Thank you to everyone who reviewed!
So here we are. Hopefully all updates will be on Fridays from now on. I'm not entirely certain about next Friday, because I'll be going out of town again, but I'll give it a shot. With any luck we'll still manage an update, if not, it'll be Sunday instead, and then we'll go back to regular Fridays.
There are two chapters in Part Two after this, and then we will have a two week recess before the beginning of Part Three. Part Three has nine chapters, and, assuming we stick to schedule, the last chapter of that will be up November twenty-ninth. Then I plan to have another two week recess before Part four. With any luck, I'll be able to see Thor 2 by then, and include it into the plot. Hopefully.
Anyways, on to the chapter.
Enjoy.
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Christmas with the Weasley family was just as pleasant as the previous year, if not as carefree. Bill, Charlie, and Percy weren't present, a fact that seemed to make Mum's heart ache, and they spent it at Grimmauld rather than the Burrow. It was more subdued as a result. Harry learned that Mrs. Black didn't screech as often anymore since he had threatened her, a memory that made him somewhat ashamed, so they didn't need to be as quiet, but it was still far less rowdy than it would have been at the Burrow. Everyone felt a little subdued, even if they were happy, and Harry's smile was just as warm, if not as bright, as it had been last year when they all gathered in the living room Christmas morning. He sat between the twins, everyone, even Dad, in their pajamas aside from Mum, and each of the near-identical redheads had an arm around him. He leaned back in those arms as Dad fumbled about the tree and Mum hollered at him to get on with it.
Moody was there, hiding back against a wall, and so was Tonks, though she was decidedly more involved. Severus was slinking around in the kitchen somewhere, not wanting to be there, and they were expecting Hermione and Dumbledore tomorrow for dinner. Remus wasn't there, and neither was anyone else. Harry wondered who he would get to see before he returned to Hogwarts. It might well be the last time he was able before he would disappear off to Bogdon. More than anything, his heart ached at the thought that he would not be able to say goodbye, because he could not tell these people he was leaving. The twins and Ginny knew, true enough, but he knew he would be breaking Mum and Dad's hearts when they learned he was gone. His smile wavered, and the arms around him grew tighter; the grins on their owner's faces just a bit more forced. They knew, of course, what he was thinking, and he felt comforted a bit by that, even though his heart pained him with every beat inside his chest; as though it were made of millions of needles that stabbed all around it with each pump.
"Oh come on now Arthur! Sit down!"
"Alright, alright, I'm sitting!" Dad flumped down in the middle of the floor, making Ginny giggle and Mum huff.
"Get on with it then! Come on, let's get the first present!"
"Yes dear." He picked up a purple-wrapped box. "Ginny!" The girl grinned as it was given to her, and so it all began. This year, Harry had given her a book on defense, which she looked thankful for. For Ron, he had gotten a broom, and the teen had looked awed that he would do so. He may not be friends with the other, but they were still brothers, and when he said as much, Ron's face had pinked and he hadn't looked at Harry for the rest of the night. For Fred, he had managed a small collection of relatively rare potion ingredients that made the man (for the twins were men now, not teenagers) grin in a way that made many in the room shiver. For George, he had gotten a purple scarf like the one he had gotten Fred the previous year, with a hyena embroidered on it in silver. He had been pleased with it. There had been a gift for the both of them also, but that was hidden up in their room for him to give them tonight, when it was just the three of them.
He had sent gifts off to the other three Weasley children also, that he hoped they liked. He had constructed a small, warded box all on his own for Bill, that had taken him forever; his skill with wards above average, but not so great that he could make it a career. It was not overly complex, but he hoped the eldest of the Weasley children would still enjoy it. For Charlie, he had sent some calming potions, having heard once from Mum that the man often complained in letters about needing them, with the work he did. He hadn't actually met Charlie yet, so it had been a bit of a guess. Then there was Percy, who still wasn't really speaking to his family. He had debated about sending him anything, but decided that he should, and had ended up buying him a little puff from the twins' shop that was a light green. He hadn't been able to think of what he would like, so he hoped Percy accepted it, and if he sent it back then Harry could always give it to someone else.
For Mum, he had found a set of new dishware to replace some of the Burrow's old chipped ones, and she had kissed him on the cheek in thanks. He had introduced Dad to the wonders of muggle markers, pens, pencils, and mechanical pencils, and he had been absolutely delighted by the rather large set of various types, colors, and sizes. It had been a relatively cheap gift, and Harry had had to get them the previous summer, before leaving for Grimmauld, but it was worth it.
