HARRY POTTER
AND THE DAWN OF ETERNITY

Summary: Ron and Hermione find a way to sneak to the Dursleys with Harry, and a bumpy ride (in which the Dursleys grow suspicious and Dudley grows worried) ensues. When at last the three arrive at number four, they discover a third stowaway who was not intent on being left behind.

Author's Note: Honest criticisms and critiques (reviews) greatly appreciated:)

CHAPTER TWO
STOWAWAYS AT NUMBER FOUR

"There he is!" came the shout of Uncle Vernon once he had spotted Harry among the crowd at King's Cross. "Where have you been? No consideration at all! We've been waiting for you for five minutes. Should have left you, I told Petunia, but she insisted that we wait for you. Get in!"

Harry walked around to the open back of the car, wheeling his luggage (which included Ron and Hermione's things, tightly packed) along with him. He lifted the cage which contained his snowy white owl, Hedwig in first, and then turned to his trunk. As he began to heave it in, he quickly whispered to Ron and Hermione, "You two, get in now. The backseat."

"But Harry," he heard Hermione begin. "There's no—"

"What's that boy?" Uncle Vernon said.

"Nothing," Harry replied, turning away. He thought he had seen a flash of something red walked past, but the moment he had turned his head to look, it had gone. Shrugging, he closed the car lid behind him without even bothering to look back.

He headed to sit in the backseat.

"Ron, Hermione," he whispered, "you there?"

"Yeah," came Ron's voice, "but we're in a bit of a tight squeeze. Your cousin…he's a bit…well, let's just say I'm having a hard time keeping from rubbing against him."

Harry glanced over to Dudley, who took up nearly an entire half of the backseat. He then put his hands on the seat, and felt until he bumped into what must have been Hermione's hands. There was only a few inches of space left for him.

"What are you doing?" said Dudley, his eyebrows raised.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon turned back to look at him.

"Just sitting down," said Harry, slipping into the small bit of seat he had, and then closing the door (which left him even less room).

It was the most miserable car ride Harry and ever experienced; he had to hum loudly each time Ron would jab Hermione with his elbow, and suppress his need to make a noise each time Ron would jab him. Once or twice, Ron uttered a swear word under his breath, prompting Hermione to shush him; the Dursleys seemed to have not noticed this, having occupied themselves with a news program on the radio. Dudley, however, was now pressing himself up against the door just as much as Harry, his mouth wide open, and a look of complete horror on his face.

"Dad…dad…" he mumbled, eyebrows cocked in the direction of Harry.

Uncle Vernon however, was paying Dudley no mind; he was too busy making derisive snorts at a bit of news which he seemingly found to be extremely funny: "If they knew what was good them they'd just turn it all in. But no, these people are too stupid. Weirdos like that always are, you know, Petunia."

"Mum," Dudley whimpered, "mummy!"

"Yes Diddy?" Aunt Petunia said, turning back, a horsey smile upon her face.

"There's…something going on back here…"

Aunt Petunia glanced to Harry, shooting him a stern, suspicious look, but quickly turning back to Dudley, her smile returning. "What do you mean, popkin?"

"Sounds…noises…"

Aunt Petunia's face turned as white as a ghost, much as it had the last time Dudley had claimed to be hearing noises that no one else could hear. "Maybe you're just hearing the radio, Diddy?"

Dudley remained stoic. Aunt Petunia turned her head to Harry again. Harry shrugged.

"Why are you pressing up against the door like that?" she shot at him, noticing this peculiar behavior for the first time.

"I—er, just wanted something to lean against."

Aunt Petunia seemed a bit disbelieving at this response, but turned back to her son anyway.

"We'll be home in a short time, Diddy, and then you can go in your room and watch that show you like so much—Sour Power Hour, is it? Yes, how does that sound?"

Dudley nodded, not taking his eyes off of Harry.

