Chapter 5
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office in Hogwarts. He was surrounded by paintings of former headmasters, shelves upon shelves of books, and all sorts of magical gadgets on his desk. The wizened old man had collected many of these gadgets on his travels: for example, one let out a plume of yellow smoke when the price of palm oil in Namibia went too high. Another showed the amount of Dodos in South America, and thus was always at 0.
The one that Albus was looking at now, however, served a more useful purpose. It was his monitor of the wards at the Dursleys, which was showing an odd figure: it said that Harry had not been at the Dursleys' house for almost a week!
This could, of course be explained by the Dursleys taking a holiday: Albus decided to contact Arabella Fig, the squib he had asked to move next door.
"Good Morning, Arabella."
"Headmaster! You can come through the Floo if you like."
"I believe I will take you up on that offer, my dear."
The fireplace at Number 6, Privet Drive flashed green, and the formidable warlock stepped out.
"Sit down, Headmaster. Would you like a cup of tea?"
"I would be delighted. Three sugars and a dash of milk, please."
Arabella came back with the tea.
"As nice as it is to see you, Albus, surely you're not just here for tea."
"Alas, no. I came to ask you something about your neighbours. Where are they visiting on their holiday?"
"Holiday? ...They aren't on holiday, Albus."
Somewhere in the next town over, a glass broke spontaneously.
"Thank you, Arabella. I fear I may need to have a discussion with said individuals."
"Well, you know where they live. Of course, my Floo is always open for your return to Hogwarts."
"I shall be off then. The tea was most excellent."
"Pet, get the door!" Vernon Dursley yelled from his seat in front of the television. His wife, Petunia, smoothed down her dress down and went to the door, pulling it open.
"You!" cried Petunia.
At the door, Albus sported a three piece suit in shocking purple, his long beard and hair in buns.
"Now, Petunia, I rather think that your neighbours would have something to say about my prescence on your doorstep should you make the decision not to let me in."
Petunia sported an ill expression as she wordlessly hurried him in, slamming the door behind her.
"Who is it, Pet?" Vernon shouted from the living room, only to nearly fall out of his chair as he saw the visitor.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"It would behove you to speak to me with more respect, Dursley." The air suddenly seemed much colder, Dumbledore's eyes like icy chips in his gnarled face, his mouth twisted into a deep snarl.
"Get out of my house!"
"Where. Is. Harry. Potter."
"That useless brat ran away, didn't he!"
"I have made a grave mistake." Dumbledore turned on his heel to stare at Dursley, his eyes piercing Dursley's mind.
"But you, Dursley, have made a greater one. Get out of my sight before I do something I will regret."
Vernon, suddenly terrified for his life, ran whimpering into the bathroom and locked the door. Dumbledore ascended the stairs in great strides, and saw 5 rooms at the top of them.
A bathroom, the Master bedroom, an obviously uninhabited guest room. The other two, he hoped, would be Dudley's and Harry's. He looked in one, but surely Harry did not live in such squalor; toys everywhere, money scattered over the floor; No. This was Dudley's room.
The other one, to Albus's fury, did not even contain a bed, but was simply an extension of the other room. Which left the question: Where was Harry's room?
Downstairs, Albus looked in every room for a downstairs bedroom, but didn't find one.
A horrible thought entered his mind. Outside, Petunia's carefully maintained garden wilted and died.
Surely they wouldn't... Not a cupboard!
With a heavy heart, Albus opened the door to the cupboard under the stairs. His worst thoughts were confirmed. A tiny matress, thin blanket and broken desk. There was no way he would allow Harry to go back to this house when he was found.
Albus forced down his fury: he would deal with the Dursleys later. What mattered right now was finding Harry.
The Hog's Head was a cesspool of all of the worst sort in the Wizarding World: People who would do almost anything for cold, hard, Galleons. Sitting at a booth in the corner at 5am were two men.
"Oi, Titus, guess wot I just 'eard?"
"Wot did ya 'ear, Dung?"
"I 'eard that 'Arry Pottah is missin'!"
"Where in tha blimmin' 'eck didja hear that?"