He hadn't gotten anything for Dumbledore or Hagrid this year, though the latter had sent him his usual rock cakes. They may not be edible, but they were excellent paperweights. He had, however, gotten Moody some fine Rumple Minze that had him grinning, only the two of them knowing how much he liked it, and had gotten a present for Severus. The potion master had looked entirely shocked at his having done so, and it was the first time he had ever seen the man do what might be called blush. It was, like Moody's gift, alcohol, though in the form of four bottles of Moscato from various brands. Neither of the men had given him anything in return, but he had hardly minded, and only shrugged when Severus apologized; Moody too proud a man to do so.
He had sent books of various types to his friends, based on what he knew of their interests, and hoped they all liked what they received. He had even gotten some new clothing for Remus. For many of his gifts he had had to order in advance, some months ago, others he had gotten last minute in Diagon after his trip to the castle. He had been given a wonderful collection of gifts himself.
From Mum there had been the usual sweater, this one in blue with a black H rather than the green and maroon one the last year, and Dad had given him a blue rubber duck as a memento of the time they had talked about them. It made Harry smile, even though he was unlikely to ever use it, and he thanked them both with a bright smile, pulling on his sweater then and there. From Bill, Ginny, Neville and Blaise, he had received books on wandless (using a focus other than a wand) magic, dragons (in memory of last Christmas), dangerous plants, and barely legal offensive magic, respectively. The twins gave him a box filled with trick wands, those locks of theirs, puff treats, and little balls that stuck to things and served as alarm systems when active; screaming out loud obscenities at any trespassers and drawing great attention to them.
"Got the idea from Mrs. Black." George offered.
"Just figured we'd give you some things we thought you might need." Fred smiled.
Luna had sent him a set of boots and gloves, with a note that they would go well with the armor she had given him last year. Perhaps his most interesting gift had come from Draco of all people. A twisted dagger the length of his forearm with a hooked edge and an emerald embedded in the handle. There had been a note saying the blonde figured he could use it, and a sheath with a sort of belt that attached, and Harry thought that yes, he could certainly use it. He wondered if Moody had any experience with blades.
All in all, it had been a good Christmas, he decided, even if his heart ached all the while.
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The day passed by lazily, and everyone, even Severus, gathered later in the day for lunch in the kitchen. Mum would be gone later, off doing something for Dumbledore, so dinner was to be a rare, fend-for-yourself occasion. It was different than when he had shared meals with the adults at the beginning of the school year, and there was less teasing this time; but that sense of family was just as strong, and Harry found the pain in his chest easing throughout the meal. Everyone wandered off to do their own thing afterwards, and the twins left. They said they needed to check up on a few things at their shop, and that they would be back by bedtime. Harry waved them off before they apparated away. Harry found himself alone in the kitchen with Moody. But then he left too, patting Harry on the shoulder with a grin and saying he'd be back in a couple of hours.
The silence, alone in that kitchen, felt deafening to Harry. He looked down at the table, lost in his thoughts, and then up. He started when he realized that he sat in the same place he had that day he had tried to tell Sirius the truth. His eyes moved to the chair the man had sat in then, and stayed there. He could imagine it now, perfectly. He could envision his father sitting there, eyes dark and face angry as he accused Severus of lying or scheming just to hurt him; as he cried out that it could not be true.
How was that? He had been with Harry's mother. His own existence was proof of that. Had his mind been addled by the dementors so badly that he could not even recall such a betrayal against his best mate? Or had his mother done something? Everyone always told him how skilled she was with charms, and such spells that erased or altered memories were classified as charms. But with Sirius dead, there was no way to know. He wished, pointlessly, that the man lived still. That Sirius would suddenly walk through that kitchen door and sit down at the table to answer all his questions and make his world right again.
As though born from the thought, a black dog suddenly came bounding through the entryway. Harry gasped, eyes widening and heart pounding inside his chest. And then he looked closer, as it came running up to jump up against his legs in a desire to be pet, and his heart fell. He scratched an ear, recognizing the panting canine now. It had grown, but it was the same puppy he had sent Sirius for Christmas the previous year. He hadn't seen the thing since then, and had truly forgotten all about it. Where had it been all this time?
Seemingly in answer of his question, Remus came into the kitchen next, and Harry realized the mutt had likely been placed in his care. He looked at Harry immediately, and then at the dog, and smiled sadly, almost as if he knew exactly what the teen had first thought when he caught sight of the beast. It likely showed on his face.
"Harry." The werewolf sat himself at the table. The man swallowed. "H-How have you been?" Harry suddenly felt rather guilty for not having owled the other all this time. But what was he to write?
