Monday December 2. Before Dawn
Harry came up the stairs to Dumbledore's office carrying a suitcase full of changes of clothes, a few of his favorite books, and other belongings that he thought he might need while in Australia. Snape was inside, glowering at Dumbledore about something or the other. Typical of the bloody git, Harry thought. He was the one losing his magic, and here Snape looked more upset than he did.
"Ah, Mr. Potter." Snape glanced at a Grandfather clock along one of the walls of Dumbledore's office. "3 minutes late. I'd normally take 10 points from Gryffindor, but as you are being drained of magic, you are no longer officially a student at Hogwarts."
Harry glared at Snape. He just loved rubbing it in, didn't he. He did not feel much better even after Dumbledore coughed loudly and said "Harry is always welcome here."
"We'd best get going, Potter. We've got a schedule to keep. It will be far more difficult for us to travel later in the morning."
Harry did not understand this. He would have thought it would be easier to travel when the sun was up and you could see where you were going. But then, he wasn't entirely sure how they were getting to Australia. For all he knew, they were being flown there by vampires. He would not put it past Snape to arrange such a thing, merely to discomfit him.
Snape strode from the room, forcing Harry to hurry after him. "We need to get past the wards around Hogwarts, Potter, so we can Apparate to our first stop, and see if they can fit us into their schedule." He said, not bothering to turn around to see if Harry was coming.
"What schedule?" gasped Harry, wondering why Snape didn't have any luggage. "Where are we going?"
"For your edification, Potter, we are going to Brick-Brack Alley." Snape said.
"Where is Brick-Brack Alley?" Harry wondered. "What's there that we need to go there?"
Snape turned and gave Harry a withering look. "Brick-Brack Alley is in London, Potter. It runs parrallel to Diagon Alley, but a couple of blocks away. I'm not surprised that you have never heard of it or been there. It's the sort of place that I'm sure is beneath the notice of a celebrity like you."
"I don't really think any places are beneath my notice." Harry retorted.
"Really?" Snape sneered. "Then it's rather surprising that you have never heard of it, isn't it, Potter. Given that without it's existence, you would not have an owl, or your broomstick, or any of the other useless trinkets you've bought for yourself over the years."
Harry said nothing. Snape's explanation was far from clear, but he was not going to give the unpleasant Potion's Master the satisfaction of asking further questions. As they left the castle, Snape began to speak again.
"Now, I'm going to make some things clear for you, Potter. There are a few things you need to make sure you avoid doing while in Gibson Territory. First and foremost, you are to make very sure that you tell absolutely no-one there what Richthoven told you, about his wife being attacked by a dementor."
"I don't understand. Why not? It isn't our fault what happened." Harry winced as his suitcase banged into his shin.
"Don't be a fool, Potter." Snape snorted. "I believe the headmaster explained to you that the Gibsonite wizards hate dementors. They have gone to a great deal of time and trouble to exterminate them in their own country. I can promise you, Potter, they did not go to that effort because they have nothing else to occupy their time. They did it because they are selfish, and it was in their own best interests to do so. They regard the promise of an eternal afterlife as far too valuable to risk losing for any reason whatsoever. It's been tried a few times before, wizards bringing dementors into Gibson Territory in order to frighten them. It's a very serious mistake. Although they agree on precious little else, the Gibsonites are in entirely unanimous agreement regarding their hatred and fear of dementors. The mere rumor of a dementor will unite them completely, until it is eliminated. And their attitude towards dementors is getting worse, as time goes on. The last time a dementor was brought into their country, nearly 100 years ago, they tortured the wizard who did it to death over a period of several months."
"Dumbledore told me about that." Harry said. "They crucio'ed him. That's pretty disgusting, if you ask me."
"Well, Potter, the Gibsonites do not do what they do for the purpose of pleasing you. They are interested only in pleasing themselves. Bear that in mind. And their attitude towards Dementors has gotten worse since then. Should they find out that another one was brought into their country, and used to drain the soul of the wife of a man who they regard as a hero, they would be completely furious. They would likely go to war with England and attempt to remove the threat permanently, by attempting to remove us. Even if they all died themselves, in the attempt." Snape let Harry digest that fact for a few moments. "Now, do you understand why I tell you to keep your chattering mouth shut, and not mention that fact to the Gibsonites?"
"Yes, sir." Harry said.
"It's a pity you didn't care to learn Occlumency," Snape said. "As there is the chance a Gibsonite could read your mind. But it's unlikely. The Gibsonites regard the performance of Legilemency without consent to be extremely rude."
