Thanks everyone for your reviews, both on DLP and here on . I pay close attention and appreciate the support. Gasp, another update? If only I could do that everyday. No telling when the next chapter will be out. Most likely in the next two weeks at most. Enjoy the 4th.
Incorruptible
Chapter 6
10 Downing
With a burst of fire, they arrived in a cramped bathroom which contained no windows. Another burst and Fawkes was gone, leaving for another destination. Harry eyes sought out the signs and debris that were scattered around them, hoping to discern their location. A rumbling traveled through his shoes and vibrated his feet. Suddenly, he realized where they were.
"We're in the London Underground," Harry exclaimed.
Ignoring Harry's outburst Dumbledore walked to a rubbish bin which had fallen and placed his leg upon it while pulling up his robes. On his right knee appeared to be gnarled scar that spoke of adventure from the man's more adventurous days. Harry could not tell what it was, but Dumbledore answered as if he heard the unspoken question.
"It is a scar from an earlier time, allowing me to navigate through the Underground with ease should I apply a simple Point-Me spell to it," Dumbledore tapped his wand onto the scar and then pulled down his robe and made his way to the door.
"Do try to look inconspicuous, Harry. I will Transfigure our outfits into appropriate clothing to aid in our concealment but the moment we step through this door, we will face the might of the Ministry and Lord Voldemort. Neither will be very forgiving. Are you prepared?"
Harry nodded in affirmation and exited the bathroom which he learned was contained in an auxiliary tunnel, hidden by Dumbledore should he or the Order need to fight against a puppet Ministry of Magic. It was genius really, to use muggle transportation in order to avoid magical detection. They eventually arrived to the main part of the rail network and blended in with the rest of the crowd bustling through the station.
"It is wondrous is it not? Limited by their lack of ability to manipulate the universe, they turn to ingenuity and do it quite well," Dumbledore glanced at the train, the phones, and other similar devices that could be seen throughout the Underground.
"Professor, should we be speaking so candidly about things like that?"
The tall wizard raised his eyebrows in amusement, increased his pace and made a beeline toward what looked to be a series of lockers.
"Nonsense Harry, use the senses which you have been given! Look at them, walking about and thinking only of themselves, their ears attached to their phones or eyes to their watches, meanwhile others are thinking of the next train and when it will arrive. They are too involved in their own plight to open their attention to something as amazing and absurd as magic."
Dumbledore was, as usual, absolutely right. For a moment, he pressed his magic and enhanced his awareness, being able to hear many snippets of conversations from the passersby.
"Milk-honey don't you think we should…"
"Of course I do. You know…where I am…same can't…"
"Call…plumber…what is that man thinking…."
It was all mundane and no one had even picked up on the fact that they had just spoke of magic, including those who had been walking next to them, well within normal hearing distance. Then just as he was going to reign in his magic and decrease his awareness, his ears picked up on a phrase that almost caused him to stop in his tracks.
"The fugitives? No they won't bomb the Underground, Melissa. Nothing is going to happen to me. Damn news has us in a state of panic since a month ago and besides a few small incidences, they haven't made any major moves."
Harry wasn't sure if Dumbledore had heard of the conversation but if he had, the man made no indication. They reached the locker, causing Dumbledore to procure a small silver key from his pocket. While the old wizard rummaged inside for whatever he was looking for, Harry took a moment to peer around the station, taking note of the exits. Then his eyes widened as he realized all the exits were blocked by muggle constables, each seemingly checking the passengers for identification.
"Sir," Harry lowered his voice just in case someone decided to pay attention. "There are guards at all the exits. Will we use magic to make our way out?"
Dumbledore fiddled with something in the locker, preventing Harry from seeing what he was doing. Then he handed Harry a plastic identification card which contained no picture. The moment Harry's fingers brushed against the plastic, a still photograph of himself, though fuzzy, formed onto the card.
"Not quite, Harry. I do not wish for our presence in the country to be known just yet. While I am confident that I would be able to mask my usage of magic in such a muggle area, I have not taught you the same ability and I believe the detectors have been redirected towards muggle areas in particular."
