Authors Notes: Thanks so much for your reviews. I appreciate you all so much. I really wanted to get this update in, so I beg your indulgence regarding any errors.
Chapter 9
Two Howlers and a Hiding
Part I
An old woman in tattered, floral dress robes sat next to a little blond boy, with pale gray eyes, and admired his pets. The child appeared to be no more than seven or eight years of age. But appearances could be deceiving, as the old woman could attest to first hand.
"That's a very handsome rat," she said in a sugary, old voice, that sounded a bit contrived for its sweetness. She gently patted the rodent's head with a wizened, yellow index finger, while studiously ignoring it's small silver paw. "Oh, and you have a snake as well," she exclaimed, as though just noticing the squirming burden in the child's other hand. "What a lucky boy you are," she assured him kindly, while studying his pale gray eyes.
"Please don't tell," the boy said, stowing the creatures under his robes with a start. How had this batty old woman sneaked up on him. He hadn't even heard her approach. The boy did not know that with the assistance of two friends, the old woman cast enough notice-me-not charms to almost be disillusioned. The boy patted the snake in a nervous way; he knew he'd be punished severely if he fouled things up. He had to think fast.
"My Moth...erm... Mummy and Daddy don't know I've brought my ah... pets," the white haired boy explained in an innocent whisper. "I'll be in trouble if anyone finds out," his eyes actually watered a bit at this, the old woman made note.
Whether it was an act or not the boy himself wasn't even sure. But it wasn't difficult to conjure a tear or two to roll down his pale cheek, when he thought recent punishments he had received for mistakes both real and imagined.
"Your secret is safe with me," the women patted the boys pale head encouragingly, instinctively realizing he was worried about slightly more than being scolded or spanked. "Are your Mummy and Daddy friends of the bride or groom?" the old woman interrogated.
"The bride," the boy informed her deftly, again thinking fast. "Mummy went to Beauxbatons with Mademoiselle Fleur," he added, thinking this would be a nice touch. Even if this woman had gone to Beauxbatons as well, she seemed too old to have been in Fleur's year.
"Oh, how lovely," the old woman purred triumphantly. Not for a moment letting on how completely the boy had finally given himself away.
In fact, none of the twenty odd Death Eaters who littered the grounds of the Burrow, both disguised, disillusioned and with a few notice-me-nots for good measure, seemed to realize that the wedding party consisted solely of Weasleys, or more accurately replica's of Weasley's, in various degrees of disguise. Arthur Weasley appeared no less than ten times: bearded Arthur, bald Arthur, pony-tailed Arthur with glasses. There were many varieties. Mustached Arthur was acting as Wizard Justice of the Peace.
The only exceptions, save for the Death Eaters, were ployjuice Fluer and polyjuice Arabella Figg. And if the clever young wizard that inhabited the old woman's body was not mistaken, and he was not, he had spent the last five minutes or so consoling an age charmed Draco Malfoy.
The idea of polyjuice had first come up in a discussion between Harry, Hermione and Ron two weeks prior at number 10 Privet Drive. It was the morning after Snape's visit. After the decent conversation and unheard of praise, the seething hatred that had governed Harry's relationship with the man for so long felt a bit unsteady and nebulous.
While Harry was finding it difficult to fully posses the deep, righteous loathing for the Potions Master that had guided him for six years, the boy had no trouble being absolutely ticked at Dumbledore. He had contacted the Headmaster via the Angelth to see if he could find out more about what was really going on. When the Headmaster was less than forth coming, Harry made the mistake of asking if he really need obey Snape, and was there any way possible he could still go to the Burrow.
"I am both bewildered and disappointed that you would have the unmitigated temerity to make such a suggestion, Harry," The Headmaster roundly scolded the boy, going so far as to accuse Harry of being selfish and not caring for the safety of his friends. Harry tried to explain that after Snape left, as the night wore on, he became convinced that Voldermort would probably attack the wedding anyway. Harry wanted to be there to help protect his friends. Dumbledore wasted no time pointing out the error of his logic in a tone worthy of Snape.
It was an extremely chastened Harry that had arrived at Mrs. Figg's that morning to begin his studies.
"Morning Hermione," He said moodily as he stroked the orange cat's fur. She lumbered her plump form toa chair, then up on to table, and nuzzled the boy's hand by way of greeting. The other cats were in attendance as well, rubbing themselves against his pant legs, and purring loudly. However, it was clear that the boy had not yet developed the same bond with any of them as he had with the feline named for his clever friend.
"Good morning, Harry," returned a familiar voice. As the boy whirled toward the voice near the floo, a bushy-head of hair barreled toward him.
