Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
"Harry" -Speech
'Ginny' -Thoughts
/Bill\ -Foreign/Non-human Language
Chapter 8: Dirigibles and the Grim
Five Days Later
Living Room, Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey
Harry was going to kill her. Slowly and painfully.
The Boy-Who-Lived was exercising every ounce of his self control, hard fought for and tempered against Dudley, Draco Malfoy and Snape, in order to prevent his accidental magic from lashing out at the fat, drunk and rude woman who was sneering at him from the armchair across from him.
The days since Hagrid's trial had been the next best thing to unbearable for Harry, thanks to 'Large Marge', as he secretly called her. She constantly harangued him when he was within arms reach, which was quite often because she seemed to mistrust him out of her sight and kept him in the same room as her, booming out suggestions for improvement for him
Aunt Petunia had run as much interference as she dared and had organised trips out every other day, giving Harry some peace and quiet. In his room, Harry was safe thanks to the Muggle-Repelling Charms that Professor Dumbledore had cast on his door, but he did have to go to the toilet and to the kitchen to eat, so it was a temporary solution when he wasn't sleeping.
"Like I was saying the other day, it all comes down to blood!" Marge was saying as Uncle Vernon poured her yet another glassful of brandy -Uncle Vernon's secret stash that was usually only brought out when he was stressed and/or angry- making it her fourth or fifth glass in the last hour.
This was after she had downed the contents of a large bottle of red wine.
"Bad blood will out." Marge continued, looking pointedly at Harry as she spoke, "Nothing against your family Petunia -God rest their souls- but your sister was a bad egg. Happens in the best of families. Then she runs off with a wastrel and here we have the result in front of us!"
The ringing in Harry's ears was getting louder and louder as the fat woman talked in such a way about his parents. His hands were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white. In a desperate attempt to remain calm, he started reciting spells in his head…ones he would dearly like to use on Marge Dursley at this particular moment in time.
'Armis Detorquent, Projectus Fenestra, Melofors, Locomotor Wibbly, Serpensortia, Silencio, Mucas ad Nauseum…' he chanted in his head.
Aunt Petunia was doing a bad job of covering up her own irritation and anger at the insults being heaped upon her sister, while Vernon and Dudley were sneering at Harry along with Marge. Harry tried to focus on his mental recitation, but Marge's blaring voice barrelled through his concentration like a drill.
"This Potter fellow…you never told me what he did for a living." Marge grunted.
"He…didn't work." Vernon said, "Unemployed."
"He had a stalker at his job, so he had to quit, actually." Harry interjected with gritted teeth. Being hunted by a Dark Wizard DID count as being stalked in his opinion.
"Rubbish!" Marge scoffed, "People who think they're being stalked are just overly paranoid fools. And how would you know anyway?"
"A friend of my father told me." Harry replied stiffly. Hagrid was an old friend of his father, so again, this was the truth.
"A likely story!" Marge sneered as she bolted back the brandy in her glass and held it out to her brother for a refill, "Who ever told you that was lying, in all likelihood! Both your parents were no-good, lazy drunkards who died in a car crash and left poor Vernon and Petunia to raise you! Do you have any idea how grateful to them you should be?"
"They did not die in a car crash!" Harry said angrily. That lie had made him angrier than almost everything else that he had heard on the night of his eleventh birthday when he had discovered it was a lie, "And they were not drunk!"
"They died in a car crash, you foul little liar!" Marge roared and threw the glass at his head, which he managed to dodge. "You insolent, ungrateful brat, how dare you spit in the eye of your Aunt and Uncle's hard work! How dare you!"
A snarl of rage finally burst from Harry's lips and he felt a pulse of magic thrum off him. Marge stopped speaking and began to swell up. For a moment, Harry thought that the glare he had sent her had finally pushed her over the edge, but then he noticed that the swelling wasn't natural.
Marge was swelling up like a balloon being filled with helium. Her already round body was swelling up, to the point that the Dursley's and Harry had to dodge several of the buttons on her cardigan as they popped off her and flew across the room. The expression on Marge's face told Harry that she would have screamed if it were not for the fact that her face was swollen to the point she couldn't so much as open her mouth.
