Well, you may not like him, minister, but you have to admit, Dumbledore's got style. This just cracks me up every time I watch it 😂
44 Votes in Poll
44 Votes in Poll
Well, you may not like him, minister, but you have to admit, Dumbledore's got style. This just cracks me up every time I watch it 😂
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https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003804769
https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003805533
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@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald
Chapter Three: The Seven Potters
(For me this is the true beginning of this story, where I get to add new details and change actions. I hope you enjoy it.)
Harry ran back upstairs to his bedroom, arriving at the window just in time to see the Dursleys’ cat swinging out of the drive and off up the road. Dedalus’s top hat was visible between Aunt Petunia and Dudley in the backseat. The car turned right at the end of Privet Drive, its windows burned scarlet for a moment in the now setting sun, and then it was gone.
Harry picked up Hedwig’s cage, his Firebolt, and his rucksack, gave his unnaturally tidy bedroom one last sweeping look, and then made his ungainly way back downstairs to the hall, where he deposited the cage, broomstick, and bag near the foot of the stairs. The light was fading rapidly now, the hall full of shadows in the evening light. It felt most strange to stand here in the silence and know that he was about to leave the house for the last time.
He had almost never been alone in this house, nearly every time the Dursley’s couldn’t watch him his adoptive parents Sirius and Remus would house him for the day at Harry’s childhood home of Mould-On-The-Wold Cottage, or the Dursley’s neighbour Mrs Figg would watch over him for a couple hours. The only time Harry had been in the Dursley’s house alone was during one of his darkest hours, he had been ordered not to leave the house after just barely surviving an attack on his life, and for days lost contact with everyone he cared about, and it was only when his older cousin Nymphadora Tonks tricked the Dursley’s did the leave for several hours, during which Harry was rescued by her and members of the Order. Yet even that harsh time didn’t seem as dire as now, Harry had survived and his muggle relatives returned to their home, but neither was now guaranteed.
‘Don’t you want to take a last look at the place?’ he asked Hedwig, who was still sulking, with her head under her wing. ‘We’ll never be here again. Don’t you want to remember all the good times? I mean, look at this doormat. What memories…Dudley puked on it after I saved him from the dementors....Turns out he was grateful after all, can you believe it..?And last summer, Dumbledore walked through that front door…’
Harry lost the thread of his thoughts for a moment and Hedwig did nothing to help him retrieve it, but continued to sit with her head under her wing. Harry turned his back on the front door.
‘And in here, Hedwig—‘ said Harry facing the Dursley’s chimney, ‘—is where I entered and destroyed basically the entire living room and kitchen in a tantrum—you didn’t know me then, blimey that was ages ago.’
That early July day when he was ten had turned his world upside down. Before that day he thought the only major secret his adoptive parents Sirius and Remus had been keeping from him was the reason why he had to spend approximately between eight to ten weeks a year staying with the Dursley’s instead of being in his families home all the time. He grew up thinking his birth parents had been killed by a Death Eater and that Voldemort had been defeated by an auror, but then one of Nymphadora’s friends let slip to him that it had in fact he Harry who had somehow defeated him after Voldemort killed his parents. It had taken a very long time for Harry to trust his parents again, and permanently afterwards he viewed them as flawed men whose hearts were in the right place but were capable of making dire mistakes. Harry had grown so much since then and learned and experienced so many things he hardly believed he had once been that innocent and unaware ten year old boy.
Harry suddenly became aware of a low whooshing sound, seemingly from several pairs of large wings, from somewhere nearby, and it was getting louder. Harry straightened up with a jerk and ran back downstairs and into the kitchen. Staring out of the window into the back garden, the darkness seemed to be rippling, the air itself quivering. Then, one by one, figures began to pop into sight as their Disillusionment Charms lifted.
Dominating the scene was Hagrid, wearing goggles and sitting on top of the great Hippogriff Buckbeak, Harry couldn’t believe he could carry Hagrid’s enormous body. All around him other people were dismounting from brooms and, in two cases, skeletal, black winged horses.
