Chapter 2: Coming Together
A woman emerged from a large fire place. Her fashionable black heels clicked along the marble floor. Her wizarding robes looked more like a dress than actual robes. Black satin glimmered as she strode across the large foyer, ignoring the imposing columns and ornate paintings.
Her march took her all the way to a large, imposing staircase that branched in two directions. The white marble of the staircase contrasted with the dark green carpet that had been placed over the stairs.
A pop, the sound of air being displaced, alerted her to the presence of a house elf appearing. She paused to stare down at the little creature, its ears flopping and its refined outfit fitting its frame. It wore the symbol of the Most Noble House of Greengrass on its front.
"May I help you, madam?"
"Well now, this is a surprise," she said, holding a hand demurely to her lips, the better to hide her smile, "I had not been aware that Nathaniel had gotten himself a house elf. Well, no matter. Please inform your master that Celestina Zabini, Head of the Most Noble House of Zabini, is here and would like to meet with him."
The house elf stared for a little while longer, before slowly bowing before her.
"Very well, Lady Zabini."
There was another crack of displaced air, and the house elf vanished, leaving her alone.
With nothing to do but wait, she amused herself by studying the various paintings that lined the foyer. All of them were fine pieces, exquisite works of art that defied description; landscapes that displayed incredible scenes of beauty and differing techniques. They also cost a small fortune. Nathaniel Greengrass must be doing very well for himself if he could afford these.
The air popped again. Celestina turned back to the house elf, who bowed before her.
"The master will see you now."
"Very well then. Lead the way," she smiled, "It has been so long since I've last been here that I fear I no longer know how to get to Nathan's study."
The house elf bowed again.
"Of course, Lady Zabini."
Celestina followed the house elf up the flight of green carpeted stairs, and through a number of corridors. As she walked, she silently studied the house of her old friend.
This place looked nothing like the Greengrass manor that she used to know. Back before the death of Mary Anne Greengrass, this manor had been such a lively place, with bright colors and an inviting atmosphere. But no more. Instead of warm and inviting, it was cold and impersonal, no doubt a reflection of its owners current state of mind.
They eventually reached an elegantly crafted wooden door. Several designs that she recognized as ward schemes ran across varnished rosewood, hidden behind motifs and swirling patterns. Nathaniel must have become awfully paranoid if he was having defensive arrays like that placed on his door. She eyed the crest in the center: a King Cobra on a grassy field, coiled and ready to strike. Below that, the Greengrass family motto, Agnuis in herba, was displayed underneath in golden cursive.
"The master is waiting for you," the house elf bowed, opening the door with a snap of his fingers.
Celestina strode through the door and surveyed the room with a keen eye. Dark green carpet, wood panelled walls, expensive furnishings, this room was no doubt designed to impose Nathaniel's importance on all who entered. In the back of the room, sitting behind a rich desk made of walnut and drafting papers, was the person that she had come all this way to meet.
She smiled.
"Nathan, it's so good to see you. I hope you're doing well."
"I believe I told you to never call me that again," Nathaniel did not look up from his work.
"You've told me a lot of things," Celestina walked further into the room, only stopping upon reaching the man's desk, "I see that you have been doing well for yourself. I suppose I should have expected that, Mr. Representative for the ICW. Your power within the ministry has certainly solidified ever since you became a most esteemed member of the International Confederation of Wizards, though I do have to wonder what caused you to choose such a career path. As I recall, you originally wished to go into archaeology."
"That was an old dream, one belonging to a naive and foolish young man, and one not suitable for a person of my station."
"Oh my," she held a hand to her lips, "A person of your station, hm? You know, I remember a time when you cared little for one's station. I even remember when you used to argue with your parents, making claims that you would be whatever you wanted to be, and that they could do nothing to stop you. Ah, such an amusing boy you were back then, so full of life and vigor. I wonder where that person has disappeared to?"
Nathaniel paused in his work, then restarted. She smiled. Was that annoyance that she sensed?
"What is it that you want, Lady Zabini?"
"Lady Zabini? Such a cold thing to call an old friend. I'd much rather you call me Celestina."
"I'd much rather not."
"How cruel."
Another pause. Celestina kept her smile on. It seemed Nathaniel Greengrass wasn't as unemotional as he tried making everyone believe. She wondered how far she could push him before he snapped, though she dared not try. She didn't wish to jeopardize the reason for which she had come.
