4 September 1997
Dudley's watch still worked, and he could see by its glowing face that it was 2:37 a.m. He wondered briefly why he'd woken. The injured owl was awake too, looking outside from where it perched on his windowsill. Petunia had bandaged its wing with a strip of tea towel, and Dudley had mashed up an aspirin and fed it to the owl along with some chicken. The owl had spat the aspirin-flavored chicken out and pecked his fingers. Dudley had given up trying to make the owl feel better.
Petunia hadn't liked the idea of him keeping the owl in his bedroom, but Dudley had laid out enough old copies of the Daily Prophet all over the floor that she'd stopped objecting.
The owl hopped and hooted softly.
From the first floor, Dudley heard some soft noises and voices. He tensed. It could be Hestia and Dedalus, or it could be someone else. Maybe the owl killer.
"Wait here," he told the owl. He picked up his bat and sneaked to his parents' room. "Pssst! Dad! Mum!"
Vernon and Petunia started awake.
"Someone's downstairs."
The three Dursleys had already planned what to do.
Up to the attic they went. Dudley and Vernon lifted Petunia up first. Then Dudley hauled himself up, helped pull Vernon up after him, and closed the hatch. This was not a silent process, despite their best efforts, and the hatch closed only with a rasp, scrape, and click. They scattered to the far corners of the attic, hunkering down behind stacks of trunks and luggage.
Dudley held his bat above his shoulder, ready to strike.
His watch read 2:55 a.m.
Dudley strained to recognize Dedalus' or Hestia's voice. He realized this might not have been the best plan after all. There was no way to easily monitor who'd come to the house or to leave it if they needed a quick escape.
"Psst! Frankie! Can you do that teleport thing?" Dudley whispered.
Frankie poked him on the shoulder.
"Is that a yes or no? Can you get us out of here onto the lawn?"
It was too dark to see, but he heard Frankie grunting and gnawing something splintery. Frankie's teeth made an unpleasant scraping noise as he chewed.
Dudley's heart was pounding. His arms were getting tired holding the bat up.
He heard shuffling and talking below them, distantly. He tried to breathe as quietly as he could.
Frankie, meanwhile, had no concern about being overheard. He crashed and hooted, tossing furniture from one end of the attic to another.
Dudley braced himself, waiting for the inevitable pause in the murmuring conversation below, the footsteps down the corridor, the scrape of the hatch opening – or worse, the POP that announced one of them, arriving right behind him.
There was no pause, no footsteps.
Though Frankie banged two giant ashtrays together so loudly that Dudley's ears rang, whoever was downstairs didn't seem to notice.
Come to think of it, Dudley thought, in all the weeks the Dursleys had stayed at the weird little 70's house, they'd never heard any mysterious noises over their heads.
Soundproofed.
Hestia's old aunt must not have liked hearing Frankie up here, clanging away. They could use this, Dudley realized. This was the perfect hideout, except of course for the fact there was no easy way to escape.
He stood up, tired of crouching and bracing himself for a fight.
"Dudley! What are you thinking? GET DOWN!" his mother hissed, waving frantically.
"Soundproof," Dudley explained. He swung his bat to smash an old vase. "See? They didn't even pause in their conversation!"
"Such a clever boy!" Petunia cooed. "Well, that does explain why we haven't heard your mangy friend here this whole time." She stood as well, brushing herself off.
"Dudders – did you see any weapons in here while you were cleaning up?" Vernon asked.
"There's these bats," Dudley pointed out. In fact, there might be more, but it was too dark to look around. Dudley had not made a systematic survey of the attic. He had crashed and waded through decades or centuries of junk, merrily smashing anything that had got in his way.
"I wish we could hear what they're saying," Petunia said. "It sounds rather like him down there, but I can't be sure."
"Sounds to me like there's at least three of 'em," Vernon said. "Having a jolly little gathering while we choke on dust up in the attic. Watch, if it is them, I doubt we'll get any apologies for the inconsiderate way they trapped us here when they ran off. Two days ago, now."
