Penumbra I: Falls the Shadow

by Skaldic Oresteia

Post-HBP. As Harry disappears on the Horcrux hunt, Ginny is left behind to find her own path in the war against Voldemort. On separate paths, Harry finds an unexpected ally, while Ginny faces repercussions for helping him leave. Meanwhile, the Wizarding World faces an increasingly bleak future as Voldemort unleashes a darker and deadlier power than anyone could have ever imagined.

2. 1: The Unprepared With Preparation

Author's note:

Chapter One picks right up where "Half-Blood Prince" left off. I know I keep emphasising this, but in previous drafts, readers kept asking about it in reviews. The original outline of "Penumbra", and the earliest drafts, were actually written about fifteen years ago, before "Deathly Hallows" was even published; so please remember that "Penumbra" completely disregards Harry Potter canon after the end of "Half-Blood Prince".

Chapter Two will be posted either at the end of April or in early May.

---

Chapter One
The Unprepared with Preparation

"Those who face the unprepared with preparation are victorious."
—Sun Tzu, "The Art of War"

---

16 June 1997

It was late spring. On a normal day in the weeks preceding summer solstice, Privet Drive was an explosion of colour, mostly from the residents' flowerbeds, a source of great pride to the neighbourhood that allowed Mrs. This-Door and Mrs. Next-Door and Mrs. Across-The-Street to complement and resent each other's gardens to their hearts' content. The heat of oncoming summer would lead mothers to take their families out of doors, to play in their back gardens or in the parks, if only to exhaust the energies of their youngest, most exuberant children. That would have been a normal day in Little Whinging. But this was not a normal day in Little Whinging. It was not even a normal year. June did not bring its usual late-spring and early-summer heat. It was cloudy, the horizon darkened from an approaching storm, and while this wasn't unusual in of itself, the dulled colours from stunted flowers were. The unusually cold, misty weather made it impossible for the flora to flourish, such as it had been for weeks. The cold of winter could not permanently keep the effects of the Earth's procession at bay, but in this year its recession was both stubborn and sluggish.

It was on only another such day that a taxi stopped in front of Number Four, Privet Drive, and Harry James Potter stepped out, and looked at the house forlornly. The driver also got out and opened up the boot of the car. Together they hoisted out a heavy trunk, and lugged it to the porch, Harry holding his owl Hedwig's cage in his free hand. That done, he placed the cage on top of the trunk and wiped cold sweat from his brow, and looked back at the driver.

"Thanks, Kingsley," he said, his breath visible in the chilled weather.

Kingsley nodded. "Don't mention it. Hestia will bring Ron and Hermione shortly. Assuming they can get Molly to relent." He shook his head with a small smile. "But until then, don't leave this street. Just in case."

He looked up and down the street as he spoke, causing Harry to apprehensively do the same. Hedwig hooted dolefully.

Once Kingsley had returned to the taxi, Harry turned back to face the door. The "Welcome" mat belied the Dursleys' hospitality, but after a moment's hesitation, he knocked, stepped back, and waited. Presently the door opened, and he and his aunt looked at each other, the latter in bewildered annoyance, the former in resignation.

"Get inside!" Petunia Dursley hissed, stepping back to allow Harry entry. He took up Hedwig's cage in one hand and dragged his trunk behind him, pausing only to nod at Kingsley, who nodded back and drove away. As soon as she closed the door, Petunia rounded on her nephew.

"You are not supposed to be back yet."

Harry shrugged. "Term ended early."

A surprised look flitted across her face, but it was quickly replaced with anger. "Why weren't we informed?"

Harry didn't respond immediately. A shadow seemed to pass over his face, but it was gone almost immediately. In a curt voice, he said, "There was an incident. The school governors were forced to cut the term short. So here I am."

Her anger didn't ebb. "Your lot can't get your act together, can you?"

"If ending the school year without a teacher committing murder on school grounds is keeping it together, then no, I suppose we can't keep our act together," snapped Harry.

Taken aback, Petunia said nothing.

"I'll get my stuff upstairs," Harry told her coldly, and, leaving Hedwig's cage on the doormat, he proceeded to shove his trunk up the stairs. Petunia watched him work, remaining in startled silence. When he reached the top of the stairs, Harry looked back down, and in a calmer voice, he added, "I need to talk to you once I've finished."

Petunia nodded stiffly and disappeared into the kitchen. Harry returned to the foot of the stairs and carried Hedwig's cage back up, and again, cage in one hand and the handle of his trunk in the other, made his way to his bedroom. He had known that his aunt wouldn't react well to his coming home early without prior notice, but he still felt it best to warn her of his friends' impending arrival beforehand. As for what Kingsley had told him on the way to Little Whinging, Harry supposed he'd have to break it to his aunt and uncle slowly. Ron and Hermione coming to stay with him at Privet Drive, and the Order's new precautions following his seventeenth birthday, might be too much for Petunia to handle all at once, and almost certainly would send Vernon into a towering rage.

After a few minutes, Harry finally made it to his room, and allowed the end of his trunk to fall to the floor with a loud thud. He then put Hedwig's cage on his desk. She looked at him expectantly, and Harry opened the trunk, fishing around for a box of owl treats. Finding it, he offered one to Hedwig, who accepted it happily. He then looked around his room, at the old, slightly rickety desk, the wardrobe, and the alarm clock he himself had repaired almost six years earlier, taking a moment to reflect that the next two or three weeks would be the last he would ever spend there. It shouldn't feel of much loss to him. He was first given the room when he almost eleven, right before going to Hogwarts, and since then, most of his time had been spent at school, and he never spent a full summer at the Dursleys since starting at Hogwarts; he therefore wasn't entirely sure the number of nights he'd slept in this room even added up to a year. Between the short stays at Number Four, the constant tensions with his aunt and uncle, and the fact that he usually took all his belongings with him to school each year, Harry had never bothered giving the room much personality. At this moment, it simply looked blank and uncared for, as his aunt never voluntarily entered the room herself, not even to keep it free of dust while Harry was at Hogwarts. Still, it had been the closest thing Harry had to a sanctuary at the Dursleys' since he was eleven years old, and he couldn't help but feel some nostalgia, knowing the threshold he would soon cross.

The locket, he thought, beginning the mantra that he'd kept in his head for several days now. The cup… the snake… something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's...

The clatter of dishes downstairs drew him from his reverie, and deciding that he'd better get it over with, Harry slowly made his way back down the stairs, and entered the kitchen to see his aunt emptying the dishwasher.

"May I get some lunch?" he politely asked.

Petunia said nothing. Harry took that as a "yes", and opened the refrigerator. He surveyed the inside for a moment, and then settled on some cheese and crackers. As he pulled out a cutting board and started slicing the brick of cheese, Petunia finally spoke.

"All right, what is it?"

Harry looked up from the cheese, and seeing her expression, he hesitated. He swallowed his childhood apprehension. You're almost bloody seventeen. "I'm going to have two friends staying with me for the next couple of weeks," he informed her.

She looked furious. "If you think I'm going to have two more of your ilk"—

"We'll keep out of your way," Harry interrupted curtly. "They'll be here to help me do some work. You don't have to worry about what the neighbours think. Hermione has non-magic parents and knows how to act normally. She'll help Ron do the same." When she opened her mouth in protest, he quickly added, "You don't even need to provide us meals. We'll feed ourselves."

She looked slightly cheered at that.

"They're also both of age," Harry continued, "so they can use magic outside of school."

His aunt's face hardened again.

"I'll tell them not to unless they have to," he added, "and I'm sure they'll avoid it in front of you and Uncle Vernon."

"How long do they intend to stay?" asked Petunia.

Harry finished with the cheese and pulled a plate from the cabinet. "A couple of weeks, I think. Whenever I'm allowed to go to Ron's place, so hopefully not too long. And if it brings you any consolation, we're not coming back."

"It doesn't," Petunia snapped. Then she realised what Harry had said, and raised an eyebrow. "You're moving out?"

Harry nodded as he took a seat at the table. "I'll be of age soon. I'll leave with Ron and Hermione, and I don't expect or intend to ever return."

He said this with a strange, faraway expression that Petunia did not fail to notice. She frowned at him for a moment, but her expression had turned inquisitive. But after thinking it over for a moment, her shoulder slumped a little, though her annoyance returned in full force.

"Very well," she relented. "You may allow your friends to stay here, but don't expect Vernon to take it well."

Harry shrugged. "I never did."

"When will they arrive?"

"In about an hour. I wanted to clear it with you first."

Petunia looked resigned. "Clean up after yourself. And answer the door yourself when they get here."

She left the room abruptly. "Yes, ma'am," Harry muttered to himself sarcastically.

---

At around noon, another taxi pulled into Privet Drive, but this one stopped at the street corner, rather than at Number Four, as the first had. The two arrivals were unfamiliar to any on-looking residents: a young, lanky man with flaming red hair, and a girl of the same age with bushy brown hair. Both of them only carried book bags. Hermione Granger closed the taxi door and tapped on the driver's window.

"See you then, Hestia," she said to the woman at the wheel. "Thanks for the ride."

"I'll stay until you're in the house," Hestia told them. "Best that way."

"Why?" asked Ron Weasley.

Hestia shook her head. "Never mind. Just in case."

She rolled her window up, but the taxi remained stationary. Hermione glanced at Ron nervously, but he shrugged and they started down the street. Once they were out of earshot, however, he asked, "You don't think she meant something by that?"

"I'm sure we'll know soon enough, if she did," Hermione answered. "The Order's probably watching Little Whinging. I would."

Ron didn't answer. He rubbed his forearms from cold. As they continued, a car pulled into one of the drives in front of them, and a moment later, a woman climbed out of the driver's seat as they passed. She glowered at them suspiciously, and made no sign of greeting. Down the street, they also saw a stony-faced old woman pruning a rose bush.

"You'd find more welcome in the Chamber of Secrets," Ron commented wryly.

Presently they arrived at Number Four, and Hermione apprehensively knocked on the door. After a moment, Harry opened it, and a smile broke out across his face; but before he could greet his friends, Hermione pulled him into a hard embrace.

"Hermione!" he laughed. "I only just saw you two hours ago!"

She backed off, looking sheepish, as Harry stepped aside to let her and Ron in.

"Hello, mate," Ron said, clapping Harry's shoulder. "So, I'm guessing the Muggles are going to let us stay?"

"Aunt Petunia relented," Harry responded, closing the door. "Uncle Vernon isn't home yet, though. We haven't told him."

Ron grimaced as they ascended the stairs. "That's not gonna be pretty. But I'll use a silencing spell on him if I have to."

"You'll do no such thing!" Hermione scolded.