"All pleasantries aside, I am actually here on behalf of my son and his friends. They are all quite worried for their friend, young Daphne, you see. I do not blame them. It must be difficult for them, knowing where she is but not being able to see her. Young people need to interact with their friends, you know. It's a very important part of growing up. That is why I would like to request that you allow Daphne and her younger sister, sweet little Astoria, to visit my manor for the summer. It would do my son a world of good to see his friend again, especially after the most recent tragedy that has befallen them."
Celestina knew of what happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had been in the front page headlines of the Daily Prophet for nearly a week-at least until news of Harry Potter's disappearance reached the media, which had now become the number one headline for the past several days. And she knew that Nathaniel was aware of what had happened, too. As a political savant, and one who belonged to the ICW, it was important that he keep abreast of all matters which could affect his social standing.
"I do not see why I should allow Astoria or Daphne to go anywhere," Nathaniel informed her in his cold, impersonal way, "My heir is currently undergoing training, and must be kept in isolation until such a time as I am satisfied."
Which meant he was keeping Daphne locked up in her room, probably in order to break her of all her emotions by forcing her to remain alone in her time of grief until she snapped. Celestina almost sighed in frustration. That just would not do.
"Then I suppose you leave me no choice," she sighed dramatically, "I suppose I will have to inform certain parties of the events that took place around eighteen years ago, when a certain impulsive and brash young man snuck out of Hogwarts, and took his beau to see a Led Zeppelin concert."
She cracked a smile when Nathaniel stiffened. Time for the coup de grace.
"And I suppose, I shall also have to give those certain parties these pictures," she reached in between her bosom, and pulled out a number of pictures. Standard non-magical photos that didn't move. All of them featured a young man with blond hair and blue eyes, and a beautiful young woman with hair several shades lighter than the man and sea green eyes. They were at a muggle rock concert. In the middle of a mosh pit. Going crazy. The young man was headbanging.
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
"Where did you get those?"
Celestina smiled. She felt overflowing with victory and win.
"Oh, I just found them lying around one day while I was going through some old photo albums," she replied airily, "Now then, about young Daphne and Astoria…"
XoX
Daphne gripped Astoria's hand as she led the younger girl to their father's study.
She didn't know why they had been called, nor did she know how she was supposed to feel about being called. From the moment she had arrived home for the summer holidays, her father had practically confined her to her room, only allowing her out during meal times. She knew why, of course; her outburst when she had first arrived home had been completely unbefitting of an heiress to the Most Noble House of Greengrass.
That had been the first time in a long time that she had seen her father angry. She still shuddered upon remembering the look of disgust and rage that had been just barely concealed behind his icy-cold facade. She never wanted to see that expression again.
"What do you think Lord Greengrass wants?" Astoria asked.
Daphne looked at her sister and frowned. Astoria had also been punished, but not because the girl had done anything wrong. Her father knew of the love that she had for her sister. He had punished Astoria in order to punish her. Even now she could see the bruise hidden underneath her sister's shirt, crawling up the girl's neck like an insidious parasite that had burrowed under her skin.
"I don't know," Daphne admitted, "It could be anything." She paused, her eyes showing the concern she felt. "Are you alright, Stori?"
Astoria gave her sister a brave smile that Daphne knew she didn't feel. Her sister feared their father even more than she did.
"I'm fine. He hasn't touched me since confining you to your room."
"That's good," she sighed in relief. That meant it had been a one time thing, then. He'd probably punished Astoria in front of her to show what would happen to her sister if she let her emotions slip again. She would have to be more careful about not displaying any emotions from now on.
They reached their father's study, and Daphne knocked on the door.
"Enter."
Taking a deep breath, gripping Astoria's hand fiercely, Daphne opened the door and entered the room.
"Lady Zabini?" Daphne almost gawked when she saw the mischieviously smiling woman standing in her father's study. What was Celestina Zabini doing here? Her father hadn't had contact with the woman for several years now; ever since mother had died. Only the knowledge that gawking would be met with punishment kept her from actually doing so.
"Hello, Daphne, Astoria," Lady Zabini's eyes twinkled merrily. The woman seemed inordinately pleased with herself. "How have you two been?"
"I've been good," Astoria spoke before Daphne could stop her. She glanced at their father, whose expression remained unreadable. He seemed to be radiating annoyance, and she wondered what had happened between him and Lady Zabini.
Lady Zabini's light, airy laugh filled the room.
