It was Harry's first visit to the mortuary in the basement of St. Mungo's Hospital, and he, Neville and Luna watched as two Healers lifted Aberforth Dumbledore's body and laid it on a hard stone bed. While the Healers wiped the dried blood from Aberforth's face and dressed the body in a white robe, Harry looked around the mortuary, a cavernous, winding series of passageways. Stone beds similar to the one in front of him were placed wherever there was space, and on them lay countless bodies, each wrapped in a white cloth and embalmed with magic. The ongoing war had prevented them from being buried in public, and they had not yet been laid to rest.
"Have you thought about where you're going to bury him?" said Luna seriously; unusually for her, she didn't sound dreamy. "It doesn't seem like he left any living family or a will."
"We're his family, Luna," said Neville firmly. "He's been with us from the moment Dumbledore's Army was formed at the Hog's Head, he fed us and helped us during the last war, even when we were hiding in the Room of Requirement and resisting."
"You're right, and his funeral should be entirely up to us to decide and arrange," said Harry. "I think we should bury him in the graveyard at Godric's Hollow — that's where his late mother and sister lie. Aberforth would have wanted them to be with him in death."
Neville and Luna nodded silently. The Healers finally finished working and covered Aberforth's body with a white sheet, and Harry realized how sudden his final parting from the Dumbledores felt. His heart felt a painful squeeze and hot tears streamed down his cheeks. Aberforth was like Harry in many ways: A man who had lost all his loved ones at a young age to unending misfortune, and who had spent his entire life in a state of loss, but who would still give his life for the right cause.
"Where your treasure is, there your heart will be," Harry muttered to himself. Those were the quotation on the tombstone of Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore. In a way, Aberforth, at least his heart, had never left Godric's Hollow, where his dead family lay. Now that his body would be in the same place as his heart, Harry felt that the terrible weight in his stomach seemed to have lightened somewhat.
"Do you remember what I once told you, Harry? The dead only lurk out of sight, that's all. One day we'll see them again," said Luna. She pulled a small, fluffy bird out of a pocket and stroked it. Fawkes, now a baby, looked at Aberforth Dumbledore for the last time and made a peep. "Don't be sad, Fawkes . . . he's not gone forever."
Aberforth's funeral, to be held in the spring when the weather was warmer, was to be preceded by a far more cheerful affair. The Ministry of Magic, which had been closed for nearly half a year after running out of gold, had received a huge donation to reopen. Most of the donations, of course, came from Slytherins from old, wealthy families. A vote was then held among all citizens of the Wizarding world to form a new cabinet. Needless to say, for the first time in history, Hermione Granger was reappointed Minister of Magic with the support of all Houses.
When the day finally arrived for Hermione's official inauguration, the Grand Meeting Room of the Ministry was filled to capacity. This time, the attendee weren't just the adults who could vote, as usual, but all the rescued Slytherin children, as well as children from other Houses who were home for the holidays. Still, Slytherin adults and children seemed to feel out of place among the other Houses, much like the Malfoys had felt at Hogwarts at the end of the war so long ago, but at least there was no open hostility between Slytherin House and the other Houses.
Harry was standing on the raised stage with Ron, Hermione, Malfoy and McGonagall; Ginny, James, Albus and Lily spotted him with their Weasley relatives and waved cheerfully. Harry smiled and waved back, but for some reason he felt a pang in his stomach. He would have given anything to be able to enjoy the pure glory of winning the last battle, without the worries of the others down there. It's better for everyone, Harry thought, echoing the determination that had kept him awake the night before. When the time finally came, Hermione stepped up to the podium after casting an Amplifying Charm around her neck for her speech.
"Good evening, my fellow wizards and witches and future voters," she said, eliciting light laughter from adults and children alike. Harry remembered how, when Hermione had first become Minister, most of the Slytherins had not only boycotted her inauguration, but had openly insulted her by calling her the Mudblood Minister. Harry realized that while she would never be able to completely eradicate such deep-seated prejudices in her lifetime, the fact that so many purebloods were willing to stand up for her was a huge step forward. "Normally, I would have a lot to say here, especially since, as anyone my age knows, I have a habit of blabbing about anything and everything I know, but we are here today to celebrate the safe return of the rescued Slytherins," said Hermione, and the Slytherins burst into applause, which soon spread to the other Houses, creating a deafening roar.
"They do know how to be grateful, don't they, Harry?" whispered Ron to Harry from next to him. Something clicked in Harry's mind and he looked for Scorpius Malfoy among the Slytherin students below, but he couldn't find the boy with the white-blond hair and pointy face.