Were it not for the fact that Harry knew what was going on, he might have thought Dudley to be going mad himself; Dudley's face continuously changed shape over the odd little noises and movements that he kept hearing and feeling. Finally, when loud knocking sounds (which Harry assumed must have been Hedwig) started coming from behind them in the back compartment, Dudley crossed his arms over his chest, latching onto his shoulders with each of his hands. Aunt Petunia kept shooting worried little glances at him; Uncle Vernon kept giving Harry surveying looks as he drove.

"Just look at that Petunia, look at that!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed gruffly much later, perhaps in an attempt to destroy the monotonous silence that had befallen them.

"What?" said Aunt Petunia, who had still been looking back at Dudley again.

"That ruddy house—there!"

Uncle Vernon had slowed the car down, and went on to point one of his large fingers (which looked more like three links of sausage than anything else) at a small, run down house on the side of the road. In the yard were three children dressed in ragged clothes; one of them, a little girl, was wearing a dress that was torn, rips hanging at the bottom, and so dirty with dried much that it appeared as if her family couldn't even afford to have them washed. Still, they were playing happily together, as their parents, also dressed in ragged clothes and smiling, watched them play.

"What about it?" Aunt Petunia replied snappishly.

"Look at the state! All run down and dirty, while those two sit on their bums watching their kids grow up as bums themselves. It's downright disturbing, how any two people could possibly allow themselves to live in such a ragged, filthy state. Society is going downhill, I tell you. It doesn't even look like they've bothered trimming their lawn in weeks. The nerve of these people! The sheer nerve!"

"At least they're happy," Harry heard Ron mutter from underneath the cloak. Dudley wriggled in his seat, looking around.

"I quite agree," Aunt Petunia said finally, then pursing her lips and looking straight forward.

"It's such a shame that society has degraded itself to such a point," Uncle Vernon went on, "Anyone with a working bone in their body who gave a damn wouldn't be in that state. I tell you Petunia, the lower class—it's they're fault they got there—they're compromised of nothing but lazy, no-good, selfish, drunken bums who—"

Uncle Vernon was broken off in mid-sentence, as the sound of cracking knuckles and a loud roar had erupted from the back. Dudley squealed and pushed himself further against the door so that he was now pressed against it even harder than Harry, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon both looked back.

"WHAT THE RUDDY HELL WAS THAT?" Uncle Vernon shouted back at Harry, hitting the brakes and nearly causing them all to fly off their seats.

Harry looked over to where Ron and Hermione must have been. Clearly, Ron had taken offense to Uncle Vernon's comments about poor people, and had then impulsively lashed out with a strange roar (as Harry would later find out, the "roar" was actually part of a filthy series of swear words that Ron had been preparing to belt out, had Hermione's hand not latched itself across Ron's open mouth first). Thinking quickly, Harry put his hand over his stomach.

"Sorry," Harry said feebly, "Stomach growled. A bit hungry, I s'ppose."

Uncle Vernon continued to look at Harry for a moment, as if he were struggling with the idea that a stomach could possibly emit such a venomous growl. Then, he turned around, let out a small snort, and went on about the strange food that was apparently served to Harry at the "weirdo's place." It was no matter to Harry; he had become quite used to Uncle Vernon's bashing of all things magical, and blaming all things unusual with all things magical, but he was sure that Ron was not as inclined to accept it, for he could now hear the sound of deep breathing coming from someone nearby. Obviously, Dudley had heard him as well; for once again, he had pushed himself even harder against his side of the window, his eyes even wider as his lower lip trembled with fright.

At last, Uncle Vernon pulled into the driveway of Number 4, the emerald green, well manicured lawn sparkling in the sunlight. Harry had never been so happy to see it.

"Thank God," said Ron to Harry from underneath the cloak, once the Dursleys had walked inside with Dudley. "I thought that was never going to be over. I felt like I was going to throw up…honestly, how do muggles stand that? Dad's old Anglia wasn't that bad. And I really wanted to say something to that despicable son of a—"

"You get used to it," said Harry passively. "Be quiet, Uncle Vernon's coming back out."

Uncle Vernon had heaved himself out the front door, and he was now boisterously making his way down the garden path.