"The underage restriction was the only thing that ever stopped me," Harry told her. He opened the door to his room and led them inside, sitting on the bed as Ron closed the door behind them. "Your mum finally let you come here, then?" he asked, thinking of the heated discussion Ron had started with Mrs. Weasley as soon as he told her he intended to go with Harry to the Dursleys.

"Eventually she gave in," Ron answered.

Hermione dropped her book bag on the chair at the desk. "After all, with those wards still up, we're just as safe here as you are."

Harry looked at her curiously. "What about your parents?"

Hermione looked away uncomfortably. "They're leaving," she said quietly. "The Order's relocating them to America. Mum and Dad will start a new practice there."

Harry was stunned at the speed with which this had taken place. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, before adding bemusedly, "The Order acts quickly."

"Actually, Dad arranged it months ago," Hermione told him. "I told him and Mum everything last Christmas, about the war, and that that they and I were likely targets. They started preparing to leave Britain immediately." She sighed. "They wanted me to go with them, of course, but they accepted it when I told them I'm needed here."

They fell silent. The sound of raindrops hitting the window met their ears.

"So, what's the plan?" asked Ron.

Hermione, relieved to be on a different subject, eagerly said, "We can't do anything until Harry's of age, obviously."

"I was thinking about it on my way here," Harry said, "and I think a good time would be after I get my Apparation license." A thought struck him, and he looked at Ron. "Do any of your family know?"

"That we're going after You-Know-Who's Horcruxes?" Ron shook his head. "They haven't got a clue. Mum would go ballistic if she suspected you've got a secret mission to try to kill him, even if it came from Dumbledore."

"What about the Order?" asked Hermione.

Harry shook his head. "I doubt they know anything either. Dumbledore didn't tell them about the Horcruxes, and if he didn't, I won't. I trust Remus and Kingsley and Mad-Eye, but I won't take the risk. There have been too many betrayals."

Neither Ron nor Hermione commented. A bitter look had crossed Harry's face, reflecting a sentiment they instantly understood and could only share.

---

In another part of the country, rain battered down on Ginny Weasley's bedroom window as she unpacked her school trunk. She shivered as she listened to the harsh sound, although this probably was owing to exposure to the surprisingly biting cold on the way home, rather than the actual temperature of the house. Magic, of course, made such things easy to control, if nothing else.

A soft mewing sound drew Ginny's attention, and she looked at the bed, where Hermione's ginger cat, Crookshanks, lay curled, watching her intently. Hermione had gone with Ron to Privet Drive, and having been warned by Harry that the Dursleys hated animals, she had asked Ginny to look after the cat while she was away. Ginny moved to her bed and scratched under the Crookshanks's chin, prompting him to purr contentedly, and then she went back to her open trunk to continue unpacking. As she moved to her dresser to put away some of her clothes, however, movement outside her window caught her eye, but the heavy flow of water hindered her ability to make out what it was. She glanced at her door and drew her wand.

"Impervius," she muttered under her breath. The window immediately cleared. The weakness in the enforcement of Underage Magic laws was one of the first things Fred and George had discovered upon leaving Hogwarts, and naturally Ginny therefore knew of it as well.

She spotted the source of the movement almost immediately, Sturgis Podmore in the distance, moving along the perimeter of the Burrow with his wand out. Ginny squinted, unable to distinguish exactly what he was doing through the rain, but, from all she'd heard her parents talking about on the way home, she could easily guess.

"I just can't believe Dumbledore didn't leave any instructions in case this happened," a voice drifted up the stairs. Ginny looked away from the window and to her door in surprise. It was unmistakably Charlie's voice; the last she'd heard, he was still in Romania. She quickly headed for the stairs, but she didn't get far down before she stopped, equally surprised to hear Bill's voice in response: "They read out his will the other day. Nothing. He didn't even say anything to Aberforth or Elphias."

The last time Ginny had seen Bill was after the funeral, Fleur leading him back into the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, where he'd been still been in recovery from Fenrir Greyback's attack. Yet, as she entered the front room, she saw him leaning heavily in a chair, otherwise giving no sign that he was still suffering from the ugly wounds on his face and arms.

Before either he or Charlie could say anything further, the latter spotted Ginny and smiled. "Hey there, Squirt."

Ginny ran over and hugged him. "I didn't know you were here."

Charlie's smile faltered. "Had to come, as soon as I heard. I wasn't in time for the funeral, though."

Ginny nodded as she pulled away. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore wouldn't be offended." She looked at Bill. "What about you? Thought you were still in hospital."

"Poppy discharged me," Bill said. "She's done all she can, and now that the funeral's over, I figured it was time to leave."

"But are you doing okay?" Ginny asked, concerned. His wounds looked just as painful as they had days earlier, when he'd received them, and she hadn't missed how heavily he was leaning against the back of his chair.

Bill shrugged, looking unconcerned, and Ginny, seeing he didn't want to discuss it further, shook her head sadly, and changed the subject. "I saw Sturgis outside. What's he doing?"

"Strengthening the wards," Bill answered. When Ginny opened her mouth to question further, he quickly added, "It's nothing for you to be too worried about, Ginny."

He glanced at Charlie as he spoke, but by this point Ginny was very adept at comprehending when there was more than her brothers were telling (or allowed to tell). Bill, watching her, quietly added, "Why don't you go finish unpacking? We'll have some lunch ready by the time you're done."

She nodded and started back for the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder just as Bill and Charlie headed into the kitchen, and paused, listening carefully. For a moment all she could hear was the sound of someone scrubbing dishes.

"Mum?" Charlie asked tentatively. "Are you all right?"

The scrubbing paused, but no answer came.

"They'll be fine, Mum," Bill said in a reassuring voice. "They're better off there, in fact. Here we've got wards up and know if someone unwanted enters the boundaries, but the Burrow's protections are hardly infallible. The wards at the Dursleys' house, on the other hand, are much stronger. And we've got people watching Privet Drive 'round the clock."

There was still no answer, but the scrubbing resumed. Ginny sighed and returned up the stairs. Bill's attempt at reassurance would not succeed. Their mother had not taken Ron's decision to accompany Harry to Privet Drive well at all. She hadn't wanted Harry to return there either, for that matter, but for some reason, this time even Harry was in accord with the Order. Having no real authority over him, Molly couldn't do much more than protest. Legally she had no authority over Ron either, who had come of age the previous March, but Ron respected his mother enough to make sure she would be all right with it. Molly had protested vehemently, not wanting Ron out of sight and certainly nowhere near Harry's relatives, but he had remained resolute.

Ginny was unsure of how long she'd been in her room, considering everything that had happened that day, from splitting up with Harry to his vague disclosures. Sometimes she sat in melancholy, contemplative silence, either at her desk or on her bed; and sometimes she found herself pacing the length of her room, her mind racing. She became vaguely aware of the rain letting up, and that the sky had darkened a little, but she wasn't fully aware of how much time had passed until her mother knocked on her door, asked if she was done unpacking, and then ordered her to do a few chores outside.

Ginny was taken aback, but she discovered the reason for her unceremonious ejection from the house when she found Remus, Tonks, and Mad-Eye in the living room, and she could hear Kingsley and Hestia Jones talking to Arthur in the kitchen. As she exited the house and wandered over into the garden, she wondered why the Order had decided to have an impromptu meeting at the Burrow rather than at Grimmauld Place; but then she remembered that Snape knew the whereabouts of headquarters. The Order must have vacated the premises again.

She looked up at the sky. It had stopped raining, but it was still somewhat foggy and very cold. She sat on a tree stump, shivering a little under the thick jumper she'd hastily pulled on as she left her room. A garden gnome wandered out of its hole and nibbled at some roots nearby. Not for the first time Ginny wondered how the tiny, hairless creature was so resilient to intense cold, but the frigid dampness seemed to bother her much more than the gnome. It became aware of her watching it and eyed her warily, but when Ginny made no move to grab the gnome, it shrugged its little shoulders and continued eating. She continued to watch until a light squelch of footsteps in damp earth met her ears, and she turned to see a man she didn't know standing nearby with his wand in hand. Startled, she instinctively drew her wand.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried.

The man, who did look vaguely familiar, calmly blocked the spell, and stowed his wand up his sleeve.

"Nice reflex," he grunted, and Ginny then recognised him as the barman from the Hog's Head. "Alastor would be proud. But start learning to cast spells nonverbally, and don't let yourself get caught off guard. Ginevra Weasley, I presume?"

He held a hand out to her, but Ginny didn't take it. The man chuckled.

"You can trust me, girl. I'm with the Order, like everyone else in the vicinity."

"You can't get in without the Order knowing it," Ginny conceded, "but that doesn't mean you're harmless."

The man smiled. "Very true. You seem to know details about the protections you're not supposed to. Been listening at doors again, Ginny Weasley?" He chuckled at Ginny's unrepentant smirk. "Albus told me all about you and your siblings. Determined to play a role in this, regardless of how old you are." He looked at her with a strangely familiar twinkle in his eyes. "I can respect that. Aberforth Dumbledore, at your service."

Ginny inhaled sharply in surprise. "You're Professor Dumbledore's brother?"

"That's right."

Ginny shook his outstretched hand. "I'm sorry for your loss," she tentatively offered, but Aberforth waved this aside.

"Al knew what he was getting himself into. It was always a possibility." He spoke calmly, but Ginny could detect a small hint of sadness in his words.

"The service has only been over for a few hours," Ginny said. "Shouldn't you be getting things settled? You're his closest relative."

Aberforth shrugged. "Most of Al's affairs are already in order. What's left can wait. I'm here because Alastor's calling a meeting here."

"I know."

He laughed. "I assume your mum chased you out?" At Ginny's glum nod, he remarked, "Bit cold out here."

"I'm supposed to be de-gnoming."

He looked at the garden. "I see."

They were silent for a moment. Ginny was unsure of why Aberforth hadn't gone to join the meeting, but she realised that he was waiting for her to speak. Hesitantly, she said, "I overheard Bill and Charlie saying that Dumbl—that your brother left no instructions for the Order."

Aberforth looked unconcerned. "It's not that surprising, least not to someone who knew him well. Al always played his cards very close to the chest. His experience with the Triskelions and Grindelwald taught him to work that way." At Ginny's questioning look, he clarified, "He learned to keep the biggest secrets within certain, limited circles. He often only shared his plans or knowledge with certain Order members, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if he kept certain things from the Order entirely."

Surprised, Ginny asked, "Why?"

"When carrying out a crucial, secretive operation, sometimes it is more likely to succeed if you've got as few people in on it as possible," Aberforth explained.

To which Ginny had a sudden flash of understanding. "Because then there are fewer to blab."