"'Mione," the boy squealed in happy surprise, as the witch nearly toppled him. "What are you doing here?"
Harry had owled both Ron and Hermione the night before to let them know he would be unable to join them at the Burrow as planned. At the Headmaster's stern insistence, he had not told them about Snape's message. The man had firmly admonished via the Angelth that Harry often let his heart get ahead of his brain and this was often the source of his difficulties. Harry felt severely reprimanded, although he could not deny the truthfulness of the old man's words.
Dumbledore had insisted that Harry let the Order provide warning to the Weasley's and spend more time concentrating on his own responsibilities. This upset Harry no end. He had been focusing on his responsibilities. Even Snape had complimented him for Merlin's sake.
In the end Harry blamed the Headmaster's stern demeanor on the fact that the old man must fear Harry would do something dangerous. And since he could not be there to either stop Harry or offer assistance, the older wizard was more verbally harsh than he otherwise may have been.
It was all Harry could do to abide the man's wishes regarding Snape's message as he stood looking at his friend in the kitchen of Number 10 Privet Drive. The urge to tell Hermione about Snape and the Angelth both were nearly overwhelming. Hermione saved him from his grief, however.
"Oh Harry, we heard this morning about the planned attack at the wedding, just a bit after receiving your owl." she looked at her friend sadly. "Ron will be here in a while. He's helping see to the added security around the Burrow," she explained to the dark haired boy. "Most of the Order is there."
"They're going to go on with the wedding anyhow then?" Harry questioned Ron later that same day, as the three friends sat in Mrs. Figg's back garden, throwing hexes at the Gnomes. Ron's hexes seemed unnecessarily harsh, and Hermione had to scold him several times.
"Everybody reckons that You-Know-Who will attack the wedding anyway, whether you're there or not," Ron stated, dejectedly.
"That's what I told Dumb---" Harry caught himself just in time. "Those dumb... cats," he corrected lamely.
"Really, Harry," Hermione giggled, giving him an odd look. "We've just have to figure out a way to help minimize the damage," the girl stated determinedly, as though it were a particularly puzzling arithmancy problem.
Although Ron was too worried to agree they had any power in the matter, he was the first one to come up with the idea of using polyjuice to create a wedding party decoy.
Hermione tried to shoot the idea down, reminding him that polyjuice took nearly a month to brew. Harry on the other hand thought the idea was indeed worth discussion, and showed them the quick brew potions formulas he had come across in the Prince's Potions text.
Polyjuice was one of eight potions that the Prince had discovered a method of brewing in less than the regular time. The Prince's quick- brewed polyjuice took only twenty four hours to prepare, and one dose would last up to twelve hours. However, it was considerably less stable than the normal potion. For example, a person might be frightened or shocked out of their polyjuice form instead of it wearing off in the normal way.
"At least the murdering git was good for something," Ron opined, throwing a lazy jelly legs curse at an unsuspecting Gnome.
The trio had decided, and also gotten permission, that since Harry couldn't come to the Burrow, his friends would stay at Privet Drive. Accomplishing this under the very noses of his relatives was easier than Harry would have imagined now that Ron and Hermione had both come of age. They owled the Ministry that Harry's friends would be staying for an undetermined length, and any magic cast at Number 4 Privet Drive should be assumed to be theirs.
The three wasted no time transfiguring Dudley's second bedroom into a comfortable, little suite, whose three modest bedrooms, complete with half baths, led out into a convenient sitting room and kitchenette. The place was charmed to look like the same old bedroom should anyone enter through the front door, and there was an ongoing notice-me-not for Ron and Hemione as well as a silencing charm. Meals could have been a problem as only Harry knew how to cook. But he still took most of his meals with the Dursley's, and Mrs. Figg was fairly overjoyed to feed the other two.
"But who would take the polyjuice?" Harry questioned, still arguing the polyjuice plan from earlier in that day as the three sat on the comfortable sofa in the sitting room of Dudley's second bedroom. "Someone would still be at risk."
Ron thought of using the Gnomes as polyjuice decoys for the wedding, having been treated to a demonstration earlier of the work Harry had been doing with the creatures. The red headed boy had been none too impressed.
"You had better get busy on more deadly types of defense if your going to battle You-Know-Who, 'arry," he said chucking a rowanberry at one of the little people. "You won't slow down a Death Eater by making his ruddy nose run." Hermione agreed with Ron for the most part, and insisted Harry should be spending more time figuring out the Horcruxes. He would have liked to see the looks on their faces if he'd told them Snape thought he was doing a good job.
In the end it was decided that using the Gnomes as polyjuice decoys for the Weasley wedding would be far too risky.
"They're too bloody stupid," Ron stated in a rather scathing way that made Harry uncomfortable.
