"What are you doing, Sthei," Nio asked.
"We're going back to Privet Drive and we're going to travel by portkey, so I'm trying to get my breathing under control so that I don't upswallow breakfast," Harry explained in Parseltongue to the little snake coiled on his neck.
"What's a portkey?" Nio asked.
"No idea," Harry answered in between deliberate breaths. "But it can't be good. It's wixen travel, after all."
"Oh," Nio murmured.
"Harry? Why are you hissing?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Just explaining what's going on to Nio," Harry explained.
"Right. The snake. Shouldn't you put him back in the garden before we go?"
"He's from Privet Drive. He's coming with us," Harry stated as he turned to the sound of light footsteps approaching them rapidly from behind.
"Oh, Gemma!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed as she stopped.
"What is it, Gemma?" Harry asked, tucking his staff into the crook of his elbow and holding his hands out to her so that she could respond.
Instead of her hands as he expected, his fingers encountered a thin piece of cool stone. Gemma held it patiently while he tried to determine what it was, his eyebrows pulled together in a question.
"Harry, we really must get to the portkey. Just take the slate and let's go," Professor McGonagall said impatiently.
"Slate?" Harry asked as his fingers traced the smoothed and undulating lines along the edges of the stone.
"For writing," Gemma signed on the back of his hand as they used to do when he was just learning protactile signing.
Harry gasped and took the slate from Gemma's hands so that he could examine it more fully.
"How does it work?" he asked.
"Look," Gemma signed. She took the slate from his hands and then showed him that she had one, too. He held his hands over hers while she wrote with a piece of chalk, then she thrust his back into his hands while Professor McGonagall made impatient noises nearby.
Harry felt the surface of his slate and it now had braille dots on the surface. He concentrated on deciphering the message for a moment and then lifted his chin and smiled at Gemma as he worked out what the braille said.
Gemma had written: "From Petro, so we can talk. He has one, too."
"This is brilliant, Gemma! Thank you!"
"Come, we've got to hurry," Professor McGonagall said as she clutched Harry's sleeve.
Harry took a moment to tuck the slate into his staff and then found Gemma's shoulder so that he could pull her into another quick hug. When he pulled away he found that his shoulder was wet and he heard Gemma snuffling as Professor McGonagall dragged him through the door into the reception area. He pulled his arm out of her grasp and swung his staff in an arc in front of him, not caring much that the silver tip had struck her ankle even when she squeaked. He signed a hurried goodbye to Gemma, hoping that she'd seen it as the door closed behind him.
"Hurry, Harry! It's lit up. We're going to miss the portkey!" Professor McGonagall grasped Harry's hand and pulled it toward an object, pressing his hand against it.
Harry stumbled forward and almost dropped his staff. He collapsed it and flicked it into his holster without thinking about it. He was trying to figure out what Professor McGonagall was making him touch. He decided it must be a vase when he felt a hook in his navel pulling him through space. The pressure around him changed like when he was apparated and he felt as though he was being extruded through a straw. When he burst through on the other side, he collided face-first with wet grass. Somehow, someone had slipped a noose over his neck… when he rolled on his back, tugging at it and trying to loosen it, he realized that it was Nio.
"Nio!" Harry gasped. "You're strangling me."
"Sthei! I've been pulled inside out!" Nio said in an agonized voice, though he did lessen his hold on Harry's neck.
Harry felt along the smooth scales of his friend and determined that he was speaking metaphorically, not literally and sighed with relief. His back felt cold as the damp grass soaked through his clothes. The world had stopped spinning so much and when he pushed himself to his knees, he recognized that they must be at the fringe of Aunt Petunia's garden; the scent of the stock flowers were always overwhelming in this corner of the garden. He reached out a hand to graze across the blossom covered stalks and their spicy aroma enveloped him.
"Achoo!" Professor McGonagall sneezed, answering Harry's next question… she was just to his left, facing the house. She had apparently landed on her feet.
"Big Friend, I'm going to retire to my Adelphi. Traveling with you leg-walkers is not a sun-warmed rock—I'd rather fly in the talons of the Owl; I need to rest."