"I am glad to see that you're in such high spirits. I must admit, it is a pleasure to see you again after so long. I haven't been able to so much as lay eyes on you since you were just a toddler crawling around on the floor, following after Daphne." While Astoria both blushed and scowled, Lady Zabini turned to her. "And you, Daphne, has your summer been well?"
"It has," Daphne lied smoothly, her mind quickly falling back to her usual icy mien. She couldn't allow herself to show weakness in front of her father. "And you, Lady Zabini? I trust that you and your children are doing well?"
"Times could be better," Lady Zabini admitted graciously, "However, let us not speak of such things." She clapped her hands. "Now then, Daphne, Astoria, do you have your bags packed? If not, then I suggest you hurry and pack them."
Daphne looked at her father, who remained sitting in his chair behind the desk, looking like he'd just swallowed a lemon, then back to Lady Zabini. What was going on here? Why was her father not saying anything? What did Lady Zabini mean by pack their bags? Were they going somewhere?
"Why are we packing our bags? Are we going somewhere?" Astoria asked, voicing the questions that Daphne wished to know.
Lady Zabini's smile contained enough devious delight that a thrill ran down Daphne's spine.
"Why yes, we are. You and Daphne shall be staying over at my manor for the summer holidays." Daphne's mind blanked. Lady Zabini's smile widened. "Now then, please go and pack your things. We'll be leaving in a few minutes. And don't worry, your father has approved this."
A glance at her father revealed that he had yet to move from his spot. He stared at her, his normally cold, unfeeling eyes tinged with annoyance. Was this really happening? Was her father actually letting them go over to another person's house? And Lady Zabini's at that!
"Really?! We're really going over to your house?" an excited Astoria complete lost her composure. Daphne glanced warily at her father, whose right hand twitched.
"That's right," Lady Zabini's merry smile gained several levels of mischief, "You two are going to be staying with me for the holidays, so you need to go pack your bags and get prepared."
"Come on, Daphne!"
Astoria dragged her out of the room. Daphne could do nothing but follow, her mind shot, more blank than it would have been if someone had obliviated it.
What just happened?
XoX
The fire roared as she and her sister emerged from it. They stepped into a modest living space. Their shoes touched against soft carpet, as the flames went from green back to their standard orange and red.
"Daphne!"
A shout came from her left, and Daphne was nearly bowled over by an overly excited Tracey.
"W-what? Tracey?" She looked down at the girl hugging her around the waist. "What are you doing here, Trace?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Tracey asked. When Daphne just gave her a flat look, she continued. "We're all staying with the Zabinis."
Daphne raised an eyebrow.
"We?"
"That's right."
"Hello, Daphne," another voice spoke up from somewhere to her left. She turned to look at the source. "It's good to see you again. We were very worried about you."
"Susan?"
Daphne blinked when she saw the redhead, and then blinked again when she saw everyone else. Standing next to Susan was what looked like their entire group. She saw Hannah and Lisa and Terry and Blaize. They stood just a few feet away. The only person missing was Neville and… "Where's Harry?"
The group all turned to look at each other. Daphne frowned when she saw the expressions on her friends' faces. Something unsettling dropped into her stomach, a led ball of anxiety that she couldn't brush away.
"You mean you haven't heard?" Tracey asked in shock. Daphne frowned at her.
"I've hardly even been out of my room," Daphne grumbled, "Of course I haven't heard."
"Daphne," Tracey said, "Harry has been missing ever since school ended."
"W-what?"
Daphne stared at her friend, wide eyed. She knew that Harry had disappeared sometime during school, and that no one could find him. However, she had just suspected that he was trying to avoid crowds in order to be left alone with his grief. She hadn't realized that he was actually missing.
"I… I don't understand. Harry is missing?"
"Yeah," Tracey nodded, "And no one's been able to find him ever since, well… you know. Anyway, there are search parties happening all over. The entire auror force has been searching for him. I hear they've even started searching for him in muggle London."
Susan and the others walked up to them. Daphne looked at Susan, who confirmed her silent question with a nod.
"Aunty has ordered all of her auror forces to be on the lookout for him, and she's got one-third of the forces actively searching for him. They haven't had much luck finding him yet, but she told me that they're going to be expanding their search radius soon, so hopefully, they'll find him, or at least a clue that will lead them to him."
"I… I see," she muttered, resisting the urge to clutch at her chest, where a sharp pain had flared up, as if she was being pricked with a needle. She didn't want to show weakness to her friends.
