CHAPTER 3: "PIONEER PROTECTORS"
Arthur's agitation manifested in the furious scratching of his quill against the parchment. The inked words conveyed a mix of desperation and resentment as he sought solace in the only allies he could trust.
"I've just gotten attacked by a couple of Dementors, and I might end up being expelled from Hogwarts. Tell me what's going on and when I'll be out of here."
With each stroke of the quill, Arthur's frustration bled into the ink, his emotions pouring onto the pages. The dim light in his room cast a somber ambiance, reflecting the turmoil within him.
The first parchment was addressed to Sirius, a plea for guidance and reassurance. The second was destined for David, a friend he hoped would shed light on the unfolding events. The third, addressed to Chrys, carried the weight of unspoken concerns, and the fourth, for Mike, sought understanding and support.
His owl, Athena, was out hunting, her cage standing empty on the desk. The room felt emptier without her reassuring presence, amplifying the isolation that clung to Arthur's troubled thoughts.
Sitting on his bed, Arthur's head throbbed with the aftermath of the Dementor attack. Sleep eluded him, his tired eyes stinging and itching. Lying down only provided momentary relief for his aching back, strained from carrying Deacon home.
Consumed by anger and frustration, Arthur found himself unable to relax. His teeth ground together, and his fists clenched involuntarily. Snarls escaped him intermittently, the physical manifestation of the turmoil within.
The shadows in his room danced with the flickering candlelight, mirroring the unrest in Arthur's mind. The night pressed on, carrying with it the weight of uncertainty and the echoing cries for help embedded in the inked messages. In the solitude of his room, Arthur grappled with the consequences of his actions and awaited the responses that would determine his fate.
The relentless chain of events weighed heavily on Arthur's mind. Dementors sent after him, Mrs Figg and Mundungus secretly tailing him, and now, suspended from Hogwarts with a looming hearing at the Ministry of Magic. The lack of information gnawed at him, trapping him at Privet Drive with a sense of helplessness.
The isolation intensified his frustration. The Dentleys, the only ones treating him with empathy, were an exception. Everyone else, including Ben, Sirius, and the others, seemed to keep him in the dark. The resentment built, exacerbated by the constant orders to stay at the house and refrain from using magic.
Unable to contain his anger, Arthur sat up abruptly and punched the wall, the pain in his fist momentarily distracting him from the tumult within. As he rubbed his knuckles, Athena swooped in through the window with a soft rustle of wings.
"About time," Arthur muttered, speaking to the owl with a gentleness reserved for her and the Dentleys. "Please put that down, I need you to do something."
Athena dropped the dead frog into her cage, her eyes conveying a curiosity that seemed to understand Arthur's urgency. He gathered the four parchments and a leather thong, tying the scrolls to her scaly leg.
"I need you to take these to Sirius, David, Chrys, and Mike. Don't come back without good, long replies, okay? Just keep pecking them until they've written decent-length answers if you have to. Understand?"
She hooted, clearly comprehending his instructions, before taking the frog back in her beak.
"Get going," Arthur nodded toward the window, and she took off immediately.
Once she was gone, Arthur threw himself back onto the bed, staring at the dark ceiling. The weight of the unknown and the anticipation of replies clawed at him. He hoped for swift responses, sympathy, and plans for his departure from Privet Drive.
Sleep finally claimed him, fueled by the exhaustion of the day's events and the hope that answers would arrive with the morning light. The uncertainty lingered, but Arthur found solace in the prospect of understanding and support from those he considered allies.
The absence of Athena the next morning didn't surprise Arthur. He withdrew into the confines of his bedroom, creating a self-imposed isolation that allowed him to avoid the prying eyes of the Dursleys. His entire day unfolded within those four walls, venturing out only for the necessities of the bathroom. Meals were consumed in solitude, the taste of food dulled by the bitterness of his circumstances. Yet, despite his seclusion, he took a moment each day to advise Aunt Patty and Uncle Nicholas on providing Deacon with chocolate to counter the lingering effects of the Dementors.
As the routine persisted for three consecutive days, Arthur's anger simmered beneath the surface, fueled by the frustration of being left to stew in the mess that had been thrust upon him. The impending hearing at the Ministry of Magic loomed like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over any hope for a fair chance.
Dread coiled within him, fueled by the fear that the Ministry might conspire against him, seeking his expulsion or, worse, a sentence to Azkaban. The uncertainty gnawed at his thoughts, intertwining with the worry of potential expulsion and the snapping of his wand. Where would he go? Would he be condemned to a life among Muggles, forever estranged from the wizarding world he called home?