Wrenching open the back door, Harry hurtled into their midst. There was a general cry of greeting as Tracey flung her arms around him, followed shortly by Harry’s foster brother Theodore, and Hagrid said, ‘All righ’, Harry? Ready fer the off?’
‘Definitely,’ said Harry, beaming around at them all. ‘But I wasn’t expecting this many of you!’
‘Change of plan,’ growled Mad-Eye, who was holding two enormous, bulging sacks, and whose magical eye was spinning from darkening sky to house to garden with dizzying rapidity. ‘Let’s get undercover before we talk you through it.’
Harry led them all back into the kitchen where, laughing and chattering, they settled on chairs, sat themselves upon Aunt Petunia’s gleaming work surfaces, or leaned up against her spotless appliances: Theodore, tall and handsome; Tracey, her tight curly afro finally back to its normal length after an incident nearly three years ago; Fred and George, grinning identically; Bill, badly scarred and long-haired; Mr Weasley, kind-faced, balding, his spectacles a little awry; Mad-Eye, battle-worn, one-legged, his bright blue magical eye whizzing in its socket; Tonks, whose short spiky hair was her favorite shade of bright pink and smiling happily; Chiara, calm and collected; Fleur, slender and beautiful, with her long silvery blonde hair; Kingsley, taller and broad-shouldered; Hagrid, with his wild hair and beard, standing hunchbacked to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling; and Mundungus Fletcher, small, dirty, and hangdog, with his droopy bloodhound’s eyes and matted hair. Harry’s heart seemed to expand and glow at the sight: He felt incredibly fond of all of them, even Mundungus, whom he had tried to strangle the last time they had met.
‘Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?’ he called across the room.
‘He can get along without me for one night,’ said Kingsley. ‘You’re more important.’
‘Harry, guess what?’ said Tonks after she herself gave him a hug, she wiggled her left hand at him; a ring glittered there.
‘You got married?’ Harry yelped, he had known she and her old girlfriend Tulip Karasu had gotten engaged just over a month ago, but he hadn’t expected them to tie the naught so soon.
‘I’m sorry you couldn’t be there, Harry, it was very quiet, just my folks, Tulip’s mum, and Allison were there…Allison says hi by the way.’
‘That’s brilliant, congratulations Tonks, I’m so happy for you.’
‘Oh, and that is all the good news. Harry, I’m goi—‘
‘All right, all right, we’ll have time for a cozy catch-up later,’ roared Moody over the hubbub, and silence fell in the kitchen. Moody dropped his sacks at his feet and turned to Harry, ‘As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He’s made an alert secret to the rest of the Ministry that’ll alert him, and by extension the Death Eaters, anytime someone within several miles of this house uses the Floo Network, place a Portkey here, or Apparate in or out. We barely learned this in time. What he’s done is stop you from getting out of here safely.
This did sound serious, Harry had some questions but Moody kept going.
‘Second problem. You’re underage, which means you’ve still got the Trace on you.’
‘I don’t—‘
‘The Trace, the Trace!’ said Mad-Eye impatiently. ‘The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out out about underage magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters. We can’t wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen you’ll lose all the protection your mother gave you. In short: Pius Thicknesse thinks he’s got you cornered good and proper.’
Harry could not help but agree with the unknown Thicknesse, ‘So what are we going to do?’
‘We’re going to use the only means of transport left to us, the only ones the Trace can’t detect, because we don’t need to cast spells to use them: brooms, thestrals, and Hagrid’s friend the Hippogriff.’
Harry could see flaws in this plan; however, he held his tongue to give Mad-Eye the chance to address them.
‘Now, your mother’s charm will only break under two conditions: when you come of age, or’—Moody gestured around the pristine kitchen—‘you no longer, even the tiniest bit, call this place home. You and your aunt and uncle are going your separate ways tonight, in the full understanding that you’re never going to live together again, correct?’