"So wait," Astoria said suddenly, "Harry Potter is missing? Why would he be missing?"
Everyone became silent. Lisa and Tracey grew unusually solemn, and Tracey even looked about ready to cry. Blaize had closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath, while Terry had gone deathly still. Hannah leaned into Susan, and Daphne could see the redhead trying to put up a brave front for their friends.
"Guys?" Astoria asked, her voice suddenly small as she seemingly realized that she had just stepped on a landmine.
"Stori," Daphne said in a quiet voice, attracting her sister's attention, "I'll tell you what happened some other time. Please, just let it go for right now."
Astoria looked ready to protest, but thankfully didn't. The young blond girl stared at her, as if searching for something in her eyes. Daphne didn't know what her sister was looking for, or if she even found it, but the young girl eventually nodded.
"I… okay, Daph, I won't ask anymore questions."
"Thank you."
A loud clap got everyone's attention.
"Now, now children," Lady Zabini smiled at the group, "Why don't we shelve this depressing conversation, hm? I didn't invite you all over so that you could mope around my home. Why don't you girls show Astoria and Daphne where they'll be staying? Then you can join the boys in the game room and have some fun."
"Game room?" Daphne looked at Blaize, who gave her an eloquent shrug.
"Mum's recently picked up a fascination for non-magical games, billiards in particular. Not sure why."
"Now don't be like that, Blaize. Billiards is a game that requires skill and precision to play, and unlike a magical game, it won't blow up in your face."
"Mum's got really bad luck when she plays wizarding games," Blaize added, causing his mother to pout at him, "Any time she plays, she almost always ends up having something explode in her face."
"You had better be careful when airing my dirty laundry, Blaize, lest you find yourself stranded in the middle of Africa with no way of getting home." Blaize became just a tad paler. Lady Zabini smiled and clapped her hands once more. "Now then, come along girls. Show these two where they shall be staying. Blaize, Terry and I shall wait for you in the game room."
Lady Zabini placed an arm around her son's shoulder, causing him to go deathly stiff. She placed her other arm around Terry, who suddenly blushed under the contact, then led the two away.
"Stop scowling, Tracey," Lisa said in response to the nasty look on Tracey's face. Daphne felt a touch of amusement as she saw her friend trying to bore a hole through Lady Zabini's back with her eyes.
"I'm not scowling," Tracey muttered angrily.
"Yes, you are," Lisa immediately shot back, smiling, "And I think I know why."
Tracey's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Oh yeah? And why is that?"
"You're jealous."
"W-w-what?" Daphne witnessed something truly amazing: Tracey stuttering and blushing. "I-I am not jealous! Why would I be jealous of that stupid, cow-chested old hag!"
Lisa's smile was mysterious.
"Why indeed."
"I think it's because Tracey likes Terry," Hanna commented. Tracey whirled on the girl and pointed, her face a rictus of embarrassed outrage.
"I do not!"
"She totally likes Terry," Lisa confirmed with a nod, "That's why she's always fighting with him. She argues with Terry because she wants him to pay attention to her."
"No, I don't! You don't know what you're talking about!"
"It's okay, Tracey," Hannah told the loudmouth, her expression mockingly sympathetic. Daphne had the distinct impression that Hanna was getting revenge for all the times Tracey had said something stupid. "There's nothing wrong with having a crush on Terry. He's a good catch, I suppose. He's smart and he's not bad looking. He likes Quidditch, and he enjoys arguing just as much as you do. You two are a match made in heaven."
"Stop picking on me, dammit!"
"We're not picking on you," Lisa's faux-frown told Daphne that they were, indeed, picking on Tracey, "We're simply telling you that we support your relationship with Terry."
"I'm not in a relationship with Terry!"
Daphne watched on the sidelines as Hannah and Lisa double-teamed Tracey, flustering the poor girl with their constant remarks about her relationship with Terry. She didn't really know if Tracey liked Terry, or if the girl simply argued with him because that's just what Tracey did, but she couldn't deny that watching the girl being picked on by their friends amused her. She must be a bad person to take entertainment in her friend's plight.
Susan pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed.
"Come on, you two. I'll show you where all of us are staying."
"All of us?" Daphne asked.
"Yes," Susan nodded, "Us, that is, we girls, are all sharing a room together. It was Ms. Zabini's idea."
"Oh."
"What about them," Astoria pointed at the trio still arguing. It had somehow devolved into Tracey trying to put Hannah and Lisa in a headlock. Considering there were two of them and one of her, it wasn't working out too well for the girl. Susan glanced at the three, then turned back to Daphne and Astoria, giving them a weak smile.
