barely see in front of him. He took out his wand, then put it away again. He didn't dare light it. Why wasn't there any –? Of course!
He cleared his throat. "Turn yourselves on would you? I don't fancy having to walk in the dark."
A jabbering noise came directly before a faint blue light shone dimly from overhead, just enough so that he could see where he was stepping.
Thank you Dumbledore!
Harry looked around him, wondering at the emptiness of the tunnel. He peered at the incredibly dimly lit shops that resided on either side of him. They seemed to be made of polished rock that looked like it'd moulded over the centuries. Harry noticed, creepily, that as he moved onwards the lichens he passed under would stave off their light, becoming dark and anonymous once again. Where was Muck?
A noise in front alerted him and he shuffled quickly forward. A few meters in front he saw Muck, or the outline of Muck, squatting in between a shop that bore the apt name of "Dark Arts Books," and another that read "Ryne's Rare Retractables." Muck appeared to be sniffing at the ground, she moved long, continuing to sniff until her snout reached the open doorway of "Ryne's Rare Retractables." Harry dashed forward and scooped her up before she could make her way in. If this was the sort of trouble he expected from her in the future . . .
Talking alerted him to the fact that the shop was currently occupied. He scrambled back against the wall of the shop.
". . . isn't all that difficult, Mr Ryne. Just toddle off to the storage space and get it!"
Harry froze at the voice drifting out of the open door; a voice Harry was all too familiar with. It was impossible for that voice to be here, in Australia, of all places, but it was unmistakable. Harry shuffled in closer in order to hear better. Surely it wasn't him? It just couldn't be. It was simply impossible. It would mean that anywhere Harry went he couldn't be rid of him . . . it was just too horrible.
Harry peered over the rim of the door. His heart sank. He hadn't been mistaken. There were two men standing in the store. A small man with black, knotted hair was positioned behind the counter and an equally black-haired, not to mention sallow-skinned man stood in front of it, his back to Harry.
Snape.
Harry ducked back around the door, his heart pounding.
". . . not happen if you would just listen to me you arrogant Australian Abercrombie. A colleague of mine came here about a week ago, and purchased some ingredients. Dried balle of seven years, and powered limehorn. He simply . . . forgot to purchase the third; I've now come to remedy that." There was a chinkling, as if metal was being displaced from one position to another.
"Sorry mate, no can do. You have to have a special license to buy all three at the same time. No license, no ingredient."
"I'm not buying them at the same time, you bloody Australian," Snape spat, but evidently there was more to it than that by the tone in his voice. "And isn't this supposed to be a Dark Arts shop? What do you care about licenses?"
"We do things a bit different in Australia mate. We might be a Dark Arts shop, but we know to follow the law. Gold isn't gonna change that." There was another chink-chink sound. "On the other hand, I've been known to be a bit of a rebel."
"So I see," said Snape in his sneering tone.
Harry once more peeked into the room. He jumped when Snape snarled, "Well? Are you going to get it?"
"Hold your horses," said Mr Ryne, but he shuffled off to the back of the store nonetheless.
Snape muttered, "Incompetent man."
A few seconds later Mr Ryne had come back, holding a pouch of something in his right hand. Snape seized it, opened it, and took a sniff with his over-large nose, then stuck a finger in and twirled it around. Apparently finding nothing wrong with the smell and consistency of the product he tied off the pouch, nodded to Mr Ryne, and turned, his action clearly implying he meant to leave the store.
Harry panicked, wishing he had his invisibility cloak. What would Snape do if he found Harry here? In Australia? There were bound to be questions after the initial shock, especially when Snape realized Harry had been eavesdropping. He mustn't be seen. Harry looked around searching for anything and everything to help him, and with luck spotted a thin dark gap in between Mr Ryne's shop and the Dark Arts Bookstore and squeezed himself in between. Though, he had to place Muck on top of his head, and suck in his stomach in order to do so. For the first time, he wished he hadn't trained so hard with Elizabeth this passed week.
A second later Snape swooped out of Ryne's Rare Retractables, not pausing for a moment as he made his way passed Harry's hiding spot. At exactly that second Muck eeped in his ear. Harry's heart hammered as Snape froze in mid-step, his black, glittering eyes swiftly turning in his direction. Their calculating stare almost, but not quite, landing on him. Apparently finding nothing of interest, or assuming the sound was made by a common rodent – which wouldn't be far from the truth at the moment – Snape snapped his gaze back forward and strode down the tunnel. Only until Harry could no longer see his potion professor's bat-like profile did he pop out of the gap between the shops. He breathed in some much needed air. That had been too close.