"Remus. I've been alright. You?" The man was pale, and it occurred to Harry that the full moon was likely close by, whether coming soon or just passed. But he didn't keep track of the lunar cycle. Remus cleared his throat.
"I've been alright. The full moon was just a couple days ago." So he was right then. "I'm just tired, mostly. How are your classes going?"
"Good. My grades are good enough." Remus nodded.
"You still wear that." He pointed to the jacket, and Harry shrugged.
"It... It just..." Remus smiled gently.
"I understand, Harry. You don't need to explain. Sirius would have wanted you to wear it. He loved the thing." He chuckled, and Harry felt more at ease.
"How did he get it? Do you know?" Remus shook his head.
"Not exactly. There was a time, just after sixth year, when James got it in his head that he wanted to go explore the muggle world. We went to London. Back then, Sirius was always getting distracted by things and running off. We were in a store and he disappeared. Took us two days to find him. We'd worked ourselves into a good panic by then and he just walked up to us, like nothing was wrong." Remus' expression was somewhere between fond and frustrated, and Harry laughed. "He had it on then. We were so glad he was safe none of us ever asked where he got it, then I suppose I just never thought to. I don't know if James ever asked him. He might have known about it, since he and Siri were closer. But he always wore it after that. I always thought it was strange that he wasn't wearing it the night he was arrested, but I think he knew what would happen to him, and left it behind for safekeeping." Harry nodded and fingered one of the sleeves. They were still too long, but he had grown, and the shoulders weren't so wide to him as before.
They chatted a little more, Remus sharing little things with him about Sirius and James, and then Harry said his goodbyes and went back up to the room he shared with the twins. He had chosen to join them in their room on the third floor rather than remain in Sirius' room. It was too painful to see it so barren. He sat on the bed, and gathered up the book he had gotten from Blaise.
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He was consumed in the book, it being more interesting than he had thought, and didn't put it down until Fred and George's return. He hadn't even heard them enter the room, and was only made aware that they were there, when suddenly the bed shook. He look up to find George sitting there and grinning at him, Fred standing just next to his seated brother with a look of humor on his face.
"Careful now. You're startin' to turn into a regular Hermione little Hare-bear." George teased. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Liking a good read doesn't mean I'll die by having stacks of them collapse on me." They snickered at his joke, and he smiled at them. "So how's the store?" Fred climbed onto the bed, pushing past his twin to lean against the wall it was next to.
"All's well enough." He shared. "We hired some staff couple months back, but it's the first time we've left them to mind the place alone, so we just wanted to check in." George smiled.
"They're managing." He said. "Nothin' has exploded or caught fire yet."
"Which is better than when you two are there, I imagine." Harry spoke wryly.
"Oy!" Fred looked indignant.
"I'll have you know we try and keep the explosions to a minimum!" Harry snickered.
"Yup." Fred nodded. "We've even gotten it down to just one a week. Not bad, I'd say." Harry shook his head with a grin.
"Of course you do." They all shared a smile, and then Harry remembered his present. "Oh!" The redheads both blinked and watched him scramble off the bed and dig through his backpack in its' place near the dresser. He pulled out an old worn-down book. He handed it to George when he came back, since he was closest. "This is for the both of you. I'd have gotten separate ones if it wasn't unique, but I don't think you'll mind too much." His smile was a little sad when George took it and opened it, Fred peeking over his brother's shoulder to get a look at it himself.
"This is-" George gasped, and both redheads looked up at Harry with wide eyes. He shrugged.
"I've read it nearly a dozen times now. I'm not really one for pranks though. I know you don't do it as much, now that you two have yer' shop, but I thought maybe it could give you some ideas." He had barely spoken when he found himself buried somewhere between four arms and two torsos, and he tried to get an arm around both in reply.
"Thank you, Harry." He smiled at the familiar synchrony, and knew he had left the thing in good hands.
Who else could he trust to keep the Marauder's ledger safe?
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The return to Hogwarts came with mixed emotions for Harry. He found himself missing Remus, Fred, George, Mum and Dad already, and almost wishing he could have stayed at Grimmauld for them. But, on the other hand, he was glad to be back at Hogwarts, with the lake and forest, and the tower. He felt safer here, in this place that, while holding some bad memories, did not make him recall such pain as Grimmauld did. He felt safer here, even if, given past experiences, he had little reason to, and, while he could never regain that thought of Hogwarts being synonymous with home, he was more content here.
He wondered, during the welcome-back dinner feast, why the room felt so much smaller, and then he realized why, and sighed. Clearly the D.A. had done well with their task; none of them backing out about what he asked of them, for many students had not returned after the break, and many of those who had were pureblood. Most of the first and second years, even, were gone now.
