Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the Harry Potter series.

Recognizable portions from this chapter have been taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, by J.K. Rowling

Chapter 3: Diagon Alley…Again

Previously, on The Marauders' Return…

The number of people around him seemed to increase exponentially as he neared the alley…he could almost see the front paws of the dog now, even as he was jostled around by the crowd; his heart was pounding in his ears – why, he had no idea, even years later…he was almost there –

'Look out!'

'Watch it!'

Harry whirled around – someone had tripped while exiting the apothecary nearby, his cauldron flying from his hand, its contents soaring up into the air in a graceful arc, before the thick, yellowish-green liquid fell from its peak, right onto where Harry stood, frozen…

And then his mind kicked into gear.

'PROTEGO!'

A huge shimmering shield appeared out of the tip of Harry's wand, seconds before the thick, foul-looking – and foul-smelling too, Harry dimly noted in the back of his mind – liquid would have made contact with him; it splashed against the shield before falling onto the ground.

Harry made sure he was safe before he removed the shield, breathing heavily from the exertion of producing such a large barrier and maintaining it for almost twenty seconds. He'd read about shield charms over the summer, of course, and he'd been eagerly awaiting his return to Hogwarts so that he could try it out. But he hadn't anticipated that he would have needed to use it a good two weeks before that, at Diagon Alley of all places.

The crowd around the apothecary had increased by that point: shouts of 'What was that?' and 'Did you see that shield?!' accompanied the usual cries of 'Look, it's Harry Potter!' Harry groaned as he heard the exclamations of surprise and did his best to block out the noise – he did not want to be the center of attention once again, especially for something as trivial as producing a shield charm –

Producing a shield charm…

Bugger.

The crowd around the apothecary had swelled considerably; people were now talking in loud, raised voices about the incident with the liquid. Harry, for his part, was trying to steadfastly ignore the cacophony around him, as he came to terms with what could only be termed as a disastrous situation.

He had done magic – again. In broad daylight, in front of so many witnesses, he'd performed a spell. And this time there wouldn't be any escape: there was no one who could help him right now. He was surely going to be expelled from Hogwarts, and making a run for it was out of the question.

The crowd had increased, almost effectively boxing him in…He'd lost his chance to get away – they were going to come for him and snap his wand…Maybe he could go and help Hagrid at Hogwarts, become an assistant gamekeeper while his friends would go on to become full-fledged wizards and witches…

I'm doomed.

A rather loud screech announced the arrival of a quite regal-looking barn owl. It landed rather gracefully in front of him before turning to face him fully; and Harry, hands now trembling with fear, removed the official-looking letter from its beak. Its duty done, the owl ruffled its feathers importantly and took off into the sky.

Harry paid it no mind – he was staring, transfixed, at the front of the envelope, which was addressed to him in bright green ink:

Mr H. Potter

Room 11, The Leaky Cauldron

Charing Cross Road

London

The trembling of his hands had increased tenfold as he stared at the thick parchment envelope. He knew what was inside, yet he didn't want to look at it; his mouth was dry, his lips suddenly parched, longing for the sip of water he'd last had at Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour so many hours ago. He sank to the ground, his legs unable to support his weight…

With a feeling of mingled dread and fear, he slowly slit the envelope open and pulled out the letter inside; his heart now pounding away somewhere in the region of his Adam's apple.

Dear Mr Potter,

We have received intelligence that you performed the Basic Shield Charm at thirty-four minutes past three this afternoon in Diagon Alley.

While this would not be a punishable offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, the performance of this spell amounts to a breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C. This breach has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be arriving at your current location shortly to destroy your wand.

Hoping you are well,

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

An icy numb feeling was spreading through Harry's chest as he read through the letter once, twice, and then a third time. And each time, the same words kept popping up from the parchment, even as he desperately hoped that it would somehow change after reading it again and again –

'This breach has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

He looked up from his letter at the now-sizeable crowd around apothecary – someone had had the common sense to clean up the thick yellowish-green liquid before anyone else came in contact with it; people were now clamouring to be heard over the general din of the shoppers in Diagon Alley; Harry could vaguely make out the outline of the owner of the apothecary yelling at someone with pink hair, the latter looking quite chastised at the entire affair.

Harry's brain seemed to awaken from the temporary stupefied state it had been in, and looked back down at the letter still in his hand. Ministry representatives will be arriving at your current location shortly to destroy your wand… There was nothing else to do for it: he would have to run once again. There was no way he was going to give up his wand.

Ironic, really, that he was being expelled for something as harmless as a self-protecting shield, and not for blowing up Aunt Marge.