"Malfoy, is your son home?" asked Harry, turning to Draco Malfoy beside him, who nodded.
"He's not well enough to go to school yet, so I'm taking care of him at home until spring."
"But your manor burned down — where are you staying?"
"There is a summer house in the area that belongs to my family, and we'll be there until the manor is rebuilt."
As they spoke, Professor McGonagall, who had been waiting at her side, stepped up to the podium in place of Hermione, who had taken a step back.
"Good to see you all here, students and alumni," she said, followed by laughter and enthusiastic applause. Even the Slytherins joined in, though not as much as the other Houses, in welcoming the headmistress of Hogwarts. A tear glistened in McGonagall's eyes. "You have no idea how much it means to me to see you all gathered like this. My esteemed mentor and colleague Albus Dumbledore always said that Hogwarts is always open to those who are willing to learn, and so it is with open arms that we welcome those of you who have been prevented from doing so by these unfortunate abductions. Parents of Slytherin students need not worry, as their professors have prepared an abundance of assignments to make up for any deficiencies in their studies."
The Slytherins let out a collective laugh, while the other Houses made snickering or mocking sounds. But unlike his own school days, which Harry remembered vividly, there was a hint of intimacy in their behavior.
"And now for an announcement about the opening of Hogwarts. By now, most of the students, with the exception of a few who remain at the school, will be at home enjoying the Christmas holidays with their families. As in previous years, the students will gather at King's Cross station after the holidays in the New Year, and they will travel to Hogwarts together. As the threat from Eisenbein has not been completely eliminated, Hogwarts, in conjunction with the Ministry of Magic, will be increasing security in and around the castle to the highest level. We will be screening owl post and controlling access, as we did during the last war." McGonagall paused and surveyed the students below with a stern look. "And I have some unfortunate news for those students who are familiar with the latest gadgets from the Muggle world. . . . According to Mr. Faraday Prewett, who is familiar with Muggle machinery, the Dawn Breakers may find a way to infiltrate the school by hacking into devices such as smartphones. Dumbledore's Army have been attacked by them in a similar fashion, and while the Dawn Breakers seem to have been all but destroyed in their last battle, it can't hurt to be cautious. Therefore, beginning in the New Year, we will once again be enforcing a strict ban on electronics at Hogwarts, and we will be conducting thorough searches of your belongings before you enter King's Cross station."
The children with smartphones, especially those from Muggle families, began to murmur in discontent. Harry looked at his own family, and Lily was bouncing in her seat as though the sky was falling, her two older brothers trying to calm her down. In fact, Harry, who now found his smartphone more useful than his wand, seemed to understand what his daughter was feeling. When the commotion had died down, McGonagall stepped aside and it was Harry's turn to speak. As he stepped up to the podium, he was greeted by an unprecedented roar of enthusiasm and thunderous applause. Of course, Harry was no stranger to such reactions, but to receive such cheers from Slytherins was a first, even for him.
He took the time to look down at Arthur and Molly Weasley, George and Percy and their families, and Harry's own family, as if he were seeing them for the last time. Every time he made eye contact with them, they gave him a proud thumbs up or nodded with a broad smile. The people he loved, the people he would give his life for. . . . Harry wished the moment could last forever, but the time had come. The moment had come for him to leave the stage, the moment that every hero who had ever existed had to face. When Harry finally stopped looking back at his loved ones, the crowd fell silent almost like they were waiting.
"I believe that everyone who fought with me in the battle at the Wizarding Factory saw many things that day — blood and death, flames and smoke, of course — but you also saw something brighter and more uplifting. I am sure all of you who were there that day, myself included, saw the same thing: Hope — the hope that no matter what House you came from, we would come together as one, fight shoulder to shoulder, and win in the end." Harry took a deep breath until the people below stopped clapping, and he felt down in his chest how much he loved the Wizarding world he had been a part of, and the one he was now exiled from. "We have neutralized the Dawn Breakers for the time being, but Eisenbein and his followers still stalk the shadows out there, and the fight is far from over. Yet even in your darkest hours, remember and hold on to the hope you saw with me. Then you will be able to win even the most difficult of battles."
Another round of applause and enthusiastic cheers followed. But now Harry had to wipe the smiles off the faces of all those people downstairs.