He plucked Muck from atop his head and held her up in front of him. And almost like a child, scolded her, "You almost got us discovered."
Muck dropped her gaze, looking sorrowful.
Harry sighed. "Why were you sniffing about? Don't tell me it was Snape's scent you picked up? There's nothing interesting about him, the old bat! Except for the fact that he's here . . . Let's go then, I don't want to stay in this tunnel anymore."
Harry ran the rest of the way out of the Dark Tunnel, not caring if it made him look stupid, and then made his way into the one that hosted the ice cream shop. He spotted Elizabeth sitting at a table outside the shop, already eating an ice cream. He slowed down to a walk now that he could see her, but he kept his eyes peeled open in case Snape was still lurking about.
Now that Harry thought about it, he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to see Snape in Australia. When Dumbledore had come to Wrigadoogong with Harry last week he seemed to be overly familiar with the geography of the place, as well as the proprietors of the shops, whom all seemed to known him. If Dumbledore was familiar with it all, why not Snape? He had to spend his holidays somehow. And if searching for rare and dangerous potion ingredients on the other side of the world – with Dumbledore's help, apparently – was the way he went about it . . . but it was just so strange to see Snape outside of Hogwarts, his dungeon, or slinking around the corridors after curfew hoping to catch rule-breaking students . . . and it was especially creepy seeing him in sunny Australia at the same time as Harry . . . he sighed; his world became weirder every day.
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Dudley had had a marvellous time this night.
In fact, he'd been having a marvellous time the whole week, ever since his hated cousin had left with that old w-wizard a little over a week ago. Dad hadn't been pleased as to how the old codger had shown up to collect him; he'd ranted a full day about the state of his "bright clothes, un-groomed hair, and uncut beard," but he was pleased now, just as Dudley and his Mum were, because Harry wasn't in the house anymore.
This was why Dudley had had a marvellous time all week, especially this night.
The night in question now played out in Dudley's mind as he thought of stupid, wimpy Daren Bolger cowering at his feet, begging not to be hit. Dudley, of course, had hit him anyway, with Gordon and Malcom holding the kid still so he couldn't do a runner. Dudley had to practice after all. Wouldn't do to loose his title of Junior Heavyweight Interschool Boxing Champion of the Southeast. Dad wouldn't be pleased if that happened.
Dudley was also smart enough to realise that his Dad wouldn't be pleased if he caught Dudley smoking, or bashing up kids, because that would draw attention of the wrong sort from the neighbours, but Dudley made sure he was extra careful. The kids wouldn't blab, they'd have to answer to Dudley if they did.
Of course his cousin had known what he was doing around the neighbourhood, and Dudley had been a bit scared at first that he might tattle to all his freaky friends, but now that he was gone Dudley could indulge. This was another reason why he was so glad Harry had left early.
Dudley and his friends, among whom his best friend Piers was still included, now stopped at the entrance to Magnolia Crescent. It was time to say goodbye. The lads talked a moment about the night's happenings.
"He squealed like a pig, didn't he?" Malcom said, and they all laughed, imagining the Bolger kid's terrified expression.
"Nice right hook, Big D," said Piers, and Dudley swelled with importance. He did have a nice right hook, and it felt good when other people noticed it.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked them.
"Round at my place, my parents will be out," said Gordon.
"See you then," Dudley said.
"Bye, Dud!"
"See ya, Big D!"
All three clapped him on the back and waved as they made their way off.
Dudley smirked his appreciation at being called Big D, a formidable name, and continued forward along Magnolia Crescent. He was so happy this night, and everything was going so well, that he thought the night's end deserved a celebratory song. Something of Dudley's own making. He began humming tunelessly, not caring if it sounded stupid or not. There was no one around to hear him anyway.
He picked his pace up a bit as he entered Wisteria Walk. Mum expected him back around seven, and Dudley was sure she had hinted at a special dessert after dinner. He hoped it was chocolate mud cake; that was his favourite.
It was when Dudley turned into Private Drive that everything suddenly went dark.