"Ah, good." Harry said. "So what else should I do or not do, while I am there?"
"The laws in Gibson are fairly simple, Potter. There are only two laws there, in fact." Snape said silkily. "The first of which is that you are neither to harm someone or their property, nor to threaten to do so, nor to get others to do so. The second one is that you are not to tell lies. I realize that both of these will be difficult for you, as you have done little but steal and prevaricate since entering Hogwarts, but I suggest you make the effort. Justice in Gibson Territory is quite exacting, and they are not at all interested in whatever reasons you might have for your criminal actions."
"I don't steal." said Harry, knowing it was a lie. He had stolen several times from Snape. And often lied not only to him, but to Dumbledore as well. He meant well at the time, but now that he reflected back on it, it always seemed to turn out badly in the end. Take the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, for instance. It could very easily have killed someone, and would have been discovered and dealt with far earlier if only he had told Dumbledore the truth about the voices he was hearing, rather than worrying about preserving his own reputation. He squirmed uncomfortably, feeling strangely dirty for a moment. The Gibsonite idea of justice seemed terribly cruel, but was also peculiarly cleansing in a way, rather like alcohol poured on a wound to rid it of infection. Perhaps it was easier for the Gibsonites to accept, Harry reflected, having lived all their lives with such stringent rules.
"I suggest you start practicing truthfulness right now, Potter." Snape said. "And while you are at it, I suggest you reflect on the sort of manners you will need to have in Gibson, if you don't want to get everyone you meet annoyed with you."
"What sort of manners are those? Are they different than their laws?"
Snape thought about that for a few moments. "I would not say that they are different from their laws, so much as they are an extension of them. There are only a few things you need to bear in mind. First and foremost, is to mind your own business. I cannot emphasize that enough. Many of the Gibsonites are somewhat, peculiar, shall we say, in how they choose to conduct their lives. I advise you to ignore anything that you find odd. Making snide little remarks about it, such as you are accustomed to making to Malfoy will get you into trouble."
Harry struggled to control his temper. "Alright, what else?"
Snape turned and gave him a very nasty looking sneer. "Just this, Potter. I realize that as 'The Boy Who Lived' you are accustomed to having people worship the ground you walk on. However, I suggest you get over it. You have no status whatsoever in Gibson Territory. You have no property there, and what little knowledge you have managed to absorb during all your years at Hogwarts puts you on par with one of their third year students. A very poor third year student."
Snape's face twisted with contempt, and he went on. "As such, you will need to do as you are told, both by me, and by anyone whose territory you happen to be occupying at the time. If I tell you to jump, you ask 'how high'. You do not go around looking for the Headmaster to whine to. He is not going to be there, and no-one else there will be at all interested in the complaints of a spoilt little boy, I promise you."
"And I suppose you do have status in Gibson," Harry said resentfully. "Neat trick how you managed that."
"Yes, Potter, I do have status in Gibson." Snape sounded oddly satisfied with himself. "As would Miss Granger, to some extent. The Gibsonites are interested in ability and wealth, in that order. You have none of the former, and no access to the latter, while you are there. I'm warning you, Potter, you had best watch yourself not to engage in your usual poor behavior or otherwise offend anyone in Gibson, or you will most likely end up getting your name put on a list."
Harry mulled over this. "What sort of a list?"
"The sort of list, Potter, that you do not want your name put on." Snape said in a threatening voice, leaving Harry to puzzle and worry over what he could possibly mean, and what sorts of terrible things might happen to him in Gibson if he were to offend people as Snape seemed to think was likely. Simply being on a list was not so bad, there must be something else to it. Or perhaps it was all merely one of the mind games Snape liked to play with him, making unspecified threats, so he would worry himself imagining the worst.
They had come now to the edge of Hogwart's grounds. The moon shone brightly, a half crescent on its way to being full. It brought Remus Lupin to Harry's mind. In another week or so he would become a werewolf, along with the ones he was spying on for Dumbledore. But Harry would be far away, then. He wondered if there were werewolves in Australia, and what sort of lives they led. Did it make any difference to their transformation, that the moon would be on the other side of the sky in a continent below the equator?
"Come on, Potter." Snape was holding out his hand, impatiently. "Take my arm so we can apparate."
Reluctantly, Harry gripped the Potion Master's arm, feeling hard sinewy muscle under his robes and shirt. He felt almost envious for a moment, his own body was rather stringy in comparison. Stirring those cauldrons must be a lot of work, he had time to think, before Snape Apparated, and they whirled away into crushing blackness.