The normal number of students, on record, was something between four and five hundred students. This had been true of last year. His year, and the years above, as well as the one just below, had less students than the norm, because so few people had dared have children during the first time Voldemort rose to power. The next few years had a baby-boom however, so the current numbers of the first four years had made up for the smaller numbers.
At the beginning of Harry's fifth year, there had been about four hundred and thirty students. Then Voldemort's return had been revealed. Because of those families smart enough to leave at the start, there had only been three hundred and seventy odd students at the start of this school year. Now, a bit less than half that number had not returned. He counted by twos, his math hindered a bit by how much he could see from his place at the Gryffindor table, and his count led to a number of, rounded out, was only two hundred students, give or take fifteen or so.
He imagined it was the smallest number of students the school had seen in a very long time, and he could see the professors talking rapidly, their pointing and looks towards the tables seeming to mark their chain of thought as regarding the low number. Dumbledore looked out on the chatting and eating students with sadness written all over his face, mixed with confusion. People's reactions tended to be based off the Prophet, after all, and the paper had written nothing lately that would lead to such a drop.
His D.A. had done their duty, and rather discreetly too. They were hardly professionals, but he imagined this task had turned out similarly to how it would have if done professionally, and he was grateful. He hoped the families who had been smart enough to pull their children out were also smart enough to leave Britain. He caught the eyes of several of the D.A. members, and nodded at them. They were all here, not a one having left, not even those who were muggle-born, and he was already constructing a mental list of who he would likely be taking with him to Bogdon stronghold.
He just hoped it was enough, and that he would be able to keep everyone safe.
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The first meeting of the D.A. after the return from break featured a blackboard set up near the mirrors, with Harry making lists as the members rattled off names and people. He had nearly covered it when the last of them ended their report.
"Is that it then?"
"Yes." Hermione looked at the list. "This safe place of yours, is it big enough, Harry?" He turned to the girl. Neither her, nor her parents were on the list, and he wondered what she had done to protect them. The girl was smart enough to know what was at stake, and he hoped she and her family would be safe.
"Yea. There's enough room." The list contained himself and twelve other members of the D.A, as well as their families, two of those members having just joined this year. Those numbers, including parents and any siblings, equaled out to thirty-eight people. Then there were twelve other students who had agreed to flee, and their own families, which added on another forty-three people, and left them with a list of eighty-one. It would push it a little, but, so long as the parents all shared rooms in so far as being couples, then he thought he could fit them all into the furnished rooms, and maybe only have to set up a few of the empty ones with proper furnishings. "I might have to buy some more furniture, but everyone will fit, and there'll be extra room as well." Hermione nodded, satisfied. "Are you sure this is all the Slytherins who are going?" He asked Blaise. The dark teen and his mother were on the list, as well as Malfoy and his family. One of their newest members, the only new snake to join up, Tracy Davis, and her bunch were also on the list, but there were only two other snakes and their families on the blackboard. Vincent, Gregory, and Daphne not listed. Blaise nodded.
"Some of them want to stay behind. Anyone who can get away with it is remaining here." Daphne smiled.
"This way we can pretend to serve, and send you word of what's going on. The Dark Lord probably won't let anyone but us snakes send messages outside the castle, so this way we can spy for you, and try and keep things under control on the Slytherin side, like the others will do in the other houses." Harry nodded, jaw set. He didn't like it, but information would become key soon, with him in Russia unable to see what was happening here first hand. It would help him know when he had to act, even if he wasn't ready.
"Speaking of that." Ginny spoke up. "How are they supposed to contact you?" Harry looked at her.
"Send the letters to the bank, and they can get them to me. No one else will be able to reach me but the goblins. It's safer for everyone that way." She nodded.
"And this place of yours," Hermione started again. "It has food and everything?" He nodded. "What about education? How are the students going to learn there? He blinked. "You didn't even think about that did you?" He scratched his head sheepishly.
"Maybe the parents can teach." Draco added. "My mom is good with Herbology. I'm sure she'd be happy to help out." Blaise nodded.
"My Mum knows arithmancy like no one else."
"You could teach defense, yourself."
"I-" He paused his objection. Hadn't that been what he'd been doing with the D.A. all this time? "Alright. I want you to talk to everyone who's going, have them write home. Ask everyone's parents what they know, what they'd be willing to teach. The muggles too. If we can get most of the subjects covered, we can work the rest out. There's a library there, so if someone doesn't know it then we can learn and teach right out of the books if we have to. Make sure everyone knows to pack whatever they need, but not more than they can carry. If you're not able to hold it when you go, it get's left behind." Everyone nodded. "Anymore questions?" Justin piped up.