"But sir, I've removed the Trace!"
Dumbledore gave him a stern look while grasping Harry by the arm, directing him towards some path.
"Even so, you've not yet managed to cast subtly and it is an area which we've not had time to venture into. Until I inform you otherwise, do not use your wand for any reason, barring an emergency of course. These cards shall allow us to waltz through without detection and these necklaces will render our facial features much less noticeable."
Dumbledore handed him a thin silver necklace humming with power that Harry could feel in his palms. It felt like deception, yet average at times, so normal that he might have even doubted it contained any magic at all. Placing it around his neck, Dumbledore gave him one last warning before moving towards the exit.
"Whatever you do, you must not meet the guard's eyes. Should they be wizard in disguise, they will encounter your Occlumency. Should they be muggle, even those without any magic can discern truth in a man's soul. Take caution and look near yet never meeting their gaze. Is that understood?"
Taken aback by the man's seriousness, he could only nod and give his word. Then they walked to the burly guards who were in the process of verifying people's identity. They entered the queue and after what seemed like an eternity to Harry, it was his turn to proceed.
"Identification," the Constable ordered, looking bored with his job.
Harry handed him the enchanted piece of plastic, wondering how the guard would perceive it. The tall, burly man looked at it intently, flipped it over to the backside and then looked straight at Harry. For a moment, his heart ceased to beat because he was sure he had been caught but then the man returned the identification card back to Harry.
"Thank you, sir. I hope you have a wonderful day."
The man's response seemed unusual since he had never seen a Constable act so nicely but he simply ignored it and thanked his good fortune. Turning around, Dumbledore had likewise passed the inspection and they left for the above ground world.
They walked through the streets of London, weaving through alleyways and at times, walked in plain sight on major thoroughfare. Dumbledore was right. They were truly blind to what was around them for the most dangerous criminals they had ever faced were walking right amongst them. As they crossed by a modern electronics store, a public service announcement was being displayed, a still photograph of himself and Dumbledore was shown to the viewers, a tagline stating that they were wanted for murder of a government official. A hotline straight to the Metropolitan Police Department was posted as well.
"Did you know Harry, that if one were to call that number, Aurors disguised as muggle policemen would be dispatched?"
"I didn't know that, sir. When Sirius escaped from Azkaban, his face was all over the news. But I never wondered what would happen if that number was called."
The mention of Sirius caused a pang of sadness in his heart, but after their journey out of the country, he had accepted the man's death. Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze of support before continuing with his trivia.
"A member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in disguise of course, would direct the Aurors to any scene in which a wizard was suspected to have been involved in. It was actually I who had conceived of the idea of the Ministry spying on its muggle counterparts in case of a magical emergency. The plan was implemented during Voldemort's first rise to power and it gave us the rapid response needed to help save the muggles. Besides, they had no other method of contacting us. Their innovation is quite incredible and with the use of telephones, allowed us to move against the Death Eaters with a moment's notice."
Harry thought to the awful inconvenience of kneeling and talking through the Floo and wondered why Dumbledore didn't give it any praise.
"Professor, I see your point with the telephone but what about the Floo? Isn't that instantaneous as well?"
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows giving him a look as if he had expected him to have thought of it first.
"Indeed it is instantaneous but like muggle phone lines, the Floo can be disconnected. In fact, the Death Eaters usually disconnect the Floo previous to their attack and ward the area to prevent escape. Sometimes, they leave the Floo connected and when requesting for assistance from the Ministry, they are faced with a Death Eater on the other end of the Floo thus negating any chance of escape or help arriving."
They turned the corner, disappearing into an alleyway once more, ensuring that they would discover if someone had been following them. They only had a few more blocks to go. Suddenly the thought occurred to him. Maybe it was the reason why.
"You said that the Death Eaters were caught by the Ministry wizards who monitoring the phone lines. Why didn't they block it somehow? With some charm or something like that?"
Dumbledore shook his head in sadness and then spoke.
"Blinded by their hatred, they believed the muggles possessed no means to save themselves. With this arrogance, they did not need to understand how Aurors arrived so quickly."