Harry nodded.
‘So this time, when you leave, there’ll be no going back, and the charm will break the moment you get outside its range. We’ve choosing to break it early, because the alternative is waiting for You-Know-Who to come and seize you the moment you turn seventeen. The one thing we’ve got on our side is that You-Know-Who doesn’t know we’re moving you tonight. We’ve leaked a fake trail to the Ministry: They think you’re not leaving until the thirtieth. However, this is You-Know-Who we’re dealing with, so we can’t just rely on him getting the date wrong; he’s bound to have a couple Death Eaters patrolling the skies in this general area, just in case. So we’ve given a dozen different houses every protection we can throw at them. They all look like they could be the place we’re going to hide you, they’ve all got some connection with the Order: my house, Kingsley’s place, Molly’s aunt Muriel’s—you get the idea.’
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, not entirely truthfully, because he could still spot a gaping hole in the plan. ‘You’ll be going to Andromeda and Ted’s place. Once you’re within the boundaries of the protective enchantments we’ve put on their house you’ll be able to use a Portkey to the Burrow. Any questions?’
‘Er—yes,’ said Harry. ‘Maybe they won’t know which of the twelve secure houses I’m heading for at first, but won’t it be sort of obvious once’—he performed a quick headcount—‘fourteen of us fly off towards the Tonks’?’
‘Ah,’ said Moody. ‘I forgot to mention the key point. Fourteen of us won’t be flying to the Tonks’. There will be seven Harry Potters moving through the skies tonight, each of them with a companion, each pair heading for a different safe house.’
From inside his cloak Moody now withdrew a flask of what looked like mud. There was no need for him to say another word; Harry understood the rest of the plan immediately.
‘No!’ he said loudly, his voice ringing through the kitchen. ‘No way!’
‘I had a feeling you’d protest,’ said Theodore with a hint of complacency.
‘If you think I’m going to let six people risk their lives—!’
‘—Like we haven’t been doing that already for nearly six years,’ said Tracey.
‘This is different, pretending to be me—‘
‘Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry,’ said Fred earnestly. ‘Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever.’
Harry did not smile.
‘You can’t do it if I don’t cooperate, you need me to give you some hair.’
‘Well, that’s that plan scuppered,’ said George. ‘Obviously there’s no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate.’
‘Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who’s not allowed to use magic: we’ve got no chance,’ said Fred.
‘Funny,’ said Harry, ‘really amusing.’
‘If it has to come to force, then it will,’ growled Moody, his magical eye now quivering a little in its socket as he glared at Harry. ‘Everyone here is of age, Potter, and they’re all prepared to take the risk.’
Mundungus shrugged and grimaced; the magical eye swerved sideways to glare at him out of the side of Moody’s head.
‘Let’s have no more arguments. Time’s wearing on. I want a few of your hairs, boy, now.’
‘But this is mad, there’s no need—‘
‘No need!’ snarled Moody, ‘With You-Know-Who out there and half the Ministry on his side? Potter, if we’re lucky he’ll have swallowed the fake bait and he’ll be planning to ambush you on the thirtieth, but he’d be mad not to have a Death Eater or two keeping an eye out, it’s what I’d do. They might not be able to get at you or this house while your mother’s charm holds, but it’s about to break and they know the rough position of the place. Our only chance is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who can’t split himself into seven.’
Harry caught Theodore’s eye and looked away at once.
‘So, Potter—some of your hair, if you please.’
‘Why isn’t Remus or Allison here?’ asked Harry, who decided if he was going to agree to this he wanted all the facts, including why two other of his most trusted people in his life weren’t here.
Moody glared, he clearly thought Harry was wasting time, and maybe he was.
‘Mould-On-The-Would cottage is one of the safe houses and Lupin is its guardian, just in case though his daughter is at the safest overall location of the Burrow. As for Miss Runcorn, she’s also at the Burrow, she volunteered to help out tonight, but I kiboshed that as even if you and Lupin trust her I still say her father could have put the Imperius Curse on her and I couldn’t take that risk. With your curiosity seated we’re going now.’