When she started to float off her chair like an actual balloon, the stupefaction that had held Vernon Dursley in its spell was broken.
"Marge!" he bellowed as his sister started to bob around the room, gradually rising towards the ceiling. He grabbed at her leg, but was distracted by Ripper charging in arthritically and sinking his teeth into his ankle.
Harry decided that, in this case, the time to make like a tree and leaf was at hand. He fled from the living room before Dudley or Vernon could react and headed up to his room. Throwing his books haphazardly into his trunk (which he needed to replace at some point; it was getting rather battered) Harry raced over the room like a bat out of hell.
"Hedwig, go to the Leaky Cauldron." he told his faithful owl as he slammed the lid shut, "I'll join you in a few hours, a day at most. On you go girl."
With a hoot, Hedwig fluttered out of the window and sailed into the night. Comforted by the knowledge that at least Hedwig was out of the range of his Uncle's wrath, Harry grabbed the handle of his trunk and started down the stairs, his wand in his free hand.
"BOY!" Vernon bellowed as he stormed out of the living room, Marge's figure seen bobbing on the ceiling behind him, "YOU DID THIS! COME OVER HERE AND PUT HER RIGHT!"
"I'm getting out of here before my magic goes out of control again." Harry told him angrily, "The Accidental Magical Reversal Squad and the Obliviators will be here soon to fix her and wipe her memory. See you next summer."
With that, Harry pulled the front door open and ran from Number Four, Privet Drive, swallowed up by the darkness of night, the slam of the front door echoing in his wake
Same Time
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts
Dumbledore jerked around from his paperwork when the device he used to monitor Harry's magic started going bonkers. This had happened in the past, but the amount of red smoke it was putting out, as opposed to the blue or green smoke of the past, indicated that this bout of accidental magic had been induced, not by fear or stress, but by anger.
Getting up, he strode to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. Throwing it into the fireplace, he called out, "Accidental Magical Reversal Squad, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Ministry of Magic!"
When the flames turned green, he knelt down and stuck his head through, wishing that someone could invent a magical equivalent of a Muggle telephone or one of those new-fangled 'mobile' telephones that had been commercially available to the Muggles since '83.
Either would save his poor knees.
The office of the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad was quiet, with only a single watchwizard on duty. The man leapt to his feet upon seeing Albus' face appear in the office Floo.
"P-Professor Dumbledore sir!" the man said in a panic.
"Ah, Albert Greengrass, isn't it?" Dumbledore asked politely, "I am sorry to catch you when most of your co-workers are out and about their duties, but might I trouble you for a favour?"
"Of course sir." the man replied nervously, "What could I do for you?"
"I understand that a large magical event has occurred at the location of Mr Harry Potter." Dumbledore said, relying on his reputation as an all-knowing wizard to still any questions as to how he knew this knowledge, "I would appreciate if you could Floo call me with the details of the incident as it comes in."
"Certainly." Albert nodded in a more relaxed manner. This was a request he could easily accommodate. Moreover, as Dumbledore was the Magical Guardian of Harry Potter, in loco parentis, he was required to be informed about this sort of thing.
Dumbledore pulled his head out of the fire and stood up, his face showing a slight amount of worry. From what Harry had told him of his Uncle's sister when he had applied the modified version of the Muggle Repelling Charm to Harry's room, she was even more unpleasant than Vernon Dursley, a thought that both astounded and surprised him.
If anything had caused Harry to erupt with anger to the point his magic had lashed out all on its own, she would be the one who was the likeliest suspect as the cause. Harry showed more dislike when talking about Marjorie Dursley than he had when talking about Severus, a rarity that Albus had never seen before.
Yes, Albus knew full well that Harry and his Potions Master despised each other. Harry only did so because Severus constantly saw him as nothing more than a watered down version of James. Still, Severus had to be kept safe, waiting for the time that Tom rose up once again, so he could resume his role as a double agent.