"Exactly." For a moment, he looked at her with a contemplative expression, before adding, "You caught on much faster than many in the Order."

"I've been betrayed before," Ginny muttered under her breath.

But Aberforth heard her. Observing her cynical demeanour, he raised his eyebrows. "And that's why you're so accepting of whatever Potter's going to be doing? Oh, don't look so surprised, girl. I knew my brother longer and better than anyone. It wasn't that difficult for me to work out."

"Then the Order doesn't know?" She'd suspected as much, but to hear it confirmed was another thing entirely.

Aberforth nodded calmly. "They don't, and won't be happy when they realise that Albus kept crucial details from them. But I can say this: whatever Al intended, Potter will have a much harder time pulling it off, especially in secret, with the Order hiding him the way they intend to."

Ginny frowned. "What does that mean?"

"They can't use Grimmauld Place until there's a new Fidelius Charm in place," Aberforth informed her. "I expect they're going to keep Potter here for a few days, until they're more confident in Grimmauld Place's security, and then sequester Potter there. Normally they'd just have him there until it was time for him to return to Hogwarts, but the bloody Ministry has indefinitely closed the place and warded it off, so that's not currently an option."

"So the Order's just going to force him to go to ground, the way they did Sirius?" Ginny asked incredulously. At Aberforth's nod, she asked, "And then what?"

"I don't know what their plans are from there, or if they even have any. But I bet I'll find out tonight."

Ginny turned away, digesting all this information, and then another thought struck her, and she looked back at Aberforth suspiciously. "Why are you telling me this?"

Aberforth smiled grimly. "That's a fair question. The Order watches Potter nearly constantly, and they watch your family almost as constantly. They especially have been watching you for the past couple of months."

Ginny blushed a little as his meaning became clear.

"Whatever might have happened at the funeral, however, it is clear enough that Potter trusts you. That is why I'm telling you this, while I can." He watched her closely as he spoke, and grinned. "With Hogwarts closing, a couple of people are left in need of employment, and Minerva has kindly hired them for the Order. One of them, an elf by the name of Dobby, has volunteered to carry messages to Privet Drive as needed. He likes Potter and the 'Wheezies' so much that I imagine he'd be happy to answer a call from any of you. Just for your information. And, quite possibly, Potter's."

He winked at her, and then turned and headed for the Burrow without another word, leaving Ginny in utter astonishment. But then a slow, determined grin appeared on her face, and she abruptly stooped down and seized the startled gnome by its ankles, now certain of what she must do.

---

"Mum doesn't want to face it," Ron told Harry, as he set a sleeping bag by Harry's trunk. "Dumbledore's death hit the Order hard, but she's trying to act like nothing's changed."

Harry said nothing, not trusting himself to speak, and instead chose to give Hedwig another owl treat. Hermione was in the nearby guest room; Harry's room, being the smallest, wasn't large enough to comfortably house all three of them, and seeing that Hermione, having been raised in a Muggle family, was the least "abnormal", Petunia had been persuaded to allow her use of the guest room normally reserved for Aunt Marge, though she clearly only wanted Hermione to use it to sleep in. Harry suspected that she'd also been horror-struck thought of her neighbours finding out about Harry allowing an unrelated girl to share his bedroom for any reason. Not under her roof. At any rate, it was better than forcing one of them to sleep in the bathroom.

Hedwig nipped Harry's finger affectionately before she accepted his small offering. He then stroked her gently, and looked back at Ron, who was watching him without expression. Harry's conscience ached at everything he and Hermione had told him. He could tell that Hermione was taking her parents' relocation harder than she was showing, but it was clear that she couldn't see another way for them to be safe from the Death Eaters. The Weasleys, meanwhile, were already in danger because of their pro-Muggle leanings, but their connection to him and to the Order had doubled that danger, to say nothing of the fact that Harry had dated their daughter for the past couple of months, something he (rather foolishly, in retrospect) hadn't bothered to hide.

As if he could hear Harry's train of thought, Ron frowned, and asked, "Does Ginny know?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione about breaking off the relationship, and he worried about Ron's reaction, unsure if he would understand Harry's decision, or if he would hit him for breaking Ginny's heart. Unable to make eye contact, Harry asked, "About the Horcruxes?"

Ron nodded.

"No," Harry said firmly. "And she isn't going to."

"That's all good," Ron responded, frowning, "but from her point of view, you'll just have up and left one day. She's my sister. You bloody well better not hurt her."

"It won't be like that. She knows that Dumbledore left me things to do," Harry reassured him. "Not sure what she suspects otherwise, though."

As he spoke, the door opened and Hermione came back in. She looked between them curiously, seeing their serious expressions, but simply asked, "Any thoughts about dinner?"

Relieved at the abrupt change of subject, Harry said, "I've already told my aunt we'll feed ourselves." As an afterthought, he added, "She wouldn't appreciate us raiding the fridge, though. Maybe we could get take-away."

"What's that?" asked Ron, bewildered.

Hermione, ignoring him, nodded. "You shouldn't leave Privet Drive," she said thoughtfully. "But I could go out and pick up some stuff. My parents gave me a credit card before they left."

Ron opened his mouth, probably to ask what a credit card was, but whatever he intended to say, Harry didn't find out. At that moment, he heard a car pull into the drive, and started. He had completely forgotten about his uncle's impending arrival from work. Quickly he went to his window, and saw his uncle step out of the car and slam the door shut. The expression plastered on Vernon's face wasn't a good sign.

"He's home," he warned. "And he's in a foul mood. Get your wands out."

"Harry, I'm not jinxing your uncle!" Hermione snapped. But she stood up and pulled her wand from her sleeve all the same.

They waited. Harry heard the front door slam, and his uncle's furious muttering carried all the way up the stairs. Ron too pulled his wand out with a sour expression. A moment later, they heard Petunia's muffled voice, though her words were also inaudible. Then—

"HE'S WHAT?"

They could hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and Hermione looked at Harry in alarm.

"THAT RUDDY FREAK AND HIS LOT WON'T DARE SET FOOT IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN ONCE I'M THROUGH WITH HIM!"

The door flew open, prompting an indignant shriek from Hedwig. Ron immediately shouted "Protego!"

The force of the shield blasted Vernon back a couple of feet. He roared and tried to force his way into the room, but the shield remained firmly in place, blocking his access. He then froze when he saw Ron and Hermione both pointing their wands at him.

"Don't try that again," Harry said coldly. "Ron and Hermione are allowed to use magic outside of school. They will not hesitate if you bother me again. So do us all a favour: get out."

Vernon's face turned purple. "I will not be spoken to like that in my own house!"

"Yeah?" Harry shot back. "Try to stop me! You can't even set foot in this room!"

A vein pulsed in Vernon's temple, and he tried to step inside again, but Ron raised his wand higher, and the shield held.

"We won't be here for more than a couple of weeks," Harry informed his uncle coolly. "Then you're rid of me for good. I'm not coming back."

"Good riddance!" Vernon snapped. "But I'm still not having those freaks here, boy!"

Ron snorted. "Not much choice there, mate."

"I AM TALKING!" Vernon bellowed.

"I'M NOT LISTENING!" Harry shouted back. "You're not in any position to make demands, and I refuse to take any more of your shit! You'd better be listening, though, because I will not say this again! Leave us alone, and we'll leave you alone!"

He thought the vein in his uncle's temple might burst at this point, but Vernon was powerless, and he knew it. With no other option before him, he stepped from the door and stormed away. Ron flicked his wand, and the door slammed shut. Hermione lowered herself onto the chair at Harry's desk, and she stowed her wand back into her sleeve. She looked shocked.

"Harry, is he always like that?" she asked weakly.

Harry leaned against the door, lowering his head back against the wood. "Thankfully, no," he replied, though he was trembling a little. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. "Normally he pretends I don't exist. Aunt Petunia acknowledges me… sometimes. But she normally doesn't have anything decent to say to me." Seeing Hermione's expression, he quickly added, "It's all right, though. Most of the time they ignore me. I prefer it that way."

"But they're your family!" Hermione protested, appalled. "You're their family!"

Harry shook his head. "Nobody in this house really feels that way. Myself included." He spoke in a forced, indifferent voice. Looking to diffuse the tension, he gave Ron a rueful grin. "Good thinking with the shield, by the way. Think I might get a letter from Mafalda Hopkirk in an hour?"

To his surprise, Ron smirked and shook his head. "Nah. Dad promised to notify the Improper Use of Magic Office about us staying here as soon as he went back to work today."

Harry nodded, relieved. "Anyway, thanks for that. He probably had a bad day at work. Cancelled shipment of drills or some other rubbish."

"I've seen your uncle's temper, mate," Ron replied, shrugging. "Figured it might be necessary."

---

Harry woke up early to a sharp tap on the window, and he sat up and glanced at his alarm clock, rubbing his eyes. It was 4:30. He yawned and looked at the window, expecting to see an owl there, but he couldn't see anything. He frowned and watched the window for a minute, but deciding that he probably was just hearing things, he lay back down, trying to ignore Ron's snores as he attempted to go back to sleep.

There was another tap, and he sat up again, but he still couldn't see an owl. Confused, he slid out of bed and stepped over Ron's sleeping bag, then looked out the window. He barely had time to notice something shift in the garden, before there was a loud crack at the window, reverberating on the glass, and something tiny and colourful suddenly popped into existence on top of the window sill, wavering over the edge.

Ron muttered something unintelligible.

Harry quickly threw open the window and steadied the house-elf. "Dobby?" he hissed, annoyed. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"Dobby apologises for waking Harry Potter," the elf squeaked, sinking into a bow once he was in a safer position. "Professor Dumbledore's Order is sending Dobby to deliver messages."

"Messages?" Harry asked blankly.

"Yes, sir. Dobby has a letter from Professor Lupin and from Harry Potter's lady Wheezy!"

"My what?" Harry spluttered, feeling his face grow hot. He looked at Ron warily, but to his relief he remained sound asleep. He was sure he never would have lived it down if Ron had overheard.

"Does Harry Potter want his letters?" Dobby asked happily, oblivious to his embarrassment.

Harry said nothing, but he took the envelopes Dobby offered and examined them in the early morning light. Sure enough, one was addressed in Remus Lupin's tidy script, and the bulkier letter in Ginny's writing. "Thanks, Dobby."

"Professor Lupin also tells Dobby to bring Harry Potter and his friends food," the elf informed him. "Dobby and the missus Wheezy will cook it."

"Brilliant," Harry said, relieved. "Hermione won't have to risk going out to get us meals. Thanks, Dobby."

Dobby bowed and Disapparated. The accompanying crack caused Ron to sit up abruptly.