Harry glanced at Tracey, who grimaced at him in a just-do-it sort of way.
‘Now!’ barked Moody.
With all of their eyes on him, Harry reached up to the top of his head, grabbed a couple hairs, and pulled.
‘Good,’ said Moody, limping forward as he pulled the stopper out of the flask of potion. ‘Straight in here, if you please.’
Harry dropped the hair into the mudlike liquid. The moment it made contact with its surface, the potion began to froth and smoke, then, all at once, it turned a clear, bright gold.
‘Oh, your Polyjuice looks much more palatable than the ones of Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle,’ said Theodore, a little relieved.
‘Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please.’ said Moody.
Theodore, Tracey, Fred, George, and Fleur lined up in front of Aunt Petunia’s gleaming sink.
‘Are we missing someone?’ asked Chiara, a little confused.
‘Here,’ said Hagrid gruffly, and he lifted Mundungus by the scruff of the neck and dropped him down beside Fleur, who wrinkled her nose pointedly and moved along to stand between Fred and George instead.
‘I’ve told yer, I’d sooner be a protector,’ said Mundungus.
‘Shut it,’ growled Moody. ‘As I’ve already told you, you spineless worm, any Death Eaters we run into will be aiming to capture Potter, not kill him. Dumbledore always said You-Know-Who would want to finish Potter in person. It’ll be the protectors who have got the most to worry about, the Death Eaters’ll want to kill them.’
Mundungus did not look particularly reassured, but Moody was already pulling half a dozen eggcup-sized glasses from inside his cloak, which he handed out, before pouring a little Polyjuice Potion into each one.
‘Altogether, then…’
Tracey, Theodore, Fred, George, Fleur, and Mundungus drank. All of them gasped and grimaced as the potion hit their throats. At once, their features began to bubble and distort like hot wax. Tracey and Mundungus were shooting upward; Fred, and George were shrinking; their hair was darkening, Tracey’s and Fleur’s appearing to shoot backward into their skulls.
Moody, quite unconcerned, was now loosening the ties of the large sacks he had brought with him. When he straightened up again, there were six Harry Potters gasping and panting in front of him.
Fred and George turned to each other and said together, ‘Wow—we’re identical!’
‘I dunno, though. I think I’m still better looking,’ said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.
‘Bah,’ said Fleur, checking herself in the microwave door, ‘Bill, don’t look at me—I’m ’ideous.’
‘Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I’ve got smaller here,’ said Moody, indicating the first sack, ‘and vice versa. Don’t forget the glasses, there’s six pairs in the side pocket. And when you’re dressed, there’s luggage in the other sack.’
The real Harry thought this might just be the most bizarre thing he had ever seen, and he had seen some extremely odd things. He watched as his six doppelgangers rummaged in the sacks, pulling out sets of clothes, putting on glasses, and stuffing their own things away. He felt like asking them to show a little more respect for his privacy as they all began stripping off with impunity, clearly more at ease with displaying his body than they would have with their own.
‘I was right that Alli had lied about you having a tattoo,’ said Tracey look around his upper body.
‘Any your eyesight is quite terrible, I never knew it was this bad,’ said Theodore, as he put on glasses.
Once dressed, the fake Harrys took rucksacks and owl cages, each containing a stuffed snowy owl, from the second sack.
‘Good,’ said Moody, as at last the seven dressed, bespectacled, and luggage-laden Harrys faced him. ‘The pairs will be as follows: Mundungus will be traveling with me, by broom—‘
‘Why’m I with you?’ grunted the Harry nearest the back door.
‘Because you’re the one that needs watching,’ growled Moody, and sure enough, his magical eye did not waver from Mundungus as he continued. ‘Arthur and Fred—‘
‘I’m George,’ said the twin at whom Moody was pointing, ‘Can’t you even tell us apart when we’re Harry?’