That the conflict between the Boy-Who-Lived and his Potions Master convinced all of those Slytherin students who possessed so-called 'reformed' Death Eaters that Severus was indeed still on their side was a bonus, nothing more.
"I do hope Harry hasn't been rash." Dumbledore mused to Fawkes. As the old man returned to his paperwork as a way to pass the time until Albert Greengrass reported to him, he had the bad feeling that Harry had indeed been reckless. Hopefully, he could find out exactly what and act to help Harry before Sirius Black found him.
A Few Minutes Later
With Harry
Magnolia Crescent
Harry came to a panting halt in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent, several streets away from Privet Drive. Sheer fury had carried him away from his Uncle, but also caution. He hadn't been kidding when he had told Vernon Dursley that he was concerned his magic might lash out again.
Seriously, sheer proximity to Marge, Vernon and Dudley for longer than five more minutes would be far more than enough to set off his temper again.
Harry sat down on his trunk, temporarily emotionally spent from his recent anger. As he caught his breath, his mouth twisted into a small grin. He had wanted to get back at Marge for all she had wrought upon him over the years; he just hadn't expected his magic to turn her from an overstuffed walrus into a bloated zeppelin/hot air balloon.
"OK, time to plan." he muttered. He knew that the AMRS would go to Number 4 soon, to undo whatever spell he had unintentionally used on her. Harry knew it wasn't the Engorgement charm, as that didn't make the target float.
The most logical charm that he knew of was the Inflation Charm, Inflatio, as he had been thinking rather furiously at the time about how much hot air she was spewing forth and how she should learn to keep it to herself.
The point being that deflating her and modifying her memory should be a quick process, once they persuaded Uncle Vernon to get out of the way. That meant he had to set off for London soon, so it would be that much harder to force him to go back to Number 4.
'If I have to spend another night near Uncle Vernon before next year, he'll end up as a cockroach or something.' Harry mused darkly. He didn't object to his Uncle being turned into such a creature, he just didn't want the hassle of enduring another scolding from Hermione, on top of the one he was sure she would give hime for losing control and blowing up Marge.
Dragging his trunk around was a problem. His lack of Muggle currency was another. He still had about ten Galleons left over from last term, along with a few Sickles and Knuts, but that was useless outside of Diagon Alley.
He still had his Nimbus 2000 broom, so he wasn't entirely bereft of transportation, but the last thing he wanted to happen was get spotted by a Muggle who was stargazing or something and thus violate the Statute of Secrecy.
The very least he could do was conceal his trunk with his father's invisibility cloak as he started to walk. So, with a sigh, Harry got up off the trunk and went around so he could open it.
A sudden movement in the shadows on the opposite side of the street caught Harry's attention. His night vision not being the best, so he squinted in an effort to make out the shape lurking between the house and garage of Number Two, Magnolia Crescent.
Harry made out a hulking shape, bright eyes and a wet nose by the light of the flickering streetlight. Reflexively raising his wand warily, Harry was shocked when a massive [BANG!] erupted from the road next to him.
A large purple Routemaster London Bus, painted in a shade that Harry could have sworn had been chosen by Professor Dumbledore, had appeared not two inches in front of the pavement, the shock of the bus' appearance making Harry fall down onto his backside.
Stencilled in golden letters across the windshield of the bus was the title 'The Knight Bus', clearly visible in the bright headlights of the bus.
A second later and a conductor in a uniform the same shade of purple as the bus leapt down and started speaking in a monotone, as if quoting from a leaflet for the nth time.
"'Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand, step on board and we'll take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor this evening.'" he said. Stan had a rather bad case of acne and large ears that protruded out from his head. He couldn't be older than perhaps nineteen at the very outside.
Looking around, Stan saw Harry stand up and dust off his trousers in a confused manner.
"You th' one who flagged us down?" he asked, dropping his professional manner for what Harry assumed to be his regular accent, a rather thick cockney accent at that.