"They're not going to stop any time soon, I'm afraid. They've been doing this ever since, well, they've been teasing her for a while now," Susan smoothly changed the subject by leading her and Astoria to the door, "Anyway, let's get going. I'm sure those three will catch up once they realize that we've left."
"FOR THE LAST TIME! I'M NOT IN LOVE TERRY!"
"… Maybe."
XoX
Dumbledore was sitting in his office. In his hands was the Daily Prophet. He normally didn't read the Daily Prophet, except when he wanted a good laugh, but these days, even false news derived from a newspaper like this one was like an Elixir of Life to him. And he'd become rather good at reading between the lies and coming to his own conclusions.
Just then, his ward's flared to life, just like he'd anticipated. He had actually been expecting this meeting for a while, ever since he'd seen the front page headline for the Daily Prophet this morning, in fact.
"Come in, Cornelius," he called out, then waited. He could almost picture the way the minister had paused at the door, standing there with a stunned expression etched upon his face. It would have amused him in most circumstances, this image, but the gravity of recent events weighed him down too much to take joy in much of anything.
"You really do need to tell me how you do that, Albus," Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, said as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.
"It is merely a matter of experience and logical deduction, Cornelius," Dumbledore replied as he set the newspaper aside and placed his hands on the desk, "Now then, what may I do for you, Minister?"
Cornelius stopped in front of his desk, wringing his hands together.
"I need your help. I'm sure you've seen the front page of this morning's Daily Prophet."
Dumbledore glanced at the Daily Prophet. The front page headline read "Sirius Black Escapes from Azkaban!" in big bold print. Below the headline title was an image of the man in question, his snarling visage containing insanity as he fought against the chains wrapped around him.
"I have indeed," he turned back to Cornelius, "And I must admit, we have quite the predicament on our hands. Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban prison is startling enough, but with everything that's happened recently, the situation with Black may escalate to unprecedented levels."
"Harry Potter," Cornelius said. Dumbledore nodded.
"Harry Potter is still missing, and now Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban. If we do not find Mr. Potter before Black does, I fear what may happen to him." Dumbledore paused to collect his thoughts. "Do we know how Black escaped?"
"We don't," the confession made Cornelius' shoulders slump, "We've questioned all of the guards, but none of them ever saw Black leave his cell, and there are no signs that he broke out. It's as if he simply vanished."
Dumbledore contemplated this new information. People, even wizards, do not simply vanish. They could apparate, but Azkaban was heavily warded. Apparition was impossible there. So was portkeying, for that matter. For someone to escape, they would have to not only break out of the prison, but also sneak past all of the guards, which included the dementors-the most vile creatures that Dumbledore ever had the displeasure of meeting. There was a reason no one had escaped Azkaban.
At least until now.
"When was the last time Black was seen?" he asked. Cornelius' face scrunched up.
"The last time he was seen? I believe that was when I visited Azkaban on a routine inspection-I do that twice a year, you know, in order to make sure the prisoners are behaving. Black was the last prisoner I visited there. He seemed unusually lucid, unlike the other prisoners, perfectly capable of holding a conversation. He was even polite, greeting me as if I were an old friend or something-preposterous as the notion may be. I had that morning's Daily Prophet with me, and he asked if I would let him read it. I, well, I didn't see the harm in that, so I gave the paper to him. He apparently disappeared a few hours later. No one saw him leave, though, and the cell was still locked."
"I see," Dumbledore stroked his beard, a habit that he had picked up after watching Disney's The Sword and the Stone. It was a very good show-even if it wasn't a very realistic depiction of Merlin. "And was there anything incriminating in that newspaper? Something that may have set him off?"
"I… I'm not sure," Cornelius looked uncertain, "I mean, it was just the usual news that we've been having. He did seem unusually interested in two of the articles, though…"
"I suspect one of them was on the missing Harry Potter?" Dumbledore didn't really need to inquire. Harry's disappearance remained news even two weeks after the media had found out about it. There had recently been a string of Harry sightings articles, though none of them had ever amounted to anything. According to Amelia, all of the Harry sightings had proven to be false leads. He suspected the articles were simply written as a means of turning a profit.
Cornelius nodded.
"It was."
"And what was the other one."
"I… I'm not sure," the Minister looked uncertain, "But he seemed unusually interested in one of the articles on page… two… I think it was."