Frankie tugged on Dudley's sleeve.
"What is it, Frankie? Ugh – no, I don't want a mashed-up spider. Ugh, guess he eats those, too. Alright, alright, what is it?"
Frankie pulled Dudley over to a pile of upturned buckets and cauldrons. His hand was clammy and made Dudley's arm feel cold. Frankie shoved at the pile with a loud CLANG and RATTLE to uncover a thin, spiraling copper tube that ended in a funnel – rather like a tiny Victrola. Frankie sat and put his ear next to the funnel, then motioned for Dudley to do the same.
"I can hear them!" Dudley yelled. "Perfectly! It IS Dedalus and Hestia – and a couple of other people."
It was uncomfortable, but the three Dursleys were able to crowd around the tiny copper funnel enough that they could all hear the conversation below
"Well, it's been twenty minutes," they heard Dedalus say in his piping voice, "and no sign of trouble yet. That's twice as long as any other place we've been together. Think we're in the clear?" Dedalus sounded hopeful.
"I'd give it an hour, at least, to be sure," Hestia said. "But, Tonks – you're exhausted, I'm sure. You should get to bed, at least. The rest of us can keep watch."
"I don't need special treatment," Tonks said. "I got a bit of sleep last night, and a nap earlier this morning when I was on the run by myself. You're the one who's injured, Hestia – you should get some rest."
"Why don't all of you get to sleep, and I take first watch?" a fourth voice spoke. It sounded like the Welshman from Tuesday morning, but Dudley couldn't be sure.
"I'm not going to sleep yet," Tonks said. "But you can do as you like."
"Right, I'll make some tea then," the Welshman said. "If we're all staying awake for the next hour at least, we ought to make ourselves comfortable. Sit down, at least, Dora."
"I'm FINE!" Tonks snapped.
Dudley listened to the sound of water filling a kettle and cupboards opening and closing.
"Dursleys still alright?" Dedalus asked, after what seemed to be a tense silence.
"Hominem Revelio. Hm, they've moved. All clumped up together." Hestia sounded worried.
Tonks said, "Are we sure those three upstairs are the Dursleys? Just – the Death Eaters have been everywhere."
Dedalus spoke, from a different part of the dining room now. He tended to pace. "We should check on them either way. If it is the Dursleys and the Death Eaters show up, we'll need to get them to safety as quickly as we can. I'm sure it's safe. I think. Tell you what, I can just pop upstairs, check in with them, maybe offer them some tea and biscuits. How would we evacuate them, anyway? Portkey?"
"How isn't so much the problem, as where, Dedalus? Where could we take them? Every one of our safe spots has been breached!"
"There's a rather nice cave I like to visit in summer, on the seaside," Dedalus said. "Anyone know what the tide is, right now? Because it does fill up rather quickly."
"Biscuit, anyone?" the Welshman said.
"NO THANK YOU," Tonks/Dora said.
"No sense fighting on an empty stomach – we really ought to eat something."
"Er, thanks, Remus, cheers." Hestia's voice was rushed, placating.
They didn't hear Dedalus' reply. Dudley heard quiet footsteps going up the stairs. Soon, Dedalus would see the pile of junk he'd left under the attic, discover the Dursleys weren't in their beds, and come find them. They needed to get away from the little funnel before it was discovered – but none of the Dursleys moved away from their spots.
"You oughtn't to have left them alone here, you know," they heard Remus say in a mild voice.
"I know, I know – I've been reproaching myself all day. Can't tell you how relieved I was when I got back and they were all still here in the house, and alive."
"If it is the Dursleys." Tonks/Dora said, "And anyway, it's a mess out there. Using up two Order members to guard three Muggles like them… they were beastly to Harry, you know. I don't know how you've been able to stand it."
"Nymphadora, really." Hestia was shocked. "After what happened with Sirius, you know perfectly well we can't take chances. Harry needs us to do this, needs to know we've got his relations sorted so he can concentrate on his mission. Unpleasant as it might be, we must forge ahead with the plan as originally set out."