On the fourth night since Athena's departure, Arthur sat on the floor against his bed when Uncle Nicholas entered, dressed in a suit that suggested an event or invitation of some sort.
"Arthur, me, your aunt, and Deacon are going out."
"Why?" Arthur questioned, lifting his head but not bothering to meet his uncle's eyes.
"It seems there's some event that we've been invited to," Uncle Nicholas explained. "Will you be alright on your own?"
"Yeah," Arthur replied, a tinge of apathy in his voice as he leaned his head back against the mattress. The solitude of the room mirrored the isolation he felt within himself, and as the door closed behind his departing relatives, Arthur sank deeper into the contemplation of his uncertain future.
"There's some leftover pasta if you want some."
"Okay."
"Well… see you later," Uncle Nicholas said before he closed the door and walked downstairs. A few minutes later, he heard the car doors outside open and close before the rumble of the engine and the sweep of the car moving out of the drive.
Arthur didn't really feel in the mood to go and have some leftover pasta, not even having the energy to turn on his bedroom light.
The room grew darker around him as he listened to all of the sounds in the night through his open window, still waiting for Athena to return.
The now empty house was creaking all around him. Arthur still sat there, thinking of nothing and full of bitterness.
But then he jumped when he heard a crash in the kitchen below him.
He instantly looked at the bedroom door and quietly crawled over to lock it as he listened closely.
The Dentleys weren't back yet; Arthur would've heard their car outside.
There were a few seconds of silence until he heard voices.
His first instinct was burglars.
Arthur went and grabbed his wand from the bedside table and pointed it at the bedroom door.
A few seconds passed until the lock gave a loud click, and then the door swung open.
Arthur was on the ground motionless, staring through the open doorway at the dark upstairs landing, straining his ears to try and hear other sounds, yet none came.
He quietly got to his feet and moved silently out of his room to the head of the stairs to figure out what was going on.
His heart shot up to his throat when he saw people standing in the shadowy hall below, silhouetted against the streetlight glowing through the glass door. There were eight or nine of them, and they all looked up at him.
"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," a low, growling voice said.
Arthur recognized that voice, but he didn't lower the wand.
"For all I knew, you could've been burglars, Moody," Arthur retorted, staying where he was.
For all he knew, this could be another case of someone else pretending to be Moody, like what happened throughout his fourth year at Hogwarts.
"It's alright, Arthur. We've come to take you away," a second, slightly hoarse voice said, one that Arthur recognized and made his heart leap, having not heard it for over a year.
"Lupin? Is that you?"
"Why are we all standing in the dark?" A third voice said. Arthur didn't know it and it sounded feminine. "Lumos."
A wand tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. Arthur blinked at the sudden brightness and saw the people below, crowded around the foot of the stairs, all gazing up at him intently, some even craning their heads for a better look.
Remus Lupin stood nearest to him. Despite being young, he looked tired and rather ill, now having more grey hairs compared to when Arthur last saw him when they said goodbye. His robes were also more patched and shabbier than ever. But regardless, he smiled broadly at Arthur, who smiled back, despite feeling shocked.
"Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would," the witch holding her lit wand aloft exclaimed. She was undoubtedly the youngest of the group, with a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair in a vibrant shade of violet. "Wotcher, Arthur?"
"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus…" A bald black wizard standing further back remarked. He had a deep, slow voice, wore a single gold hoop in his ear, and donned exotic-looking purple robes and a cap on his head. "...he looks exactly like John."
"Except the eyes," a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired wizard said from the back. "Rose's eyes."
Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody, with grizzled grey hair and lacking a large chunk of his nose, squinted suspiciously at Arthur through his mismatched eyes. One was small, dark, and beady, while the other was large, round, and electric blue – a magical eye that could see through walls, doors, the back of Moody's head, and even Arthur's Invisibility Cloak.
"Are you quite sure it's him, Lupin?" he growled. "It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Pendergast would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"
"Arthur, what form does your Patronus take?" Lupin asked
"A lion," Arthur replied instantly.
"That's him, Mad Eye," Lupin affirmed.
Conscious of everyone's eyes on him, Arthur descended the stairs, his wand still held tightly in his hand. Lupin extended his hand, and they shook hands.
"How are you?" Lupin asked, scrutinizing him closely.