"With the restoration of the Ministry of Magic, Madam Granger has instructed all staff there to return to their former positions, but for the first and last time, I am going to disobey the orders of the Minister and the citizens." Now the feverish excitement was gone from the people looking at him, and worry and confusion began to show. "Before I tell you why, I would like to remind you all of the victory at the Factory. I had very little to do with that battle, and it was all the work of the united citizens of the magical world. It is the same in this war and the other battles to come, and it was the same in the last war: it was ordinary, good people who backed Voldemort and his minions into a corner before I could finish him off. You can do it this time, too. You don't need great heroes; ordinary people can win victory over powerful enemies."
When Harry stopped talking, the others began to whisper to each other, each with an uncomfortable look on their face. Ginny, surrounded by James, Albus and Lily, looked up at him questioningly. Harry looked at them and nodded, almost invisibly.
"I have a confession to make to you all." Harry opened his mouth again. His lips felt so heavy that he could barely open them. "I have fallen under a terrible curse, and I am no longer able to use any kind of magic, which means that I, Harry Potter, am no longer a wizard. Therefore, I renounce all positions and titles I have held in our world, and I intend to live as a Muggle from this time forward."
Pandemonium broke out in the Grand Meeting Room. Jaws dropped, legs went limp, people squirmed in their seats, and Molly Weasley swayed, grabbing her husband's shoulder and nearly falling with him. Standing in front of him, George chuckled at first, as if he'd heard a good joke, but his face gradually hardened as Harry maintained a serious expression. Neville, Dean and Seamus, huddled together, looked at each other in equal astonishment, then back at Harry as though they had suddenly realized something. Perhaps it had dawned on them that Harry had never used magic during their time together at Malfoy Manor. When Harry turned away from the podium, McGonagall was standing in front of him, her face pale.
"Harry, what do you mean you're . . . you're not a wizard anymore?"
"Everything I have said is true, Professor. Thank you for teaching me all these years. I may not be able to use the spells you taught me, but I'll always have the moral lessons you taught me — they may be even more valuable than the magic."
Harry walked slowly down the spiral staircase, leaving a frozen Ron, Hermione and McGonagall behind. As he descended, the crowd stopped talking and stared at him. Unlike before, their faces weren't filled with enthusiasm and envy, but with a sense of strangeness, as if they had never seen him before.
"Harry, why didn't you tell me before?" said Ginny, running up to him. "Is that why you didn't come home, because you couldn't use magic?"
James, Albus and Ginny jumped up and followed their mother. Harry wanted so much to hold them all in his arms and tell them that he was going home, that he was going to pretend that nothing had happened. But at that moment, the image of Aberforth falling backwards, lifeless, flashed before his eyes, as did the image of Romilda Vane, who had turned at his scream only to see a flash of green light and plummet into the blackness below. Both had trusted him to protect them, but he couldn't.
"Eisenbein had the chance to kill me, but he didn't," said Harry quietly. "He wanted our world to be consumed by the false hope that is me, and he almost succeeded. Fortunately, thanks to the people who took it upon themselves to save the Slytherins, we managed to pull through, but Romilda and Aberforth died in the process."
"Their deaths weren't because of you, Harry!" exclaimed Ginny, stepping forward. "It was an unfortunate accident that killed them —"
"No, it's all because of me. If I had told them earlier that I wasn't a wizard anymore, those two would have been here with us."
"But now we all know!" Ginny began to cry. "But we don't care, we'll find a way to live happily together somehow."
"I believe that, dear. But I'm just not ready," said Harry. " When I'm no longer a burden to my family and friends, I'll return home. I have no hope of ever becoming a wizard again, but if I stay with the Muggles and learn their knowledge and skills, maybe one day I'll be able to help our world, and then I'll come back to you."
"You don't have to put that pressure on yourself, Harry," cried Ginny desperately. "You don't have to be a hero to be with us!"
"That's right, Dad." James interjected from beside her. "We need a dad, not a hero!"
"I'm sorry, all of you," said Harry gravely. "This is for everyone's sake. I can't let anyone else get hurt because of my pride."
With that he turned away.
It had been a week since Harry had left everyone in shock, and a week since he had returned to live in the cupboard under the stairs at number four, Privet Drive. Though the Dursleys had welcomed him, he couldn't help but miss his old home. But Harry's resolve was firm. He could no longer allow Eisenbein to undermine the Wizarding world by exploiting his powerlessness that contradicted his old reputation. If he could no longer offer false hope, the people would despair at first, but eventually they would steel themselves and prepare to fight. Then another hero would emerge, perhaps many heroes, and they would win this war that was not yet over, even without Harry Potter.