Before he could even rise up on his feet and get away from the crowd, however, there was a rather loud CRACK in the immediate vicinity. A sudden hush fell over the onlookers: it was rather like someone had accidentally pressed the mute button on the remote that controlled everyone else.

The crowd slowly parted as the newcomers made their way through the throng – and Harry's eyes soon fell on the 'someone' who'd silenced everyone.

Harry's first thought when he saw her was that she looked just like a large, pale toad. She was rather squat, with a broad, flabby face, as little neck as Uncle Vernon and a very wide, slack mouth. She had wide, round and bulging eyes, and, despite appearing to be a fully qualified witch, was as tall as Harry was. She had short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes.

But what actually made Harry's blood go cold were the people that followed the squat, toad-like woman through the crowd.

Five wizards followed her in a steady march; each of them wore a deep purple robe with a black cloak fastened around their necks. The wizards were large and well-built, with rather unfriendly expressions on their faces – or what was left of them anyway. All of them had scars running across their faces in a haphazard manner – like someone had done a terrible job in trying to carve something out of them. The logo of the Ministry of Magic – a large golden 'M' over another, smaller one, imposed on a dark red background – was plainly visible on the left-hand chest of their robes. On the right-hand side, however, was the word 'MES' in glittering green – the sight of which confirmed Harry's suspicions and increased his dread exponentially.

The Magical Elite Squad.

The Magical Elite Squad was a legend in the wizarding world – many people believed that they didn't even exist. The MES – as it was more informally known – had been constituted by Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold during the war against Voldemort. Led by Bartemius Crouch, the then Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, they had been trained in the most extreme manner possible in all kinds of magical combat and spell-casting, and were known for their ability to take down Dark forces and enemies effectively and efficiently. Only the best of the Aurors and Hit-Wizards were selected to join the squad – it was definitely not meant for the faint-hearted.

It was said that if you'd been cornered by the MES, you were definitely done for – save for Voldemort or Dumbledore, no soul alive could fight their way out of a duel against the squad members.

All in all, certainly not a welcoming sight for Harry.

'Hem, hem.'

The squat woman cleared her throat – a rather annoying sound that jarred Harry back from his fear-induced statue-like state to reality – before giving Harry a simpering smile, revealing very pointed teeth. Harry did not reciprocate.

She cleared her throat again ('hem, hem').

'Good evening Mr – Potter, isn't it?' she simpered. Her voice had a high-pitched, breathy and a little-girlish tone to it, and right then, Harry felt a rush of instant and intense loathing and dislike towards everything about her: from that ridiculous bow on her head, to the disgusting, fluffy, pink cardigan, to her stupid, girly voice.

'Well, Mr Potter, you've got yourself in a fine spot of trouble, haven't you?' she continued. Harry, once again, did not respond to her – he was alternating between staring at the woman in disgust, and glancing at the MES wizards with a certain amount of warranted trepidation.

If the woman was offended by his apparent ignorance of her words, she did not show it; instead, she proceeded to go ahead with her monologue, but some of the breathiness in her voice had vanished, and it sounded more business-like.

'Mr Potter, we received verifiable information that you had produced a Basic Shield Charm earlier this afternoon. This means that you have committed your second breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, which has resulted in your automatic expulsion from Hogwarts School. As Ministry representatives, we have been authorized with the task of destroying your wand as well. Please hand it over immediately.' She stretched out her hand, beckoning Harry to give up his wand to her. Harry noticed the numerous rings that adorned her short, stubby fingers, and felt another wave of repulsion hit him.

The crowd had gasped as the woman had intoned about Harry's expulsion from Hogwarts: partly because getting expelled and having your wand destroyed was a serious issue, and partly because it was Harry Potter who was involved in the whole affair. Harry dimly noticed many of the heads swing back and forth between the woman and him, almost as if they were watching a tennis match at Wimbledon.

Harry took an involuntary step backwards from the woman – he couldn't remember being this repulsed by anyone in his life, and he'd grown up with the Dursleys and had Draco Malfoy as his schoolmate. His right hand involuntarily went to the pocket of his jeans, where he'd stowed his wand after casting the shield, more out of protecting it than anything else.

The woman noticed his movement; she gave him another smirk as she stepped forward to counter his step back.

'Your wand, Mr Potter,' she repeated, the breathiness returning again slightly. Harry dimly noted that the MES members were yet to make a move: he surmised that their presence was more for guarding the toad-like woman than for arresting and taking him away.

'What is going on here?'

For the second time that evening, the crowd parted – this time on the right, from the apothecary itself – to allow the newcomer to arrive at the scene. Compared to the group that the toad-like woman had brought along, the second person's entourage could not have been more different.