"Bitter, angry, and scared," Arthur admitted, being honest. He'd be lying if he said he was fine.
After four weeks of complete uncertainty, during which not even the faintest indication of a plan to extract Arthur from Privet Drive surfaced, a sudden assembly of wizards appeared in the Dursleys' living room. The scene unfolded as though it were a prearranged gathering, leaving Arthur baffled and surrounded by a group of magical individuals who seemed to regard him with keen interest.
"How'd you even manage to get here, especially knowing the Dentleys were away?" Arthur inquired, eyeing the peculiar assembly.
"It was me who diverted them," declared the violet-haired woman. "I sent a letter via Muggle post, informing them they'd been shortlisted for the All England Best Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They're convinced they're headed to the prize ceremony right now—or at least they think they are.
Arthur couldn't help muttering under his breath, "That's a bit cruel."
"So, are we leaving soon?" he asked, glancing around at the gathered wizards.
"Almost immediately. We're just waiting for the all-clear signal," Lupin replied.
"And where, precisely, are we headed?" Arthur questioned with a hint of suspicion.
"Our Headquarters, a place undetectable. It's taken some time," Lupin explained, motioning for Arthur to join him in the kitchen. The group of wizards followed closely, their eyes still fixed curiously on Arthur.
Moody had taken a seat at the dining table, taking occasional swigs from a hip flask while his magical eye spun in all directions, inspecting the various Muggle appliances.
"Meet Alastor Moody, Arthur," Lupin introduced.
"Yes, I'm familiar with who he is," Arthur replied, feeling somewhat out of place now that he was face-to-face with the real Alastor Moody.
Lupin continued the introductions, pointing towards the young witch, "And this is Nymphadora—"
"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," she interrupted with a shudder, expressing her clear aversion to the name. "It's Tonks."
"Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be addressed solely by her surname," Lupin concluded.
As they waited for the signal to depart, the tension in the air was palpable, and Arthur couldn't shake off the feeling that he was on the cusp of a journey that held more mystery and danger than he could have ever anticipated.
"So would you if your fool of a mother had called you Nymphadora," Tonks muttered, her discontent with her given name evident in her tone.
Lupin continued with the introductions, gesturing towards a black wizard who bowed gracefully, "And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt." Elphias Doge, the wheezy-voiced wizard, nodded in acknowledgment, and Dedalus Diggle, an excitable wizard, squeaked in recognition, dropping his violet-colored top hat in the process.
"Emmeline Vance," Lupin pointed to a stately-looking witch in an emerald green shawl, and Sturgis Podmore, a square-jawed wizard with thick straw-colored hair, winked in response. Finally, Hestia Jones, a pink-cheeked black-haired witch, waved from her position next to the toaster.
Arthur nodded politely at each introduction, wishing they would divert their attention away from him for just a moment.
"A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you," Lupin remarked, his mouth twitching slightly, as if he could sense Arthur's discomfort.
"Yeah, well, the more, the better," Moody added darkly. "We're your guard, Pendergast."
"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," Lupin explained, glancing out of the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes."
Tonks, seemingly unfazed by the impending mission, inspected the kitchen with great interest. "Very clean, aren't they, these Muggles? My dad's Muggle-born, and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just as it does with wizards?"
"I guess so," Arthur muttered, aware that he needed to withhold information until they were in a secure and protected location. Moody's notorious paranoia needed to be navigated carefully.
"Damn it," Moody suddenly exclaimed angrily, putting a hand up to where his magical eye was. "It keeps getting stuck, ever since that scum wore it."
Arthur furrowed his brow, curious about the reference to someone who had worn Moody's magical eye and caused such frustration. The air in the kitchen crackled with anticipation as the minutes ticked away, and Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that the journey ahead would bring unforeseen challenges and revelations.
Then there came a nasty squelching sound, akin to a plunger being pulled from a sink, signifying that Mad-Eye had indeed removed his magical eye.
"Mad-Eye, you do know that's disgusting, don't you?" Tonks quipped, wrinkling her nose in mock disapproval.
"Get me a glass of water, would you, Arthur," Moody requested, brushing off Tonks' comment. Arthur obliged, making his way to the dishwasher, pulling out a clean glass, and filling it with water from the sink. The other wizards watched him eagerly, their constant scrutiny starting to wear on Arthur's nerves.
"Can you lot stop staring at me? I am getting sick and tired of it," he snarled as he handed the filled glass to Moody.