"Whassamatter?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Nothing. Just Dobby with a couple of letters."

This didn't appear to really register with Ron. "Oh, okay," he mumbled. "… Couple of…"

He sank back into his pillow and began snoring again. Harry took a seat at his desk and looked at the two letters. Remus's was the shorter, so Harry decided to read it first.

Harry—

Kingsley saw the Carrow siblings wandering around Little Whinging after he took you home. We expected the Death Eaters to approach Privet Drive and already have determined that they shouldn't be able to approach your aunt's house, but as you know, that won't last after you turn seventeen. Someone in the Order will visit in the morning to check the strength of the wards and answer any questions you might have. They'll arrive at around 6, before most of the Muggles start waking up. In the meantime, do not leave Privet Drive.

Remus

P.S. Don't use Hedwig to respond. Any Death Eaters in the area will try to intercept her and any other owls. Dobby has volunteered to carry messages. Just call for him if you need to contact us.

Harry moved back to the window to look out to the street apprehensively, but he didn't see anyone out there. He supposed he'd have to inform his aunt about this, but he didn't want to do so while Uncle Vernon was at home. Harry trusted the Order's protection, and he didn't think that the Death Eaters would attack his aunt or uncle when they left for work or errands—not if they wished to remain inconspicuous, anyway—but his aunt at least needed to be informed.

With a final glance out the window, Harry settled back down at his desk, and picked up Ginny's letter. After glancing at her brother nervously, he broke the seal and began to read:

Dear Harry,

I hope your aunt and uncle are treating you well, and I'm glad that Ron and Hermione are there with you this time. The rest of us are back and settled at home. There have been Order members here a lot too, setting up protective spells all over the Burrow. They've left Grimmauld Place again, as Snape can still show up there, but Mad-Eye's got plans to renew the Fidelius Charm soon. And on that subject, I've got information that should interest you.

Harry straightened in his chair.

I learned today that Hogwarts for sure is closing. Apparently this means that the Order can no longer use it as a sanctuary for you. I also found out that, for that exact reason, the Order is planning to move you to the Burrow next week some time, and they'll keep you holed up here until they are certain of Grimmauld Place's security. Then they intend to permanently move you there. They've been putting up protective spells all around the Burrow for that reason, including anti-Apparation and Disapparation wards. In both the Burrow and Grimmauld Place, I think the Floo Network and Portkeys are the only way in or out, and the Aurors are closely watching the use of both. I'm not sure what their plans for you are otherwise, but for now their main intent seems to be keeping you holed up good and tight. Whatever you might be planning, if it's meant to be as secret as you implied, then we both know that you'll have a much harder time doing it with the Order restricting your movements in this way. I thought I'd warn you before you got here.

The other thing I want to say is that I meant everything I said to you at the funeral, and I understand your decision. I know you want to keep me safe, but as soon as I can, I intend to join this fight. I don't know where you'll be when that happens, but just remember one thing: this is my fight as much as it is yours. I need you to understand that. Hope to see you soon.

Love,

Ginny

Harry put the letter down and shut his eyes, unsure whether to smile or worry. Ginny's determination didn't surprise him at all, because she was simply not one to sit and wait for word. She would never be the housewife waiting at home for the men to return from war, and Harry, knowing this of her, could not ask her to be that. But there was also the more immediate problem, and Harry growled in frustration. He'd half-expected the Order to do something like this, but searching for the Horcruxes would be hard enough even without the Order dogging him, which he was certain they would attempt; and that certainly would make it harder to act without drawing unwanted attention to himself, whether from the Ministry of Magic or worse. It would be next to impossible to act, holed up in this way, without confessing to the Order what he was doing, but that was out of the question. Dumbledore had made that abundantly clear.

"The Order will have their own role to play, but in matters as crucial as this, they are too exposed, too easily watched. For Voldemort to learn that you or I know about the Horcruxes would be disastrous. It would only take one betrayal, one captured person breaking either to torture or to Legilimency, one person spotted in the wrong place, one word in the wrong place. You cannot risk it. Even if you lose the trust of those you care about, you cannot risk it."

Harry swallowed as he remembered those words, spoken just after he finally learned what Horcruxes were. It would be so much simpler if they could confide in the Order, but for Voldemort to learn what they were up to, and relocate his Horcruxes (or, worse, create a seventh), would set all Dumbledore's work back ten or twenty or even fifty years. The thought of dragging on this conflict for such an extended period was too terrible to contemplate, leaving him with little choice but to keep the Horcruxes a carefully guarded secret for as long as possible.

Just as he made a mental note to inform Ron and Hermione about Ginny's letter, the latter entered the room herself, staring at Ron in annoyance. Seeing Harry awake, she asked grumpily, "Does he always snore this loud?"

Harry smirked. "Er, yeah, he does. You share a dormitory with him for six years, though, and you can sleep through anything."

"Then why are you awake?"

"Dobby." Harry held up the letters. "They're from Lupin and Ginny. The Order's not sending anything with owls anymore. Apparently they've seen a couple of Death Eaters in the area."

A look of alarm briefly flitted across Hermione's face, but she retained her composure, and said in a tone of forced calm, "So that's what Hestia was worried about. But they think we're safe for now? Otherwise they'd have moved us out immediately."

Harry nodded, then handed her Ginny's letter. "I think you'd better see this too."

She scanned its contents, and then slowly lowered the letter, looking at Harry with an unreadable expression. "This complicates things," she said dryly.

"How easily could we leave Grimmauld Place unnoticed?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I don't know enough about the protections there to tell you."

"Could you find out?"

Hermione grimaced. "I'd have to go there to check it out. That is, if you're ruling out straight-out asking someone in the Order."

"If we do, we shouldn't ask for too many details," Harry said, "or they might get suspicious."

Hermione's brow furrowed into a thoughtful expression. "Perhaps Ginny can be of help there, since she was willing to send prior warning."

"Prior warning about what?"

Harry and Hermione jumped. Neither of them had noticed Ron wake up. He pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes wearily. Hermione recovered first, and handed Ron the letter.

"Bloody hell," he breathed as soon as he finished reading it. "How are we going to get started with this going on?"

"And we can't openly plan things either at the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place," Harry added. "Not with the Order watching my every move."

"And we can't set out before Harry's seventeen," Hermione sighed. "Just another spanner in the works." However, she was clearly thinking hard. "I'll start researching magical transportation. There's got to be something we can do to get around this."

And with that, she left the room. Harry, by now used to Hermione leaving abruptly when she needed to find information, simply looked back at Ron, who shrugged.

"She's right about one thing, though," he said. "The Order will probably be less suspicious about Ginny getting nosy than you. Especially since she's always nosing around anyway."

"I don't want to get her too involved in this," Harry said cautiously.

"This won't require you telling her about the Horcruxes, or bringing her," Ron pointed out. "And she'll want to help."

This was true, and he knew Hermione was probably right. "All right," he relented. "I'll talk to her about it as soon as I next see her."

Ron nodded. Harry reached forward to take back the letter; but Ron, having observed Harry's odd reluctance to even involve Ginny in this smaller matter, did not hand it back. He then looked back at the close of the letter. Harry swallowed.

"What's she talking about in this last bit?"

Harry looked away guiltily. "She's not going to stand on the side-lines, that's all."

"I know that's what she's saying," Ron said impatiently. "Wouldn't be like Ginny to hang back and wait for us to come home like a good little girl. But there was something off with her after the funeral, and with you. What happened between the two of you?"

Harry didn't answer, but Ron didn't seem to require it. Putting two and two together, he finally said, "You broke up with her, didn't you?"

Harry shifted nervously. Ron looked back at the letter, and then back at Harry with understanding mingled with exasperation.

"You're a prat," he said coolly, "but that explains why she didn't sit with us on the train back, and why you two barely said a word to each other in King's Cross." Seeing Harry's apprehension, he laughed humourlessly. "I'm not going to hex you, if that's what you're afraid of. The Ministry can track any magic she does until she comes of age next year, so you can't take her with you. Anyway, you promised that you wouldn't tell anyone else about the Horcruxes. Still, where she's concerned, you'll have a lot to answer for when this is over."

"And when will that be?" asked Harry unhappily. "This probably will take years. We're not going to be finding Horcruxes every other day, and I'm not sure how to destroy them either. And anyway, you know that we might not ever come back."

"Don't talk like that," Ron snapped.

"Why not?" retorted Harry. "We're at war! It's a perfectly realistic possibility. People go out to fight; they don't always come back. I've said it before, most of the stuff I've done, the times I've thwarted or escaped Voldemort, was luck! At some point, my luck might run out."

Ron shook his head stubbornly. "No," he said firmly. "I'm not going to let you go out there convinced that you're gonna die. Otherwise you might find a way to make it happen."

They were silent for a moment, Ron glaring at Harry, as though daring him to retort. Then, finally, Harry blinked. "When did you get all insightful?"

Ron pretended to look indignant, then with a sheepish laugh, admitted, "Sirius said something like that to us, summer before fifth year."

"Way back then? And you still remember it?"

"Git."

"Prat."

If either Harry or Ron had hoped to get a little extra sleep following this conversation, it couldn't be more than a few minutes before it was time to meet the unnamed member of the Order who was coming to check the protective enchantments that had kept Harry out of Voldemort's reach for almost sixteen years. Between yawns, Ron grumbled a little about Dobby giving them so little notice, but between Lupin's and Ginny's equally alarming letters, Harry thought he would have been unable to get any more rest no matter how sleepy he was. So he and Ron got dressed and then made their way down the stairs, treading quietly to avoid waking the Dursleys, to the front door where they found Hermione already waiting. The three of them then slipped outside and waited quietly on the front porch, Hermione huddled next to Ron, shivering slightly. Though the overcast skies of the previous day had cleared, it was still a bitterly cold morning.

To their surprise, it was Bill who Apparated in the drive of Number Four and waved them over. Being a professional curse-breaker, Bill was the obvious choice to evaluate the state of Privet Drive's wards, but the last Harry had known, he had not yet been discharged from the Hogwarts Hospital Wing; the school nurse had only briefly allowed him out so he could attend Dumbledore's funeral; yet here he was, still acting out his duty in spite of the deep scarring on his face and arms from Fenrir Greyback's attack only days earlier, leaving Harry somewhat impressed by Bill's dedication to the Order.

Ron and Hermione had also been concerned about Bill resuming his normal work for the Order so quickly, but the eldest Weasley brother quickly waved off their concerns.

"Not much else to do at this point but take an occasional potion for the pain," he said. "Makes me a little woozy at times, but I'm fine otherwise. Not like it was a true werewolf attack." He then turned and looked around, surveying the street appraisingly. "Well, let's get started. I'd prefer to complete this inspection before the Muggle families start their morning routines."

