Chapter 2

After being bundled into a car by the Ministry wizards, Harry tried very hard to remain calm. Why were they snatching him like this in the middle of the night? Was this what "protective custody" was all about? If it was, then he didn't like it at all. He was scared out of his skull, and it felt more as if he were being taken to Azkaban than being protected.

Harry didn't know how long it took to get to London, but the next thing he knew they were stopping outside the large red phone booth that he and Mr. Weasley had used on the day of his hearing. They entered, dialed, and he felt the floor sink like an elevator's. He was hurried through the front hall(still in a shambles from his and Dumbledore's battle with Voldemort) and bustled into another elevator. He heard the voice say something as it stopped, but he didn't really hear it. He had a funny roaring in his ears, and he was shaking. He was scared, and these wizards didn't seem to really notice.

A trip down a hallway and through a door left Harry sitting in a chair, feeling as if the world had turned upside down, shaken itself a few times, and settled itself down. He clutched the chair's arms and tried to take a deep breath. Hoping to distract himself, he looked around the room, trying to take it all in. There was a fireplace with a cheerfully crackling fire burning in it, a couple of comfy armchairs in front of it(one of which he occupied) an armoire and dresser with a mirror that was emitting a faint snore, and a large four-poster bed with velvet hangings. An open door on the left wall revealed a comfortable bathroom, and a bookcase full of books occupied one corner. Was he still in the Ministry?

The door opened, and Harry jumped out of his chair, hand halfway to his wand, ready to curse or hurl a hex just in case. Harry hurriedly lowered his wand when he spotted a plump, motherly-looking witch in the doorway. The witch there jumped and gave a funny little laugh when she realized that Harry wasn't about to attack her, and came forward to shake his hand.

"So pleased to meet you, my dear," she said, pumping his hand up and down energetically. "I am Amelia, and I've been assigned as your caretaker while you're here."

Harry stared at her, surprised. "My caretaker? But I thought---"

Amelia stood there quietly and smiled, waiting for him to finish.

"I thought I was being placed with a wizarding family," Harry finished.

"Well, such procedures take time, love, and we want you to be comfortable until a decision is reached," Amelia explained. "There are plenty of quarters like these in the Ministry, and most are used for foreign diplomat wizards and witches, but the house staff was asked to make these rooms up for you."

"Oh," Harry said quietly, somewhat surprised. The Ministry was taking no chances on his slipping away or his being attacked since they'd housed him in the ministry building itself. He knew that most people would expect him to feel grateful or safe, but all he felt was worried. How would he contact the Order or the Weasleys? How would anyone in the outside world know he was still alive?

"Well, let's get you settled in, shall we?" Amelia said, bustling past him. Opening up the dresser, she took out a set of pajamas and handed them to Harry. "You go change, love, while I get your bed ready."

Feeling quite numb and still a little shaky, Harry went into the bathroom and did as she asked. When he came back out a few moments later, she was turning down his bed, and a tea tray had arrived. With a wave of her wand, Amelia warmed his bed and Harry allowed himself to be bustled into it. She poured him a hot cup of tea, and Harry regarded the golden yellow color suspiciously.

"It's chamomile," Amelia explained. "Chamomile with honey. It calms the nerves and I should say that you've had quite a stressful evening, hmmm?"

Harry said nothing, but he sipped at the tea. If it would help calm him down, he had no objections. He felt as if he were vibrating slightly, like one of Moody's Dark Detectors. He finished that cup, and Amelia poured another one without being asked. She selected a book from the shelf and placed it on Harry's bedside table "to read in case you're not sleepy," but one look at Harry's sleepy eyes convinced her that it wasn't really necessary. Harry set his tea aside, allowed himself to drop into the big, fluffy pillows, and closed his eyes as Amelia tucked the blankets in around his shoulders. As he drifted off, he wondered if it had really been chamomile tea or a sleeping potion of some kind, because he couldn't remember ever being so tired before.

Space

As the days went by, Harry began to wonder if the Ministry would ever make up its mind. The decision was taking an awfully long time, and he was getting a little sick of his room and the Ministry garden. When he learned that he wasn't even going to be allowed to attend the proceedings, he was furious and spent the entire day sulking and thinking of ways to play a few tricks on Fudge to get even with him. It seemed as if it didn't matter that he'd defeated the most feared wizard in the world several times over, dealt with horrors like dementors and basilisks, and fought against people (like Umbridge) who were out for his blood. No, ickle Harry was only a child, and couldn't be trusted to sit through a court case. There were times when he felt like beating his head off the wall.

One morning, when Amelia arrived with his breakfast (she always insisted on serving it to him while he was still in bed), Harry had made a decision. Either the Ministry made up its mind, or he was out of there. He'd get out, find the Order, and choose his own guardian, darn it! He didn't need Fudge or his fussing, he'd manage on his own. It wasn't as if he hadn't been doing something similar to that for a while now.

Since Amelia always brought him news along with his lunch, he spent the morning trying to distract himself with a good book. They had a great selection in the shelf for him, so he never really had to search for something he liked. A great many of the books were about Quidditch, so he felt content when he read. At the moment, he was deep in a book about great Quidditch players, so he didn't hear Amelia when she came in.

"Well, I've got some news for you," she said, bringing him out of the narrative of Camden Warren, the greatest seeker of the 18th century. "The court has reached a decision."

Harry closed his book. "And what have they decided?"

"Mr. Caedmon will take you," she said, smiling. Harry didn't understand how she could always be so happy. She was acting as if this was the greatest thing in the world.

"When?"

"When? Why, he'll be here to get you this evening."

Harry sat there, wondering if Snape wouldn't be a better choice. After all, he already knew Snape, and Caedmon was an unknown factor. What would he be like, and what could Harry expect from him?