"Cheers," Moody grunted, dropping the magical eyeball into the water and prodding it up and down. The eye whizzed around, scrutinizing everyone in the room. "I want three hundred and sixty degrees of visibility on the return journey."
"And how exactly are we getting to Headquarters?" Arthur inquired, attempting to divert attention away from himself.
"Brooms," Lupin answered. "It's the only way. You're too young to Apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network, and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorized Portkey."
"Remus says you're a good flyer," Kingsley interjected with his deep voice.
"He's excellent," Lupin added, checking his watch. "Anyway, you'd better go and get packed, Arthur. We want to be ready to go when the signal comes."
"I'll come and help you," Tonks offered brightly.
Tonks followed Arthur all the way up to his bedroom, her eyes scanning the surroundings with curiosity and interest.
"Funny place," she remarked. "It's a bit too clean, d'you know what I mean? Bit unnatural. Oh, this is better," she added when they entered his bedroom, and he turned the light on.
As Arthur gathered his belongings, he couldn't shake the feeling that this unexpected intrusion into his mundane life marked the beginning of something much larger and more complex than he could fathom. Tonks, ever the lively presence, chatted about various topics, attempting to lighten the mood as they prepared for the imminent departure.
His room was noticeably messier than the rest of the house, displaying the aftermath of four days of self-imposed confinement fueled by anger. The usually orderly space bore witness to Arthur's neglect, with a chaotic pile of books, Athena's cage emitting an unpleasant odor, and his trunk left wide open, spilling a mix of Muggle clothes and school uniforms onto the floor.
Grabbing his books, Arthur tossed them hastily into his trunk. He noticed Tonks pausing at his open window, critically examining her reflection in the mirror on the inside of the door.
"You know, I don't think violet's really my color," she said pensively, tugging a lock of her spiky hair. "D'you think it makes me look a bit peaky?"
"Uh…" Arthur mumbled, torn between focusing on his favorite Quidditch team's book and the impromptu fashion consultation.
"Yeah, it does," Tonks declared decisively. She then screwed up her eyes, as if straining to remember something, and her hair turned bubblegum pink.
"Whoa!" Arthur gasped, wide-eyed. "How'd you do that?"
"I'm a Metamorphmagus," she replied, looking back at her reflection, turning her head to see her hair from all directions. "It means I can change my appearance at will." Spotting the curious look on Arthur's face in the mirror behind her, she added, "I was born one. I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise during Auror training without any study at all, it was great."
"So you're an Auror?" Arthur asked, genuinely impressed. The notion of being a Dark wizard catcher had always fascinated him, fueled by stories from David's father, who was also an Auror
"Yeah," Tonks said proudly. "Kingsley is as well, he's a bit higher up than me, though. I only qualified a year ago. Nearly failed on Stealth and Tracking. I'm dead clumsy, did you hear me break that plate when we arrived downstairs?"
"Is being a Metamorphmagus something you have to be born as?" Arthur inquired, his jealousy thinly veiled.
Tonks looked at him sympathetically. "Bet you wouldn't mind hiding that scar sometimes, eh?"
Arthur nodded, looking away and returning to packing up his trunk.
"Metamorphmagi are really rare, they're born, not made. Most wizards need to use a wand or potions to change their appearance. But we've got to get going, Arthur," she said guiltily.
"And the closest I get to that is being an Animagus," Arthur replied.
"Is that so?" Tonks said, clearly impressed, and Arthur nodded.
"It'll be much quicker if I pack!" she declared, waving her wand in a long, sweeping movement over the floor.
Books, clothes, telescope, and scales soared through the air and flew into the trunk. "It's not very neat," Tonks said, walking to the trunk and looking down at the jumble inside. "My mum's got this knack of getting stuff to fit itself in neatly; she even gets the socks to fold themselves, but I've never mastered how she does it. It's kind of fleck -" She then flicked her wand hopefully.
One of Arthur's socks gave a feeble wiggle before flopping back on top of the mess in the trunk.
"Ah, well," Tonks said, slamming the trunk's lid shut. "At least it's all in. That could do with a bit of cleaning, too." She pointed her wand at Athena's cage. "Scourgify." A few feathers and droppings vanished. "Well, that's a bit better. I've never quite got the hang of these householdy sort of spells. Right, got everything? Cauldron? Broom? Wow! A Firebolt?" Tonks exclaimed, her eyes widening with excitement as she spotted the impressive broomstick amidst Arthur's belongings.