Harry vetoed the Gnomes as well because there would be now way to explain to them what was expected, and they were bound to be seriously injured during a Death Eater attack. Surprisingly, it was Hermione who first came up with the idea of asking the House Elves to help.
So at the decoy Weasley wedding, the moment that the polyjuiced Elf Wizard Justice of the Peace gave polyjuiced Elf Bill Weasley permission to kiss his polyjuiced Elf bride, was apparently the signal for the Death Eaters that all hell should break lose. The polyjuiced Arabella Figg took a moment, after the first curse was thrown, to run a yellowed thumbnail across a galleon taken from the pocket of the tatty, floral dress robes. She then turned to the pale boy with the gray eyes and grabbed hold of his arm firmly.
"Come dear," the old voice was kind and determined. "I'll protect you. You and your lovely pets," Malfoy was fairly dragged toward the house. Before they could get there, however, polyjuice Arabella had to push the boy behind her to block an onslaught of Death Eater curses. Polyjuice Arabella used the recently perfected Wulfric Ward, a block named for Albus Dumbledore, which used the same elements as the wards surrounding Number 10 Privet Drive.
As the curses bounced uselessly off the Wulfric Ward, polyjuice Arabella made way to the back door of the house with the blond boy in tow. She stopped twice more to block curses, before they reached their destination. A Nose-run Gnome was thrown for good measure and Arabella was gratified to note that it did indeed slow the Death Eater down.
Dobby, polyjuiced as Molly Weasley, came by and finished the job.
"You will not harm Harry Potter!" the Elf squeaked from inside Molly Weasley's hearty frame, sending the snot-nosed Death Eater careening in a blinding flash of light.
The signal was to have been Dobby's job. But Harry asked if he could do it, as he swore his little friend to secrecy regarding the young wizards presence at the Burrow.Harry just couldn't seem to bear having Elves he knew, like Dobby and Winky, fighting and not be there to at least help.
So, as the battle began at the home of the Weasley's, Harry Potter, polyjuiced as Arabella Figg, scratched his thumb across the surface of a galleon. This signaled the Weasley Clan, who had similar galleons compliments of Hermione, that Voldemort and his Death Eaters would be occupied for the next little while, and they could safely begin the real wedding ceremony at Number 10 Privet Drive. Harry had been forbidden to attend either gathering by Snape, Dumbledore, and just about every member of the Order of the Phoenix.
Snape had actually sent a Howler when he had gotten wind of how instrumental Harry and his friends were in the planning of the decoy wedding. It had been delivered by Fawkes just as Harry sat down to dinner with the Dursley's. Harry had just had time to rush into the downstairs loo, and cast a hasty Muffilatio before the letter started to bellow at volume that Harry was to stay as far as humanly possible away from both real and faux Weasley weddings. Harry had been shaken up by the Howler. Who wouldn't be, cramped in a tiny toilet with Snape howling bloody murder?
Harry also had an inkling as to how Snape had figured out about the decoy event. Unbeknownst to the trio, the man had spied Harry and his friends buying potions ingredients in Diagon Alley. Since they were well protected by the Order, he didn't have anything to say about that, but he was curious about what ingredients Harry had purchased, and wanted to question him about it. As he couldn't do so then, and hadn't yet discovered the brilliant use of the Howler, Snape used the communication journal that McGonagall had given the boy on his last day at Hogwarts. Harry responded to the older wizard's query with a bold face lie, and quickly came to regret it. He wrote back to Snape telling him he had found a potion for a liquid Imperios, and he wanted to try it out.
Snape wrote back, in scathing script, that the potion was far too dark. And Harry had no business even considering using it. And if the man ever heard of him brewing such a potion the boy would wish he hadn't. And on, and on. At the time Harry thought it was almost as bad as getting a Howler. That was before he had gotten a real Howler, which he now realized was much worse. Harry took a leaf from Ron's book and responded via the journal asking if he mightn't need to get a bit darker if he meant to take on Voldemort. Snape wrote back in stern cramped script.
No dark spells, Potter! Harry could picture the man sneering. It reminded him of his dream, but something else also. On the night the Headmaster was killed, the dark haired wizard had told the boy the same thing.
But aside from being appropriately shaken by Snape's Howler forbidding him to attend either wedding or decoy, Harry had also been concerned that if Snape knew, word of the decoy wedding might get back to Voldermort. The boy sent a letter back via Fawkes saying as much, and adding, in a respectful way he thought, that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. The man sent another Howler, roundly scolding him for his impudence and repeating his order that Harry was not to show his face at either event.
However, the boy never was one for following the rules. Snape had always been the first to admit it.
Please review. Hope you liked it.