"I understand, Nio. I'll visit you tomorrow morning," Harry said as he lowered the snake to the garden bed, feeling wistful as the snake's sleek body wisped away through the reedy stems.
"Ah, good. I can't imagine arriving with a snake would make this any easier," Professor McGonagall said.
Harry felt his clothes grow warm and then dry. He patted them to confirm what he suspected.
"You dried my clothes?" Harry asked, standing up and facing the professor.
"We can't have you showing up unexpectedly at your… er, the Dursley's… looking like you took a tumble down a hill." As she said this, Professor McGonagall brushed off his shoulders and straightened his collar.
"They'd actually like it… give them something more to complain about…" Harry said under his breath.
"Hush. I'm here to prevent that sort of thing. Let's get this over with. I was quite firm with them the last time… I won't tolerate any unpleasantness and I have the Center and the Ministry backing me up on this. I suppose we should enter by the front door. Ah, yes… a gate."
Harry trailed behind Professor McGonagall as she marched across the garden path wishing he could have followed Nio instead to his Adelphi and a snug hole in the ground filled with snakes.
Even though the breathing exercises that Ms. Midgeon had taught him for wixen travel seemed to have done the trick, his stomach was still protesting and he felt the bile rising in his gut. As they approached the front path, Harry heard a slight noise at the window that made him think that Aunt Petunia was watching them. He guessed that she'd pretend to be out.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward and the sound of her knuckles on the door reverberated throughout the neighborhood. Harry couldn't help but grin to himself.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, he thought.
But then there was a ferocious gravely bark that emanated from within Number 4 Privet Drive. The hair on the back of Harry's neck prickled and he took two steps back.
"Oh, no. Aunt Marge is here."
"Aunt Marge?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Uncle Vernon's sister," Harry managed to utter. "And her dog, Ripper."
"Oh. I see," Professor McGonagall sniffed and then rapped on the door again. She followed the knock with an impatiently long depression of the doorbell which made the dog even more frantic.
Harry could hear Aunt Petunia hollering at Marge to manage Ripper as his nails scrabbled against the door. Harry was mentally calculating how long it would take him to find and climb up the tree in the garden when he remembered that Professor McGonagall was by his side and allowed to use magic in front of the Dursleys. He wasn't sure if that included Aunt Marge, though. He focused on breathing in and out while the beast behind the door was corralled and finally the door opened.
"Oh, it's you," Aunt Petunia greeted. Harry wasn't sure if the disdain was meant for him or Professor McGonagall.
"I see that you're back for more handouts, boy!" Aunt Marge barked over Ripper's throaty growls.
Professor McGonagall didn't bother with niceties… she walked right past Aunt Petunia and Aunt Marge. Harry was shocked when instead of continuing her lambasting, Aunt Marge marched down the hall and into the kitchen dragging a scuffling but oddly whimpering Ripper after her. After a prolonged silence, Harry found the threshold with his staff and followed Professor McGonagall inside.
Aunt Petunia was sputtering. "What did you do to her? What did you do to the dog? Get out! Both of you!"
Harry's staff warned him that his aunt was reaching for him and he ducked, but she still managed to grab his collar. There was a gust of wind that slammed the door shut behind him, Aunt Petunia let go of Harry's shirt while yelping and shaking her hand.
She rounded on Professor McGonagall. "You can't, you CAN NOT, you cannot DO that in our house."
"Well, then I advise you keep your hands off your nephew," Professor McGonagall said. "Now, I must explain why we are here."
"No. You'll do no such thing. Just leave. Vernon's sister is visiting and we can't have… your kind… here. Whatever business you have can wait… we had Marge change her plans… to arrive early so that her visit would be while he was gone."
"Unfortunately, there has been an incident at the Center and all the residents had to return home early. Now, I'm happy to explain all of this here in your foyer, or, if you'd like to behave like a civilized hostess, you can invite me into your parlor and we discuss the details over tea," Professor McGonagall said as she marched through the hallway and into the sitting room.
There was a pop of magic and a rattling of china on the table. A strong Earl Grey scent wafted through the door. Harry's stomach rumbled in response and he stepped hesitantly toward the sitting room.
"Harry, I'll send tea to your room. I imagine you'd like to rest a bit while I talk to your aunt."