"What kinds of things do you think we'll need?"
"Clothes and toiletries mainly. Personal items. Anything sentimental. If you've got pets then anything you need for them too. Also, as far as clothes go, everyone should pack for cold weather." The Hufflepuff nodded.
"Are you sure it's safe?" Sarah Reems asked. He had heard that question a number of times now.
"Nothing short of a Hungarian Horntail could get to us." She nodded, accepting the answer even if she didn't look all that believing.
"Harry..." He turned exasperated eyes on Hermione once again. "Why isn't your family on the list?" His brows scrunched in confusion, and he opened his mouth to reply, thinking first of the Weasleys, but then he realized that wasn't what she meant. The Dursley's. He froze. He had, entirely forgotten about them. They were his only blood-relatives. Dumbledore had, during one of their meetings, told him of the wards on Privet Drive, and answered his questions about them. If he didn't return during the summer, then the wards would fall. The Dursleys, being related to him, would become targets for Voldemort to go after.
His blood ran cold. For the first time he realized he cared about them, and something deep within roared in furious rage at the very thought of any magical person raising a hand to them. It was that same thing which had led to his hand crushing Bellatrix' windpipe. He took a breath, turned around, and wrote down their names. The number was eighty-four now.
He needed to speak with Severus.
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He had managed to catch the man later that day, and Saturday evening he found himself taking the Knight Bus, under disguise, from the Leaky Cauldron to Privet Drive. How could he possibly have forgotten them? Had Hermione said nothing, they would never have come to his mind, and the wards would have fallen after summer, and then...
He shivered, guilt eating at his heart in a way it had not done since after fourth year. His lack of thought would have become the death for the last of his immediate family. True that blood was not everything, but they had been kind to him these past couple years. Could he not repay that kindness by at least thinking of them as family like he thought of the Weasleys?
He stepped of the fast-moving bus near the park on much steadier legs than he had the last time he'd ridden on it; the speed once having disoriented him too much, but no longer doing so. He pulled the hood of his cloak up as the bus left, and switched the disguise band for the normal one quickly. When that was done he pulled it off altogether, left only in jeans and a t-shirt, and Sirius jacket. He wore the armor under it all, but no one would know that, and the boots Luna had sent him, though he passed on the gloves. He imagined he looked underdressed, given the cold, but he didn't care much, and he proceeded to Privet Drive with his hands in his pockets. He had left Oddball at Hogwarts, and, having taken to bringing the puff everywhere with him, felt strange without that weight on his head.
Uncle Vernon's car was in the driveway when he came upon the cul de sac, which he had expected, given that it was the weekend, and he was thankful there looked to be no other cars. Sometimes they had dinner or lunch guests, but it didn't look as if they did today, and that made things easier for him. He knocked, and was pleased when Dudley answered the door. That the teen was home, meant that his Aunt would be also, and unless Vernon had carpooled with work buddies to a pub, he would be home as well.
"Harry! What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at that school?" He looked shocked to see Harry there, and Harry didn't blame him. He had never once come home before the school-year was up, until now.
"I need to talk to you all. It's important." His serious tone gave him away, and Dudley straightened.
"Has something happened?"
"Sort of." His cousin stood aside to let him in. "Where are they?"
"Watchin' the telly." He nodded, and went into the living room. Aunt Petunia noticed him first.
"Harry!" That had Vernon looking up, and he started at the sight of the teen, his face scrunching in confusion.
"It's not summer yet. Did you get expelled?" Harry shook his head.
"No. But I needed to talk to you. All of you." Vernon switched of the television. He was not a particularly smart man, but he knew business when he saw it. Harry sat down on the settee, and faced them; Petunia in her armchair, and Dudley sitting himself on the couch next to his father.
"What's going on? Has something happened?" He looked carefully at his Aunt, trying to think of where to start.
"Did my mother ever tell you about Voldemort?" She shook her head, looking confused, and he decided to start from the beginning.
"Wizards," His uncle shifted uncomfortably. "Are no different than anyone else. There's good ones and bad ones. Nice people and criminals."
"Is that what this Vole-dee-whatever is?" Dudley asked. "A criminal?"
"I'd liken him more to a terrorist." They all paled. "He's the one who killed my parents. All those years ago. He was trying to take over the magical world and they were helping fight him. He tried to kill me too, but something happened. The spell he used backfired onto him, and made him like a ghost for all this time, but he's back now." They were listening more intently to him now than he thought they ever had, and he tried to think of what to tell them.