Just as they were about to turn into a dirty, grungy alleyway, Dumbledore stopped abruptly and threw out his arm, preventing Harry from advancing any further. The old wizard turned and looked at a store across the street where two men were pointing objects which glinted as they waved it at the clerk. His eyes became hard as steel and he took a step forward, causing an unaware pedestrian to dodge and curse. Dumbledore turned to Harry, steely determination marked his weathered face.
"Shall we take a brief detour, Harry?"
"Professor Dumbledore, what about the secrecy you talked about earlier? What about finding Tonks," Harry asked, confused by the man's sudden lack of interest in stealth.
"Tonk's flat is only a few streets away from our current location. We will take a quick break to examine this mystery. As for secrecy, I daresay we will find secrecy abound in that very store. Look at it, Harry. Not a single person has peered into it despite the drama and danger that is unfolding."
Harry's head whipped around and just like Dumbledore said, not a single person notice anything out of the ordinary at all.
"Sir, what do you want me to do?"
"Allow me to converse with the thieves. You are to take no action unless you perceive your life is in certain danger. Your most important task is to guard my back and ensure that we do not face any further surprises. Keep an eye on the street and tell me if you should see anything out of the ordinary."
Harry craned his neck and met his mentor in the eyes and tried to look as confident as he could and nodded in affirmation. With that, the two crossed the street as soon as there was a break in the traffic and entered the store.
Wooden shelves surrounded the store from front to back while tables and smaller versions of the shelves filled everything in between. In the shelves were books, with massive signs hanging from the ceiling to denote the genre. From what Harry could see, it was an ordinary, plain, muggle bookstore. But what was out of the ordinary were the two men demanding money from the clerk, a red haired, pimply teenager with the smallest ears. Adding to the unusualness were to two thieves whose appearance made it appear as if a practical joke had been played on Harry and Dumbledore. The armed man was a thin, almost skeletal man with gaunt, sunken features. His accomplice was an awfully short man who appeared to be made of nothing but lard for there was no reason to expect otherwise. Dumbledore stepped forward and motioned for Harry to watch the street. He complied, standing in a position which would allow him to view the drama yet allow him to follow orders.
"Now gentlemen, such violence is unnecessary. Could you find no other means to resolve your disputes?"
The armed criminals jumped in surprise and immediately, Dumbledore found himself staring down at two gleaming pieces of metal.
"Say old man," the short fat man spoke, identifying that he was the leader. "You a ghost or something? Didn't hear you creep in. Better hand me your goods or I'll make you into a ghost, you understand? You too, kid."
"You don't even know what a ghost really is," the irate response shot out of his mouth without thinking and in doing so, earned Dumbledore's rebuke.
"Harry, do not deviate from the plan."
This time, the thin man took a step forward and brandished his gun at the old wizard.
"There isn't any plan but from this man here," the man pointed a sharp, long finger at his boss.
"Yeah, so you better do as we say and hand over that pretty watch you got in your pocket or someone is going to be hurt."
Dumbledore moved from his position, standing so close to the thieves that the guns were now touching his chest. Then his coldness disappeared, only to be replaced with a look of amusement, one that made him look quite kind.
"I'm afraid, gentlemen, that if you should not let Mr. Willowby," Dumbledore nodded at the clerk, somehow having acquired the teen's name. "-or myself and my student go, you will be the one that will be hurt."
The fat man guffawed and slapped his hand on his thigh. Meanwhile, Harry's eyes darted outside where it appeared no one had noticed the happenings inside the store. Instead they appeared to be concerned with the gathering clouds, interested in avoiding the coming downpour.
"Student? You're a teacher of sorts, then. A little old to be teaching aren't you? A bit barmy and senile, I'll wager."
"Hmm…I've been told that I might possess such qualities. Along with those qualities I tend to possess an extraordinary amount of patience but I'm afraid I simply don't have the time for that," with that, Dumbledore whipped out his wand.