"What are you doing still out here, boy?" he snapped at Harry, noticing the fact that Harry hadn't yet moved. "Get a move on and get that bloody bird out of my vehicle. If there's owl droppings in my car because you dwaddled around out here all day I'll flay you within an inch of your—"

"Okay, okay," said Harry, rushing to the back, Uncle Vernon right behind him. Harry lifted it, and reached in to latch on to what should have been the handle of his luggage. The moment he had pulled, however, he realized that it was not what he had expected.

"Ow!" came a soft sound, as Harry released what he thought had been a long strand of hair. Glancing in, he saw that it was indeed hair, a long red mane of it. And it was attached to the face of—

"Ginny!" Harry said surreptitiously under his breath, slamming the trunk on impulse.

Panicking, he turned to Uncle Vernon, who was giving him the most peculiar face Harry had ever seen in his life.

"What's wrong with you?" Uncle Vernon said.

Harry went blank. His mouth open a few times to make an excuse, but the words never quite came out.

"Open that back up boy."

Harry didn't move.

"Now."

Harry was in for it now; it was all over. Why had Ginny put him in this predicament? How had she managed to sneak into the trunk without him noticing? Now, because of her, the lid was about to be blown off of the entire thing—literally.

Harry slowly moved his hand to open it back up, clutching onto the latch. Before it had opened however, there was the sound of breaking china from inside the house, and a sharp squeal from Aunt Petunia.

"PETUNIA!" yelled Uncle Vernon, quickly abandoning his search of Harry and running as quickly as he could into the house.

Harry quickly opened the trunk, and saw Ginny looking back at him. A look of abashed horror was present upon her ghostly face.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"Get out!" snapped Harry. "And follow me!"

Ginny immediately scrambled out of the trunk, slammed it shut, and followed Harry up the stairs. They could still hear Aunt Petunia's sobs over the breaking of one of her finest tea sets, as Uncle Vernon tried to console her ("There, there Petunia. It'll be alright. We can buy you a new set—a nicer set.").

Once inside Harry's room, he closed the door and took Ginny into a corner.

"What were you thinking?" he said to her, half pleadingly, half angrily. "Don't you know that you could have been caught?"

"I was thinking," she replied, a flame growing in her voice, "that if Ron and Hermione were
going to come with you, so would I.

"But Ginny," Harry said, "Do you know how hard it's going to be for me to keep you hidden from the Dursleys for a month?"

"No harder than it will be for you to keep Ron and Hermione hidden," she replied, the flame rising even higher. "I'm not asking for you to get back with me Harry, I know you're too stubborn to allow that, but I am asking you to let him help, just like you're letting Ron and Hermione help."

"But you could be hurt!" said Harry. "The more I'm seen with you, the more of a target you'll become."

"And that doesn't apply to Ron and Hermione as well?"

"I couldn't stop them! It's different."

"No it's not," said Ginny, the flame now threatening to burn the house down, "because obviously, you couldn't stop me either!"

Harry found himself lost for words. Unable to help it, his face split into a slight grin.

"I'd better go back out and get my luggage and Hedwig before Uncle Vernon comes up and sees you," said Harry.

"There'll be no need for that mate," said Ron, as the door seemingly opened itself, closing right back. The cloak came off, and Harry saw Ron and Hermione, standing there, Harry's luggage (and Hedwig, who was hooting softly) at Ron's feet.

"Thanks!" said Harry.

"We figured you'd need the help," Ron added. "Ginny, why are you—"

"The same reason you're here!" Ginny said poignantly.

"That's—" began Ron, his face reddening.

"Leave it," said Harry, as he turned the lock on his bedroom door.

"Ginny," said Hermione, "Does Mrs. Weasley know you're here?"

Ginny glanced around for a moment to Ron, and then back at Hermione. "Well—no," she admitted ruefully. "You know she wouldn't have let me come."

"Then how did you get away from her?" asked Ron.

"Well, she saw one of her old friends from when she was at Hogwarts, Mrs. Helda Sloper, and they started a conversation, and that's when I sneaked off."