"He... To him, being beaten by a baby, even if it was just an accident or a fluke or something, is an embarrassment. So he wants me dead now."
"He's trying to kill you?" Dudley looked horrified.
"Yes. What happened all those years ago made a lot of people think that I can somehow stop him, so they all look to me to kill him." He looked down and twisted his hands together. "So I will. But I'm not ready yet. Voldemort... He's very very powerful, and I can't match him just yet, but he's making his move, and at the end of the year he's going to take over Hogwarts, and there's nothing we can do to stop him without a lot of people dying."
"What are you doing then?" He looked back up at his Aunt.
"I plan to leave. I've got a safe place hidden away where he won't be able to find me, and I'm gonna go there, and prepare once he's made his move. There are a lot of people in danger, and I'm taking as many with me as I can." He made a motion towards one of the walls. "There are wards, magical protections on this house. They're tied to my mother's blood, and they're the reason none of Voldemort's followers have ever come here before. But when I don't come back this summer, they'll fall." Vernon was white.
"Are we going to die?" He whispered the words, almost as though he wasn't really asking, and Harry shook his head.
"That's why I'm here. I want to take you away with the others, but sooner, so I'll know you're safe." Petunia nodded decisively and stood.
"I'll start packing." Vernon sputtered.
"But my job! And Dudders has his schooling!" She glared at him.
"And neither of those are more important than our lives! You can find another job later, and we can get Dudley a tutor when this is over and put him back in school!" She yelled. Harry had, not once in all his life, heard his aunt raise her voice to her husband, and the man flinched as though she had hit him, and then nodded, shoulders slumped. His aunt looked to him then. "What sorts of things should we bring?"
"Clothes. Especially for cold weather. Any toiletries and the like that you need, and anything you can carry that's important to you. If you can live without it, then leave it. Pack like you're never coming back here." She took a shuddering breath, and nodded. "And nothing electronic. Electricity doesn't work well about magic."
"Alright." And then she was gone, up the stairs to pack.
"I... I'll help her." Vernon, still pale as death, tottered after his wife, his face still holding shock and disbelief. Harry was left alone with Dudley. His cousin was staring at him intently.
"You're really gonna fight him? This terrorist man?" Harry nodded.
"I have to. People expect me to stop him; to save them. I can't just let everyone die." Dudley swallowed and looked at his hands.
"And what about you? You could die too." He whispered, and Harry could think of nothing to say to that, because his cousin was right.
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He hadn't intended to take them that day, but it was just as well. He knew the elves had already begun stocking up on food, so they would be able to take care of the Dursleys while he was at Hogwarts. He could try and slip away from the castle some weekends to check in on them. There were a few months yet until the school year would begin drawing to a close, and he would be content to know they were safe in the meantime. He hoped that Dumbledore wouldn't take notice. He had been sneaking out of the castle with increasing regularity, and he didn't want it to catch up with him now of all times.
Vernon wasn't happy about it all, but even he understood that some things were more important than others, and so he kept quiet, driving them into London, and following Harry's directions. His anger didn't appear to be pointed at Harry at least, so much as the situation in which they now found themselves. Harry slipped on the glamour before they got out of the car, startling them, but he put a finger to his lips and they said nothing.
He watched Vernon's eyes glide right over the Leaky Cauldron, while his Aunt was staring right at it.
"Are you sure this is right? There's nothing here boy!"
"I'm sure Uncle. Here." He grabbed one of the man's arms and did the same with Dudley. Both of them were carrying several bags. His aunt was too, and she followed after him puzzledly. "Keep quiet and try not to stare too much." Both males gasped when he brought them up to the door, only now able to see the place, and he led them in silently. They managed to refrain themselves from little more than suspicious sideways glances at the pub around them, and Harry took them out the back unnoticed.
They couldn't hold back so well when the stones opened and revealed the Alley, and glanced about themselves in wonder not unlike Harry had at the age of eleven. Even Vernon couldn't contain his awe, finally understanding the wonder of this world he had, until now, shunned so venomously. They stuck close to him as he led them through the small crowd of people in the alley, and, while the muggle clothes gathered a few odd looks, it was nothing worrisome. He brought them up to the bank, and turned around to get their attention, all of them reading the door's inscription.
"Remember. Don't say anything. The bank is run by goblins, and they don't take lightly to rudeness, so don't stare or draw attention to yourselves." They all nodded, and he opened the doors. Dudley ended up staring several seconds at a goblin, before looking at his feet, and Vernon turned white again; his eyes darting about fearfully. Only his aunt managed to remain relatively composed. He went up to the counter, and the young goblin there looked up at him almost immediately. "I need to speak with Grimrok." The being nodded, and yelled something out to another in his native tongue. They were led to his usual meeting room, and the Dursleys warily settled in at the table with him.