The speaker was a woman who looked extremely foreboding. She was a rather tall woman, with a square jaw, closely cropped hair (Harry could see a few grey ones poking out from underneath her hat) and a monocle on her left eye. Her eyebrows were creased into a frown, the monocle digging into her skin under her eyebrow as she took in the scene before her.

Her companions also sported similar expressions on their faces: a tall, dark-skinned man with a single golden hoop in his left ear had a pensive look; a young, black-haired woman with pink cheeks was also frowning and muttering softly to herself. There was also a pink-haired woman who, unlike the others, looked decidedly morose: her pale, heart-shaped face looked forlorn, and her eyes were downcast. Harry recognized her from earlier: she'd been the target of the apothecary owner's ire for the liquid being spilt. His eyes roved over the each of the people who'd followed the monocle-wearing witch through the crowd, and came to rest on –

Susan?

There was no mistaking it – Susan Bones was standing at the back of the group, slightly struggling with the weight of two heavy bags, containing what looked like loads of books and possibly Potions' ingredients. She'd cut her red hair short to shoulder length, a change which Harry thought made her look quite cute.

Apparently realizing that someone was watching her, Susan lifted her head, her brown eyes locking with Harry's piercing green ones. She held his gaze for a good moment, before raising her left eyebrow in a questioning pose, just as her mouth decidedly curved into a mischievous smirk.

The question was crystal clear: What on earth did you do this time?

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Harry couldn't help but grin back slightly at her smirk. He had realized that, despite being in Hufflepuff – who were known to be quiet, hard-workers – Susan had quite the devilish, mischievous streak within her. She could have easily rivalled the Weasley twins in terms of pranking people, but instead preferred to take a back-seat and just watch the show unfold. In fact, Harry had a strong suspicion that she'd been the one to suggest the decoration prank which Fred, George and Lee had executed to perfection at the end of last term.

'Well, Madam Amelia Bones, what a pleasant surprise.' The girlish voice of the toad-woman, sounding anything but pleased, broke through Harry's thoughts; the surname of the second square-jawed woman caused him to mimic the crowd's earlier actions in swivelling his head between Amelia Bones and Susan. The latter had now dropped her bags unceremoniously by her feet, and was staring at the toad-woman with an expression of deep disgust.

Harry glanced back at the toad-woman; she was definitely surprised by the intrusion, but was clearly less than pleased about the whole affair. His suspicion about a possible mutual dislike between the two women – and Susan too, if her glare was anything to go by – was confirmed almost immediately by the look on Amelia Bones' face.

'Dolores Umbridge,' intoned Madam Bones coolly, still frowning at the woman before her.

Ah, so her name was Umbridge.

Madam Bones' gaze lingered for just a while longer on Umbridge, who seemed to deflate almost slightly under its intensity, before it swept over the five MES wizards standing behind Umbridge. Her frown, if possible, deepened even more at the sight of them, and she arched one questioning eyebrow at the unofficial leader of the Squad there – a tall, broad-chested man with short-cropped brown hair and steel-grey eyes. The wizard, who just moments earlier had seemed so intimidating to Harry, appeared to deflate at a much quicker rate than Umbridge under Madam Bones' scrutiny. The rest of his comrades dropped their heads quickly, having the good grace to look abashed and chastised – all without a single word being told to them.

Blimey, she's good.

Harry noticed Susan smirking again at the behaviour of the MES wizards – clearly she was as amused as Harry was surprised. To have the ability and authority to effectively quell the bravado of the MES wizards spoke of someone much higher up in the entire hierarchy that was the Ministry, someone who was definitely not to be trifled with.

Umbridge's face had contorted into a highly irritated expression: clearly she did not like being usurped in any position of authority, especially in a highly public place. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Madam Bones' booming voice.

'I'll ask again, Dolores, what is going on here?'

Umbridge seemed to have lost some of her courage, but she stood her ground and glared defiantly at Madam Bones.

'I've come here to destroy Harry Potter's wand.'

There was no mistaking it – a discernible, audible gasp had arisen from the crowd. Destroying a wizard's or witch's wand was a huge affair. Destroying Harry Potter's wand – the wand that belonged to the saviour of the wizarding world – made the term 'huge' seem like a massive understatement.

Harry noticed Susan whirl her head to stare at him now, her eyes expressing her disbelief and shock at the statement. For his part, he had no idea what to say to her – as far as he knew, he had performed magic outside school while he was still underage, and was therefore expelled from school

Madam Bones, however, looked utterly calm and composed at the declaration; if she was stunned by Umbridge's words, she didn't show it.

She's definitely good.