"Err…yes." Harry replied, "I didn't know about the Knight Bus, but as long as you're here, I need to go to the Leaky Cauldron. How much?"
"Eleven Sickles." Stan replied, "But ifya pay firteen ye get 'ot chocolate, and fer fifteen, ye get a hot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the colour of your choice."
"Hot chocolate sounds good." Harry said. He opened his trunk, grabbed his moneybag and paid the man his fare. He and Stan then grabbed his trunk and dragged it aboard the bus, which was filled with old-fashioned brass beds rather than seats.
"Woss yer name anyway?" Stan asked as Harry sat on the bed just behind the driver
Harry decided that putting up with the usual 'Boy-Who-Lived' fanaticism was not on the cards this evening, on top of everything that had happened, so he lied easily. "Neville Evens."
"Right you are then." Stan nodded before turning to the driver, an old man who had glasses that looked like they had been cut from the bottom of milk bottles, "This is the driver, Ernie Prang! Ern, this is Neville Evens. Let's get back on track."
"Ar." Ernie nodded and threw forward the largest lever Harry had ever seen, making the Knight Bus go from a standstill to holy-crap-hundreds-of-miles-an-hour in less time than it took to blink, making all the beds slide back and crash into each other.
Harry had the feeling that this would be the worst magical transportation experience he had gone through yet. The experience was bad enough to make him forget completely about the black canine shape he had seen before the Knight Bus had appeared.
Back at Magnolia Crescent…
Padfoot was in shock. He'd found him. He'd actually found the Prongslet! He had looked just like his father had at that age; a right scrawny git, but with Lily's eyes.
The black dog Animagus was still frozen where he had been when the Knight Bus had shown up. He had heard Harry's conversation with the conductor, and knew where he was headed. Quite why he was heading to Diagon Alley at this time of night was a bit beyond him, but that didn't matter. Harry was going to be safe at the Leaky Cauldron, so Padfoot knew what his next move should be…heading up to Hogwarts.
The castle might be Unplottable and hidden from the sight of Muggles, but he and his friends had, just for fun, calculated the exact location of the castle, using Hogsmeade Village as a reference point. Mooney had done the majority of the grunt work in the Arithmancy calculations, with himself acting as gofer for materials.
The great black dog shook his head roughly, returning his mind to the present. He had occasionally fallen into daydreams of the past since he escaped, a result of not being able to possess those memories for thirteen long years, he was sure.
Bloody Dementors.
Padfoot turned and padded off into the night, a single destination in mind…Scotland.
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Two Hours Later
The Leaky Cauldron, London
As Harry staggered off the Knight Bus, trunk in tow, he swore then and there to never, ever, ride the blasted thing again unless there was no other choice in the matter. He'd gratefully use the Floo and embarrass himself rather than subject himself to that again!
As the Knight Bus vanished with another loud [BANG!], Harry noticed a familiar bearded face in a magenta suit waiting outside the Wizarding pub.
"Harry my boy, you've had everybody worried." Dumbledore said mildly, "Kindly don't make a habit of it."
"Sorry sir." Harry replied sheepishly, "I just couldn't risk staying at that house without risking another bout of accidental magic."
"A fair point." Dumbledore conceded as he led Harry into the Leaky Cauldron, up the stairs and into a room, "By all reports, the two AMRS members were hard pressed not to curse Ms. Dursley themselves with the amount of verbal abuse she hurled at them after deflating her. It didn't take long before they stunned her and modified her memory."
"So…was it an Inflation Charm I used?" Harry asked curiously.
"Indeed. A rather well cast one, for accidental magic." Dumbledore replied as he sat down at the table and summoned a tray of crumpets, butter and pumpkin juice, "Have a seat Harry and help yourself."
As he sat down, he noticed a tired look in his Headmaster's eyes. "Is something wrong Professor?"
"I had to run interference with Cornelius." Dumbledore replied with a mildly irritated sigh, "He wanted to be the one who met you here, which I trumped with my position as your Magical Guardian In Loco Parentis."