Dudley rather thought he'd like to avoid meeting this angry witch with three names.
"Hestia? Your hands are shaking! What – we've been idiots – your injury - is the wound opening up again? I think I've got some more salve from Mum, and if we can get anywhere stable, we might be able to bring her in to see if you need anything else." Dudley heard a rattling and thud, as if a chair had been knocked over. "Sorry – sorry! Here, take it."
"No – no," Hestia sniffed. Was she crying? "It's just – I haven't had the chance to tell anyone yet, but – I can't stop thinking about it. About the battle – the first one, in our H.Q. yesterday. I mean, on Tuesday." She broke down, and her voice was lost.
"It was a close thing," Remus said. "Miracle we all survived it, really, with the number of Death Eaters packing the place. If Voldemort had showed up…"
Hestia gasped.
"Really, Hestia, I'd thought we'd all got over the fear of the name," Remus said. "You've been saying it all summer."
"I – I had, just…" Hestia broke off again. "Hard to explain, just – never mind. Go ahead, Remus."
Remus was distracted. "As I was saying, the battle … well, I suppose I owe you my life, really."
"Nonsense," Hestia sniffed. "You'd have done the same for any of us. And you covered me when I Apparated in, before the security charms let me go."
Dudley very much wanted to know about the battle, but just then, the attic hatch swung open, letting in a faint stream of light. The Dursleys sprang apart, and Petunia shoved a few pots around their listening post as Dedalus' head appeared in the hatch opening.
"Dudley?" he called. "Petunia? Vernon? It's alright – we're all fine. No need to hide up here!"
"H'lo Dedalus," Dudley said.
Dedalus seemed delighted to see him. "Dudley! Delighted, delighted. Do come down and have some tea," he continued. "We've brought a couple of friends by, and, well … Perhaps you'd best just come down and see for yourselves." He spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world, to invite a family down from an attic for tea at three in the morning.
Dudley jumped down to the floor below with a THUD and then helped his parents climb down.
"Er, Dursleys? You know, I was just reminiscing… Can you remember what we talked about in the car on the way here?"
Dedalus was the strangest person Dudley had ever met. "You didn't know what the air conditioner was in the car," Dudley said. "And you kept messing with the vents."
"Haha! Yes, of course, that was it!" Dedalus smiled and dusted off his jacket. It was covered in mudstains. He stepped around all the debris piled on the floor without comment, as if it was perfectly normal to have a corridor filled with broken old junk and talking portraits (who were yelling from under the blankets Dudley had dumped on them).
On his way back down to the kitchen, Dudley claimed he needed to get something from his room. He went to check on the injured owl. It was wide awake, of course, hopping around on his bed and trying to tear off its bandage.
"Here, stop that!" Dudley said. He wondered how to get the owl downstairs without getting scratched or pecked.
He didn't really like birds all that much. He'd had a parrot when he was little, for a couple of weeks. He'd begged for the parrot because he'd thought it would talk with him, but it just squawked loudly at odd hours. He'd seen a parrot on television that was hilarious, but – what he named the thing? Beaky? - was a big disappointment. He'd been only too happy to trade it for an air rifle at school. Then there were all the mad owls that had started visiting the family. Harry's owl had been noisy and ill-tempered, especially around Dudley.
After the weeks of isolation, though, Dudley was interested in anything that wasn't his parents, strange, or bossy. Frankie and this injured owl were all he had.
He tore the pillowcase off his pillow, wrapped his hand in it, and held it out to the owl. It climbed aboard. Its talons still poked him through the pillowcase, but it was manageable.
"Let's get you downstairs," he told it. "Maybe Hestia can get your wing to grow back."
Of course, as soon as the owl was on his hand, Dudley got the idea to change back into his normal clothes. He'd feel foolish going downstairs in his pajamas, when all of them would be fully dressed, just back from battle.
He moved the owl back onto the bedpost and got changed, putting on one of his nicer shirts.