"But how did you get into the back of the car?" Harry asked. "I mean, it was only open while I was putting my things away, and I closed it right back."

"Yes, but you looked away for a moment, and that's when I jumped in. I think you saw me walking past, because the moment I made to climb in you turned and barely missed seeing me. Lucky, really."

So that was what the flash of red hair that Harry had noticed at the station had been. And for that matter—

"So that noise we heard on the way home wasn't Hedwig then," said Harry.

Ginny blushed. "No, that was me. I accidentally bumped my head. Not much space in those things. I don't know what these muggles are thinking, building something with so little room."

"Well, typically," said Harry, "it's for luggage and groceries, not red-headed stoaways."

Ginny tossed a frown at this, and Harry grinned. Ginny grinned back.

"What about mum?" said Ron.

"What about her?"

"Oh! Mrs. Weasley must be frantic!" said Hermione, the fact that Mrs. Weasley hadn't a clue where Ginny was at dawning on here.

"Er, right," said Ginny, "I meant to write to her immediately once we arrived, but I didn't realize muggle transportation would be so slow. Ron, can I borrow Pigwidgeon for a minute?"

"Pig," said Ron. "And sorry, no. I don't have him. Hermione and I both thought the muggles would notice if an extra owl and a cat were making noises from Harry's room, so I had Pig fly home."

"But what about Crookshanks?" said Ginny, turning to Hermione.

"Oh, I do need to go see him soon! Tonks came to Hogwarts before we left and took him for me—Ms. Figg agreed to take care of him until we left the Dursleys."

"Ms. Figg?"

"She lives near Privet Drive. She's a tad batty over cats," said Harry. "She saw the dementors attacking me and Dudley summer before last. If it hadn't been for her—and Dumbledore—I might have been expelled from Hogwarts."

"Oh," said Ginny simply. She glanced over towards Hedwig's cage. Hedwig was hooting softly. "Harry, do you mind if I—"

Crash. An old barn owl had just flown right into Harry's bedroom window. Slightly dazed, it flew back up to the window ledge and sat there, a letter clamped in its beak.

"Errol," Ron said, "that'll be mum. I suppose you won't be needing to borrow Hedwig now, Ginny."

"I don't know," said Ginny, as she watched Errol fall flat inside and onto the floor after Harry had opened the window, "Errol seems a bit tired if you ask me."

Harry bent down and retrieved the letter from Errol's beak. On it, Ron's name had been hastily scratched. Harry handed the letter to him, and he opened it quickly. The others gathered around it and began reading it with him.


Ron—have you seen your sister, Ginny? I can't find her anywhere! She was with me at the station and I began talking to one of my old friends and she just vanished! I'm so worried—what if You-Know-Who snatched her? Write back immediately!
-Mum

"Great going Ginny," Ron said sarcastically, "She probably thinks the Death Eaters are stewing you in a cauldron right now or something."

The look on Ginny's face now turned to shame, and she looked to Harry as if hoping he would say something to the contrary. Harry, however, thought Ron was absolutely right; Mrs. Weasley's greatest fear was that, amidst Voldemort's return, someone she loved would be taken from her. Harry would be quite surprised if right this very moment, Mrs. Weasley weren't bawling her eyes out, while simultaneously alerting Mr. Weasley, the Order, and anyone else she could find as to Ginny's disappearance.

"Take Hedwig," Harry said to Ginny. "Write to her, let her know you're alright."

"Thanks," Ginny said. "Do you have anything to write with?"

"Take this," said Harry, handing her a ball-point pen and a piece of notebook paper he had obtained from his dresser drawer.

"How do you use this muggle quill?" Ginny asked.

"Same way you use a quill and parchment, you just don't have to dip a pen in ink."

"Okay."

"Oh, and Ginny," Harry added, "Could you let your mum know I asked her to please not send you a Howler back? I don't want the Durlseys to hear Mrs. Weasley chiding you for stowawaying in the back of their car."

"Oh right," said Ginny, scratching through something she had just written and continuing on.

