Elaine

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Harry Potter'. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter One

The grey light of dawn rose over Privet Drive, the prelude to a grey summer's day. There would be a storm that evening, perhaps even sooner, but as Elaine Potter's feet pounded the pavement, as she counted her breaths, as she tried and failed to outrun her own ghosts, she didn't think of the day ahead. She thought instead of the distance she'd already run, thought of the time it would take to return to no. 4, thought of how much of that distance would be spent in a sprint, but supposed it was simply the consequence of an exercise regime she'd adhered to for years.

Eventually, however, Elaine had reached her childhood hell, made it inside without any of her relatives any the wiser, and took the opportunity to indulge in a shower before any of the Dursleys woke for the day. Delia wouldn't be awake for hours yet, and Vernon and Petunia still had another hour of sleep in them, but Elaine couldn't sleep past six for the life of her, and she probably wouldn't have wanted to if she could.

Instead, Elaine used the time to enjoy a breakfast provided by Dobby, sliced fruits, a boiled egg and marmalade on toast, accompanied by a mug of tea and the peace and quiet of early morning. Privet Drive, in it's perpetual monotony, had not changed in the year she'd been away, and it was almost a comfort after the whirlwind that had been her life for the last twelve months. In saying that, it had only taken Elaine two minutes after settling in to wish she could be anywhere else, away from Petunia and Vernon's contempt, from Delia's ill-disguised envy and fear, from the isolation that came with the Dumbledore imposed exile she suffered through every summer.

A week later, that desire had not changed, and Elaine herself had started to mentally plan a day trip to London. She was in need of new bras and knickers, if nothing else, and Elaine had never been one to ask permission. She was independent - fiercely so - and if it wasn't against her nature to leave her relatives' out to dry, Elaine would have left Privet Drive as soon as she'd learned of the several properties owned by the Potter Estate. As it was, her presence in Little Whinging ensured the Dursleys' safety, and the witch wouldn't forsake that for her own selfish wants.

Not now, in any case, when Voldemort lurked in the shadows, awaiting the perfect opportunity to strike. He'd returned from the brink on the eve of the summer solstice, and several weeks later, there had been no sight of him, of his servants, or any evidence of attacks thus. As Voldemort planned, as Dumbledore planned, as Elaine herself did the same, it had become a waiting game, and by that point, Elaine was uncertain of whom would hit first, never mind where.

"Mistress, Winky has completed her task. Mistress' trust vault has been emptied, and hidden away in The Catacombs."

The Catacombs were a series of caverns and tunnels hidden beneath the ancestral grounds of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. They'd been used as a refuge in times of trial, and Elaine, as her ancestors before her, intended to take distinct advantage of their, entirely secret, existence. She'd already ensured that the protections surrounding Green Glade Hall were top notch, that the Welsh Green reserve was still loyal to the house of Potter, that the elves had provisions enough to last a long term siege.

They were extreme measures, without a doubt, but discussion with her grandparents, and a number of other forefathers as well, had taught Elaine that it was better to be safe than sorry. It meant she had a secure retreat if worse came to worst, and given the current political climate, Elaine was afraid that they would come in use sooner or later.

"Thank you, Winky," Elaine acknowledged, "I appreciate your dedication."

Winky curtsied lowly. "Winky is honoured to serve, Mistress."

Dismissed, Winky magiced Elaine's empty dishes and popped away. The witch, left to her own devices, withdrew her to-do list, crossed out her first point, and thought over how she should procure herself a series of safe houses across Britain and Europe. The properties she already owned were under the Potter name, and through the right channels, the information about them would be easily accessible. They were, therefore, out of the question. It would also be suspect for a fifteen year old to be buying property, but Elaine was not deterred.

Elaine had been planning for the eventuality of Voldemort's return since the summer after her first year, when she'd finally accepted the fact that it was not a possibility, but rather, an inevitability. She'd started with research into everything she owned, and her plans had taken off from there, though she'd had a great deal of assistance from the ancestors whose only loyalty was to Elaine herself. She'd created contacts and alliances, and even as more surprises and hurdles had been thrown her way, they'd all finally led to this particular summer, and the reality that all of her preparations would fall into place by summer's end.

Before the witch could consider the issue of safe houses further, she was disturbed by the sound of Petunia and Vernon on the landing, in quiet conversation as they descended the staircase. She scowled at the disturbance, closed up her journal, and carefully deposited it inside her satchel. She took the bag everywhere with her, kept all of her valuables within it's magically secure compartments, but as Privet Drive began to wake up to another day, the chime of the doorbell sounded through the house, and Elaine groaned her displeasure.

Early in the morning as it was, the arrival couldn't mean anything pleasant.

With that in mind, Elaine pulled her satchel over her head, sent Hedwig on her way, and exited her bedroom, wand drawn and uncertain of what she should expect.

Mrs Fig, the batty old cat lady who'd babysat Elaine years ago, was perhaps the last person she'd anticipated.

"Mrs Fig," Vernon adopted a vernier of polite curiosity, "What can I do for you today?"

"I was hoping to speak with Elaine, if you don't mind?"

Before Vernon could answer, Elaine dropped heavily onto the landing, greeted Mrs Fig with a wave, and brushed by her distasteful uncle before he could stop her. If nothing else, it gave her a reason to leave the house before she was inundated with a list of chores she wouldn't complete, but also, she was mildly curious about what the old biddy wanted with her.

"How can I help you, Mrs Fig?"

"I've a message from Dumbledore," she answered, tone hushed, and Elaine silently reeled. This kooky old bat was involved with the twinkly eyed loon's merry band of loonies?

In retrospect, Elaine shouldn't have been surprised at all. Mrs Fig would have fit right in.

"What does Dumbledore want?" Elaine asked, civil despite her roiling emotions. She'd always thought Privet Drive was safe, free from the machinations of the magical world, and the truth hurt. What else was she wrong about?

"He said to expect a visitor this evening," Mrs Fig explained, "As I understand it, this young gentleman has been rather insistent upon seeing you. Wouldn't take no for an answer."

Elaine shrugged her acquiescence. She had no idea whom it would be, but she could at least trust that Dumbledore wouldn't send someone inclined to murder her, and besides, it would be nice to be rid of the daily grind of Privet Drive for a short while. "Should I meet him at your place, then?"

"Heavens, no," Mrs Fig answered, "That would be entirely inappropriate, and Merlin forbid, but what would the neighbours say? No, he'll meet you at your door, of course."

"Right," Elaine acknowledged, a wry smile on her face, "In that case, I'd better get my errands over and done with before the day is out. Thanks for passing on the message, Mrs Fig."

"Not a problem, dear," Mrs Fig answered. She pressed an affectionate palm to Elaine's cheek, and bade her a good day. Then she teetered off with her oversized handbag, and a bemused Elaine was left to her own devices.

As she made her way to the Little Whinging town centre, however, she couldn't help but wonder about who on Earth was so insistent upon visiting with her. She almost couldn't wait to find out.

Author's Note: A working title. Also, I use commas far too often…