From time to time an owl would bring letters from Ron, Hermione, Ginny and his children to Privet Street, but Harry would burn them without opening them. It was unfortunate, but it had to be done. . . . There was nothing more he could do in this war, and it was the people left behind who had to fight. It was comforting to know that at least he wouldn't have the blood of anyone he cared about on his hands.
During his time at Privet Drive, Harry began to study electricity using his smartphone and the nearby library. It seemed to him that electricity was the most magical force in the Muggle world, powering all sorts of wonderful machines, large and small. Maybe if he became an expert in electricity, he could get a job as an electrician at Dudley's drill-making company. Maybe after a few years, when he was well established in the Muggle world, peace would return to the magical world and he could return to his former world and be with his family and friends again, just as Squibs like Faraday lived among them. He would never be the wizard he once had been, but at least he could be a husband and father he wouldn't be ashamed of, with a job and skills he could call his own. . . .
Harry awoke early that morning, long before the alarm on his phone rang. He got up and sat on the bed in the closet, leaving his very untidy hair alone. When he opened the door and looked out the peephole, he noticed that it was still pitch black outside. He lay back down and tried to calm his throbbing head. As he thought about what had woken him so early, it dawned on him that today was the day the students, including his children, would return to Hogwarts. Then vague images of the dream he had just had began to appear sporadically before his eyes. Yes, in that dream there was a scarlet train spewing steam into the sky. . . . It had to be the Hogwarts Express. And just before he woke up, he ran frantically along the tracks, trying to get on the train.
It was a bitter pill to swallow as he realized that the dream had been a reflection of the reality that he wanted to return to the Wizarding world but couldn't yet. Harry lay awake in his cupboard, gripped by a lethargic feeling, and when Dudley woke him later and knocked on his door to summon him to breakfast, he deliberately snored and pretended to be asleep. He left the screen of his smartphone on in the dark and watched the seconds, minutes, and hours tick by.
When it was almost eleven o'clock, Harry closed his eyes and imagined the scene that must be happening right now at King's Cross station, on platform nine and three-quarters. Families milling about on the white, steamy platforms, children and parents facing each other through the windows to say goodbye as they load suitcases and owl cages onto the train. . . . The clock on the smartphone screen now read eleven o'clock. The train would begin to move slowly as the doors of the cars slammed shut one by one. . . .
And then there were the parents who followed, and the children who rode away on the train, their hearts pounding with the excitement of a new adventure and the sadness of separation from their families. Soon Harry was waving into the darkness. Finally, the imaginary Hogwarts Express rounded the corner and disappeared from view. When he opened his eyes, he saw the low, dark ceiling of the cupboard and the cobwebs glistening like dew in the light of his phone. It was as if the scarlet train had taken everything he loved with it, forever.
He found a pair of socks, pulled them on, and pushed his overnight bag of clothes aside under the bed to reveal the streamlined tail of a broomstick, covered in dust and cobwebs, but still glowing faintly in the light. Harry brushed off a few small spiders that had stuck to it, then flicked off the Firebolt and left the cupboard. As he stepped out into the empty hallway, he could hear the clinking of dishes and the sound of water coming from the kitchen as Mary Dursley washed them. Harry muffled his footsteps so as not to disturb her and made his way down the hall to the front door.
Even though the Fourth Curse had turned him into a Muggle, he had done some great things lately. Not only had he rescued the children from the Factory, but he had ended a long-standing grudge between Slytherin and the other Houses, uniting all the witches and wizards. The rhythmic voices of the Centaurs proclaiming the ancient prophecy echoed in his head: the Chosen One, the one who would save the Wizarding world. . . . Would he fulfill the prophecy and save everyone by becoming a wizard again? He didn't want to play the hero anymore, but the temptation he thought he'd finally shaken off seemed to be rekindled by the vivid images of King's Cross station just moments ago.
Harry carefully placed his Firebolt in the corridor and stood to the left of it. It occurred to him that the broom he'd lost so long ago, and then reacquired at an auction at the Ministry of Magic last year, was powerful proof that he could find his magical powers again. Harry took a deep breath and reached for the broom with his right hand. Its tail of twigs was tattered and the once shiny handle was riddled with scratches, but the Firebolt was still as beautiful as when he first received it from his godfather. Harry took another deep breath and called out. "Up!"
He could almost feel the solidity of the broom flying through his hands and the rattling vibrations coming from the Firebolt like an untamed wild horse. . . . But when he turned his head to look at the floor, the broom was still there, just as it had been the first time. Disappointed, Harry was about to try again when he heard the sound of slippers being dragged from the kitchen and Mary Dursley coming out into the hall.