Seeing Dumbledore's sudden movement, the thieves wasted no time and pulled the trigger multiple times. There was no hesitation at shooting a man as old as Dumbledore. Harry pulled out his wand with alarm, but breathed a sigh of relief as the guns kept clicking, refusing to fire a single bullet. The three muggles stared in shock and the pimply teen fainted.
"Now gentlemen, I need to know how you came to arrive here, today, at this very store."
The fat man, with wide bulging eyes, looked in fear at the tall wizard and then bolted from his position. It reminded Harry of Dudley, seeing the man's skin bounce and jiggle. The fat man was surprisingly quick and nearly made his way to Harry but Dumbledore's spell was quicker. The man was lifted off his feet and slammed into one of the shelves, eliciting a groan of pain. Dumbledore strolled up to slumped, bleeding man and pointed his wand between the man's eyes.
"I will give you another chance to answer my questions before I have no option but to tear into your mind which I assure you will be very unpleasant."
Dumbledore's threat caused the man to reveal his secrets better than any magic could. The words flowed out of his mouth faster than a leaking dam.
"We'd filched this here knife from this house here in London. And next to this knife was bank statements for this store and that owner had brought in quite the cash, he did. Albus Dumbledore was his name, I believe. Show this old man the knife, Nigel."
Alarmed by the admission, Dumbledore turned to Harry while the tall thief, Nigel, reached for the knife in his pocket.
"Be on the alert. It is as I suspected. I believe we have walked into a trap. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?"
"No sir, the pedestrians are just walking by," it was the truth yet it was a lie since he had chosen to watch the exchange rather than watch a bunch of muggles go about their business.
"Ready your wand, it is possible we will be attacked at any," Dumbledore was interrupted as Nigel screamed and charged at Dumbledore with a silver dagger.
A simple Protego flared into existence but to their surprise, the muggle brought down the dagger into the shield and the magic collapsed into a thousand pieces of shattered sparks. The fat man was knocked unconscious from the shield but his tall lackey Nigel was unaffected. Like a striking cobra, the Stunner left Harry's wand with blinding speed. The sheer power sent the man crashing into the countertop. Without looking at Harry, Dumbledore cautiously approached the muggle while giving a command.
"Harry, the Ministry will be here soon. You must keep your eyes focused on the outside of the store. Our enemies will not hesitate to strike us when our backs are turned."
"But sir," Harry protested. "You were just attacked and…"
"And it was precisely when our attention was not focused. I will revive Nigel but you must not deviate from the plan. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir," he replied while turning once more to look at the pedestrians.
It was a boring task watching muggles of all sorts walking to whatever place they were going to. Some were in business attire while others dressed plainly. A man with thick, rimmed glasses and a worn leather briefcase walked briskly past the store, a mobile glued to his ear. Meanwhile, a blonde woman in a red dress with a garish, yellow umbrella tucked under her arm crossed the street, making her way to the bookstore. She walked with such purpose that Harry was sure she could see into the store, but to his disappointment she turned and then followed the same path as the businessman.
"Legilimens," Dumbledore proclaimed, trying to find secrets hidden in the muggle's mind.
He glanced away from the window and watched as Dumbledore peered into the man's eyes, no, into the man's soul. All would be revealed with time. Harry turned from the rather uninteresting sight and went back to observing the pedestrians. People were approaching the fish and chip cart, hoping to snag a quick and easy supper. A balding man with thick glasses and mobile glued to his ear walked quickly past the store. Then, a woman in a red dress with a bright yellow umbrella crossed the street.
Harry stumbled back from the window in shock. No, that couldn't be right he thought. Carefully watching the fish and chip cart, he realized those who had already purchased their food would return back to the end of the line after having somehow disposed of their meal.
"They're all the same," Harry whispered, emerald eyes wide with shock. Right as his scar flared with pain, the muggles all stopped and turned towards the store as a big red tourist bus drove by, obstructing his view of the fish and chip cart.