Dudley froze, whimpering, not even thinking it wasn't manly to do so because he seemed to have lost most of his thought process when the street turned dark. He understood that it was possible the electricity went off in the street, and all the streetlights and houselights extinguished automatically as a result, but he was also smart enough to realise that he should have been able to see the outlines of the houses at least, because of the moon and the stars. But that was the problem, Dudley could not see the moon and the stars, it was completely dark, pitch black, as if he had walked into an underground tunnel. Dudley stood there and shivered in his meaty arms. It was so very cold all of a sudden. Why was it so cold?
If Dudley didn't know better, he would say that something freaky was going on. But his cousin wasn't here at the moment, had not been here for over a week in fact, so it couldn't be him. What was happening? Was Dudley going blind? Had all those Boxing Matches meddled with his brain?
Dudley trembled as the air around him seemed to grow even colder. What was happening!
An extremely loud crack broke the stillness of the street and Dudley, giving up all pretence of acting macho, screamed, slumped to the ground and curled himself into the tiniest ball he could manage, his arms covering his head.
Out of the darkness a majestic voice boomed, "Expecto Patronum!" just as another sharp crack arrived. The same voice then said "Mundungus Fletcher!" in a tone Dudley had only heard being used by his father when talking to Harry.
"Dumbledore!" said a slightly slurred voice, as if whoever was talking had had too much to drink recently.
Another voice came then, one that sounded like a breathless old woman. "Dumbledore!" she croaked. "Thank God. I told him! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went. And now look! Dementors in Private Drive."
"Figgy!" said the drunken voice.
"Don't you 'Figgy' me Mundungus Fletcher. Off buying stolen cauldrons when you were supposed to be on watch duty! You almost got the Dursley boy killed. Lucky Harry was in the house at the time. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore . . ."
"Say what?" said the drunken voice.
"Mundungus, you will wait for me at headquarters," said the first voice, in a forbidding tone.
"Eh? A'right then, Dumbledore!" The drunken voice sounded trembly for a moment. "Me apologies an' all that. Be seeing ya!"
There was another sharp crack.
"What do we do with the Dursley boy?" asked the old woman.
"I will take care of it. You'd best go back to your house Arabella."
"If you're certain . . . how did you manage to come here so quickly?"
"The wards around Private Drive alerted me to the fact that dark creatures appeared."
There was a shuffling noise, as someone walked away.
"Mr Dursley?" said the first voice, right in Dudley's ear. Dudley jumped, and scrambled away on his bottom. Dudley had had a hunch as to who had spoken and he preyed that he was wrong. But it wasn't to be, as Dudley found out a second later when he opened his eyes. He was now looking up the long-bearded man that had only a week ago been standing in Dudley's own living room; in the same kind of freaky dress he'd worn then as well.
"You should be fine Dudley," said the man, smiling down at him. "The Dementors had not come near you by the time I arrived."
Dudley just sat there, still gaping.
"Let's get you inside, hmm?" He offered a hand to Dudley.
Dudley ignored it and scrambled up to his feet, slowly backing away and staring at the hand like it might have been contagious if he touched it. It probably was, thought Dudley, you never know with these types. What if he could catch m-magic? Then he would be a freak, just like his cousin. No thanks.
Dudley stood still for a moment, his eyes flitting quickly between the man's face and his outstretched hand. "D-don't you try anything f-funny," he told him bravely, before wheeling around and sprinting to number 4.
He banged on the front door with his beefy fist, shouting hysterically. "Mum, Mum! Dad! Open up there's a you-know-what behind me!"
His Mum shrieked, and soon after Dudley heard someone running towards the door. It was yanked open and Dudley saw his parents standing there, before his Mum yanked him to her bosom.
"Oh my poor Dudley. What have they done to you? What have they done?"
"Mummy," Dudley moaned pathetically.
"What have they – Ahhh! You? What are you doing here?"
Dudley turned his head in time to see the old wizard walk up the front steps.
"Mr and Mrs Dursley, I –!"
"What are you doing here?" his Dad whispered furiously. "We thought we were rid of your kind for the summer when we sent the boy off last week!" He peered around behind the old man. "He's not here, is here? You didn't come to drop him off on our doorstep again, did you?"
"No, I –!"
"And what's happened to Dudley? You better not have tried anything . . . freaky on him! Get off my property!"
"If you would just let me explain what happened."
"No, we've had enough of your kind. Goodbye!" His Dad slammed the door in the astonished man's face. "That'll show em you can't mess with a Dursley, right Dudley?"