"Here, take Hedwig," Harry said to her, once she had finished writing the letter. Harry took Hedwig out of her cage (she nibbled his finger affectionately, and handed her over to Ginny, who then tied the letter to her legs and launched her out of the window.

"Thanks, Harry," said Ginny.

"No problem," said Harry.

"Mum's not going to be very happy," said Ron. "She might just come and get Ginny without even bothering to write back."

"I don't think so," said Hermione, "she knows about the protection now, doesn't she Harry? Considering how she seems so worried that Voldemort may have 'snatched' Ginny, I think she'd be even more inclined to let Ginny stay."

"That's true," said Ron. "But I still doubt Ginny's next letter will exactly be congratulating her on her stealth."

"No, I don't think so either," said Hermione, sighing. Ginny smiled weakly.

"So er, anyway," said Ron, "sorry about losing it back there in the car. I never realized what a prat your uncle was—no offense."

"None taken," replied Harry. "I've learned to live with it. I'm just lucky that china broke in the kitchen before Uncle Vernon had a chance to see Ginny."

"That wasn't luck, mate," said Ron, "That was Hermione. As soon as she saw that you were in a tight spot, she tugged me along into the kitchen, and knocked over an entire set of china. Barking mad, that one."

"Really?" said Harry amusedly, looking at Hermione. "Thanks!"

"No problem," said Hermione, blushing.

Harry turned back to Ron, who was now looking around his room. "I never got a proper look around your room before—considering we were floating outside the window. Small, isn't it? I think it's even smaller than mine."

"Yeah well, it's better than the cupboard under the stairs that I lived in until I was eleven," Harry replied.

"Guess so," said Ron.

Harry didn't mind what would have otherwise been a slightly rude comment; Ron was accustomed to Harry always having the bigger, better things than him—whether it be a broomstick or dress robes. So, it was only fair, Harry felt, that he could afford Ron this one musing comment.

"The room isn't all that's small," said Hermione, "Harry—your bed is only made for one person."

"Er, yeah," said Harry. He hadn't even thought about sleeping quarters; he had been too busy worrying about sneaking them in to think about that. "I s'pose two of us—well, three of us—will have to sleep on the floor," he concluded.

"Not that much room on the floor either," said Ron, looking down.

"Looks a tad hard too," said Ginny.

"I'll put some blankets on the floor," said Harry, "Ginny, you can sleep in my bed. Me, Ron, and Hermione will take the floor—if that's alright with you two," he added, turning to the others.

"No problem," said Ron. Hermione nodded in agreement.

For the next few hours, the four of them sat talking about the events that had transpired lately; reminiscing over events that had taken place in the years since they had met one another, and in foreboding tongues, discussing what lay ahead. It was during this time, that Harry was reminded of the tremendous task that did indeed lie ahead of him: finding the Horcruxes, destroying them, and proceeding to vanquish Voldemort.

"Harry," said Hermione, "have you given any more thought about the horcruxes?"

The answer was of course "No". Or if he had, it had only been in short bursts, and he had produced nothing that would help him in his hunt. Only one thing had dawned on him that was significant to his search for the horcruxes, and it was little more than a possible confirmation of something Dumbledore had already told him.

"There is one thing," Harry said. "Remember how Dumbledore had suspicions that Voldemort's snake—Nagini—was a horcrux?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, he never told me why he thought that, but I just remembered something. Back in our fifth year when Mr. Weasley was bitten by the snake—I don't think I was seeing through the snake's eyes because Voldemort had bewitched or possessed it. I think I saw through its eyes because part of Voldemort's soul was in the snake. The night I had the dream, two snakes rose out of one of Dumbledore's instruments, and Dumbledore said something—'In essence divided'."

"I remember that," said Ron.

"Me too," Ginny added.

"I think I know what he meant now, and what the two snakes meant," said Harry. "But that's all I've come up with. Everything else—I draw a blank. I don't even know where to begin."