'He performed a spell a little while ago,' continued Umbridge, her voice reverting to the annoying, simpering tone. 'And that was his second breach of the Decree, which has resulted in his expulsion from Hogwarts. Surely you're aware of the law, Amelia?'

Despite knowing that he was definitely expelled, hearing those words from that toad-woman's mouth made Harry's blood boil, yet he was filled with a sense of despair. What chance did he have right now to get out of this?

'I think you're quite wrong there, Dolores,' came a quiet voice.

Harry turned his head so fast he almost cricked his neck – Albus Dumbledore was striding down the street through the gap in the crowd, wearing robes of deep plum and a perfectly calm, even jovial, expression. His silver beard and hair gleamed in the sunlight that filtered through the slightly cloudy sky. His half-moon glasses were, as usual, perched upon the end of his rather crooked nose, and he gave a kindly smile to Harry as he drew level with him – a smile which Harry was too stunned to return.

Dumbledore? Here? What are the odds?

Umbridge looked flustered at the appearance of Hogwarts' most decorated Headmaster. 'Wr-wrong, Professor Dumbledore? I don't see – how - ?'

'No doubt, Harry did indeed perform a spell a little while ago,' Dumbledore cut across Umbridge's stutters, 'but this would not be his second breach of the Decree.'

The crowd, which had erupted into mutters at the arrival of Dumbledore, were now completely silent at that statement; Harry could have a heard a pin drop on the street.

'In fact,' continued Dumbledore jovially, 'going by the letter of the law, it would not even be his first breach.'

If the situation weren't so serious, Harry would have laughed at the expression on Umbridge's and everyone else's faces. Umbridge looked thunderstruck – her eyes were popping out of their sockets, and Harry could swear he saw a vein throbbing on her temple, not unlike the purple vein of Uncle Vernon that often served as a warning sign.

Madam Bones' visage was not any less humorous; neither were those that the MES wizards and the people that accompanied Madam Bones sported. Susan, however, had less self-control than Harry: her body was shaking with silent laughs, and she'd stuffed her fist in her mouth to control the outburst.

'Not-not his first breach?' repeated Umbridge. She seemed to have regained some of her bravado. 'Might I remind you, Professor Dumbledore, that the Ministry has evidence of a Hover Charm performed at his house a little over a year ago –'

'The Hover Charm was performed by a house-elf who was present at Harry's residence at that time,' interrupted Dumbledore yet again. 'Surely the Improper Use of Magic Office has the ability to detect the difference between house-elf magic and wizarding magic, doesn't it Madam Bones?' he inquired of the monocle-wearing witch as he turned to her.

'Quite right, Dumbledore,' responded Madam Bones, without removing her eyes off Umbridge, who now looked quite irritated, yet again, with the turn of events.

'Now see here, Dumbledore,' she said rather forcefully; Harry noted that she'd dropped all pretences of formality towards the wizened Headmaster. 'I am not here to discuss the workings of the Improper Use of Magic Office. This boy –' she pointed at Harry with one stubby, ring-adorned finger '– has performed magic outside school for the second time as per his record, and is therefore liable to be expelled, with his wand also liable to be destroyed!'

'And are you aware of the circumstances that caused him to perform the spell this time, Madam Umbridge?' Dumbledore had turned back to the squat woman, who was now breathing rapidly, an angry expression making its way onto her face.

'I – what – no – that is irrelevant, Dumbledore!'

'On the contrary,' smiled Dumbledore happily, 'it is extremely relevant. Tell me Harry,' said Dumbledore as he turned towards the teenaged boy, 'why did you perform the Basic Shield Charm?'

All eyes seemed to be on Harry now as Dumbledore posed the question. Gathering the courage that the House of Gryffindor was known for, he answered Dumbledore's question.

'There was – er – a cauldron-full of thick liquid heading straight for me, sir. I think someone had tripped and spilt it. I – er – didn't think, really, just reacted –'

'Don't lie, Mr Potter!' shrieked Umbridge, spraying spit out of her wide mouth; she looked positively wild now. Harry jumped back a bit at the interruption. Dumbledore, however, was unmoved; he was still giving Harry a gentle, grandfatherly smile as he squeezed Harry's shoulder lightly.

There was an instant uproar from the crowd: it seemed like they were considering it blasphemous that this toad-woman could accuse Harry Potter of lying, especially when most of them had actually witnessed the incident.

Umbridge looked shocked at this vociferous show of solidarity by the crowd. It appeared that she'd expected an easy 'grab them and get going' day with Harry's infringement; she'd been convinced he'd performed the spell just to show off his supposedly-pitiful magical skills to the people around him. Why else would someone perform a Basic Shield Charm, of all spells, in the middle of the day in front of so many people?