He wanted to look grown-up. Cool, even.
Not like the dumb little fat kid who'd had a tail blasted onto his arse.
In truth, Dudley knew he was dawdling. He re-tied his shoes for the third time and gritted his teeth. He offered his arm to the bird again, winced again at the talons jabbing his hand, and headed off for the kitchen. Good Smeltings posture, Dursley, he told himself.
Dudley was pleased to see his parents had chosen the act terrified of the freaks option rather than the yell and pound the table option his father generally preferred.
His manners failed him, as usual. Rather than introducing himself, or greeting the new people, or properly welcoming Hestia or Dedalus back, he froze in the doorway, staring.
Then he sidled around a couple of chairs, feeling like an idiot, to stand next to his parents and Hestia. His tongue felt frozen and dry, so he said nothing, just lowered the hand with the injured owl onto the table next to the witch. Her normally pink cheeks were pale, and her clothes were disheveled, revealing a nasty-looking burn on her neck and shoulder, as well as a cut across her right forearm. The owl stepped off his hand onto the table, Hestia absentmindedly stroked its head. Dudley gestured stupidly at the bandage on its wing.
"What've you gone and done to that owl?" Tonks/Dora/Nymphadora asked, as Hestia undid its bandage to view the wound. This new witch had bogey-colored hair atop a scowling face. Her wand was out. All of them had their wands out. Dudley tried to swallow, but his throat felt too sticky. He gestured at the owl again.
"Stop, Tonks," Hestia said. "Looks like someone hit it with a Severing Charm. Dudley – what's been happening?" She aimed her wand at the owl, and the snapped bit of bone and raw muscle slowly covered themselves in new skin and feathers. The wing didn't have the proper length, though.
Dudley had thought they would want to do the talking. His mind filled with competing words – the urge to escape – the way he'd got sluggish and confused in the forest – finding Frankie – dead owls and snapped brambles - and he couldn't decide where to begin. "The woods," he finally managed. "Owls – just falling all over the place. Dead, most of them."
Hestia flinched, and her eyes welled up with tears. "The beech copse – they must have gone there and drawn attention. Or else, someone was already waiting."
"Did you see anyone? Any spells?"
Dudley shook his head.
Hestia gave the owl a little treat. "Could you hear anyone?"
He shook his head again.
"That means the wards were working. What time of day was it, do you think?"
Dudley had a habit of looking at his watch. "Around 10, I think."
Hestia slumped. "I'd managed to send them all to the beech trees on Tuesday night before the fight in Godric's Hollow."
Dedalus patted her on the back. "You were doing your best to look out for them."
She stood up and winced. "Some might still be alive. And whoever did this might still be out there, waiting for us. My guess is, the owls were followed on their way over here. Tuesday. Then Wednesday, whoever it is starts getting impatient. Takes it out on the poor birds." She gave the owl another little treat, and it rubbed its beak against her finger.
Tonks had leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed. "So… whoever was out there this morning wasn't as good as the ones who've been following us around. Either that, or there's something different about the wards here."
"Secret Keeper Charm," Dedalus said. "Of course, I wasn't sure it would work, with us living here half the time. Lily'd said …"
Petunia let out a little gasp.
"Go on, Dedalus," Tonks said. "This is important."
"Well – sorry, Petunia – you see, your sister was sort of our Charms expert back in the War. The first one, that is. And she'd been looking into better wards, since there were so many people who were going into hiding, and not managing it. She was digging through all the old books she could get her hands on. So she found out about these Secret Keeper Charms, you know, and she said they wouldn't last more than a few months if the Secret Keeper lived under their protection as well. So that was why, erm, when they went into hiding, she and James had to pick someone else, and well…" Dedalus' voice trailed off. "Anyway. Then Dumbledore was the Secret Keeper for the Order, and of course he didn't live there, didn't even stay for dinner most of the time. But the Secret didn't fall with his death, did it? Somehow, it managed to keep going. So I thought, when we had to hide Harry Potter's relatives –" he nodded at the Dursleys, "I thought, even if it doesn't work, with me living here, at least it's worth a try. And I checked with Filius, back in the summer, and he and Hestia thought I might give it a go."