"Oh, Harry! Will you help me clean up? That's great, because I've been nagging Dudley to sweep up the leaves in the backyard for ages, but he never listens. . . . The hallways seem to have accumulated quite a bit of dust as well."
Five minutes later, Harry found himself sweeping the first floor of number four, Privet Drive, with his Firebolt. To his former Wizarding self, it would have seemed criminal to sweep the floor with the Firebolt's graceful tail, a streamlined bundle of birch branches. Now, however, his disappointment and anger at the broom for not responding to his pleas made him feel exhilarated every time a stray hair or piece of dust caught on its tail. In his head, he could almost hear Ron screaming at him to stop soiling the Firebolt, but the more he did, the stronger his sweeping arms became.
After cleaning the hallway as Mary had asked, Harry opened the back door and stepped out into the garden. It was just as he'd been told, with brown, rotting leaves scattered ugly across the green grass. Dudley Dursley had become a much better man than he remembered as a child, but he didn't seem to have completely overcome his laziness. Harry used his Firebolt to slowly sweep the leaves from the center of the yard to the edges. He glanced back at the hedge and remembered Dobby's huge green eyes peering through the leaves the year he had become a second year, but there was no longer a house-elf to worry and watch over him. He was determined to get this garden cleaned up, with or without someone to look after it, when he felt a vibration in his jeans pocket. He pulled out his phone and saw Faraday's name on the screen.
"Hullo, Faraday," said Harry bluntly into the receiver.
"Harry, where are you? Are you in the middle of something?" Faraday said into the phone in an urgent voice. Harry looked around the garden, which was still littered with fallen leaves, and picked up the phone again.
"Well, in a way. Can you tell me what's going on?"
"I'm in the town of Mould-on-the-Wold, Harry. . . . I'm exploring the ruins of the Wizarding Factory, and I just came across the outhouse that you and Mr. Malfoy broke into a while ago."
"And?" said Harry. His grip on the phone tightened.
"There are still cauldrons in here that were smashed that day, and as I was looking through them, it occurred to me: Why did the Dawn Breakers even need them? They could have hired a lot of mercenaries with the stolen gold, so why bother resurrecting people to fight?"
Harry stood there for a moment, holding onto his broom as he thought. Why would they need a reason to resurrect dead soldiers? After all, he had once led Aurors, and he knew that it would be very efficient in battle if he could let his men fight without fear of death.
"Well, if you can constantly replenish your army with nothing but cauldrons and a few ingredients, you'll win every battle."
"That's what I thought until now, but the Dawn Breakers lost the last battle, didn't they? Their Factory fell, and the kidnapped children were released."
"I don't wanna brag, but me and Malfoy infiltrated that facility the hard way."
"Yeah, but it was just the two of you, and yet you got in there and turned things upside down. It must have been a lot of work making the Horcruxes, hiding them and preparing to resurrect people, but don't you think it was too easy?"
"Everything is easier said than done," said Harry flatly.
"Yes, it was possible that the two of you were so good that everything just came easy, but let's look at it the other way. What if the whole thing was a trick to fool us? What if there really were only a few people defending the Factory, and they used the Horcruxes to inflate the numbers to make it look like the Dawn Breakers had taken a lot of damage? If that's the case, then they let the Slytherins escape on purpose!"
Harry began to think hard, trying to decide how plausible the theory he'd just heard was. Yes, the grounds he and Malfoy had infiltrated were strangely quiet and empty. But when he'd first infiltrated the Factory alone, hundreds of soldiers, wizards and researchers had filled the building, inside and out. Where had all those people gone? Why hadn't they shown up the moment their home base fell?
"Let's say you're right, Faraday," said Harry. "But what do you think they stand to gain by deceiving us?"
"They'll strike when we think we've won, to catch us off guard, and they'll kidnap even more children this time than they did last time. . . . According to the information you overheard at the Factory earlier, they need the blood of over five hundred wizards to make a proper potion, so the Dawn Breakers won't be satisfied with just Slytherin blood."
"So you're saying they're going to attack Hogwarts like they did in the last war? But this place has all kinds of defensive charms, and I'm sure the Ministry has special security measures in place . . . "
"I'm sure Hogwarts does. But are the students going there safe now? I know they're on the train headed there right now, right?"
Harry's heart started beating fast and hard at this statement. Yes, it was no secret in their world that the Hogwarts train was leaving today. Besides, he remembered the day Ron and he had flown out in a Ford Anglia and followed the Express. What if it hadn't been a car with kids in it, but a helicopter with a bunch of soldiers?