Once the bus passed through the street, Harry was left with a view that sent chills down his spine. The muggles we all still, seemingly frozen in time, their unblinking eyes directed to the store and he was absolutely certain they could all see him. But what was most unnerving was the tall, handsome, human appearing wizard with glowing red eyes. In his right hand was a tray containing slick, oily fried fish wrapped in newspaper and golden fries. Meanwhile, Voldemort ate with his left hand, savoring the taste of this popular delicacy.
"My favorite meal whenever I managed to pick off the older kids' money from the orphanage," Voldemort spoke calmly while licking the greasy off his pale, yet lively colored fingers.
The voice cut through the noisy area and through the glass like a hot knife through butter. Flashes of images darted through his head, seemingly familiar yet foreign. Voldemort continued to speak as if he had not a care in the world.
"I loved my little forays into London, discovered many things about myself and others. Though you must forgive me, I believe my manners have not served me well today. Would you like to try some Harry?"
Images flashed once more and for a moment, he thought he saw a frail, decrepit beggar curled into a fetal position but it was gone as suddenly as it appeared. Voldemort raised a piece of fried cod and held it out in offering. Harry's stomach grumbled and mouth watered as the smell hit his nostrils. No, this was impossible. He shook his head, opened the door and stepped outside.
"Are you real," Harry asked.
Voldemort's raised hand paused midway with shock and he looked at Harry with bright red eyes.
"No you say? Are you real, Harry Potter? What kind of madman would decline fish and chips, especially one from a vendor who only has minutes left on this earth?"
The wand in his hand and the knowledge in his head served him no comfort as he realized the situation was beyond him. Glancing into the store, Dumbledore was still locked into a gaze with his attacker. Using every bit of willpower, Harry plastered a look of calm on his face and spoke.
"I'm the kind of madman who will make sure that he will live through this."
Voldemort shook his head and looked at the silver watch on his wrist. His robes began shifting, twisting, and appeared to be melting.
"While I would love to debate this muggle's fate, I'm afraid that there is nothing you can do for him and I must leave you here with his agonized screams. I must be present at a conference but do send Dumbledore my condolences. Like the fish and chips, she tasted so deliciously sweet," with that, the Dark Lord sent a nasty smirk at Harry and made his point by licking his fingers once more.
Like a figure of imagination, Voldemort suddenly wasn't there anymore. The only piece of evidence that remained was the last piece of half eaten fried cod, the oil soaked newspaper, his now disturbed stomach and somewhat aroused state. Driving the conflicting thoughts and feelings out of his mind, Harry turned on his feet and yanked the door open, rushing to Dumbledore's side. The man was still caught in a trance, his eyes open and gazing into something beyond the physical world.
"Professor, he was here, Voldemort," the words rushing out of his mouth with panic but Dumbledore remained as still as the muggles outside.
Harry placed a hand on the man's shoulder and shook it but the wizard did not respond. Unexpectedly, a loud crash drew his attention as the briefcase and mobile phone wielding man dove headfirst through the window. The shattered glass cut the man in many places, blood running down his face like tears. He screamed and ran at Harry, the arm and phone still raised to his ear. Once again, a brilliant red Stunner left his wand and careened towards its target. The man was flung backwards out of the store and he turned to face Dumbledore while opening his perception.
The threads of magic which connected the men were so vast and numerous that Harry had no idea where to start or how to sort out the individual threads. As such, he could not tell how to neutralize the many and varied effects. Then, the thought of how Dumbledore avoided his eyes earlier in year entered his head. Harry reached out with his hand and hoped that it would be enough. His hand was now placed on the muggle's forehand with then he swept downwards, closing the man's eyelids. A soft gasp escaped Dumbledore's throat and then he collapsed with a thump.
Just as Harry was about to rush to Dumbledore's side, the woman in the red dress dove through the other window and charged at Harry. Again, the stunner left his wand and another muggle was ejected from the store. But another muggle rushed at him, choosing to hurt herself by running straight through the glass door. Another stunner jetted from his wand but already, a muggle had dove through the broken window and landed on the glass. Seeing that muggles outside were instead choosing to run into brick walls and attack each other, he stunned the one that had just made it through and shot an Ennervate at Dumbledore while rushing to the man's side.