"That does make a lot of sense though," said Hermione. "Very clever Harry. So, if nothing else, now we at least know that Dumbledore was probably right about the snake being a horcrux."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Harry.

"Which leaves only two more to find," said Hermione.

"Once I find the snake, which will probably also lead me straight to Voldemort," Harry replied. "Sounds simple enough."

"True," said Hermione, "Perhaps we should look for the snake last then."

"So, Ginny," Harry said, turning to her as he pursued a less ominous subject of discussion, "Have Bill and Fleur set a date for their wedding yet?

"Yeah, Bill and Phlegm's wedding will be on August fifth," Ginny said.

"'Phlegm'?" repeated Harry. "I thought you two were getting on better."

"Well, she still gets on my nerves sometimes," said Ginny. "But so does Won Won."

"Hey!" said Ron, scowling.

The others sniggered.

"Quiet everyone," said Harry, "I think I hear the Dursleys coming up. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's room is next door to mine."

Sure enough, the sound of creaking floorboard was apparent as three people made their way up the stairs and into the hallway. Uncle Vernon was yawning loudly, while Aunt Petunia was inaudibly (but obviously) telling Dudley goodnight (and probably tucking him and giving him a goodnight kiss as well). Once Harry heard the Dursleys' bedroom door close, he turned on the others.

"I'll sneak downstairs and grab something for us to eat," said Harry. "I know you all must be hungry—we haven't had a bite since the train ride.

"I'll go with you," said Hermione.

"Okay, but we'll need to use the cloak," said Harry, "The Dursleys don't like for me to be out of my room at night, and if they caught me—with you no less—"

Harry and Hermione returned twenty minutes later from the kitchen with sandwiches for each of them; it had taken much longer than it normally would have to get downstairs, make the sandwiches, and walk back up, merely for the fact that they did all of these things so carefully that even Harry hadn't heard anything.

"My parents should be sending some things from now on," said Hermione, "and we can eat at Ms. Figg's tomorrow when we go to visit Crookshanks. Maybe she'll have something to tell us about the Order as well."

As Harry bit into a sandwich, it just then hit him that he had completely forgotten about the Order. What was going on in the Order since Dumbledore's death? For that matter, who was the leader of it now, with Dumbledore gone?

"Yeah," he said, "I hope so."

Once they had finished eating, Harry pulled a spare blanket out from under his bed and with Hermione's help, spread it out across the floor. Ginny hopped into his bed, and at Hermione's advice, covered her head with the blankets. "If they do happen to come in, they'll think it's Harry under the covers," she said.

"Oh yeah," said Ron scathingly, "because it's not like they'd ever notice three other people lying on the floor—one being Harry."

"Simple," said Hermione. "Use the invisibility cloak for a blanket."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," said Harry. Hermione beamed.

Their bed on the floor fixed, the door locked, and the lights out, Harry, Ron, and Hermione lay down with the invisibility cloak covering them, Ron in the middle.

"Good night," said Hermione.

"'Night."

"Good night!"

"G'night."

Ginny went to sleep immediately, and so did Ron. Harry and Hermione, however, had to brave, along with Ron's snores, the fact that he continuously rolled over in his sleep (occasionally slapping one of them in the face) and moaned loudly. A few times, Harry could have sworn Ron was mumbling about giant tarantulas invading the Burrow. And finally, after over an hour of lying awake, Harry found himself falling asleep, and falling into dreams himself.

Harry saw a great hilltop, silhouette against a milky, dawn sky. At the top of the hill was standing a man, tall in stature. Without reason, without cause, without a word, Harry felt—no, knew that this man was exercising dominion over everything. What was more, the dream felt real as many others had, but at the same time, it didn't. This was far different from anything Harry had dreamt before; other times, he had been channeling Voldemort's thoughts and emotions, and even seeing through Voldemort's eyes. This time, however, it was more as if he were channeling the future. The dawn he had seen must have been the future; the man in power—Voldemort.

Next Chapter: "Dudley's Dinner Guest"—What happens when Dudley finds Hermione alone and assumes her to be a neighborhood muggle?