Dumbledore almost sighed. That meant he would have to go back through the Daily Prophet from the other day and search for the article himself. It would be a bothersome task, but he couldn't afford to not look at every possible angle. Harry Potter's life could be at stake, and he refused to let another student die on his watch.
"What should I do?" Cornelius's desperation shone through in his pleading tone.
"The first thing that you must do, Minister, is not panic," Dumbledore informed the rotund man, "If you panic, then it will lead to you making rash decisions. You must remain calm."
Cornelius looked very much like those non-magical bobblehead dolls that Dumbledore had seen on car dashboards as he nodded.
"Right. Calm. Remain calm. Okay. I think I can do that."
He clearly couldn't, but Dumbledore decided not to tell him that.
"The next thing you need to do is contact the Daily Prophet. Have them write up a letter in the form of an article addressed to Harry Potter, informing him of Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban and urging him to stop by the auror office, so that we can place him under our protection."
"Do you think that will work?"
"If by work, you mean do I think Harry will reveal himself to us, then no. Mr. Potter is a very stubborn young man. If he has decided to disappear, then I doubt this news will make him retract his decision." Cornelius' looked increasingly flustered by this news. "However, it should make Mr. Potter aware of the danger that Sirius Black poses to him. He is a very bright child, and I'm sure that he will become cautious and act with much more prudence. For the moment, we will simply have to trust in his intelligence. ability to think logically, and act in an appropriate manner when faced with a crisis such as this."
Cornelius seemed more than eager to implement this idea.
"And what of Black?"
"Black will likely be going after Mr. Potter. As we do not know where Mr. Potter is, there isn't a whole lot that we can do. My suggestion is to have the aurors set up a search net in areas of non-magical London, which is where I suspect Mr. Potter may be hiding, as we have yet to locate him anywhere else. Have them make silent inquiries with the non-magical population, asking them if they've seen either Mr. Potter or Black. Be sure to issue the aurors standard non-magical photos so the non-magical population will have faces to reference during the questioning."
"Should I also bring out the dementors?"
"No," Dumbledore almost scowled at the thought of those things being let loose, "Dementors do not distinguish between friend and foe, and they will cause mass panic to spread through the non-magical population, which will hamper the aurors search. Keep them in Azkaban."
"Uh… okay."
Cornelius looked almost taken aback, and Dumbledore realized that he was letting his anger get the best of him. He sat back down and took a deep breath. He must be really tired if he was letting his emotions get out of control like that.
"Be sure to implement these plans and orders the moment you are able to. It is imperative that you act with haste, but do not act rashly. Inform the aurors that they should be cautious when searching through London. We do not want to tip Mr. Potter or Black off to the fact that we are searching for them."
"Right."
"And make sure that you only have aurors specifically trained to interact with non-magicals committing to the search. The last thing we need are a bunch of people getting obliviated because one of the less knowing aurors decided to do something, shall we say, less than intelligent."
Cornelius Fudge soon left. Dumbledore watched the Minister walk out of his office, feeling even more exhausted than before their meeting. Fudge was a decent Minister during times of peace, but he couldn't deal with unexpected problems that arose during more stressful times. That he was also in Lucius Malfoy's pocket didn't help his case.
He put the Minister of Magic out of his mind, and focused on the newest problem at hand: Sirius Black.
Out of all the people who had been surprised by Black's betrayal of the Potter's, he was one of those who had been the most shocked. Sirius Black had always struck him as a stalwart and loyal friend. Back when Black and James had been attending Hogwarts, he had proven his loyalty time and time again by sticking with the brash and impetuous James Potter. Even after they graduated, Black had remained steadfastly loyal to James and Lily, or so Dumbledore had thought.
Dumbledore remembered when the Potter's went into hiding. He had been there when Lily Potter cast the Fidelius and made Sirius Black their secret keeper. He would have never expected Black to betray the Potter's at the time, but when he learned of what happened, of James' and Lily's death and Harry becoming an orphan, he'd realized how Black had played them all.
I should have seen it coming…
It was always hard, watching as the people you were close to die. James and Lily had been friends. Out of all those who'd graduated these hallowed grounds, they were among the few that Dumbledore had truly been close to. Their deaths hurt, perhaps not to the same extent as the death of his dear sister, but he felt their deaths nonetheless.
After they'd died, Dumbledore had made a promise that he would do what he could to protect their son. He'd sent Harry to the Dursley's, where the young Potter heir would grow up away from the spotlight, away from the fans and, more importantly, away from potential assassination attempts.