Dumbledore squeezed Harry's shoulder once again, then turned back to Umbridge, and for a moment, Harry thought the old professor was going to yell at the short woman. His gentle smile had disappeared, and his blue eyes – which to Harry seemed to be perennially twinkling – were now crackling with energy and fury.

Harry had never seen Dumbledore in an angry mood, and based on what he was seeing just then, he had no intention of ever being on the receiving end of Dumbledore's ire.

Umbridge literally deflated – this time completely. She seemed to have lost her entire bravado and courage to face up against the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the Headmaster of Hogwarts School. The image of an arrogant, pompous Ministry official was replaced by that of a schoolgirl who'd been caught breaking the rules.

'You are aware, Dolores,' began Dumbledore, 'that if there are extenuating circumstances that involve the safety of an underage witch or wizard, said underage witch or wizard is allowed to perform magic to protect themselves.' His voice was quiet and low, yet it radiated authority, confidence and power. Harry could literally feel waves of it flowing off Dumbledore as he spoke.

Umbridge nodded demurely.

'You are also aware of the current situation, I presume?'

Harry's head snapped up. Current situation? What 'current situation' was Dumbledore talking about? He looked from Dumbledore, who was still staring Umbridge down, to Madam Bones, whose eyes were narrowed with – was it concern or irritation? He couldn't tell – to Susan, who met his gaze and shrugged her shoulders. Evidently she was as clueless as he was.

Umbridge nodded again. Her eyes quickly darted from Dumbledore to Harry and back again. Harry, mercifully or not, missed the movement completely.

'It – ah – it would probably be best if I – ah – leave, I think,' stuttered out Umbridge, her confidence all but gone by now.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, his blue eyes still crackling slightly. Umbridge nodded back at him, gave an awkward jerk of her head towards Madam Bones – who didn't return the gesture – turned on her heel and walked back through the partition in the crowd. The MES wizards saluted Madam Bones – their wands, pointing upwards, held out in front of their chests – and quickly followed Umbridge, clearly looking to escape their boss' wrath in front of everyone else.

The drama over, the crowd disintegrated into smaller groups, either discussing what had happened just then, or moving on with their own shopping.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, as the toad-woman waddled away. Dumbledore let out a chuckle.

'That went well, don't you think?'

Harry looked up incredulously at his Headmaster. The old wizard chuckled again.

'Well, I suppose it could have been a lot better, but it could have gone a lot worse had I not turned up.' Harry had to admit, he did have a point; he definitely wouldn't have been able to get away from Umbridge and the MES wizards if Dumbledore hadn't been there.

'Madam Umbridge is a politician, Harry,' said Dumbledore. His tone was a lot more serious from earlier, and Harry immediately began to pay proper attention to what he was saying. 'An extremely power-hungry, bigoted politician. She is ambitious and goal-oriented – two qualities that are of course admirable – but she has only her own interests at heart. She does not care for others, especially those who she deems as less worthy than people of her status to study and learn magic, or to even live in our world.'

Harry instantly knew what Dumbledore was talking about, even though it hadn't been said out loud. A memory of Draco Malfoy from last year rose unbidden in his mind:

'Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!'

He shuddered involuntarily. Having Malfoy in school was bad enough; having someone like Umbridge in the Ministry, someone with considerable amount of power and influence… He shuddered again.

'Now,' said Dumbledore, jerking Harry out of his reverie, 'about that incident with your Aunt Marge –'

'She deserved it,' spat Harry angrily. The entire incident with Umbridge had made him thoroughly irritated, so much so that the mention of that woman's name made his blood boil.

'I do not claim to defend her words, but running away from your Aunt's house like that was extremely irresponsible, Harry. Not to mention highly dangerous, given the current climate.'

Harry nodded shamefacedly, his ire doused by Dumbledore's words. The enormity of the danger he'd been in at that point in time hadn't hit him until when Dumbledore pointed it out to him. Running away while a mass murderer was on the loose was completely impulsive, and an extremely rash decision. He immediately vowed that he wouldn't make such hasty decisions without thinking them through – at least with the time he would have on hand at that moment.

'I am glad you understand, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'I cannot stress enough how important it is that we all stay safe these days. Escaping from Azkaban is no mean feat – Black would be a formidable adversary to anyone who crosses his path.'

'Indeed, Dumbledore.' Madam Bones and her group had joined the duo now. Susan, Harry noticed, was now standing beside him; he caught a whiff of an almond scent as a sudden gust of wind blew her auburn hair about. 'It would be wise for everyone to stay out of his way, at least until the Aurors and the MES catch hold of him.'

'So they were MES wizards then?' asked Harry.