"Grimrok?" Dudley asked curiously, having heard what he'd asked. Harry nodded.
"He's my account manager." The short goblin came in then, a grumpy look on his face, and he eyed the muggles with a sneer before addressing Harry.
"Lord Black. A pleasure as always." His voice said it was anything but, and Harry was dismayed to see he had irritated the other again.
"My apologies Grimrok. I didn't mean to show up unmentioned and interrupt your work, but I'm afraid this matter came up a bit suddenly, and I wasn't given proper time to make an appointment." His formal apology seemed to ease the goblin's ire, and he nodded.
"Very well. What was it you needed?"
"I require a portkey to take these three to Bogdon, and to bring myself back." Grimrok nodded.
"It'll take a moment, but I'll see to it."
"Thank you. I also had a question?"
"Yes?"
"Would it be possible to make a reusable portkey? To take myself back and forth from Bogdon when needed? Preferably something only I can use." The goblin grinned; an expression Harry had come to associate with a lightening of his bank accounts.
"Of course. Such a thing takes awhile to construct, and is a bit on the expensive side, but you can afford it. I will require a vial of your blood to make such a thing." Harry sighed, and nodded.
"Could you set it up then?"
"Of course, Lord Black."
"Thank you then." The goblin nodded and left to get the portkey, and Harry laid his head down on the table.
"Lord Black?" Petunia asked, and he groaned.
"I'll explain it later." The goblin returned about five minutes later, just as the Dursleys began to calm their nerves, with another gold ring nearly three times the size of the one he had used the first time. There was another goblin with him, this one an inch or so taller with light green skin who carried a potion vial and a knife. Harry swallowed.
He didn't need to be told to know he wasn't going to like this.
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The knife was enchanted, and once they had filled up the vial of blood, the painful cut across his palm closed of its' own accord, though it left a scar. He eyed the new line now, straight across his palm. It was thin, and white like an older scar would be; entirely unnoticeable unless you knew it was there.
He had left the Dursleys in the main hall, looking about the castle around them in wonder. Kreacher was already waiting to look after them, and though he pursed his lips at being told they were muggles, he didn't complain or insult them like Harry had expected him to. The teen received only the usual 'yes master' in reply to his orders, and he wondered to himself when it was he had managed to earn the grumpy house elf's respect.
He was in the Keeper's tower now, looking at the map he had stuck to the wall. There were little red pins on it now, with the others. He had taken to marking as many incidents as seemed to be caused by Voldemort as he could. He didn't know them all; only having the last several months of the Prophet to work from. The map was huge enough that England was about half the size of his palm, and the whole thing together took up almost the whole wall. Not all of the attacks had been on the island. There had been a handful of attacks in Ireland, France, Belgium, and the Netherlands; with the farthestmost attacks being a couple of incidents in Germany. They were centered on the United Kingdom, and grew less the farther from the center of the island that you went; like a thinning spiderweb.
Harry didn't think Voldemort would spread out much farther until he had managed to conquer England entirely, and hopefully his prediction proved correct. The last thing they needed was for the Dark Lord to decide he could take on Russia. Harry didn't think he could, even if he took over the U.K., Russian wizards and witches, and the muggles too, were made of tougher stuff; stuck living in the, sometimes unforgiving, landscape of their snowy country. The Russian wizarding law book had been simple and to the point, and when you read between the lines you learned a thing or two.
Wizarding Russia was different than other countries, in that, while there wasn't a whole lot you couldn't get away with, those laws they did have were enforced with an iron fist. The Magical Russian government was quite clear on its' stance regarding invaders. Thus far, there was nothing against the laws there that Harry was doing, or planning to do, and since he owned land there, they would treat him little different than a citizen while he occupied their country. If Voldemort ever found out where he was, and tried to storm Bogdon; the Russians would take it as an act of war against them, even if the Dark Lord was only after Harry.
The teen had, out of curiosity, looked into the history of magical war in Russia, and it had been further enlightening. He had indeed chosen an excellent place to hide away, because, when regarding battle that took place on their home-turf...
The Russian wizards had never lost.
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The next few weeks passed Harry by very quickly. He attended his classes, did his homework, worked on his mental defenses, and plotted both with the D.A. and with Severus and Draco. The D.A. and he had been discussing the best way to keep the casualties and injuries to a minimum when Voldemort took the castle. It had been hard for Harry to agree to just let the man take it without a fight, but too many people would die if they tried to stop him.