"I over'eard Daedlus Diggle talkin' ta Kingsley Shacklebolt abou' it last nigh'!"
"Blimey! Imagine the dosh ya could get fur Harry bleedin' Potter!
"Dat's true, innit? Better keep yer eyes peeled for 'im mate."
Abe Dumbledore threw a menu at them.
"Buy something or leave!"
The same morning, about two hours later, Harry Potter woke up to a tapping on his window.
"Huhh?" Harry asked intelligently.
As his eyes came into focus, he began to see an owl at his window.
"Ughhh, hold on."
He opened the window and took the letter. The owl looked pointedly at him until he gave it an owl treat, causing Hedwig to hoot indignantly. The letter was just adressed "Harry Potter" in blocky handwriting.
Dear Harry.
Harry scanned to the bottom to see the name, Neville Longbottom, then resumed reading.
Something important has come up. Meet me today in the Leaky at 9:00.
Sincerely, Neville Longbottom.
Harry thought back to when he first met Neville, and didn't remember him being so assertive. Maybe the wand made all the difference? Ollivander did say "The wand chooses the wizard."
He penned a quick response back.
Dear Neville,
I will meet you there.
Sincerely, Harry Potter.
The owl took the letter, and one last contemptuous glare from Hedwig, into the air and away.
The clock read 8:59 when the Leaky's Floo flared green and expunged one Neville Longbottom, whereupon he made his way to where Harry was sitting at the bar, flipping a coin.
"I'll have whatever he's having." Neville said at Tom's inquiring look.
"Of course." Tom slid him a Butterbeer, which Neville downed before turning to Harry.
"Harry! Good to see you!"
"Good to see you too, Neville. You look taller?"
"Yeah, I had a growth spurt. I can't thank you enough for helping me get a wand that actually works, by the way."
"It was nothing between friends. Was that what brought on this change in attitude?"
"It was. When I stood up to Gran on something, I think she started respecting me a bit more. But anyway, I have something I need to tell you."
"That's great, Neville. What do you need to tell me?"
"Walk with me. I need to get some Peruvian Ivy seeds. I needed to tell you that I overheard one of Gran's Floo conversations. It was about you."
The duo walked out of the Leaky and into greater Diagon Alley, heading for the apothecary. Harry slipped the coin into his pocket, where it laid next to his wand.
"Me?"
"Yes. They say you ran away from your relatives' house, and are mounting a search for you."
"Huh. I guess that makes sense. To be honest, I haven't really thought about those... people since I got here."
"They were that awful, huh?"
"Yeah. Do you know who will be looking for me? Harry slipped his hands into his pockets.
"Oh, any number of people. That wouldn't be a big deal if it didn't mean that other... less well-meaning types will be looking for you. So be careful."
Neville turned his head to the right, expecting to see Harry. A flicker of movement came from a man in a dark leather jacket. He was tall and sinewy, with angular features and piercing grey eyes. His hair was dark and unkempt, falling in clumps around his face. His skin was covered in scars and tatoos.
Harry was floating, frozen behind him, a look of surprise stuck on his face.
Out of a holster on the imposing man's waist came a knife, with the engraving "Titus" etched into it's handle.
"If you move, he dies." the scarred man growled, pulling the knife to Harry's neck.
Neville froze.
And then the man's head exploded.
In the middle of his conversation with Neville, Harry suddenly lost all control of his limbs. He tried to move, to run, anything, but it was no good.
"Harry Potter. Not so great now, are we?" the man muttered.
Harry strained against the spell, but was unable to move any of his muscles. With a start, he realised his hand was still on his wand!
As Neville turned around, Titus' pupils shrank to the size of the point of a needle. The specterish man pulled a knife from a holster and pressed it to Harry's neck, growling.
"If you move, he dies."
Neville froze.
"Boumarico!" Harry enunciated desperately in his head.
The coin, which was still in his pocket, shot out of said pocket and straight into Titus' head so fast that by the time Harry registered it, his brains were splattering on the ground.
"Good fucking Merlin." Neville whispered.
The man's levitation and freezing cancelled a second after he died.
With a thunk, Harry hit the ground.