The red-cheeked woman answered him. 'Yes, they were. I wonder why they were here though – they're usually answerable only to the Head of the DMLE. How that toad managed to get them to come along with her…'

Susan and Harry sniggered at the description of Umbridge as a 'toad'. Madam Bones frowned disapprovingly, but Dumbledore merely smiled.

'Speaking of which,' continued the woman, 'that was some incredibly quick spell-casting there, Mr Potter. You ever performed that spell before?'

Harry's face turned red at the compliment. He shook his head as he furiously tried to control his blush.

'No? Well, for a first time casting, that was an amazing shield,' she stated approvingly. She extended her hand out for him to shake. 'Hestia Jones, Mr Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you.'

'It's – it's just Harry, please,' he stammered out as he shook her hand, still trying to fight down the blood that had flooded his cheeks. 'And likewise. Are you – are you an Auror?'

Hestia let out a laugh. 'Merlin, no! I was never good enough to be an Auror – I'm hopeless at Transfiguration. Tonks and Kingsley on the other hand –' she waved in the direction of her two unknown companions '– these two are Aurors. Jolly good ones, too – Tonks here is the youngest Auror in quite a while! Isn't that right, Madam Bones?'

Madam Bones nodded with a proud glance towards the other woman Hestia had referred to as Tonks, whose face was now a brilliant shade of beet red. The dark-skinned man extended his rather large hand and gave Harry a firm handshake. 'Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mr Potter. Pleasure to meet you.' His voice was deep and slow, and sounded quite reassuring to Harry.

'Well, as much as I would love to stay and chat, I'm afraid I must be off,' said Dumbledore. 'I trust you will be all right? Very well. I shall see you both at the Opening Feast then, Miss Bones, Harry.' He nodded to both his students and the rest of the party before striding down the street, his boots clicking on the stone path as he disappeared from sight.

Not a moment later, the silence that had descended over the group at Dumbledore's departure was broken by three distinct buzzing noises. Harry looked around in confusion as Tonks groaned rather audibly, while Kingsley and Madam Bones grimaced. Kingsley removed a small-looking box from the pocket of his robes and tapped it with his wand; the box, which had been vibrating and buzzing till then, shut up rather abruptly.

'Urgent summons from the Minister's office,' explained Kingsley as he replaced the box in his pocket; Harry noticed the other two doing the same. 'I wonder what that man needs now, it's the fourth time he's used it this week,' he said, more to the others than to Harry.

'Probably because of Umbridge,' said Madam Bones wryly. She turned towards Susan with an apologetic look. 'Sorry Susan, you know how Fudge is –'

Susan waved away her apologies. 'It's fine Auntie, don't worry. I'll spend some time with Harry until you're back, if that's alright?'

'Yes of course, that's fine. You sure you'll be okay?'

'Yes, Auntie. Now go!'

Madam Bones gave Susan a swift hug and followed Kingsley and Tonks down the path which Dumbledore had taken.

An awkward silence – unlike the one that had fallen over the group post Dumbledore's departure – enveloped the two teenagers and Hestia. The older witch stood by Susan's side, hands in her pockets as she whistled a merry tune. Susan was glancing around the Alley, presumably looking for something – for what, no one knew.

For his part, Harry had no idea what he was supposed to say to either of the two witches – the last time he'd been alone with Susan was when Hannah had left the two of them on the grounds of Hogwarts after apologizing to him at the end of last term, and he hadn't even met Hestia until today. He scuffed his foot against the gravel, trying to come up with something to say. But honestly, what does one say after that much drama – involving a toad-woman, potential expulsion from Hogwarts, an encounter with the fiercest wizarding squad in Europe, surviving a dangerous-looking, foul-smelling, yellowish-green liquid coming from the apothecary, all while traversing through Diagon Alley looking for –

Bloody hell!

Harry whirled around so suddenly he accidentally knocked into Susan, who almost fell over, but was able to regain her balance by grabbing onto Hestia's sleeve. The two witches looked at him in alarm – Hestia with a mild bit of concern as well. Harry paid them no mind, however: he'd completely forgotten about why he'd negotiated the crowds in this part of Diagon Alley until just then, and he could have kicked himself for it.

What on earth happened to the black dog?

The huge, shaggy beast was nowhere in sight. He spun on the spot, straining his eyes through the throng of people as he looked up and down the Alley, but it was fruitless. The dog had disappeared – vanished into thin air seemed more appropriate to Harry, in fact.