Hestia was still on her feet and putting her green leather coat back on. "A good thing you did, too. Or whoever's out there would have had more than owls to kill yesterday."
"Hestia," Remus said quietly, "if they're out there, we can't fight them in the dark in our condition. You're injured still, and we're all fatigued, and whatever Dedalus and you did to protect this place, it seems to be working."
"There could be more owls out there," she said. "I've got to check. I've got to try. I raised all those owls from eggs, and I've gone and sent the lot of them to their deaths, it seems. If any escaped the slaughter yesterday, they'll be circling back around all through tonight."
"So let's make a plan then," Remus said. "We've been scrambling to catch up to our enemies for two days."
Dudley tried not to move or breathe. He was sure at any moment, he and his parents would be sent from the room, packed off so some magical plan could be discussed. He didn't dare look at his father or mother, and hoped with every thudding heartbeat that his parents would stay quiet and still, too.
"Accio parchment," said Dedalus, and a piece of parchment floated down the corridor into his waiting hand. He pulled a quill and little bottle of ink from his waistcoat. "Now, here's a general layout of the place, and here's where I set the wards, you see – there's the forest to the southwest, and the river, and meadow – I wanted us to have plenty of space. Don't fancy feeling cooped up, nobody does. It took much longer, all that tramping around, but I think the result was well worth it. We did some up in the air too." The whole while he spoke, he was sketching in light lines the map of the area around the house, and hatching in where his wards are. "And Hestia and I both put protective wards up, in case one of us took ill, or worse. Disillusionment, etc. Hestia got the idea – quite brilliant, I must say – for double-sided Muggle Repelling Charms. You can get hikers in this area, though it's rare."
Tonks had leaned forward to look at the map. "Tricky, though, now. Because it's such a big place, there could be enemies stationed all along this perimeter. Plenty of places for an ambush."
"Dudley, where would you say the owls were?"
Dudley looked at the map. He tapped the place where he thought he'd been.
"No—no, that can't be right. That's past the Muggle Wards," Hestia muttered. "But close enough, Dudley. You did well." She took a deep breath in. "Alright. You say you want to plan this out, Remus? I think we've been doing rather better without planning than we did the night we got Harry out. That was planned, alright, and look what it got us – George wounded, Mundungus deserted, Alastor dead. But maybe we can do something along those lines. Send two people, myself and whoever else wants to volunteer. Sneak out of the wards, a bit to the south of where Dudley saw the owls falling. Double back, locate where the enemy is, and I'll send these owls around to the north, heading to that beech grove." She pointed her wand at a few of the biscuits on the table. "The owls will be decoys. Like in July. But it won't matter if they get attacked because they're really just biscuits." She flicked her wand, and the pile of biscuits separated into a long row. She screwed up her face, staring at the biscuits like they were about to explode. One by one, they turned into owls of various sizes and colors. Another wave of her wand, and the window had opened. One by one, the owls hopped to the windowsill and flew away.
"With any luck, if our enemies are out there, they'll follow my decoys, and I'll be able to protect the rest of the owls. That grove is close. If I set up a new Disillusionment Charm around it, we'll be able to get them to cross into the Secret Keeper territory without being seen."
Remus, Tonks, and Dedalus all volunteered. "Thank you, all of you," Hestia said. "I expected nothing less. Remus, if you would? You're the best at stealth, of any of us. Dedalus, Tonks – better prepare for the worst. Get Portkeys ready in case we need a quick evacuation."
"To where, though?" Tonks said.
Hestia shook her head and shrugged. "Doesn't need to be a permanent base – just somewhere not already occupied or watched by the Death Eaters. Or the Ministry, for that matter."
Hestia didn't stop to shake hands or hug anyone goodbye. She set off into the night. Remus stared at Tonks, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but then they both turned away from each other. He left as well, closing the door behind him.