"Professor, can you hear me? You need to wake up," Harry roughly shook the man's arm and was forced to turn around as more muggles entered the store.
Three more blazing red stunners left the phoenix feather wand and then it he spun the wand to Dumbledore's face shot out a jet of cold water. The man spluttered and leapt to his feet, appearing disoriented.
"Harry, what has occurred since I entered that man's mind," the man spoke softly, gingerly caressing his head.
"Professor, are you alright," Harry asked while a Stunner left his wand. Alarmed by the onslaught of muggles running towards them, Dumbledore paralyzed a group of them while responding.
"Not quite, I see Voldemort has been gracious enough to prepare for our arrival to England. Follow me, and explain as I attempt to dispel this compulsion," Dumbledore replied but his tone was weak and much less commanding than it was before.
They exited the store and he could not stop the emotion from entering his voice.
"Sir, it's Tonks. I think he's done something terrible to her," his voiced cracked as he thought of vibrant, purple haired Auror.
"And to you as well, I imagine," Dumbledore nodded at something below Harry's waistline and Harry could not stop the shame crept into his tone.
"This isn't me, Professor. I promise you that."
Stunners left his wand while Dumbledore chose to petrify groups of people at a time. A group of muggles was in the process of pushing an upturned car onto another group of prone, injured people when Dumbledore's magic froze them in place.
"Do you take pleasure in it, Harry?"
Harry squeezed his eyes shut as they stood in the middle of the carnage. Some muggles were rushing at them while others attacked each other and some managed to somehow start fires. He swallowed the bile that rushed to his throat while trying to ignore the conflicting arousal.
"Yes Professor, I do," Harry admitted with guilt. Flashes flittered through his head once more but thankfully he couldn't process it.
"It is as I feared. You are linked closer than I would have imagined but make no mistake, we will remedy this, Harry. We will persevere," Dumbledore's blue eyes met his and the man squeezed his shoulder to provide support.
Then, the man burst into song, singing in a beautiful foreign tone that was not recognizable to him. It was unearthly and somehow reminiscent of Fawkes' own melody. Opening his mind to truth, he was shocked at the utter feeling of confinement that surrounded him. If he had to hazard a guess, they were prevented from leaving this area, sealing them in with the muggles. The bundle of strands that encompassed the area, weaving deception and lies into men's minds suddenly vanished and with that, the muggles all collapsed. Dumbledore cried out in pain and dropped to a knee.
"Professor, what's wrong? What's happening?"
"During my excursion into Nigel's mind I was met with a brilliant trap which has damaged a part of my mind, one that would be exacerbated only when attempting to dispel this type of enchantment," the old wizard replied while breathing heavily.
"He's spelled the area in such a way that is a counter and curse to your magic and your mind, giving you options that would only lead you to harm yourself," Harry responded, the oddity of the magic in the air making sense to him now. It seemed to want to point them in certain preplanned directions and it felt quite personal.
"Precisely, now I will require your help in getting to my feet," with that Dumbledore held out an outstretched hand and Harry pulled with all his might.
While the tall wizard returned to a standing position, a muggle chose to wake up and screamed. Abruptly, a dozen or so strands of magic became tangled and fused together, creating an utterly malevolent sensation that caused a fierce burning in his soul. To their greatest shock, the brick façade of one of the buildings began steaming and started to melt, dripping hot liquid glass onto the unconscious muggles below.
A splatter landed on one man's face and he screamed his skin was suddenly boiled and split from his flesh but immediately grew silent as it melted through his brain. Numerous other splatters landed on others and they woke from their slumber, some losing their lives while others lost limbs or became permanently disfigured. A shield erupted around Harry and Dumbledore, preventing them from befalling the same fate but they couldn't expand their protection to the helpless muggles. Dumbledore had already begun to Summon and Transfigure, but it was happening all too quickly. Harry emulated his mentor though his Transfiguration provided no help. Dumbledore was creating large rocks or steel barriers while Harry barely managed create a tin barrier.