"Magical Guardian?" Harry asked before taking a crumpet and biting into it.
"Yes. As you have no more close family, I am your Guardian in all things involving the Magical World until you come of age." Dumbledore replied, "Similarly, I am the In Loco Parentis Magical Guardian for every Muggleborn witch and wizard who passes through Hogwarts. Thankfully, most of the time nothing happens and I merely have to do visits at the end of every academic year to those who wish to speak to me."
"Sound like a lot of work." Harry said.
"It is, rather." the Headmaster replied with a small smile, "Yet for all the stress that the position of Headmaster gives me, I would not trade my job for almost anything in the world. The only thing better would be to teach again. There is nothing quite like seeing your students learn from you to make your heart swell with pride. Speaking of, Molly was telling me yesterday that young Ginevra was singing your praises as a teacher."
"Ginny is naturally good at DADA." Harry said dismissively, "Especially any Hex, Charm or Curse that has an embarrassing and debilitating result for her target. Her Curse of the Bogies is better than mine, even."
"I would not downplay your own skills, Harry." Dumbledore told him, "A talent for teaching is not to be overlooked. Alas, now we must turn to your living arrangements. I take it you wish to remain away from your relatives until next summer?"
"Yessir." Harry nodded emphatically.
"Very well then." Dumbledore said, "I would suggest that you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron. I must ask that you not wander about Muggle London and confine yourself to Diagon Alley."
"Does this have to do with Sirius Black?" Harry asked curiously. He had read the Daily Prophet that Stan had shown him. Thirteen people dead with a single use of a curse!
"I take it that someone on the Knight Bus loaned you their paper then." Dumbledore sighed, "Yes, it is because of Sirius Black. He was one of Voldemort's hidden daggers, a Death Eater spy, and was rumoured to be his right-hand man. It's possible you could be targeted by him in an effort to revive Tom."
"Got it." Harry nodded, "No wandering around London. Oh, by the way, here's my Hogsmeade Consent form."
He opened his trunk, pulled out the sheet of parchment with Aunt Petunia's signature on it and passed it to Dumbledore, who took it with a nod.
"I see you got Petunia to sign it." he noted before folding the form and placing it in his pocket.
"In exchange for keeping to the story that Uncle Vernon concocted to explain where I go all year." Harry replied sourly.
"Your Uncle is starting to vex me, if you'll pardon my saying so, Harry." Dumbledore said mildly.
"Go ahead; I'd have said more and worst than that." Harry replied before he frowned, "How did you know I would come here anyway, Professor?"
Dumbledore gestured at the window of the room. Harry turned to see a white owl perched on the windowsill. With an impatient 'hoot', Hedwig fluttered over to Harry's shoulder and started preening his hair, checking for damage to her wizard.
"Tom, the bartender, gave me a Floo call when your ever loyal owl turned up here unexpectedly." Dumbledore said with a smile, "I've paid for this room for you right up until September the First, so rest at ease there."
"I could pay for the room myself, Professor!" Harry protested.
"Consider this a belated birthday gift if you will…besides, the funds came from the Office of the Minister for Magic." Dumbledore replied, a twinkle in his eyes, "It's all paid for already, so there isn't much to be done."
"As you wish." Harry sighed. He was a bit like the Weasley family in the case of people trying to help him. Not that he wasn't grateful for the help or that he had too much pride to accept the aid. Far from it. He simply wasn't used to people actually helping him.
"Very good. Now, I must be on my way. Time waits for no man." Dumbledore said as he stood and changed his business suit back into his robes with a casual flick of his wand. Harry made a note to find out how difficult that was to do while wearing the clothes.
"Do enjoy the rest of your holidays, Harry." the venerable old man added, "I'll see you on September the First."
With that, Dumbledore swept from the room and shut the door behind him, leaving Harry full of questions that had been generated by what he had seen and heard in the last couple of hours.
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts
As Dumbledore moved out of the fire after travelling via Floo from the Leaky Cauldron, he was met with the slightly anxious gaze of Minerva.
"Was he there, Albus?" she asked.