Was it the Grim once more, though? Could it have been a death omen, just like he'd seen on the cover of that book at Flourish and Blotts? His mind went back to the conversation he'd had with the manager of the bookstore earlier that day…

'Well, that's the Grim of course.' His voice had dropped to almost a whisper; Harry had to strain to hear it properly amidst the babbling issuing from the group of students at the front of the store. 'It's an omen of death – people who see it have been found dead after twenty-four hours.' He paused, a worried and anxious expression on his face. 'You – you haven't seen that anywhere have you?'

He'd told the manager he hadn't seen the Grim just so that he could avoid the pitying, worried glances, but he was now reconsidering his line of thinking. The last two times he'd seen that black dog, he had almost been attacked by that savage-looking man, and then had almost been covered in a nasty looking liquid, if not for his quick thinking and spell-casting.

Once could be happenstance. Twice would just be a coincidence. Three times… well, he wasn't sure what to make of that.

'Harry?'

His train of thought was derailed by Susan's voice; he turned around and came face to face with her worried expression. Harry couldn't tell if she was worried for his health, or his sanity. He wasn't sure if there was any difference between the two, anyway.

'What is it, Harry?'

Harry desperately wanted to tell someone about this, someone who would hear him out without judging him, and would help him understand if he really had seen the Grim. Ron, Ginny and Hermione would have been the obvious choices, but with Weasleys in Egypt and the Grangers in France, there was only one other person whom he felt he could really trust with this.

He glanced around them – the crowd was still sizeable enough, and he didn't want to be overhead. He turned back to his classmate.

'Not here, Susan. Let's go for dinner, shall we? I'll tell you about it over dinner.'

Hestia cleared her throat awkwardly.

'Err – Amelia asked me to keep an eye on you two. You know, just in case.'

Silence greeted her statement.

'So,' she said in a falsely cheerful voice, 'where are we going?'

The three of them ended up having dinner at a new bistro a few buildings away from the apothecary. The food was delicious – Hestia had forbidden them from taking a sip from her glass of Firewhiskey – but the two teenagers barely noticed. As soon as they'd given their orders, Harry had launched into an explanation of how he'd ended up at the Leaky Cauldron that night – including a description of his first encounter with the black dog – and his mazy run through the crowds of Diagon Alley earlier that day to meet the canine once more, only to be stopped by the projectile liquid (which he later learnt was undiluted Bubotuber pus).

Susan had remained silent throughout the entirety of Harry's monologue; the only sounds coming from her end of the table were the slow sips of her pumpkin juice. Her eyes, however, noticeably widened at the description of the savage man – it seemed to Harry that she knew who the man was. He tried coaxing it out of her, but she steadfastly refused to give him any details, after which he resignedly gave up.

'So you don't believe in the Grim?' asked Harry, in between mouthfuls of treacle tart.

Harry patiently watched as Susan used her fork to push the pieces of her apple pie around her plate, clearly contemplating the best way to answer his question. Hestia, meanwhile, was now looking around the cheerily decorated bistro with interest, her eyes taking in the diverse crowd – not unlike those that one could usually see on an average day at the Leaky Cauldron – while pointedly ignoring the conversation between the two teenagers.

The auburn-haired girl finally looked up into the brilliant green eyes – still hidden behind those round glasses – of the not-so-scrawny boy sitting in front of her.

'I'm not sure it's a question of what I believe right now, isn't it? They say that if you've seen one, you usually die within the next twenty-four hours. Clearly you're one of the exceptions – you're not dead yet,' she said matter-of-factly.

'Well, thanks, I didn't notice,' Harry deadpanned.

Susan glared at him. 'Well, that's exactly my point. It must have been a series of coincidences that would have led to the deaths after seeing the Grim. Most of them would have been unexplained, which would have snowballed into a superstition based on rumours and hearsay. People will believe anything you tell them, if you say it right,' she pointed out.

'Too true,' muttered Harry, thinking of the Chamber of Secrets debacle.

The conversation lapsed into silence after that, and soon, they had left the bistro to the finally fading light of the sun. Harry had never really appreciated the long days of the summer before: more sunlight usually meant more chores at Privet Drive. Now, though, his new-found freedom had made him realize the benefits of the late sunsets – he could stay out in Diagon Alley longer than he'd usually thought he could, something which irked Tom the innkeeper to no end.

'I'm allowed to stay out till nightfall Tom; you can't tick me off for coming in before sunset even if it's late!' Harry would say in response to Tom berating him for staying out late.

Hestia led them through the thinning crowds, past the apothecary and the entrance towards Knockturn Alley. They were just approaching Quality Quidditch Supplies when their path was blocked by Harry's least favourite people from Hogwarts (apart from Professor Snape): Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Draco Malfoy and Harry had been arch-enemies ever since they had met on their very first train ride to Hogwarts. Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, and blonde hair slicked back, was in Slytherin House; he played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team. Crabbe and Goyle, however, seemed to exist solely to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and muscly; Crabbe was the taller, with a pudding-basin haircut and a very thick neck; Goyle had short, bristly hair and long gorilla arms.