They had found a way keep Voldemort from getting too suspicious. The Slytherins were going to make it look as though they had trapped the students in their various dorms, and make it appear that Harry, Draco, and his friends had fled before they could catch them. The trapping of the students would be counted as a success, while his escape would be a failure. The end result, they hoped, was that Voldemort would be angry enough about him getting away that he wouldn't look too closely at the situation, but the capture of the castle would please him enough that no one would find themselves harmed for not being able to stop him.
He would consider the Malfoys and the other Slytherin families that were coming to Bogdon to officially be traitors. It would mean that if Harry lost against the Dark Lord, they would be condemned to death upon capture. It didn't worry him overly much, since he intended to win.
They were going to start moving the muggle families to Bogdon, one by one starting next week instead of waiting. Then the only last minute escapes would be he and the other students themselves, and the Malfoys. That meant that once they had all reached the Zabini property by floo, it would only take one big trip and one smaller one for the elves to get them all to Bogdon Stronghold. He had started receiving more information to add to his original list of people that now included occupations and who was willing to teach.
He now had a large paper about half the size of the map with all that information on it, and more coming as people got more letters from home. Draco's idea on having the parents teach seemed to be working well. Most of the families coming were thankful for what he was doing for them, and saw this as a way to pay him back some. He didn't feel as though they owed him anything, but he would let them think what they wanted, since it solved their problems with education.
Ginny had jokingly told him that he was making a miniature version of Hogwarts, and he found that in a way she was right. He wondered what would happen once the war was over. Would all these people return home and go back to the lives they once had? Or would some of them want to stay? He would let them. If they did. He was forcing them from their normal lives, albeit to protect them, and he felt terribly about that. So he would do whatever he could to make it up to them all.
Draco had told he and Severus of the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement's hidden room. Merlin only knew how he had found the thing, but the other end was in Borgin and Burkes, so it was a way to get the death eater's in. If anyone knew Harry was actively helping in that part he'd be locked in Azkaban. But it was hardly the only thing they would lock him up for.
Letting them in this way meant no damage to the castle. Voldemort intended to take Hogwarts at the end of the school year no matter what; whether that meant slipping in with ease or storming and destroying half the building to break in wouldn't matter to him. Thus, he would slip away with the others to Russia, and Severus would let the death eaters and Voldemort in, and tell them the blonde had turned traitor. Harry knew the house elves and the Professors would fight, that couldn't be helped, but at least the students would be safe.
It was a bitter sort victory, knowing that, but a victory all the same.
There were other things on his mind though. He had done his lessons with Moody, and that had been going well, but he had also met with Dumbledore the past couple weeks, and had learned more about Voldemort. The headmaster had told him of the other going away for several years after he graduated, and how no one had known where he'd gone. Then he showed Harry his memory of the man's return.
He had shown up at the castle to apply for the Defense position, and it had been obvious that he had begun delving into the black arts even then. His eyes had been red, rather than the brown of his childhood, and his skin too pale to be natural. Dumbledore had become headmaster by then, and had seen those signs himself. He had, wisely, denied Voldemort a place as professor, even though it would have helped him keep a better eye on the Dark Lord.
Voldemort had been furious, angry with Dumbledore for denying him, and had ended up working at Borgin and Burkes for a time. During these years, people had begun to go missing; some being customers at his store, others being muggleborns. Everyone had wanted to pretend that all was well, but these had been the first signs of the coming war.
During their last meeting, the headmaster had shown him a memory he said had been very difficult for him to get a hold of, its' owner not wanting to give it up, and Harry had been surprised to note that it had belonged to Professor Slughorn. He had watched the memory play out, listening to the man's words as he spoke to the child Riddle, and had watched the young Voldemort's expressions in a way that Slughorn had not.
The glee on his face had proven to Harry that he had been right, that Voldemort had been born a monster, and when the memory had ended he had fallen from his seat to retch upon the floor. Dumbledore had watched him with severe eyes, and vanished away the mess when he was done, and Harry had sat there on the floor shaking with horror and illness; something deep within him screaming out and raging at the very thought of what he now knew without a doubt had occurred.
For Voldemort, in his insanity and evil, and ripped apart his very soul.
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Poor poor Dursleys, so awkward around magic.
Harry's learned of the horcruxes now. I debated on keeping them in the story at all, but I decided to in the end. There'll be a little more excitement next chapter, finally. Part Two isn't really a very action-oriented part.
All the same, here we are.
I'll see you all next week.
Sincerely,
Mr. Hate