"Right Dad," said Dudley, though both men were shivering.
"Are you all right Diddykins?"
"Course he's alright Petunia. Dudley isn't scared of one of them." He clapped Dudley on the shoulder.
"All the same, I think he deserves a bit more dessert tonight because he's had a fright," she said lovingly, smoothing Dudley's hair.
"Right you are, dear. Right you are. I think we all ought to have a bit more dessert."
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Albus sighed tiredly as he apparated to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He landed next to the front door with a crack. He had known Harry's relatives had been a bit less than understanding of Harry's abilities, but he never thought . . . he never thought they were that prejudiced. He understood a bit better, now, Harry's reluctance to come home on the summer holidays, and his avoidance of them entirely on the Christmas holidays. If that was the welcome he always expected . . . Albus sighed once more and entered Number 12, immediately wishing he hadn't done so.
". . . CRIMINALS, MUDBLOODS, IN THE ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK . . .!"
" . . . COULD'VE GOTTEN HARRY KILLED! NOT TO MENTION HIS COUSIN . . .!"
". . . BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS. TRAITORS TO THE BLOOD! FILTH . . .!"
". . . OFF STEALING CAULDRON BOTTOMS . . .!"
". . . VILE, DIRTY STENCH IN MY –!"
Albus flicked his wand at Sirius's mother's portrait. The curtains swung shut, ending the horrendous insults. Now it was time to end Molly's tirade. Unfortunately, that would not be as easy. If only he could flick his wand and quieten Molly as he had Mrs Black's portrait. Albus tried not to smirk at the thought as he pushed open the door, seeing almost the entire Weasely clan (minus Percy and Bill), Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Kinsley and in the middle stood Molly Weasley and Mundungus Fletcher, who was looking quite pale at Molly's continuous berating.
"What could have happened?" he said. Albus cringed at the question, knowing it had been a mistake to ask.
"'WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED?' 'WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED?' THE FACT THAT YOU DON'T EVEN CARE SHOWS JUST WHAT KIND OF PERSON YOU ARE! I DON'T KNOW WHY DUMBLEDORE — Dumbledore?"
Every head turned towards him at Molly's exclamation. Albus stared at her over the top of his spectacles. "Are you quite finished, Molly?"
She flushed, eyes roving the floor. "Of course, Professor."
"I assume by your . . . uh . . . conversation that Mundungus has told you what transpired at Private Drive recently."
Molly flushed even more. "Of course, and it was lucky you turned up when you did, as I was just telling Mundungus."
"Of course, Molly. Thank you for saving me the trouble."
Both Molly and Dung looked relieved at that, though Albus didn't doubt it was for different reasons entirely. "However, I shall still like to speak to you, Mundungus, about your lack of consideration and attention to things more important than stolen cauldrons."
"Right Sir," was all Dung said, his gaze on the carpet.
"But how is Harry Professor?" asked Hermione, her brown eyes pleading.
Ronald sat up. "Yeah, how is he, Sir? Did he get those Dementors?'
"Will he be expelled!" The girl seemed on the verge of hysteria.
Albus held up both hands. "Calm, calm. Harry was not even there at the time." Which was true. But they didn't have to know where.
Ron and Hermione slumped at that, looking reassured.
Sirius, standing off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest, broke the silence," How did Dementors end up in Private Drive Dumbledore?"
"I have no idea. But Dementors should not be outside Ministry control."
"So either someone at the Ministry sent them there or –"
"Voldemort is already recruiting Dark Creatures, yes."
Sirius and Remus were the only ones who didn't jump at the word Voldemort.
"But You-Know-Who's been quiet for months, why would he risk coming out in the open now, with the Ministry not believing him?" asked George, or was it Fred?
Molly drew herself up, glaring at the twins. "That's Order business. In fact, you lot shouldn't even be here. Up to bed, all of you!"
There was instant protest.
"Aww Mum!"
"We're of age!"
"It's not fair –!"
"Only seven thirty –!"
"At least tell us if Harry's coming," Ronald finally said.
Every head once again turned to Albus for confirmation.
He cleared his throat. "What with all that has happened tonight, he will be here in three days, rather than when he was going to come later. And Molly is right, off to bed with you. We are about to have an impromptu meeting."
Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron didn't dare argue with the headmaster, and they left the room, a lot of grumbling from the twins and Ginny following in their wake.
"Well," said Molly, breathing shallowly. "That's that! I'll make sure they aren't listening. Fred and George have invented these new . . . things."
She marched out of the door; a second later her footsteps could be heard trudging up the stairs.
Albus moved to sit down at the head of the table.
"Dinner Headmaster? Dessert? Molly's made custard pie."
"Thank you very much Arthur, but I'm afraid I'll decline on the dinner. Custard pie sounds wonderful."
Arthur nodded and stood up to go to the kitchen. The rest of the present Order members settled themselves around the table, chatting comfortably. A minute later Arthur came back with a slice of custard pie that he plonked in front of Albus.
"Now then," said Albus after taking a bite. "We'll just wait for Molly to –"
"YOU CAN'T TAKE THEM –!"
"THEY'RE OUR BEST DESIGN!" came the thundering voices of Fred and George Weasley.
"I MOST CERTAINLY CAN! I'M YOUR MOTHER! AND I BETTER NOT SEE THEM AGAIN!"
A couple of bangs followed immediately after that, presumably from a door or two. A lot of people around the table were sniggering, Albus included. A minute later Molly whirled into the room like a tropical storm, her breathing shallow, and her hair slightly askew. She sat herself next to her husband and sighed.
"Where were we then?" she asked no one in particular. "And tell me truthfully Albus, without the kids here. Is Harry really alright?"
Albus grew uncomfortable at the expectant stares of his companions; especially at the stares of Harry's Godfather and former Professor. He hated outright lying, but it seemed he would be doing just that the entire rest of the night; at least for any questions pertaining to Harry. He wanted to tell them where Harry truly was, and with whom, but it was not his secret to reveal. He had promised James, and most recently Elizabeth.
"He is completely fine. He was not with his cousin at the time. He was in the house. As you all know he has not stepped outside of it for an entire week. It was Dudley Dursley who had been in the most danger. Luckily I arrived before the Dementors came too near. He only experienced a slight chill. No unpleasant memories surfaced, thankfully."
"That's good to hear," said Molly, though Albus could not help but notice the lack of enthusiasm in her tone.
"What's niggling at me is how you managed to get there so fast, Dumbledore," Tonks observed. "How did you know the Dementors were there?"
"The wards around Private Drive alerted me to the fact that dark creatures had entered. I did not know what creatures they were."
"So the wards for Potter don't extend passed the street he lives in?" asked Kingsley.
"Precisely."
"That's awful!" exclaimed Molly. "Imagine if those Dementors had attacked before the Dursley boy came into the boundaries of the street? Imagine if he were delayed for some reason. Imagine if Harry were with him at the time. No one would have known! He would have been forced to use magic! Imagine what kind of trouble that would have caused, especially with Fudge discrediting him the way he is! He would have jumped at the chance to expel Harry!" She glared at Mundungus.
"How did the Dementors know to find Harry's house?" Remus asked, breaking up the tense silence.
Albus sighed. "This I have some inclination towards, although I have been known to be wrong on occasion. I have reason to believe it was someone at the Ministry who ordained the attack, not Voldemort, since his spies at the Ministry are not as high up in the ranks yet as he would like!"
Gasps followed that statement.
"Are you trying to say that Fudge –?" Arthur began.
"I am trying to say that someone with high rank in the Ministry ordered those attacks."
"How did you come by that conclusion?" asked Sirius, leaning forward in his seat.
"Simply by knowing that only the Ministry have Harry's address registered in their roster, as they do with nearly every wizard residence that isn't unplottable . . . and Voldemort does not know Harry's address—yet," he added darkly, and to numerous winces. "Which means, whoever ordered those Dementors must have come from the Ministry. And because Voldemort does not know Harry's general location, it would defeat the purpose of him sneaking into Azkaban and risking exposure, convincing only two Dementors to follow him, and then sending them on a wild goose chase. It would be a waste of time and resources. No, Voldemort could not have done it." And thank Merlin for that, Albus added in his thoughts.
"The Ministry's more corrupted than I thought," said Molly sadly.
Albus nodded tiredly. "That it is Molly. And as long as Fudge deems to dismiss the unavoidable it will continue to be."
"Do we establish a guard to pick up Harry?" Sirius avoided the headmaster's eyes after speaking, as if he knew he shouldn't let himself appear too excited, for fear of not getting chosen as part of the guard.