But it was all for naught as the other building around them befell the same fate, glass and iron structure dripped hell on the panicked and dying mass below, while two shielded men could not stop the destruction. Dumbledore glanced at him with determination and pointed his wand at the building nearest to them.
"Harry, I need to you keep up the shield. Pour your determination, your knowledge, and your perception into it. We cannot afford to falter here," with that, Dumbledore spun his wand and pointed and jabbed wildly at the rapidly decaying building.
Harry followed his instructions and was constantly modifying the shield, creating opposite sensations to the magic and the physical nature of the dripping brick. The knowledge of certain charms, spells and counters zipped through his head and into his wand. He pulled their individual theory and feel and molded them into a constantly varying shield. He also thought of the cool water from rain and to his surprise the shield took on a fluid appearance, mirroring his thoughts while some of the closest droplets of brick turned into splashes of hot rain. It was a tough task and one which seemed it would be impossible to replicate in the heat of battle.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore began Transfiguring the building to a cold, dark steel which seemed to work at first, causing the look to creep up to the top of the building. Suddenly, as the steel made contact with melting part of the brick, the steel began melting as well, hot metal slowly running down the side of the wall. In anguish, Dumbledore sent a spell at it, intending to pulverize the wall into nothingness. It worked but the debris melting as well and landed all around them, causing a new torrent of screams. Mere moments after the Explosion Hex left the former headmaster's wand, Dumbledore collapsed while gripping his head.
"Professor," Harry cried out with alarm.
Dumbledore raised his head and looked at him weakly, blood trickling out of his nose.
"Harry, we must retreat," suddenly Dumbledore's azure eyes widened and with the last bit of strength, jumped to his feet.
He tackled Harry right as his perception shifted, the very area becoming more dangerous than it was before. Fawkes exploded with crimson flame, right as the air vibrated with dangerous intent and the pavement rumbled. They vanished in the span between heartbeats and in doing so, escaped the exploding gas line below them. The entire area, melting buildings and dying or dead muggles, was annihilated, sending carnage and chaos throughout London. A group of children and parents a couple of streets over were knocked to their feet as flesh and solid metal rained down upon them.
They burst into flame in the middle of the Dursley's living room where Harry's unpleasant relatives had just finished with supper and were in the middle of watching the news. Thinking their living had exploded, the Dursleys screamed and threw themselves on the ground. Realizing the danger had passed, Vernon lifted his head and looked at the sight before him. When his mind made the connection, the blood pooled from his face, leaving a rather large yet pale man in its place. Having spent all of his energy, Dumbledore's weight dropped into him and it took all of Harry's strength to prevent them from falling.
"Professor, can you make it to the couch," Harry asked, panting with effort.
"You'll have to help me there, Harry," Dumbledore responded, his voice so weak that Harry had to strain to hear the man.
It was only a few steps but it was tougher than it appeared. Harry leaned into the couch, dumping the man roughly on it. He coughed and turned his head to give one last command. A wrinkly hand reached and grabbed him firmly in the arm, and Dumbledore commanded him with the last of his reserves.
"I must rest. Meanwhile, do not leave house," Dumbledore then slumped and his eyes closed.
"What the bloody hell is going on in my house," Vernon demanded, somehow losing his paleness once he realized he was alone with his nephew. The characteristic shade of red was returning to his thick neck while his wife and son watched in shock.
"I trust you have seen the news," Harry asked, trying to emulate Dumbledore's calmness.
"You're a freak murderer," Dudley proclaimed, not thinking about what he was saying. Petunia leapt up to her feet with panic and clamped her hand around Dudley's mouth. She looked at Harry with fear while Vernon was starting to do the opposite.
"I am not," the calmness left his voice and he felt quite childlike as the retort left his mouth. "Despite what you saw on the television, I'm innocent. We both are and we need a place to stay."
He nodded at the unconscious Dumbledore but Vernon finally exploded.
"Innocent or not, you and that meddling man are not staying in my house! Do you know what we been through, boy? We were shopping on a lovely evening when we were detained on our way home by bloody special operations officers."
"They had wicked guns," Dudley added, causing Vernon to send a rare glare at his son.