Aunt Petunia harrumphed in response, but didn't protest. Harry was stunned into stillness for a moment, and then recovering, he nodded, turned, and swept his staff in front of him until he found the staircase. Hearing Hedwig tapping at his window, he flicked his staff into his holster and bounded up the stairs and into his room, eager to let her in. Professor McGonagall's voice followed him up the stairs, but he didn't understand what she was saying… that is, until he collided with something, and then it made sense as he crashed to the floor on top of a splintering table and shattering china. Hot tea splashed across his chest, neck, and face as his hand slid into something gooey.
She had called out, "Mind the tea service!"
Professor McGonagall was pulling him up by the elbow and setting him on his feet before he even realized that she was in the room.
"Oh, dear. I should have thought to warn you," she muttered as she cast spells that soothed the burns across his chest and cleansed the goo from between his fingers. "How was I to know that you'd run up the stairs!" Popping noises accompanied the sound of the china pieces realigning and wood mending.
Harry shook his arm out of her grasp and righted himself. "I'm fine. I can manage," he grumped. He really did not like people grabbing him, even when they were trying to help.
Harry stuck out a tentative hand in the direction of the sounds and found a lace-covered table with a tray laden once again with delicate china cups, saucers, plates, silverware, and a teapot. He drew his hand away quickly from the teapot as it was filling once again with scalding tea and grazed his fingers across something creamy.
"Lemon curd," he said internally as licked his fingers.
"Why were you in such a rush?"
Harry turned his head to the window and wondered if Hedwig had flown away because of the commotion. He couldn't hear her tapping anymore.
"Hedwig was at the window," he said.
"Oh, well. She must have flown off. I don't see her now. Why weren't you using your staff?"
"I don't need it in familiar spaces… as long as people don't put things in my way," he huffed.
"But Healer Jordan said it has a safety feature," Professor McGonagall defended.
"Yeah, but I have to be holding it for it to work, unless it is life-threatening."
"Oh, I see. Well, have a spot of tea and we'll sort this room out later. I better attend to your Aunts." And with that Professor McGonagall's heeled boots clipped out of his room and down the staircase and he heard the murmurs of a tense conversation resume. He wondered what the Professor had done to Aunt Petunia and Aunt Marge to make them stay put while she tended to him. He smiled to himself while thinking of the possibilities and stuck his finger in the lemon curd again for another taste.
Harry edged carefully around the tea service which rattled precariously whenever he nudged it and found the small table in front of the window, then unlatched the window and drew it up. He whistled for Hedwig and heard her distant hoot from a tall tree. He pulled himself back in the window and waited, hoping she was flying toward him.
She landed in a maelstrom of beating wings and scritching talons across the sill and then nudged his hand, bobbing and growling in greeting.
"Remember, no snake hunting here," he reminded her. She responded by nipping his finger. He offered her a piece of a scone, but she turned her back to him and hopped out the window again. Her departure was stealthy in comparison to her arrival and he guessed that she was going to find a more appealing morsel. Harry settled onto his bed and drank tea while cramming scones dripping with lemon curd into his mouth… for once not caring at all if he was leaving a trail of crumbs down his shirt. Clearly, he could use magic to clean things up… and maybe even prevent Ripper from chasing him up a tree, and grinning to himself, Harry imagined the mischief he could manage with Dudley.
A slight humming vibration coming from his staff broke the reverie and he summoned the slate from Gemma out of it. As he suspected, it was causing the vibration, more insistently now that he was holding it. He ran his fingers over the surface to find a new message. He leaned back against his headboard as he puzzled it out, smiling to himself as Gemma's words kept forming under his fingertips. and for the first time ever, Harry thought that being holed up at Privet drive might not be so horrid after all.
The End
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Author's note:
November 24, 2020: I can't believe it... after two years of working on this story every day, I've finally completed it. And this is not the end... I will start the sequel soon... picking up where I left off to learn about Harry's return to Hogwarts and the challenges of being pursued by an escaped death eater. I'm looking for suggestions for the title for the next work and the series. Leave me a comment or email me at Hegemonemilo at gmail dot com. I'm thankful for you... thank you for reading, commenting, recommending, sharing, and encouraging.