As he led them out of the drive and down the street, Harry asked, "So how many Death Eaters are out here?"

Bill didn't answer Harry's question immediately, presumably preoccupied with the silver analogue instrument in his hand, a device quite unknown to Harry, though he supposed it to be an instrument from a curse-breaker's line of work. After a moment's silence, he looked up with a satisfied expression. Harry repeated his question.

"We know the Carrows are hiding out somewhere nearby," Bill answered, "but we haven't spotted anyone else yet. From what we've observed in the past couple of years, nobody affiliated with You-Know-Who, certainly nobody branded with the Dark Mark, can get within roughly five hundred yards of your aunt's house." Pointing ahead, Bill added, "Which means that Wisteria Walk and Magnolia Crescent are safe, but you should not go beyond that."

"But they'll know roughly where Harry's aunt lives?" asked Ron, as they turned on Wisteria.

"The Dursleys' house is hardly Unplottable," Bill explained. "It still shows up on any Muggle city map, and there's no Fidelius Charm hiding it. So yes, they'll know exactly where Harry lives. They simply can't approach it yet."

"So what does that mean for me and the Dursleys?" asked Harry. "The protection breaks when I'm seventeen, right?"

"Yes, or as soon as you move out," Bill affirmed. "Which I believe you're planning on doing as soon as possible?"

Harry nodded, but before anyone could say anything more, a rapid ticking sound met their ears, and Bill paused, looking at the instrument. A little hand on its upper facet had started bouncing happily, producing the sound.

"What does that mean?" asked Hermione tentatively.

Bill looked around, frowning. "Someone unwanted tried to enter and got repulsed."

Immediately Harry and the others looked around in alarm. However, the street remained quiet, and the sound stopped. Bill looked back at his instrument.

"The wards are holding," he told them. "Good. Since Dumbledore was the one who set the parameters of the enchantments, we were afraid that his death might weaken them, but fortunately that does not appear to be the case. We should send the Death Eaters a thank you note for helping with this little field test." Seeing their worried expressions, he added, "I doubt it's the first time this has happened. The Death Eaters are not very patient, and I imagine they'll be testing the boundaries for weaknesses."

"Should we turn back?" asked Ron nervously.

"We're perfectly safe," Bill assured him. "And I imagine the Order will have already sent a couple of people to try to find out who attempted to get in."

"But when did you alert them?" asked Hermione in surprise. "And how would you know where the disturbance took place?"

Bill smirked. "We may or may not have added a couple of surprises for the Death Eaters." Then he looked at Harry seriously. "But it all collapses when Privet Drive is no longer your home. Or your aunt's, for that matter."

Harry frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means that to ensure your safety and the Dursleys', they're going to have to leave Privet Drive at the same time as you."

The others were silent for a moment. "To where?" Harry finally asked. "And for how long?"

"Kingsley and Mad-Eye are setting something up," Bill assured him. "Most likely somewhere abroad. But as for how long, most likely until all this is over."

"Indefinitely, then." Harry grimaced. "There's no way they're going to agree to this."

"Of course they will," Bill said firmly. "They'll have no choice. We'll make sure of it."

Harry looked at him questioningly, but said nothing. Bill looked at his instrument again, and smiled, looking very satisfied. "Well, I think we're in good shape. Let's head back. The wards are holding, but I'll see you home, just in case."

As he led them back towards Privet Drive, Ron asked, "So how is everyone at home?"

"Fine, more or less. Mum's worrying herself sick, but luckily the wedding's keeping her fairly occupied." Bill grinned as he spoke of his upcoming nuptials. The half-healed lacerations on his face stretched grotesquely.

"What about you?" asked Ron tentatively, eyeing his brother's wounds.

His meaning was not lost on Bill, who, gesturing at the cuts, said unconcernedly, "Don't worry about it. And anyway, in a couple of days I'm going to France to visit the Delacours for a few weeks. Fleur insists that some Mediterranean air will help them heal."

"Ooh, where are you staying?" asked Hermione eagerly.

"They've got a house near Marseilles," Bill answered, as they turned back around the corner. "In the meantime, I'm hoping to get a private meeting with Menger Gadlak before heading over there."

"Gadlak?" Ron asked in surprise. "The goblin family? Don't they run Gringotts?"

"Yeah, that's them," Bill said. "Mr. Gadlak's my boss. He's already approved my time away in France, but I still have some stuff I want to discuss with him."

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, "For the Order?"

Bill paused, and looked at him with a neutral expression. Then he nodded slowly. "Yes, for the Order. As I'm sure you're aware by now, we've been trying to get goblins on our side ever since You-Know-Who's return, but it's not been an easy goal."

"They're not in favour of Voldemort, are they?" asked Harry apprehensively, thinking of all the warnings he'd received over the years about the dangers of messing with goblins.

If Bill was startled by Harry's use of the name, he didn't show it. He was silent, but his expression was contemplative. "That's… a complicated question," he said after a moment. "I suppose the simplest answer is that they have very little reason to support You-Know-Who, but for now, they're trying to stay out of it. Most goblins prefer to view this as a purely human conflict that doesn't really concern them."

"Surely they don't think the Death Eaters will leave them alone if they win?" asked Hermione.

"Hard to say, exactly, The Death Eaters certainly have no more love for goblins than they do for house-elves, but like most people brought up in magical society, they'll be fully aware of the dangers of provoking goblins. That being said, I also don't think You-Know-Who will really leave them alone once he thinks his army's ready to contend with them. And he has killed goblins in the past, which is why I can't see them siding with him."

"But they won't oppose him either," Harry said, feeling somewhat disappointed.

Bill shrugged. "The honest answer is that I don't know what they're going to do in future. Goblins are not the most forthcoming society in the world, especially with humans, and so it is hard to predict how they will respond in a crisis, even in the best of circumstances. On the other hand, it is not in the nature of goblins to be forgiving if they are wronged or cheated in any way, so for now, I've been trying to get audiences with goblins who have lost family members, or who have been threatened or cheated by the Death Eaters. Well, here we are."

They were back at Number Four.

"Thanks for dropping by, Bill," Harry said.

"No problem. It's actually a bit nice to get away from the Burrow for half an hour," Bill said. "Pity it has to end with conferencing with goblins, however." He grimaced at the thought. "Some goblins might be more open to supporting us if we prove ourselves willing to do them favours, but I'm hoping to avoid that if at all possible. The last think I want is for the Order to become involved in their politics. Once you're entangled in goblin affairs, it's extremely difficult to extricate yourself."

---

It was said to be one of the crown jewels of goblin civilisation, standing proudly upon its ancient site as the capital of the goblin nation of Tylwthteg. Built of a strange yet magnificent mixture of Scandinavian and Celtic-looking architecture, Danduaith Castle was situated on a mountainside near Glaslyn Lake in Wales, hidden (like all goblin settlements) from non-magical eyes. Said to be second in beauty only to Hogwarts School, the castle and its surrounding community had been the seat of the Tylwthteg High Council for hundreds of years; but this prestige and the castle's majesty, like all sources of goblin cultural pride, belied Tylwthteg's real position within the magical world.

Perhaps such contrasts between pride and reality were at the heart of Tylwthteg's restlessness.

The High Council, a body of oligarchical goblin rulers who were not rulers, who proudly boasted of their stations in the upper echelons of Tylwthteg, yet ran their Council sessions in English rather than in their native language, met weekly in peaceful times; but of late their meetings, particularly those of the upper Council of Sixteen, kept in a secure chamber deep within the castle, became an almost daily occurrence.

If the restlessness of Tylwthteg indicated their readiness to take their place in the conflict with Lord Voldemort, the proceedings of the Sixteen shattered that illusion.

"Lord Chairman," the Councilman from Abranthal concluded, after a ten-minute discourse on the humans' conflict, "in spite of the recent casualties, it is my opinion that there is no immediate threat to the residents of Tymnothran, and that the casualties were merely retributive acts for the hasty and ill-conceived actions of the Gringotts management."

At the other end of the table Cerdik Gadlak, the object of this criticism, bristled. There was an outbreak of muttering on the part of the other Councilmen, some in support of these remarks, others in indignation. But Gadlak knew well the proceedings of the Sixteen, having been on the Council himself for many years, and remained silent.

"I therefore recommend," came the Councilman's conclusion, "that we take no further action until there is reason to believe the attack truly was directed against Tylwthteg. That is all."

He took his seat, and a friend and ally happily patted his shoulder.

At the head of the table sat Dagnar Trawlak, Lord Chairman of the Sixteen, in all the dignity his rank afforded him, for his position made him an unofficial head of state, equal in eminence to the Minister of Magic. Refraining from comment, Trawlak looked over the rest of the Sixteen and asked coolly, "Is there any response to Mr Ansalvik's remarks?"

Gadlak stood. The Speaker for the Council announced, "The Council of Sixteen recognises Cerdik Gadlak of Tymnothran."

"Thank you, Mr Speaker," Gadlak responded, in compliance with the customs, before he thus began:

"In spite of the reservations that the Councilman from Abranthal has expressed,"—he levelled a cold look at Ansalvik—"I feel obliged to bring the Council's attention back to the political and financial tensions between Tylwthteg and the Wizarding State of Great Britain and Ireland." He looked over the rest of the Council, who remained silent. "I'm sure that you are all aware of the immense pressure that Minister Rufus Scrimgeour has placed upon Gringotts to forgive the exorbitant debts that the Fudge administration acquired, in light of the present political situation."

At this, he observed righteous indignation return to the faces of many Councilmen, which he had expected. Satisfied, he continued:

"Scrimgeour has also been arranging meetings with me with unusual frequency lately, both concerning the Fudge debts and his determination to root out any potential Death Eater supporters from among Tylwthteg."

Here Ansalvik interrupted, "The very idea that any among us would involve ourselves is preposterous."

Gadlak ignored him. "I've also learned, from a credible source, that the Scrimgeour administration will not send Aurors to help protect Tylwthteg communities from any potential Death Eater attacks unless the High Council promises aid, our unswerving loyalty, to British wizardry in this crisis, should the Ministry ever call for it."

His words had a visible impact, whether of surprise or increased indignation, among the other Councilmen. Gadlak looked at Ansalvik pointedly.

"Is it so unbelievable, sir," he asked, addressing Ansalvik directly, "that even if, as you say, this conflict is of no consequence to our kind, that the Ministry might drag us into the fight, regardless of what you think? If we maintain the neutrality you advocate, however, then it is still vital that we negotiate a settlement that allows Tylwthteg to employ its own taskforce for the protection of its own people."