"They had guns pointed at us, Potter! Guns, here in England! They took us respected, law-abiding citizens to some nameless facility and placed effing bags over our heads. Then they asked us questions, questions about you," Vernon snarled, pointed a fat finger at Harry.
"We didn't have any information and then we realized, we could tell them about your freakiness. They'd think we're loony and chuck us in with the bloody psychopaths. Since we couldn't answer any questions about you, to protect ourselves from the shrinks and your government, they thought we were hiding something."
Vernon to a step towards Harry, his finger now pointed on his chest.
"They were going to bring us up on charges and then do you know what happened, do you Potter?"
Harry shook his head, unsure how to respond to Vernon's tirade. Petunia offered him no help as she looked at him with fear.
"We were dragged off by you freaks, masquerading as a special operations team. I'd realize I had recognized the black one before, from the station. They began questioning me as if I knew your whereabouts. I told him he knew better than I did and he nearly took off my head with his fist. Then, they had the audacity of interrogating Petunia and Dudley before unceremoniously dumping us here without saying a word. The black one had a letter for us but I told him he could shove it up his arse."
Vernon was breathing quite heavily and appeared so purple, Harry was certain he was going to have a stroke. But then the man spoke once more and this time, he demanded the impossible.
"We've sheltered you for all your life out of the kindness of you Aunt's heart but I've had enough of you people. You are to take that man and take him out of our house and do not come back. You are not welcome here and if you don't leave, all it takes is one phone call and then you and your people can determine the outcome. So kindly, get the fuck out of my house, Potter," Vernon emphasized his point by jabbing his finger in Harry's chest, provoking his ire. The telly was blabbering on about something but Harry paid it no heed.
"Vernon, look at the telly," Petunia began but was interrupted as Harry placed his wand under Vernon's chin.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Uncle. See," Harry said, his emerald eyes became as hard as diamonds. "I've orders to follow and until Dumbledore wakes up, we're going nowhere and you will not do anything about it. The Ministry, mine and yours, is after us for a crime we did not commit. With the charges on my head, what's to stop me from casting a few spells?"
Harry dug the wand deeper into Vernon's neck, causing him to walk backwards until he hit his chair and fell into it. The world was becoming red tinted with his anger and his pulse was dangerously high, causing a vein in his neck to bulge.
"So, we will be staying here until Dumbledore wakes up and then we will be out of your life and you can do as you please. Until then, you need to make every effort to make sure I don't find it tempting to experiment with the new spells I learned," with that Harry twirled his wand, making sure Vernon understood.
"Harry, what have you done," Petunia asked, her eyes wide with fear. But her gaze wasn't directed at him, rather it was directed at the television, at something the news was talking about.
The scene depicted by the news station was shocking. If Dumbledore hadn't reacted in time, they would have been in there with the twisted, burning buildings which looked like they had been through Dresden. His mind became numb as he realized they would be blamed for this, while the caption read, "Terrorists Strike in the Heart of London." Seeing the casualty toll caused his feelings to return, and then he remembered their twisted, seared off flesh. Abruptly, his stomach gave a great lurch and he empted the contents of his stomach.
Petunia left to the kitchen, while Harry waved his wand at the offending mess and Vanished it. He turned his eyes to the television once more.
"We now bring you to an emergency news conference at 10 Downing. The Prime Minister has decided to make a statement."
The camera changed views to a recognizable black painted steel door with the number 10 on it. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in the background, most likely having been assigned to protect the Prime Minister.
"That's him. That's the bastard who didn't give me the decency to explain what was going on," Vernon pointed a finger but Harry ignored him as the Prime Minister entered the screen.
"No," Harry whispered, green eyes wide with shock.
A tall, aged, yet somewhat handsome man with dark hair and dark eyes glanced back at him through the television. He was dressed in a fine black suit and which matched his rather grim look. The reporters were now silent as the man began addressing the nation.
"It is with the deepest regret that I, Tom Riddle, the recently elected Prime Minister of England, give to those who have lost a loved one in this cowardly act of terrorism…"