RISING FROM THE ASHES
Chapter Twelve – Friend or Foe?
Author's Note: First of all, I'm sorry I took so long to update, school is crazy right now, and I haven't had time to sit down and write. Secondly, it appears that I gave myself a review? Yeah, no. My friend was logged in on my account when she reviewed this story, so I just thought I'd let you all know. On with the story!
"Well, that went well," Ron commented as he, Harry, and Hermione made their way down the front steps of 4 Privet Drive.
"Very," said Harry dryly.
Their visit to the Dursley's had most certainly not gone well. In all honestly, it probably could not have gone worse.
He clutched the belongings his Aunt Petunia had bestowed upon him, wondering what had possessed her to act so UnDursleyish. He really wanted to get a good look at all that she had given him, and fully intended to as soon as he had a second to spare. Aunt Petunia had mentioned some letters from his mother…what would she have had to say to her bitter, hateful, Muggle sister?
"So," said Hermione, pulling him out of his thoughts, "where to next?"
Harry sighed, resigning himself to their coming destination.
"I was thinking Grimmauld Place," he said wearily.
Although Sirius' old house was the last place he was keen on visiting, it could provide valuable resources on their quest to destroy the remaining horcruxes. Perhaps some of the books on dark magic would supply more information about how they were formed, and how one might go about destroying them.
Harry tucked the parcel his aunt had handed him into his traveling bag, and after making sure no Muggles were peeking through their curtains, performed a Disillusionment charm on himself, Ron, and Hermione.
"Twelve Grimmauld Place is unplottable," he said, turning to Hermione, "but numbers eleven and thirteen aren't, so do you reckon we could find them on the atlas?"
"We should be able to," said Hermione, peering over his shoulder at the atlas he had extracted from his bag. "Oh, look, there it is!" she exclaimed, prodding her wand at the tiny dot labeled Thirteen Grimmauld Place.
"Right," said Harry decisively, "from what I can remember about my trip from the Dursley's to there in our fifth year, the flight is quite a few hours, but we should arrive before nightfall."
…
Harry's memory however, turned out to be completely incorrect.
"We should've been there ages ago," he moaned, "I don't understand! It didn't take nearly this long with the Order!"
"M-maybe we took a wrong turn," Hermione said, teeth chattering in the cold night air. She clutched tighter to Ron, who didn't seem too bothered by this, and peered over his shoulder.
"No, Hermione," Ron insisted, "I've been checking and double checking every turn we made – they're all according to the –"
"Upside-down atlas, Ron, you idiot!" she spat, tearing the map out of his grip.
"Oh," said Ron sheepishly, turning fire-engine red from the tips of his ears to the nape of his neck.
Hermione made an exasperated tutting noise, carefully scrutinizing the map as Ron continued to guide the broomstick across the starry skies.
"I have absolutely no idea where in Merlin's name we are!" she exclaimed, biting her lip anxiously. "Harry, I think it would be best if we called it a night, and found a place to stay. We can retrace our steps and find our way back to Grimmauld Place in the morning."
Harry stared into the vast, pitch-black sky before them. He was so very tired, and wanted so much to just collapse into his four-poster bed at Hogwarts. Considering his state, he'd be happy to be able to collapse into a pile of prickly hay, so long as he could just close his eyes.
"Yeah," he said, "you're right, Hermione. Alright then, let's dismount in that clearing a few yards down."
Hermione shrieked as Ron and Harry took off simultaneously, zooming towards the grassy field, and pulling their brooms straight seconds before hitting the damp dirt.
"I really, really don't like flying," Hermione said breathlessly, crumpling into a heap on the earthy terrain.
"We noticed," said Harry and Ron together, exchanging grins.
Hermione huffed, picking herself off the ground and brushing leaves out of her hair.
"I think I see something, a house of some sort," she said. "Lumos!"
The clearing lit up with light from her wand tip.
"Yeah," said Ron, "maybe they'd be willing to take us in for the night?"
"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, sniffing in that infuriatingly superior way of hers, "we have no way of knowing if they're friend or foe. For all we can tell, that could be a Death Eater's house!"
"Well," said Ron, gritting his teeth, "why don't we hide under Harry's cloak, knock on the door, stay if they seem trustworthy and run for it if they don't?"
"I still don't think..." Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.
"It's the best we've got, Hermione," he said. Truth be told, he wasn't thrilled about their plans. Would an invisibility cloak really be enough protection if it was the place of a Death Eater? Or perhaps someone, or something far more sinister…
Harry, Ron, and Hermione threw the cloak over themselves, and crept up toward the hill that sat at the base of the house, and upon venturing closer discovered it was not a house, but rather a mansion.
"Bloody hell," whispered Ron. "S'nearly the size of Hogwarts itself!"
Harry responding by punching his shoulder, leaving Ron a painful reminder that silence was crucial at this moment. They had arrived at the door.
Drawing in a deep breath, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and knocked three times, waiting with baited breath.
Footsteps were heard, and a loud, drawling voice called out "I'll get it, mother. That stupid old house-elf doesn't know what its doing."
Harry could practically feel the anger radiating off Hermione at these words, and he shot her a warning look underneath the cloak. She couldn't betray their presence.
Whoever it was answering the door fumbled with the doorknob, Harry could hear the click of a key in the lock, and he anxiously watched the handle turn, ever so slowly…
Harry's eyes flew open just as the door did. He recognized that voice, and unfortunately he recognized the blonde boy who stood before him, too.