"Whether or not Scrimgeour truly has made such demands, Mr Gadlak," Ansalvik said stubbornly, "it is also quite believable that he is mounting so much pressure upon you because you, as the owner and proprietor of Gringotts, are the most accessible Tylwthteg Councilman to British wizarding society. But regardless of Scrimgeour's demands, do you not still have a hold over the Ministry because of their debts? Are these demands truly so threatening to you or to Tylwthteg?"

"If the Ministry's demands were all I had to worry about, I might agree with you," Gadlak conceded. "But the Death Eaters are putting pressure on me too. They have already killed several of my employees because I froze the assets of all the known Death Eaters."

"That is neither here nor there," Ansalvik said coldly. "There is no reason to believe the Death Eaters' actions have any meaning beyond their anger with you. It does not mean they are a threat to Tylwthteg."

"You can bury your head in the sand all you like," countered Gadlak, "but that does not change the fact that they despise that magical economy is under goblin control."

"When have wizards ever been happy about that?" asked Ansalvik. "I don't see why that means we need to take more stringent action in a conflict that does not concern us."

Frustration visibly coursed through Gadlak as he leaned forward on the table, gripping its edges until his fingers were white. "Thank you, Ansalvik, for your fine demonstration on how Tylwthteg has completely lost its sovereignty," he snapped. "Lord Chairman, after all that we have heard today, I cannot but wonder why the High Council, the sworn protectors of the people of Tylwthteg, has remained silent as the Councilman from Abranthal maintains a position we know to be useful to no one except Tylwthteg's enemies."

Enraged, Ansalvik leapt to his feet. "Are you questioning my loyalty?"

"Oh no," Gadlak coldly retorted. "I wouldn't go so far as that. There's quite a different word for someone with the intelligence and backbone of a Flobberworm, such as yourself, coward."

Immediately Ansalvik and his supporters began shouting. Trawlak slammed his gavel loudly, repeatedly, bellowing for order. Once the Council quieted, Trawlak slammed it again. "That will do. Mr Gadlak, you are out of line. Mr Ansalvik, sit down."

He looked at Ansalvik warningly. Still muttering angrily, Ansalvik obeyed.

"This is going nowhere," Trawlak said firmly. "We shall reconvene in three hours, when all of you have had time to consider what has been said here, and to recover your composure. When we do reconvene"—he glared at both Gadlak and Ansalvik—"I expect all of you to conduct yourselves in a civil and rational manner."

Still grumbling, the Sixteen dispersed. Trawlak remained, gathering his papers, but presently he became aware that he was not alone in the chamber, and he looked up to see that Cerdik Gadlak had remained.

"Mr Gadlak," Trawlak acknowledged him cordially.

"I apologise," Gadlak said contritely. "That was unproductive."

Trawlak raised his eyebrows. "I accept your apology, but that is hardly why you have lingered."

If Gadlak was surprised at this, he didn't show it. "The High Council may be full of halfwits who cannot face the truth," Gadlak said urgently, "but surely you understand that the Death Eaters have no more love for our kind than they do for Muggles."

"Which is why you want to put an end to the situation early," said Trawlak, "before they start systematically killing citizens of Tylwthteg."

Gadlak said nothing, but Trawlak had pinned him accurately. Then, in a softer, more sympathetic voice, Trawlak added, "Our situation may not be the same as Koboldrang's during the Triskelion war."

"Mr Trawlak, they have already killed some of our people," Gadlak protested. "Four of my employees are dead, and I'm sure you haven't forgotten the murder of the Grimrooks during the first war."

Trawlak bowed his head, but remarked, "Ansalvik does have a point, you know. That's not evidence that the Death Eaters intend on doing the same as Grindelwald."

"But you know better than to disregard the possibility," Gadlak argued. "There's no disputing the fact that the Death Eaters intend to exterminate Muggle-born wizards, and that they treat house-elves like vermin and Muggles like animals. We have no reason to believe that they'll treat goblins any better. Anyone who says otherwise is a fool."

Trawlak sighed. "Cerdik, if you have any ideas for a more definitive course of action, then I'm open to hearing it. Of course, I cannot override the Sixteen should they come to a decision. You must prepare yourself for that possibility."

Gadlak threw up his hands in frustration, but before he could say anything, Trawlak resolutely added, "But I do not want or intend to be head of the Council that took action only when massive Tylwthteg casualties required us to. While I personally cannot act now, I can say this: wherever your own preparations lead you, that is your own concern. I will not obstruct you. Do not, however, implicate the Council."

Gadlak stared at him for a moment, before a strange, calculating expression appeared on his face. Smiling, he bowed his head to Trawlak, and left the council chambers.

---

Because she was able to without bringing the Ministry of Magic's wrath upon herself, in the few days since Bill's visit, Hermione occasionally Disapparated out of Privet Drive, generally to visit Flourish and Blotts or other shops in Diagon Alley in search of a solution to their more immediate problem of getting out from under the Order's thumb. While she discussed her findings, few that there were, with Harry and Ron, they themselves were left with little else to do except discuss what Harry remembered from Dumbledore's lessons, or else browse through Harry's numerous books on defensive and offensive magic, highlighting certain spells they thought would be useful to learn during their search. When they fancied a break from this, they typically spent time finding other means of entertainment. Sometimes, escaping the confines of Harry's room, they took short walks outside, heeding Bill's warnings not to stray beyond Magnolia Crescent or Wisteria Walk. As promised, Dobby Apparated into Harry's bedroom three or four times a day to deliver meals.

On a cloudy morning some five days into their visit, Hermione sat at the desk with her nose in the Daily Prophet as Ron and Harry played Exploding Snap. After some time in silence, Hermione lowered the paper with a sigh.

"What's up?" asked Harry, concerned. "What's in there today?"

"Nothing," she answered, "except the Ministry insisting that the Aurors are making headway."

Bemused, Harry asked, "Nothing else?"

"Nothing," Hermione confirmed. "No Dark Marks, no Dementor attacks, nothing."

"What's so bad about that?" asked Ron.

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly. "Just… it's been nearly two weeks since Professor Dumbledore died. But Voldemort's been quiet since then. I'd have thought they'd be getting bolder now. It's just… strange."

Harry said nothing. He'd noticed the strange lack of Death Eater activity too. Voldemort's most formidable enemy was dead, yet all they'd heard since that night was that a couple of Death Eaters had stationed themselves near Privet Drive—Death Eaters who undoubtedly were keeping a low profile for the present time. Harry had supposed that he, in his more isolated position, simply might not have heard much, or perhaps that the Ministry of Magic, in an effort to increase morale, had been leaning on the Daily Prophet to hush up attacks; even so, he couldn't deny that something felt slightly off about Voldemort's odd silence, and it left him feeling slightly on edge.

The sound of a car door slamming caught his attention, and standing, he went to the window in time to see Vernon drive away. This reminded him of the conversation with Bill and the Dursleys' impending relocation. Harry still hadn't warned Petunia of this, having not found a moment to do so without Vernon somewhere nearby. But now, as he listened to Petunia moving around downstairs, he knew that he couldn't put it off any longer. So he looked at Ron and Hermione and quickly mumbled, "I'll be right back," before quickly exiting his room, ignoring their questioning looks.

He found his aunt on the phone with a neighbour. As he approached, she turned around and saw him standing there. Her mouth curled into a scowl as he pointed to the lounge and mouthed, "Can I have a word?"

She gave a curt nod before returning to the phone. "No, apparently he's engaged. … No, I didn't say he was engaged to a woman. I know, he'll be waiting a long time. His auntie's devastated, naturally. If my Dudders knew he'd be appalled."

Harry lowered himself into an armchair, rolling his eyes as he listened to his aunt's gossip, and wondered where she would be in a few weeks' time. After a few minutes trying to tune out Petunia's chatter, he repressed a snort as he imagined her exchanging local gossip with neighbours in the Bahamas or Brazil or China or wherever they ended up. A taste of foreign culture might do his aunt and uncle good, except he had a feeling they would both die from shock at the thought of living abroad.

A couple more minutes passed before he heard Petunia finally hang up the phone, and, her arms tightly folded, she stepped into the lounge, glowering at her nephew. "What is it?"

Harry swallowed down his nerves. "I'm supposed to talk to you about moving out."

"Which is when?"

"I don't know. Next week, probably."

"Some good news at last," Petunia said churlishly.

"Right." Harry hesitated. "There's—er—something you should know before we leave. You're aware of the situation, right?"

"Your little war?" Petunia said scathingly.

Harry was a little relieved that she was quicker on the uptake than Vernon or Dudley, but frowned at her tone. It was not a good start. Feeling it was best to come straight to the point, he said, "The protective enchantments are supposed to break as soon as I leave. I've also been told that one or two of Voldemort's followers, maybe more, have taken up camp somewhere in Little Whinging."

Petunia immediately blanched. Her voice shaking both with fury and with fear, she hissed, "Then it is your responsibility to make sure we don't come to any harm."

Harry inhaled deeply, trying to muster his patience, and he calmly told her, "Dumbledore's people are going to arrange something. I don't know the details yet, but I think they're going to relocate you."

Petunia's face, impossibly, became paler. "They want us to move away?" she demanded.

Her outraged tone made it evident exactly what she thought of the idea. Harry, summoning up every ounce of patience he could muster, stressed, "It's safer than staying here."

"This is my home!" Petunia snapped. "This is where we established ourselves! Why can't they just put up new protections?"

Frustrated, Harry stood and glared at her. "Now you're accepting magic?" he almost yelled.

Petunia, unimpressed, merely scowled right back. Recognising that raising his voice wouldn't help, Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself down. And several more. Then, regaining his patience, he tried a different tactic. "It just wouldn't be as effective. Relocation is safer for you and for Dudley."

Harry waited while Petunia turned this over in her head, but he was sure that he had her this time. There was nothing she couldn't be persuaded to do for Dinky Diddydums. She presently sat on the sofa, looking defeated, and asked, "Where will they send us?"

Relieved, Harry said, "They haven't told me yet. I'm telling you this now, because it'd be better if you gave Uncle Vernon a heads-up, and persuaded him that this is the best course of action. He's already unhappy enough with me as it is." He shook his head, and trying to sound firm, he added, "Making my life difficult won't change the fact that Voldemort knows where you live and probably will attack this house as soon as the protections break. Nor will anything Uncle Vernon says stop Dumbledore's people from moving you before that happens. You'll be saving all of us a lot of wasted breath if you make sure he understands that."