He'd done everything he could to keep Harry's whereabouts a secret, even going so far as to cast an illegal warding scheme on the Dursley's house. It not only kept them from thinking about moving, but also kept anyone seeking to do Harry harm from ever discovering the location. With this, Harry Potter's location had all but vanished from the magical population, and any Death Eaters who might seek to harm him remained ignorant as to his whereabouts. He had even refused to go and visit, just in case people like Lucius Malfoy were watching his movements.
All that effort felt wasted now. Harry was gone and Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban, likely to seek out the young Potter heir in some misguided form of revenge. Dumbledore was at a loss. Everyone looked up to him, expecting him to have the answer for all of life's problems, for every emergency. They didn't realize that he, too, was only human.
Stay safe, Harry…
XoX
Harry Potter scowled as he stared at the remnants of his experiment to discover more about Tom Riddle's diary. There was nothing left of the blank parchment that he had used, nothing but ashes.
He'd been working on another of his experiments this morning. The creation of an artificial body, a homunculus, when the parchment containing the potion plus absorbed piece of Riddle's diary had spontaneously combust and then crumbled to ash.
The potion that he had concocted was a simple one. It was an analysis potion, similar in many ways to the chemical sheets that muggles use to determine the various states of liquids. It could almost be likened to those tabs that people stuck in water to determine its quality, only instead of determining the quality of water, this determined the quality of magic.
"I should have realized such a simple potion wouldn't work for this," he muttered to himself, "The magic used in the creation of this diary is impossibly dark and incredibly powerful. It's no wonder the potion didn't work. I suppose I should just be glad it didn't explode in my face."
He looked at the remains of his potion, which had turned a murky black and looked more like tar than a potion. Scowling, he waved his hand to vanish it. When the potion didn't vanish, merely bubbling instead, he scowled even more.
"It seems the magic in Riddle's diary is too powerful for me to vanish."
Harry wished he could use his wand. He would probably be able to vanish the potion with his wand helping him empower and direct his spell. If only he could find some way to get rid of the trace…
"Would my mother's wand work for this?"
Deciding to see if it would work, Harry grabbed his mothers wand, only to drop it when he felt the wand nearly shock his hand off. He stared at his mother's willow wand as it clattered to the table. Was it… was it rejecting him? But why? It had always accepted him before, yet now it refused to let him even hold it. He didn't understand.
"Tch."
Left with no other recourse, Harry realized that he would have to dispose of the potion without magic.
The cauldron was heavy as he lifted it into his arms and carried it out of his apartment, much heavier than a cauldron with a potion should be. Had the potions change in color and composition also changed its weight? Possibly. He would think on that later. First things first, he needed to get rid of this potion.
He walked down the well-lit hallway. His feet thudded along the beige carpet. White walls adorned with doors surrounded him on either side, each door numbered with triple digits. Being on the second floor, all of the numbers were over two-hundred. He didn't know any of his neighbors, nor did he care to know them. This was just a temporary residence until he moved on, and the people living in this complex were not worth knowing.
The wooden stairs creaked as he made his way down. It was an ominous sound. For a moment, he actually feared that the added weight of the cauldron may cause one of the stairs to break underneath him. That didn't happen, fortunately, though he did end up almost spilling some of the potion on one of the apartment's residence when she appeared before him from out of nowhere.
"Woah there, kiddo," the bubbly voice of a young woman said, as Harry forced his body to serve away from the woman in order to avoid landing on top of her. "You really should be more careful where you're walking, especially when you're lugging such a big, um, what is that thing anyway?"
Harry resisted the urge to scowl at the woman. Bubblegum pink hair that matched her personality descended from her head, long and shiny. Her eyes were blue and big, reminding him of bhambi. They sat upon a fair face with soft lips and a small nose. The knee-length dress that she wore flattered her feminine figure.
"It's a cauldron," he mumbled.
"Cauldon? You mean like some kind of magic playset?" The woman smiled. "Are you playing wizard or something?"
This time, he did scowl.
"Or something," he muttered irritably.
"That sounds like a lot of fun," the woman's cheerful voice grated on his nerves for some reason, "I remember back when I was younger, I used to pretend that I was a witch all the time. That was back when I believed that magic was real. Ah, I do miss those days."
He wondered how to get past this woman. He had no desire to listen to her, but she was also blocking his way down.