Albus said simply, "No," to various groans of disbelief. Sirius's head shot up from his perusal of the table, his brow furrowed. Albus explained, "I will be making a portkey and sending it to Harry. He will arrive in front of Grimmauld Place. I do not have a specific time set yet, but when I do you will be notified. Someone will have to wait for him outside and give him the address, then burn it. I recommend Tonks and Moody."
"Course," said Tonks. Moody was absent so he could not reply.
"Very good. That will be all I think." Albus stood up. "I best get going and do that then. Molly, that was an excellent pie, I shall have to beg for the recipe and pass it on to the Hogwarts house elves."
"Well, thank you very much Headmaster," said Molly, looking surprised. "Would you like some more?"
Albus was about to decline, but then he had a thought. "Why not! I know of a certain person who'd simply love a sample!"
Molly stood from her seat and smiled knowingly. "I know he won't admit it, but Severus does love my cooking."
Sirius snorted in disbelief from his place at the end of the table as Molly went to get the pie, while Albus just smiled and nodded. He had been thinking of Harry actually, but if Molly wanted to believe it was Severus he would give the pie to, well, all the better, he supposed. Speaking of . . . Severus should have been back from Australia by now . . . Albus wondered if he'd manage to purchase that lost ingredient.
A minute late Molly came back with a slice of pie wrapped up in a woollen kitchen towel, just as Albus reached the door.
Farewelling the present Order members, and sending his goodbye's to the children upstairs via Molly, Albus stepped out of Grimmauld Place and gently closed the door behind him. He looked at the towel in his hand for a moment, before stuffing it under his robes. He withdrew his wand from the holster on his wrist.
It took a significant amount of power to apparate across the continents and to the other side of the world. Even so, one had to stop through several countries before one could reach their desired destination. Also, one had to know where they were apparating to; one had to have a clear picture of the scenery in mind, otherwise, splinching occurred. Albus, luckily, had visited all destinations previously some ninety years ago, already had a precise layout of the specified geography, and could use apparition to get to his destination. But powerful wizard that he was, he was still not powerful enough to apparate from London England, to Newcastle Australia without stopping in Israel, then India, and finally Malaysia.
Portkeys on the other hand, could transport people to the moon and back if they were sufficiently made. Albus was not overly fond of them (unlike most wizards who preferred portkeys to apparition because it was safer) given that Albus had a tendency to travel to places illegally; that is, by the use of unregistered portkeys. He didn't fancy having the Ministry know where he travelled to all the time, so he apparated. If the rare occasion happened when he needed a portkey – such as when he needed to transport underage wizards, as he did and would do with Harry – he improvised. A Chocolate Frog packet, a banana peel he'd spotted lying in a gutter, a twig; anything that could be used, he used. And it also helped that Albus was knowledgeable enough, magically, to actually create a portkey; not many wizards could do that, so he had an advantage there, too.
Right now, however, Albus apparated.
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The scene that greeted Albus after he'd gone through the process of apparating passed three countries, and finally to Australia, made him smile. Harry sat on a stool at the bench scribbling away on a parchment – his homework most likely – while Elizabeth beat furiously at a mixture in a sliver bowl. If he wasn't mistaken, it looked like cocoa. The dear child did have an obsession with chocolate, ever since she was a little girl.
He would have stood there indefinitely if he could, eyeing that carefree, normal family scene – something both young people had not had enough of – if his apparating hadn't alerted them to his presence. Elizabeth was the first to look up, exclaiming with a grin "Uncle Albus!" After that Harry turned and stated, also with a grin, "Professor!"
Elizabeth dropped the spoon into the mixture, licked her thumb, and made her way towards him.
"How are you Uncle?" She leaned up slightly and kissed his cheek.
"A slight itchy throat, as all old persons get from time to time, but otherwise fine. And you?"
"Fantastic! I'm making cookies."
Albus chuckled.
"What brings you here Sir?" asked Harry, who'd now come to stand by his sister. "Aren't you a little early?"
"Ahh . . ." Without knowing it, the twinkle in his eyes dimmed slightly, alerting the siblings to the fact that something was out of place. "There has been an attack in Private Drive . . ." was as far as Albus got before Harry exploded.
"What!" He was breathing heavily, his eyes glazed open in disbelief. "Is everyone alright? How did it happen? When did it happen? How did Voldemort –!"