'Well, well, well, look who it is, boys,' said Malfoy in his characteristic lazy drawl as he folded his arms and stood in front of the two of them; Hestia hadn't noticed Malfoy approaching them; she was now far ahead of the five students. 'Potty and – Bones, isn't it?'

Harry felt a sudden surge of protectiveness for Susan as he watched Malfoy eye her with a look of infuriating superiority. For her part, Susan stood her ground, matching Malfoy's gaze with one of her own.

Malfoy's mouth curved into an audacious smirk. 'I've seen you in the Ministry with your dear Aunt. I hear she's about to lose her job over the entire Sirius Black fiasco, is that right?'

Susan's eyes glittered dangerously as her mouth thinned. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

'Go away Malfoy,' said Harry fiercely. He wasn't going to allow Malfoy to spoil his mood; he'd have to deal with him for the entire year anyway.

'Ooooh, touchy-touchy, Potter,' said Malfoy, still smirking. 'Planning on catching Black yourself are you? Of course, if it was me, I'd have gone after him ages ago, you see. I'd want revenge.'

Harry stood there, nonplussed. Revenge? What on earth was Malfoy talking about? He glanced towards Susan, who looked – troubled?

Apparently Malfoy found this amusing, for he let out a low, sneering laugh.

'Good Lord, don't tell me you don't know, Potter.' Malfoy's eyes were shining malevolently now, and his mouth curved into a mean smile. 'Father told me about it ages ago, of course. If I were you, I'd have started looking for him myself by now.'

'Either explain yourself Malfoy, or get out of here,' said Harry briskly.

'What is going on here?'

For the second time that evening, Madam Bones' booming voice cut through whatever retorts Malfoy had planned to throw at Harry; the blonde instead gave Harry a look of deepest loathing and stalked off in the opposite direction, Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

Harry exhaled rather forcefully, desperately trying to control the impulse to go after Malfoy and smack his blonde head. 'That annoying, irritating ponce…'

'He's not worth it, Harry,' said Susan gently, even as her eyes still blazed with anger towards the blonde Slytherin. 'Don't let him rile you up and react, it's what he wants.'

Harry exhaled again, less angrily this time, as the imposing figure of Madam Bones came into his vision. Trailing behind her was Hestia, a worried look on her usually cheerful face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Madam Bones' booming voice interrupted her.

'Are you alright, Susan? Harry?'

They both nodded. Harry stole another glance towards Susan, but her eyes gave nothing away.

'Good. Well, like I said, that was Fudge calling us for an immediate meeting.' She pulled a face of mild disgust – clearly she wasn't as approving of the Minister as others were. 'Seems like Umbridge got to him first and tried feeding him some cock-and-bull story about Harry performing some advanced magic, which warranted your immediate expulsion from Hogwarts.' Her frown deepened even further. 'At least he had the sense to call me and verify her story before doing anything.'

'Wait – what?' exclaimed Susan. 'He was going to expel Harry?'

'I'm not sure he was going to.' Harry jumped as the deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt replied; he hadn't even heard or seen the large man approaching them. 'But that woman certainly did try her best to convince him otherwise.'

Madam Bones glanced around, apparently checking to make sure they weren't being eavesdropped, and spoke in a low voice to the two teenagers. 'Given the current climate, it's not safe to be staying alone, Harry. It might be best if you had some company with you for the remainder of the holidays.'

Harry's heart sank. For the last two weeks, he'd been enjoying the bliss that could only come from being away from the oppressive atmosphere of the Dursleys'. Now, he would be forced to return once more, because a mass murderer was on the loose, and he'd been caught doing magic outside of school, again.

Somehow, he'd known that these two weeks were too good to last for another one.

Such rotten luck.

He'd been so caught up with the horrible fact that he had to return to Number Four, that he completely missed the next part of Madam Bones' statement – or was it a question? His four companions were staring expectantly at him; clearly they were waiting from some sort of answer from him.

'Sorry, what? I didn't catch that.'

Madam Bones' eyebrow arched ever so slightly; Harry quickly made a mental note to never ask Madam Bones to repeat herself.

'I was wondering if you'd like to come and stay with Susan and me at Bones Mansion for the remainder of the holidays. Assuming that your Aunt and Uncle agree, of course.'

And as Harry's expression shifted from sad and morose to joyful and excited almost immediately, Madam Bones was finally able to fully appreciate what the expression 'in the blink of an eye' truly meant.