"Indeed. The situation was as I surmised." Dumbledore replied as he moved around his desk and sat down, "He fled the Dursley household because he wasn't sure he could prevent another burst of accidental magic from happening if he remained. He'll be staying at the Leaky Cauldron until the start of term…under the watchful eye of two teams of Aurors."
The Deputy Headmistress sighed a bit in relief before asking, "What on earth caused his temper to fray to the point of accidental magic? Especially at his age."
Generally speaking, once a witch or wizard started attending Hogwarts, they stopped having bouts of accidental magic due to the constant spellcasting within Hogwarts. Only the most powerful still had accidental magic after First Year
Dumbledore pulled a sheet of parchment from his desk and silently handed it to her. Minerva took it and quickly scanned the words written on it, her face flushing in anger the more she read.
"Why that…!" she hissed, sounding very much like her Animagus form at that precise moment, "I cannot believe that someone would say such a thing about a child's deceased parents, let alone right in front of them no less!"
"I agree. Fortunately, Marjorie Dursley will head back to her dog breeding farm on the morrow." Dumbledore sighed, "I confess, the name 'Dursley' is starting to give me a migraine. The sooner Harry turns seventeen, the sooner we will not have to hear that name again."
"Aye. I told you that leaving him there was a bad idea." Minerva said firmly, "It's a miracle he's turned out as well adjusted as he has."
"He has Lily's spirit." Dumbledore chuckled, "As well as James' irrepressible stubbornness. Of course, with those two, it could very well be the reverse; given how similar their personalities were once James grew up."
"I just wish that Severus and Lily hadn't ended their friendship in their Fifth Year." Minerva said aloud wistfully, "Maybe he wouldn't have joined You-Know-Who in the first place if he had remained friends with Lily…"
"I have found in my century of life that, while one should apply what one knows of the past so that mistakes are not made in the future, one should always keep ones eyes fixed to the future, rather than dwell on what may have been." Dumbledore said gently, "I have a great many regrets of what happened in the past -in my past- yet I cannot do anything to effect what was, only what will be."
"Yes…of course, Albus." Minerva said with a sigh, "By the way, I take it that the buffoon didn't take you interfering in his little plan to ingrate himself to Mr Potter well?"
"Cornelius was rather…put out that I foiled him." Dumbledore chuckled. The portly little man had gotten rather red-faced when Dumbledore pulled the rug from under him…metaphorically speaking, of course. "The last thing that Harry needs is having a politician like Cornelius buttering him up. I can tell that Harry already dislikes Cornelius due to what he pulled last year with Hagrid."
"He's going to dislike him even more thanks to the Dementors." His Deputy noted sourly, "You know he's likely to be affected more by those…monsters…than the rest of the student population, except perhaps Miss Weasley."
"I fully agree." Dumbledore's mood soured at the impending move of the Azkaban Guards, "Which is why I have asked Remus to travel on the Hogwarts Express on September the First, just in case something happens. The Dementors will stop and search the train for certain in order to feed as much as possible. They don't actually care about Black, aside from as someone to return to Azkaban so they can drain his emotions again."
Minerva wrinkled her nose up in disgust at the predatory habits of the Dementors. She hated the fact that the staff wouldn't be able to protect the students from the soul-sucking beasts on the train, but at least Remus would be able to do something if they got out of hand.
"How is Remus?" she asked.
"Battered by his condition." Dumbledore replied with a frown, "He hasn't been able to purchase the Wolfsbane Potion due to his haphazard income and the stress is prematurely aging him. I'm going to get Poppy to give him a full medical after the Welcoming Feast, just to be on the safe side."
"Poor Remus." Minerva sighed. She had had a soft spot for the four Marauders at school, and Remus had always impressed her with his refusal to surrender to despair with his Lycanthropy.
"With the castle wards and Remus protecting him, Harry will be as safe as we can make him until Black is caught." Dumbledore assured Minerva bracingly.
He just wished that he actually believed his own words.
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Next Chapter: Demented on the Train
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