Looking resigned, Petunia only nodded, and Harry, his goal accomplished, returned to his room. He, Ron, and Hermione made sure to absent themselves from the house when Vernon came home that evening, instead stationing themselves on a curb on Magnolia Crescent, drinking some hot chocolate Dobby had brought over, until the sun had set and Harry was certain that Vernon was home and Petunia would have told him everything. When they arrived back, they glimpsed Vernon at the kitchen table, slumped forward with a bottle of sherry Petunia had evidently calmed him with. Fortunately, he did not seem to notice them coming in, and so the three teenagers quickly went upstairs and remained out of sight.

In the next couple of days, on the rare occasion where Harry encountered Vernon, his uncle's face turned red and he made certain to utter curses and pejoratives towards Harry and wizardry as a whole, but his doing little else convinced Harry that Petunia had managed to persuade him that it was in his best interest to cooperate with the Order. In the meantime, Harry finally heard from Remus that someone would come and relocate both him and the Dursleys on the following Monday, the day Dudley came home from Smeltings. Harry informed his aunt of this development, but hardly said a word to her otherwise. He and Vernon had nothing to say to each other.

The day of the relocation arrived, a wet, dismal morning on which Vernon got up and drove out early, intending to bring Dudley home by the early afternoon. He did so with exceptional timing, pulling back into the drive at nearly noon, but by then the rain had not let up, pouring in freezing torrents that forced him and his son to dash to the house to dry off. The cold, ungenial weather had immensely dampened the mood of both, boding ill for the rest of the day. It was then that Harry realised that his presumption that Petunia had successfully persuaded Vernon had been premature. While angrily accepting Petunia's words to her face, Vernon, stewing about the thought of leaving Privet Drive for the past week, refusing to discuss it with anyone, hadn't truly begun to face this reality until the day itself was upon him. The realisation of what that day meant, the degree of disruption to his well-established and cherished routine, and the fact that by the next morning they'd be God-knows-where, left Vernon in no state to do anything except deny the inevitable.

Harry perhaps should have realised that this would happen, when it became obvious that Vernon had made no effort to pack his belongings at any time during the week, and Petunia, going along with whatever he said or did, likewise did not. The fact that he had evidently said nothing to Dudley about Harry's news or even his presence at Privet Drive was another bad sign. Harry's appearance at the top of the stairs at the moment of Dudley's arrival, holding onto one end of his trunk, was therefore an unpleasant surprise for the latter.

"Why is he here?" Dudley demanded, spotting his cousin. "I usually get home first"—

But he stopped talking abruptly when Ron appeared behind Harry, holding the other end of the trunk. His eyes widened in surprise, and he backed against the wall, evidently trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. Seeing Ron, Vernon barked at Harry, "I thought I told you lot to keep out of the way!"

"We're just getting ready to go," Harry said coolly. "Relax."

"No, I won't relax!" Vernon snarled. "Because this ruddy well means that more of you freaks are coming to send us away, doesn't it?"

Dudley started. "What d'you mean, send us away?"

Harry's jaw stiffened. Ignoring Dudley, he snapped at his uncle, "You know full well why."

"I'm not having it, boy!" Vernon roared. "I've thought about it, and I refuse to accept it!"

But before he or Harry could say anymore, Petunia appeared in the hallway, having heard the yelling. Spotting Dudley, she rushed to him and enveloped him in a tight hug.

"Come into the kitchen, Dudders," she gushed. "I've got your lunch ready."

"Mum, what are they talking about?" he asked anxiously. "Dad's saying the freaks are sending us away."

Petunia rushed Dudley out of the hallway without answering. Ron glowered after them.

"'Freaks,'" he growled, offended. "If I hear that word one more time…"

"Ignore it," Harry quietly advised him. "Let's just get Hedwig in her cage."

They hadn't made it two steps up the stairs before Vernon yelled, "Now just a minute! I'm not through with you, boy!"

But Ron drew his wand and started fingering it warningly, silencing Vernon abruptly, which allowed Harry to return to his room with little more than a cold, "Whatever," to his uncle.

Vernon, in equal doses of stubbornness and stupidity, continued to try to argue his way out of the impending relocation, but Harry, refusing to speak any further on the matter, simply shut himself in his room, now stripped of all his possessions, with Ron and Hermione, choosing to leave it to Mad-Eye—or whoever arrived that evening—to convince his uncle. They did not have long to wait. The Order, evidently watching for Dudley's arrival, sent someone barely half an hour later. After hearing the rap on the door, and Hermione confirming from the window that it was indeed the Order, Harry gave Hedwig an owl treat, closed her cage, and put on his rucksack.

As he and Ron and Hermione got ready to leave, they could hear muffled voices, and as they, bags and owl cage in hand, stepped out into the hall, they could distinctly hear Vernon's angry voice:

"I just don't believe you! I think you just want us out of the way because you weirdos want my business! Or my house!"

Harry came down the stairs in time to see Vernon shaking his fist at Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt, both of whom looked completely unconcerned. Petunia and Dudley were cowering by the kitchen door.

"That," Moody snorted, "was the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Dursley. And I've spent half my life hunting down stupid people, so well done." He then spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione on the stairs. "There you are. Come on, let's get this over with."

Kingsley kept his attention to the Dursleys. Beckoning to the lounge, he asked politely, "Shall we all have a seat?"

Vernon swelled in fury. "This is my house!" he shouted. "You have no right coming here and acting like you own the place! I demand that you leave at once! And take the boy with you! Lazy, freaky layabouts, trying to move into this"—

But he didn't get another word across before Moody suddenly drew his wand, so quickly that Vernon didn't register it.

"Silencio!"

Vernon gasped, his mouth moving in attempts to continue shouting, but he couldn't get the smallest sound out.

"What have you done to him?" shrieked Petunia.

Losing patience completely, Moody snapped, "What does it look like, woman? Unless you want me to do the same to you, you'll shut up too!"

An outraged Vernon, still trying hard to shout, waved his fists about wildly, but Moody aimed his wand at him threateningly. "Do you want me to jinx your arms to your sides as well as shut you up?" He pointed at the lounge. "Now get into that room and sit down!"

He shouted this last bit. Both Vernon and Petunia quailed. Dudley tried hard to hide behind them with considerable difficulty. As the three of them slinked into the lounge, Harry, shifting in embarrassment, whispered to Kingsley, "Can't we just go?"

"Not yet," Kingsley said. "I believe Bill ran the details by you already."

"But Uncle Vernon won't go, and even if you persuade him, they're not packed."

"Leave that to us." Kingsley waved his wand at the front door. Looking back at Harry, he added, "While they're in the lounge, they won't be able to hear anything going on in the hall. Now stay here and answer the door."

With that, Kingsley followed Moody and the Dursleys into the lounge. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" asked Ron.

Before anyone could speculate on this, however, they heard another sharp knock on the door. Harry looked at the others, before he hesitantly pulled the door open. He relaxed immediately.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Nymphadora Tonks greeted cheerfully. "Let us in, will you? I'm nipping."

She pushed past Harry before he could respond. Remus Lupin followed her, placing a warm hand on Harry's shoulder momentarily. Behind him followed Hestia Jones and Elphias Doge.

"What're you lot doing here?" asked Ron, grinning.

"Nice to feel wanted," quipped Tonks, shoving Ron's shoulder playfully.

"We're the Dursleys' escort," Remus explained.

Harry's face fell, and he looked at the other room, where they could hear raised voices.

"They're not willing or ready," he told Remus. "They haven't packed yet or anything."

Tonks smirked. "Thought as much. Another reason we're here." She looked at her watch. "I'll give it five minutes before they start actually listening to Kingsley and Mad-Eye. Let's have their stuff ready by then. Harry, where are their bedrooms?"

Taken aback, Harry stammered, "Erm, up the stairs, first door to the right, second to the left."

"Got it," Tonks said cheerfully, before bounding up the stairs, Remus close behind her.

"We'll take the kitchen," added Hestia. "You three go upstairs and help the others." She then led Elphias into the kitchen, her wand out.

By the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione caught up with Remus and Tonks, they were already inside Vernon and Petunia's bedroom, Remus pulling a large suitcase from an upper shelf in the closet, scattering dust everywhere. He then waved his wand, clearing the dust, before opening the suitcase.

"This ought to simplify things," Remus said, waving his wand. "Extendo interiora."

Harry couldn't see that this made any difference to the suitcase, but before he could ask anything, Tonks waved her wand in a long, sweeping motion, crying "Pack!"

Harry had to step out of the way from the sudden whirlwind of clothes and jewellery that swept through the bedroom, pulled from the closet, the chest of drawers, and Petunia's vanity, piling into the suitcase. As she worked, Remus stepped out of the room. "Hermione, Ron, let's go take care of Dudley's room."

Within seconds, the bedroom had been stripped down, so that only the furniture remained.

"Accio laundry!" Tonks cried, pointing her wand at the door. "Well, that ought to do it," she said, looking around the room with satisfaction. Harry ducked as the last of the Dursleys' clothes zoomed through the door and into the suitcase with a soft thud. Tonks, grinning happily, closed the suitcase and wheeled it into the hall. She then led the way to Dudley's room, where she and Harry found Remus looking around at all the electronic equipment with a thoughtful expression.

"We can't find any other suitcases here," Hermione told her.

"No matter," Tonks said. "The one we just packed will have enough room." She quickly stepped back into the hall and wheeled the suitcase back in, zipping it open. Remus picked up Dudley's new laptop and looked at Hermione questioningly. She nodded, and he put this into the trunk cautiously. Remus then waved his wand in a similar sweeping motion, but nonverbally. Soon all the clothes and CDs flew into the magically-extended suitcase, followed by smaller electronic devices like the portable CD player. Hermione finished off the rushed packing by putting electronic cables into the suitcase. Satisfied, Tonks closed the suitcase again and began levitating it with a wave of her wand.

They could still hear voices in the lounge by the time they reached the front door. Remus held open the door as Tonks levitated the suitcase out and deposited it onto the porch. She then wheeled it to the Dursleys' car. It was still raining hard, but neither Remus nor Tonks seemed bothered by the icy downpour. In fact, Harry realised as he looked down the street, the downpour was a stroke of good luck, as none of the Muggles seemed to be about. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched as Tonks pointed her wand at the boot of the car, and then opened it. Remus came up behind her and the two of them carefully hoisted the suitcase into the boot, just as Hestia and Elphias came out with Dudley's school trunk, which Harry supposed they had used to pack the Dursleys' kitchenware. Once they fit this inside, Tonks slammed the boot shut.

As they returned to the entryway, Tonks grinned in satisfaction. "Right. That should do it. How much time passed?"

Harry looked at his watch. "Only a couple of minutes."

"Hah!" Tonks grinned happily. Looking at Elphias and Hestia, she asked, "What about the lounge?"

"We'll get it once the Dursleys are ready to go," Elphias answered. "Found a packing case we can use in one of the closets."