"Ah!" The woman gasped in surprise. "I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name is Victoria Jones. It's pleasure to meet you, um, what was your name again?"
Harry twitched. He hadn't told her his name.
"… Harry Evans."
"Harry Evans," the woman murmured, before smiling again, "Well, it is very nice to meet you, Mr. Evans. If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to come to me. My apartment number is two-ten."
Harry almost twitched. His apartment was 212, which meant they were next door neighbors. Great. That was just what he needed. Was it some kind of karma that such an obnoxious woman would be living right next to him?
"I'll be sure to do that," Harry maintained his polite demeanor. He couldn't afford to let his annoyance get the best of him. Even if he didn't care one whit about this woman, he didn't want the kind of trouble that being on her bad side could cause.
"Good," Victoria Jones nodded, "In that case, I shall speak with you later. Also, and this is just a suggestion, you might want to do something about that smell. I don't know if it's you or that… stuff in your cauldron, but it absolutely reeks. Now then, I bid you a good day, Mr. Evans."
Harry watched warily as Victoria Jones slid past him and walked up the stairs. When she vanished from sight, he continued on his way, reaching the bottom and entering a small lobby. He lumbered past the small sitting area, where several chairs and a table with magazines on top sat.
The night greeted him upon vacating the apartment complex. He couldn't see many stars, but blamed that on the lights of London. It was always hard to see the night sky when you lived in the busier parts of a large city. Lamps and signs blazed all around him, their lights shining obnoxiously in his eyes, causing them intense irritation. His ability to see in the same spectrum as a Jaguar didn't help his poor eyes one bit. Cars drove down the street, engines rumbling. He ignored all of that as he walked ponderously toward the small alley on the side of his complex.
He welcomed the darkness of the alley. Few lights reached the small space that was barely wide enough to fit a car through. He could see much better in the dark than he could with all those lights and signs, and his eyes scanned the mostly empty space in search of a place to dump his ruined potion. A few pieces of trash lay strewn across the black top. A stray breeze caught a crumpled newspaper, lifting it in the air and blowing it out of the alley.
His eyes soon locked onto what he'd been looking for: a drain covered by a metal grating. He walked over to it and didn't hesitate to tilt the cauldon. The tar-like sludge oozed out of the cauldron slowly, viscous and putrid, bubbling as it released noxious fumes of dark purple and black. He grimaced as it splattered against the drain and stuck there, as if its glutinous consistency had become too thick to pass through such small spaces. It was fortunate that his magic, while incapable of vanishing the substance, could still affect it. He forced the liquid through the grating, pushing it down, until all that remained was a dark stain from which black vapor wafted off the metal like plumes of smoke from a fire.
"I don't think I'll be able to use this cauldron anymore," he muttered to himself as he looked into the cauldron. The entire thing had become a cesspool of black tar that continued clinging to the interior surface. Dark miasma rose from it, hissing and spitting, as if the last vestiges of the diary's vile presence had become infused with the cauldron. "I'll have to get rid of this somehow…"
A noise reached his ears, causing them to twitch. Footsteps, but not those of a human. He listened to the pitter patter of feet. Four of them. A cat? No. It sounded too heavy to be a cat? A dog, then.
His eyes panned the alley, searching. With his ability to see even in darkness, spotting the creature who'd made the noise wasn't difficult. It was a large dog. He judged it to be maybe four or five feet in length. He could see its ribcage poking out, a sign of malnutrition. It's black fur stood on end, unkempt and unclean, bristling like needles. A snarling muzzle filled with rows of sharp teeth were bared at him, and bright yellow eyes stared with the unusual gleam of human intelligence.
Despite how filthy and thin it had become, he recognized the animal easily.
"Padfoot."
The single word caused the dog to halt. It tilted its head, and Harry saw its eyes widen in a very un-dog-like way. Then it bolted out of the alley and down the street.
Harry gave chase. He didn't know what this man was doing here, but he had every intention of finding out.
So here is chapter two. We see a bit more of Blaize's mom, finally learn about what happened to Daphne, and I've granted some insight into Dumbledore's character. And, of course, we also see some Harry at the end. I know that Harry hasn't been featured very prominently yet, but that's mostly because I need to build up the other members of Harry's group. They become pretty important later on, and will eventually have their own moments to shine, so they need some development. That being said, the next chapter should have more Harry Potter.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you think. Good? Bad? Is there anything in here that you would like to see? Be sure to let me know.
Later. ^_^