"Calm down Harry. Everyone is fine. Perhaps I should have explained that first. It was a Dementor attack. Two Dementors to be precise. And they didn't have a chance to kiss anyone or even come close enough to raise any bad memories with their presence. It was your cousin who almost came across them. He felt their coldness, but no lingering effects will transpire from the encounter."
Harry breathed deeply as he slumped down in a table chair. Elizabeth moved behind him, rubbing little reassuring circles on his back.
"So I take it that we have to leave now instead of next week, because everyone will be wondering why you'd leave Harry at Private Drive if an attack has taken place . . ." Elizabeth observed.
"Unfortunately," Albus answered with a tired sigh.
"When?" was all Harry said, without lifting his gaze off the floor.
"About three days. I'm making a portkey. Pack everything now that you need to take. Clothes, furniture, paintings. I'll help if you need me, Elizabeth."
"No thanks, Uncle. I've already mastered household spells. And I can't exactly take the furniture until the house in Surrey is finished . . ."
"Ahem hmm . . . that's fine. I also have something for you Harry."
Harry lifted his gaze up and eyed him with curious eyes.
"I've just come from seeing the Weasley's and your Godfather," Harry eyes lit up, "and I asked for a slice of Molly's wonderful Custard Pie. I thought you might enjoy some. I know how much you like her cooking."
He removed the towel-wrapped slice of pie from under his robes and handed it to Harry, who took it with a slight frown. "Thank you Sir."
"Not at all Harry."
Elizabeth stood beside Harry, her eyes flitting from her brother to the Headmaster. "I'm going back to my half finished cookie dough. Hope that pie won't spoil your appetite, Babe!" She stooped briefly to kiss Harry on the cheek, and made her way back into the kitchen.
"You seem to be getting along well." Albus had seen the brief smile of pleasure that had flitted across Harry's face at Elizabeth's show of affection.
"Yeah, she's great." He unwrapped the towel revealing the slightly squashed pie. How in the world did that happen? Albus thought. It couldn't have been because of that muggle market seller in Rajahmundry, the one who'd attacked him in order to get him to buy some rotten fish, could it?
Harry brought the pie to his mouth. "This is great."
Albus chuckled.
"Sir?" Harry asked, after finishing the pie. "I saw Sn—Professor Snape at Wrigadoogong last night. He almost spotted me."
"Ah, no doubt you were shocked to see him there. We Professors have a life outside of teaching, you know. I myself have vacationed at the Shellock Ups a few times. We go all over the world on the summer holidays Harry. But I must confess that Professor Snape thinks only of work if he ever goes on vacation. He is entirely too diligent with his potions, I'm afraid."
Harry nodded, looking down at his knees. "So, he was there for potions ingredients?" Albus did not miss that the boy sounded a little too innocent. The headmaster fought hard not reveal a knowing grin. "Yes, extremely rare and dangerous ones that can only be found in certain parts of the world."
"I had to hide before he—OUCH! Muck!"
Albus blinked to clear his vision. He was certain he'd just seen a dark blur hit Harry before whizzing out of the room. He hemmed uncertainly. "Was that a Bunyip, Harry?"
Harry presented him with a wide smile. "She's mine and Elizabeth's. Bought her just last night."
"I take it she's the Bunyip you told me about last week. What was she –?"
"Oh," He blinked, turning red, and mumbled, "she likes to play hide and seek. Her idea of getting my attention is to pile into me."
Albus was laughing heartily.
Elizabeth stepped into the room, wiping her hands on a cloth towel. Those same hands travelled to her hips and stayed there like two stone pillars. The towel dangling from her right hand, surprisingly, made her look even more formidable, rather like a younger Molly Weasley. "What's going on? What's the joke? Not very sporting of you to exclude me!"
"Muck," Harry said by way of explanation.
Elizabeth dropped her hands, looking exasperated. "Again? You'd think she'd be tired out by now. Or at least bored."
Harry shrugged.
"I'm beginning to regret ever buying that Bunyip!" she said vehemently.
"You know you don't mean that Elizabeth." Harry now sported a cheeky grin. "I saw how you looked this morning in your bed, cuddling Muck to your chest like she was a stuffed Teddy bear."
Albus laughed as redness spread over the girl's cheeks. "I never . . ." she stuttered. "How did you know about that?"