Her eyes widened upon catching sight of Arthur's broomstick in his right hand. It was his pride and joy, a gift from Sirius and an international standard broomstick that had served him well.
"I'm still riding a Comet Two Sixty," Tonks remarked, sounding a tad envious. "Ah well, let's go. Locomotor trunk."
Arthur's trunk rose a few inches in the air. Holding her wand like a conductor's baton, Tonks directed the trunk to hover across the room and out of the door ahead of them, Athena's cage in her left hand. Arthur followed after her, carefully carrying his cherished broomstick.
Back in the kitchen, Moody had successfully replaced his eye, and it now spun at an even more dizzying pace after its cleaning, making Arthur feel a bit queasy to look at it. Kingsley and Sturgis examined the microwave with intrigue, while Hestia laughed at a potato peeler she discovered while rummaging through the drawers. Lupin, on the other hand, was sealing a letter addressed to the Dentleys.
"Excellent," Lupin exclaimed upon seeing Arthur and Tonks. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Arthur, I've left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry, that you're safe and you'll see them next summer."
"Come here, boy," Moody gruffed, beckoning Arthur towards him with his wand. "I need to Disillusion you."
"What?" Arthur questioned, a hint of confusion in his voice.
"Disillusionment Charm," Moody explained, raising his wand. "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying. This'll disguise you better. Here you go -"
He rapped Arthur hard on top of his head, and Arthur felt as if an egg had been cracked on his skull, with cold trickles running down his body from where the wand had struck.
"Nice one, Mad Eye," Tonks said appreciatively, staring at Arthur's midriff, where the Disillusionment Charm had taken effect.
Moody grunted in acknowledgment, satisfied with his handiwork. Arthur felt an odd sensation, as if he had become somewhat translucent. The wizards gathered in the kitchen looked at him as if he were a ghost, which was both disconcerting and intriguing. The minute Lupin mentioned seemed to tick away faster than Arthur would have liked, and he couldn't shake the feeling that this journey, disguised and all, was about to plunge him into a world beyond anything he had ever imagined.
Arthur looked down and observed that while his body wasn't invisible, it perfectly mimicked the color and texture of the kitchen unit behind him. He had become a human chameleon, seamlessly blending into his surroundings.
"Come on," Moody barked, unlocking the sliding glass door with his wand.
Everyone stepped outside onto the beautifully kept lawn, a testament to Aunt Patty's meticulous care.
"Clear night," Moody grunted, his magical eye scanning the heavens. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you…" He directed his gruff command at Arthur. "...we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you; keep close on her tail. Lupin'll be covering you from below. I'm going to be behind you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed, the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Arthur, the rear guard is standing by to take over; keep flying east, and they'll join you."
"Stop being so cheerful, Mad Eye; he'll think we're not taking this seriously," Tonks quipped as she strapped Arthur's trunk and Athena's cage into a harness hanging from her broom.
"I'm just telling the boy the plan," Moody growled. "Our job's to deliver him safely to Headquarters, and if we die in the attempt -"
"No one's going to die," Kingsley reassured with his deep, calming voice, immediately instilling a sense of trust in Arthur.
"Mount your brooms; that's the first signal!" Lupin commanded sharply, pointing into the sky.
Far above them, a shower of bright red sparks flared among the stars, unmistakable as wand sparks. Arthur swung his right leg over his Firebolt, gripping the handle tightly. He felt it vibrate slightly, as if eager, much like himself, to soar through the air once more.
"Second signal, let's go!" Lupin announced loudly as green sparks exploded high above them.
The wizards, each on their broomstick, kicked off from the ground, rising into the night sky with a synchronicity that spoke of practiced coordination. Arthur, still under the Disillusionment Charm, marveled at the spectacle unfolding around him. The stars above seemed to be their audience as they embarked on this clandestine journey, and Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that the events set in motion would shape his destiny in ways he hadn't yet fathomed.
Arthur kicked hard off the ground, and the cool night air rushed through his hair as the neatly manicured garden of Privet Drive fell away, rapidly shrinking into a patchwork of dark greens and blacks. Every thought of the Ministry hearing was now swept from his mind, much like the wind over his face. Arthur's heart threatened to explode with pleasure as he experienced the exhilaration of flying once again.
For those precious moments, his problems became inconsequential, insignificant against the vast, starry sky. The world below, with all its complexities and conflicts, seemed distant and immaterial.
"Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!" Moody's voice rang out from behind. Tonks swerved sharply, and Arthur followed suit, watching his trunk swing wildly underneath her broom. "We need more height… give it another quarter of a mile!"
Arthur's eyes watered in the chill as they all soared upwards. Below, all he could see were tiny pinpricks of light—either car lights or street lamps. The only sounds that filled his ears were the flapping of robes, the creaking of the harness holding his trunk and Athena's cage, and the whoosh of the wind as they sped through the air.
For the first time in weeks, Arthur felt truly alive and happy. The sheer joy of flying eclipsed any concerns that had burdened him recently.
"Bearing south!" Moody shouted. "Town ahead!"
They veered to the right to avoid passing directly over the glittering mass of lights below.
"Bear southeast and keep climbing; there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!" Moody called.
"We're not going through clouds!" Tonks objected angrily. "We'll get soaked, Mad Eye!"
Arthur sided with her as his hands were growing numb on the Firebolt's handle. He cursed himself for not putting on a coat, and now he shivered in the biting cold.
The group adjusted their course as Moody instructed. Arthur's eyes were squeezed shut against the icy wind, which made his ears ache. He hadn't felt this cold since a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff in his third year, which had taken place during a storm.
The guard circled like large birds of prey around him. Arthur lost track of time, wondering how long they'd been flying. It had to have been at least an hour.
"Turning southwest!" Moody yelled. "We want to avoid the motorway!"
Chilled to the bone, Arthur yearned for the warmth of a car or even the snug comfort of traveling by Floo powder, despite it being his least favorite mode of transportation.
Kingsley swooped around him, his earring gleaming slightly in the moonlight. Now Emmeline was on his right, her wand out, her head turning left and right before swooping over him and being replaced by Sturgis.
"We ought to double back for a bit, just to make sure we're not being followed!" Moody suggested, much to Arthur's dismay.
"ARE YOU MAD, MAD EYE?" Tonks screamed from the front. "We're all frozen to our brooms! If we keep going off course, we're not going to get there until next week! Besides, we're nearly there now!"
"Time to start the descent!" Lupin's voice called out. "Follow Tonks, Arthur!"
Arthur followed after her into a dive. They were heading for the largest collection of lights he had seen yet—a sprawling, crisscrossing mass glittering in lines and grids, interspersed with patches of the deepest black. They flew lower and lower until Arthur could discern individual headlights, street lamps, chimneys, and television aerials. Solid ground had never seemed more inviting.
"Here we go!" Tonks called, landing gracefully a few seconds later.
Arthur touched down right behind her, the cold night air stinging his face, and dismounted on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square. Tonks had already unbuckled Arthur's trunk.
Shivering in the cold, Arthur looked around and observed the grimy fronts of the surrounding Georgian square houses. They were far from welcoming, with broken windows and paint peeling from many of the doors. He noticed heaps of rubbish lying outside several sets of front steps, giving the square a neglected and desolate appearance.
"Where the hell are we?" Arthur asked, his breath forming visible puffs in the chilly air.
"In a minute," Lupin replied quietly.
Moody, his gnarled hands now clumsy from the cold, was rummaging in his cloak. After a moment, he muttered, "Got it," and raised what Arthur thought looked like a silver cigarette lighter into the air. With a click, the nearest street lamp went out audibly. He repeated the process until every lamp in the square was extinguished, leaving only the light from curtained windows and the sickle moon overhead.
"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," Moody growled, pocketing the Put-Outer. "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out of the window, see? Now come on, quick."
Moody took Arthur by his arm, leading him from the patch of grass, across the road, and onto the pavement. Lupin and Tonks followed them, carrying Arthur's trunk between them. The rest of the guard, wands out, flanked them, moving with purpose and vigilance.
The muffled pounding of a stereo emanated from an upper window of the nearest house. There was also a pungent smell of rotting rubbish from the pile of bulging bin bags just inside the broken gate.
"Here," Moody muttered, thrusting a piece of parchment into Arthur's Disillusioned hand, holding his lit wand close to it to illuminate the writing. "Read quickly and memorize."
Arthur looked down at the parchment and saw Dumbledore's narrow handwriting, stating:
"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."
A sense of anticipation and apprehension mingled within Arthur as he absorbed the information. The next leg of his journey, the destination of the Order of the Phoenix, awaited him, concealed within the shadows of Grimmauld Place.
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