"Well, you're right to be worried. I'll call some people I know and have them keep an eye on the train," said Harry. "I can't use magic, so I'll have to call them. . . " "Okay, you'll have to try."
Harry hung up and dialed Lily's number, the only one in his family with a mobile phone. Every time the phone rang, his heart quickened and his stomach tightened. But in the end, no one answered. Harry tried Faraday's number again, and he picked up right away.
"Can't reach anyone, can you? I thought not," said Faraday darkly. "I told McGonagall to stop her students from bringing in any digital devices. . . . They must have used detectors to confiscate all the phones on the platform today. The Dawn Breakers have always been one step ahead of us."
"No wizards live around here, and I can't use magic, so there's no way to contact them. What should we do?"
"Your house is in London, why don't you go there and tell your wife?"
"The house is enchanted to keep Muggles out, and I can't find it on my own. . . . Even if I could, Ginny would be at work by now."
"Why don't you try the Ministry of Magic?"
"They've probably already changed the password to the visitor's entrance like you suggested, so there's no point going there if I can't get downstairs."
"Then there's only one option," said Faraday seriously. "You fly to the train yourself, and once you're there you can warn them or do whatever."
Hearing this, Harry looked down at the dusty broom in his hand. Never had he missed the feeling of flying, of whipping through the air and feeling the wind on his cheeks, more than he did then.
"That's impossible. . . . Being a Muggle isn't just about not being able to use a wand, I can't fly on a broom anymore."
"Why do you have to use magic to fly? Think outside the box, Harry!" snapped Faraday. "You haven't forgotten all the skills you had when you were flying on a broomstick, have you? And I'm sure you'd be just as adept at it now if you had a slender stick that floated in thin air!"
"Well, I guess you're right," said Harry, "it's just that I don't have such a stick. . . ."
"You can make one! Now go and find a broomstick or something."
"I happen to have one in my hand," Harry muttered as he held up his Firebolt. "It's my old flying broomstick."
"It shouldn't be made of wood! You'll need a tail or something in the back to hold your center of gravity since you'll be riding in the front, but if you can, find one with a sturdy plastic or iron handle."
Harry leaned the Firebolt against the door as he went back inside to do as he was told.
"Mary, I need something!" Harry called, and Mary, who was cooking in the kitchen, came pacing out. When he told her what he needed, she clapped her hands and smiled broadly.
"Great, Harry, you want to clean the whole house, don't you?"
Mary went to the storeroom and brought back a mop, broom, dustpan and even a vacuum cleaner. Harry mumbled his thanks, then picked up the mop from the pile of cleaning tools on the floor and examined it. It was similar in appearance, but unlike the broom, it had several strands of coarse thread at the end instead of twigs, and best of all, the handle was sturdy metal.
"Faraday, I think I found one," Harry said into the receiver.
"Okay, then find a roll of tape, and grab your wand and Anti-Stunning device just in case. Then take all that and go to the backyard and wait for my signal."
Harry did as Faraday said, searched the house for a roll of duct tape, found one, donned his battle gear, and walked out onto the lawn, feeling like an idiot as he stood there holding the tape in his left hand and the mop in his right.
"What do I do now?"
"Just wait, they'll be here soon . . . "
After a few more minutes, Harry heard the sound of propellers whirring overhead and looked up. Two rather large black drones, each about the size of a large dog, descended slowly, finally landing side by side in front of Harry with a whirlwind of dust.
"Now, these are the drones I requested from the drone rental service, and I've set them up so that you can control them from your phone. Now, I want you to attach these two drones to each end of the stick that you've secured. That's why I said we needed the one with the iron handle — wood is too fragile to break, and it doesn't stick well to duct tape . . . "
Leaving only the middle of the mop he was holding for himself to sit on, Harry placed the front and back sections on each of the two drones and began to wrap them with tape.
"That's done, Faraday."
"Good, you've got a state of the art Muggle's Broom, now get on it and I'll get the drones up and running."
Harry did as he was told and the drone started up again, its propellers spinning wildly in front of and behind him. Harry held on to the handle, not wanting to get hurt by the rotating blades. Then there was a gust of wind strong enough to blow Harry's hair up, and the mop was lifted off the ground by the power of the drones. He could feel the vibrations of the mop as he clung to it, and a cool breeze brushed his face. The perfectly manicured lawns of Privet Drive receded beneath his feet, and Harry began to fly to save the Wizarding world of which he had once been a part.