"That was the first time I woke up before you. Went to see where you were, and low and behold I found you fast asleep with your arms around Muck. The biggest, sloppiest smile on your face –."
"Okay, okay, Harry!" she grumbled. "Merlin, when you go to embarrass people, you really embarrass them."
"That's what families do remember? Or did you forget what you told me?"
She paused for a moment, and then smiled. "No, thank Merlin."
Albus was astonished at how comfortable in his own skin Harry seemed, as the siblings traded harmless insults. And it did not escape his notice how different the scene between them was since the first time he'd brought Harry here. He clearly remembered Elizabeth as the dominant force, with Harry appearing confused, overwhelmed, and embarrassed. Now, their roles seemed to have reversed. He did not know what Elizabeth had done to bring about the change in Harry, but he was thankful for it. He would need this new confidence in the coming year. Particular with Fudge, not to mention Voldemort . . .
Albus cleared his throat, snaring their attention. He pulled out a fish from under his robes. It was good for something after all, if it couldn't be eaten.
"What the heck . . .?" Elizabeth stared between him and the fish, as if she couldn't decide which was the more strange.
"It's –," he began.
"It's rubbish, that's what it is! Get it out of my house!" She produced her wand.
"It is not rubbish, it's a portkey Elizabeth," he explained calmly.
Harry stared with wide eyes, as Elizabeth gesticulated with her hand. "You call that a portkey? Couldn't you have picked a twig or something! Where have you been, fishing?"
"I did not want it to go to waste. And no, I haven't been fishing. I was . . . ahem . . . coerced into buying it."
"Rubbish," she scoffed. "No one can force you into doing anything you don't want to do. They'd be mad to try."
"Yet I'm looking at an example . . ."
Elizabeth had the grace to blush. Albus knew that she had no qualms about ordering him about, unlike most wizards. He also knew she was well aware that he knew it.
"I will leave this with you." He placed the fish on the table next to Harry, who drew back slightly. "It will activate at exactly 11am, three days from now. Do not worry about the smell; I've placed a charm on it."
Elizabeth glared at him. "Where am I supposed to keep this . . . thing? Certainly not in the fridge?"
"It will not spoil. At least not anymore than it already is, so you can keep it anywhere."
Albus only caught a few words among the grumble that followed such as "bin" and "see if I don't!" He wisely chose not to comment on the sake of his continued health and sanity.
"Are you quite done?"
Elizabeth's posture slumped. She looked decidedly woebegone at the moment. "Sorry Uncle. I think the fact that we have to move earlier than planned is stressing me out slightly. I'm moving countries for cripes sake!"
"I believe you should be allowed to stress out in this occasion."
"Well so do I!" she declared passionately, to her brother's sniggering. "I'm going to be stressed out if I feel like it, and woe betide anyone who gets in my way." She glared at Harry, who, in that precise moment seemed to have choked on something.
"Well I'll be off then. Wouldn't want to get in the way of your stress . . . I only seem to be causing more at the moment."
"So soon?" she asked.
"Hogwarts is Hogwarts, after all –"
"And it wouldn't be Hogwarts without you?" she finished drolly.
"Precisely." He bent over to kiss her cheek. He extended a hand to Harry, who took it.
"Goodbye."
He disapparated.
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A/N: Well, that's it for chapter seven folks. Pretty long, eh? And before you start harping on me, I'll explain a few things. I'm aware that in the book the Dementors show up in Magnolia Crescent NOT Private Drive. I figure the partial reason for this is because Harry holds up Dudley in Magnolia Crescent by starting an argument, forcing them to walk slowly at first, then completely stopping later. If you notice in my story, Dudley is eager to get home because of cake, so he walks faster. And the fact that Harry isn't there to distract him speaks for itself.
Also, we all know that Umbridge sent the Dementors. What we don't know is where, precisely. I believe they were sent to Private Drive, but, they didn't end up going there, instead choosing to go to Magnolia Crescent because they were able to sense Harry out first before they ever got to Private Drive, given that he's the only wizard there. Which is why Dumbledore wasn't alerted.
Now, in my story they show up in Private Drive not Magnolia Crescent because they aren't able to sense a wizard anywhere before that, which means Dumbledore is alerted because the wards are triggered.
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A/N: I'm not sure when my next update is going to be. HP6 comes out in two weeks and I want to concentrate on being excited for that.
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Review Please.