Tonks nodded, and looked towards said lounge. "We've done our bit, then. Let's see how they're doing in there."

Harry was surprised and relieved to find, as they entered, that Vernon was no longer shouting, and not because anyone had struck him with a Silencing spell. In fact, he sat quietly in an armchair, Petunia and Dudley on the sofa nearby, looking weak and pale. Mad-Eye still had his wand out, but seemed at ease.

"But what about my job?" Vernon stammered to Kingsley, who sat in the other armchair.

Kingsley smiled. "Did you not recently receive a lucrative offer last week for a chief executive position at a drill firm in Canada?" he asked, causing Vernon's eyes to widen in shock. "It would require your removal from Britain, I believe."

"How did you know about that?" Vernon demanded.

"Because we arranged it, you dolt," Mad-Eye said with a smirk. "And before you say you'll turn it down, Columbia Drilling has already received your letters and paperwork accepting their offer. Grunnings, meanwhile received your letter of resignation after you left to pick up your son this morning." Smirking at Vernon's stunned expression, he added, "Oh, and we also modified all your colleagues' memories to make them think you've been planning this transition for weeks."

Furious, Vernon snapped, "How dare you interfere in my career?" Spotting Remus, Tonks, Elphias, and Hestia, he added, "And who are this lot?"

"Now, then, be civil," Mad-Eye mock-scolded him. "They and Kingsley have, after all, kindly agreed to escort you safely to Heathrow Airport in a few minutes. They all took time off work for this, so you'd better be on your best behaviour on the way there." He then levelled a warning look at Vernon in particular. "If you're not, I will know. And I will turn all of you into cowpats."

Harry turned away to hide his amused smirk, missing the abject horror that had crossed his aunt and uncle's faces. His job done, Moody limped over in Harry's direction.

"Now," he said over his shoulder, 'I think we're done here. We should be off as soon as possible."

"You'll get the details on the way," Kingsley added for the Dursleys' benefit.

"Potter," Mad-Eye barked. "With me. I'll send your stuff ahead. And we'll send the Dursleys off first."

He stepped past Harry and into the hall, waving his wand at his trunk. There was a swooshing sound and the trunk vanished. Mad-Eye then wordlessly led Harry, Ron, and Hermione into the kitchen, now stripped of everything except the furniture. They could hear Vernon grumbling in the other room, but Mad-Eye, ignoring the sounds, tugged the bin out from under the counter and started rummaging through it until he found a tin can, which he placed on the countertop. He drew his wand and muttered, "Portus."

The can glowed blue.

"Do you have authorisation to do that?" Hermione asked curiously, as the glow dimmed.

"Wouldn't matter either way," Mad-Eye grunted. "There are ways to enchant a Portkey without the Ministry detecting it. Fred and George Weasley especially are becoming adept at it. Kingsley's put them in charge of transportation for the Order, among other things. Ask them if you want details."

The interested look on Hermione's face told Harry that she intended to do just that. But before she or anyone could say anything further, Petunia unexpectedly appeared at the kitchen door.

"Yes?" Mad-Eye asked coolly.

She pursed her lips but said nothing.

"Get going," Mad-Eye ordered her. "And you can tell your great prune of a husband that if he doesn't get in his car in five seconds I will turn him into a real prune."

Petunia shook her head. "When will we be coming back?"

"This is a war," Mad-Eye reminded her. "There's no telling that."

Petunia's face pinched further for a moment, but finally she relaxed into an aura of resignation, and Harry knew she had finally accepted this, even if Vernon and Dudley had not yet. Looking at Harry, she asked, "You're off too, then?"

He nodded.

"This Voldemort…" Petunia said slowly, "the one who killed my sister… he wants you dead too?"

"He's made that fairly clear," Harry sardonically remarked, wondering where this was going.

"And you're going to do something about it?" she asked.

But at this, Harry was silent. Petunia inhaled deeply, and to his surprise, he could see the smallest trace of sadness in her demeanour. But before anyone could say anything further, Hestia looked in.

"Mrs. Dursley, are you coming or not?" she asked impatiently.

Petunia nodded jerkily, and turned to follow her outside. But as she stepped through the kitchen door, she paused and looked back at Harry, and offered him a quiet, "Good luck."

Harry started, but Petunia left the kitchen before he could respond, leaving a tentative silence in her wake. Seconds later, they heard the front door close and lock, and a minute later, car doors slamming. Harry stepped next to Moody, Ron, and Hermione as they heard the car's engines roar into life, and finally heard the Dursleys pull out of their driveway, possibly for the last time. Moody flicked his wand at the ceiling, and the lights turned off.

"Quickly," he hissed, tapping the Portkey with his wand. "Five seconds."

He, Harry, Ron, and Hermione grasped the can, and seconds later vanished from the kitchen.

A small tremor rocked the house, echoing through the mostly empty rooms, then all was silent. A minute, two minutes, three passed. Then slowly, very slowly, the handle of the front door turned. It swung open, and two men in masks and black robes stepped into Number Four, Privet Drive, with lit wands. But Voldemort's minions had arrived moments too late. Nobody by the name of Potter or Dursley dwelled within, nor would they step within that dwelling again. And the Death Eaters would shortly face their master's wrath for not responding to the crumbling of Lily Potter's final defences more promptly.

They did not go unobserved. As the Death Eaters promptly tore the house apart in search of any indication of their enemy's whereabouts, a scarlet and gold bird, perched in the tree out back, trilled quietly with an air of triumph. Then, unseen by anyone, it raised its wings and vanished in a flash of fire that left the tree's branches unscorched.

#

Many miles away, in an ancient, mostly untouched remnant of Sherwood Forest, lay the goblin village of Baarenbrach. Like all goblin communities it was well hidden from Muggle eyes. Unlike Surrey, Nottinghamshire was not enduring a heavy downpour, but rather a soft mist filled the woods and further obscured the settlement from passersby. In one of the settlement's small, brick cottages dwelled old Benedict Grobschmied, one of Baarenbrach's most respected residents. Though his name indicated Koboldic heritage rather than that of Tylwthteg, his family had been established in Baarenbrach for many generations, leaving him only loosely connected with the Germanic goblin nation Koboldrang.

On this particularly dismal afternoon, Grobschmied could be found in his sitting room, pouring himself some tea and settling in a worn armchair. His coffee table was covered with newspapers, written both in English and in the language of the Tylwthteg goblins, all featuring pictures of the Dark Mark, the Minister of Magic, Albus Dumbledore, and Harry Potter, all showing headlines documenting the ongoing crisis in the magical world. Grobschmied looked over these papers without comment, and then he placed his teacup on the end table beside an old photograph showing a youthful, smiling goblin. He picked up the photograph and looked at it solemnly, before placing it next to the newspaper with a photograph of the Dark Mark. Looking between the two in sad resignation, he leaned back in his chair, and reached for his tea.

Then his pointed ears twitched, and he froze, listening closely. The strange song became more and more audible, an unearthly yet almost sacred sound. Grobschmied got to his feet as the sound reached a loud crescendo, and then there was a burst of fire over the coffee table, causing him to cry out and fling his hands up, shielding his eyes. Then the song stopped, the light dimmed, and Grobschmied lowered his hands, and gawked in astonishment at the beautiful scarlet and gold phoenix that stood perched on the coffee table, its right foot next to the undamaged photograph.

Hesitantly he reached out to touch the phoenix. When it accepted his touch, he slowly stroked its glossy feathers. "Good heavens," he whispered quietly. "What on earth would you want with a crusty old sod like me?"

The phoenix trilled in response and raised its left foot, and Grobschmied noticed an envelope tied to its leg. With shaking fingers, the goblin untied the letter and turned it over, seeing his name written in a flowing hand. Then the phoenix trilled a second time, and vanished with an equally bright flash of flame, leaving no burn marks on the table. Grobschmied stared at the spot for a moment, and then hesitantly opened and read his letter. As he reached its close, his eyes widened, and he immediately stowed it in his pocket and dashed to his fireplace. He seized a handful of Floo Powder from a box on the mantelpiece, scattered it into his lit fire, and stepped into the green flames.

"Cerdik Gadlak's office, Gringotts!" he shouted in a clear voice.

And with that, Benedict Grobschmied vanished from his fireplace, leaving his cottage in silence. Above the fireplace hung a portrait of the same young goblin in the photograph, with a brass nameplate that read:

LAERTES GROBSCHMIED
1913-1945

He was determined to make it a certainty. One day, Lord Voldemort would pay.

---

Commentary:

One of the elements of "Deathly Hallows" that I found extremely frustrating was how Ginny just gets swept out of sight for most of the book; after she nearly takes center stage along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione in HBP, I'd always thought she'd play a bigger role in the finale; since "Penumbra" was originally conceptualized not long after HBP was published, Ginny absolutely plays a much bigger role in this series than she does in "Penumbra". She's every bit as much of a main character as Harry.

I have always imagined goblins playing a larger role too, so they have always been present in the "Penumbra" outline. Benedict Grobschmied is one of the earliest original characters I thought of, though his name has changed a couple of times. He was one of the central characters in the earliest version of "Penumbra" that I ever wrote (which was originally posted many years ago on a website called "Veritaserum", which closed in 2011). What was posted then was the original draft of the story "Dalgormad", which will be the fifth and final entry in this series. Because some of the most major characters in this story are goblins, I put a great deal of thought into their history, language, and culture, so there will be a lot more detail than was shown or explained in "Deathly Hallows".

Concerning goblins, here's a bit of terminology to bear in mind:

Tylwthteg is the name of the goblin nation found in Britain and Ireland. People familiar with Welsh mythology will be familiar with the name. The word "goblin" is actually a relatively recent word, originating in Old French (so probably in the Middle Ages some time). In the "Penumbra" canon, the word became the preferred term for the species during the late Middle Ages, but before that the goblins were called by a variety of other names, and are associated with magical peoples in numerous mythologies, including Norse and Celtic mythologies. In this imagining, "Tylwth Teg" which means "fair family" in Welsh, is also related to "Delwaith Taeg" in the goblin language; while the goblins refer to their nation as Delwaith Taeg when speaking their own language, the Wizarding World officially refers to it as "Tylwthteg". I also imagine the goblins as the same species as the dwarves/dark elves of Norse mythology. in this story, goblins generally live in obscure communities and settlements scattered all over Britain and Ireland, which are kept magically concealed by the Ministry of Magic.

Danduaith is the capitol of Tylwthteg. Broadly, it is often used to refer to Tywlthteg's government, but it also refers to Danduaith Castle, where the goblin high council meets.

Sindrian is what the goblins prefer to call their language, which wizards usually call Gobbledegook.