‘Sorry, George—‘
‘I’m only yanking your wand. I’m Fred really—‘
‘Enough messing around!’ snarled Moody. ‘The other one—George or Fred or whoever you are—you’re with Chiara. Miss Delacour—‘
‘I’m taking Fleur on a thestral,’ said Bill. ‘She’s not that fond of brooms.’
Fleur walked over to stand beside him, giving him a soppy, slavish look that Harry hoped with all his heart would never appear on his face again, even when he was with Allison.
‘Mr Nott with Kingsley, again by thestral—‘
Harry wondered if Theodore had told Moody or Remus he was able to see the thestrals, or if a man of such perception as Moody just knew he could.
‘Which leaves you and me, Tracey!’ said Tonks brightly, knocking over a mug tree as she waved at her.
Tracey was friends with Tonks, but this act of clumsiness seemed to make her smile falter slightly.
‘An’ you’re with me, Harry. That all right?’ said Hagrid, looking a little anxious. ‘I helped take ya here nearly sixteen years ago, it’s only fitting I help escort ya out fer da final time.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Harry, ‘but will Buckbeak be able to carry both of us and my things?’
‘Ah, Tracey helped me with that one, she taught everyone da Feather-Weight Charm an they all cast it on me,’ explained Hagrid’s. ‘Now normally it would make me ave no weight, but because of my giant heritage each spell only partially worked, wit all of em it made it so I’m only slightly more heavy den you. Buckbeak’ll be able ta carry us both.’
‘That’s great,’ said Harry, not altogether truthfully.
‘We think the Death Eaters will expect you to be on a broom,’ said Moody, who seemed to guess how Harry was feeling. ‘Snape’s had plenty of time to tell them everything about you he’s never mentioned before, all that he’s learned from six years of being your teacher and head of house, so if we do run into any Death Eaters, we’re betting they’ll choose one of the Potters who look at home on a broomstick. All right then,’ he went on, tying up the sack with the fake Potters’ clothes in it and leading the way back to the door, ‘I make it three minutes until we’re supposed to leave. No point locking the back door, it won’t keep the Death Eaters out when they come looking. Come on…’
Harry hurried to gather his rucksack, Firebolt, and Hedwig’s cage and followed the ground to the dark back garden.
Those with broomsticks were mounting onto them. Theodore had already been helped up onto a great black thestral by Kingsley, Fleur onto the other by Bill. Hagrid was standing ready beside the Buckbeak, goggles on, as Harry approached he gave the noble bird a little bow and the Hippogriff nodded his head back.
‘Da last time I ever road wit ya it was on Sirius’ motorcycle, nice ride, whatever happened ter it?’ asked Hagrid as he helped Harry up.
‘Canini inherited it, I think because she and Sirius used to take road trips on it together, it’s being stored at the cottage until she’s sixteen,’ answered Harry.
Harry was a little embarrassed by his mode of transportation. The last time he had flown on Buckbeak had been decent, but now he was sitting behind Hagrid who took up most of the room, leaving him not much space to hold his rucksack, Firebolt, and Hedwig’s cage as well as onto Hagrid for stability. It was extremely uncomfortable, he felt he looked as clumsy as Tonks often was.
‘I’ve never really flown a Hippogriff before, but don’t worry, Buckbeak is an excellent flyer all on his own,’ said Hagrid trying to comfort Harry, but it did the opposite.
‘All right then,’ said Moody. ‘Everyone ready, please. I want us all to leave at exactly the same time or the whole point of the diversion’s lost.’
Everybody mounted their brooms.
‘Hold tight now, Tracey,’ said Tonks, and Harry saw Tracey throw a nervous look at Harry before placing her arms around her waist.
Buckbeak unfurled his wings and started giving them some test flaps, the thestrals did something similar. Buckbeak vibrated as all his muscles began to work heavily.
‘Good luck, everyone,’ shouted Moody, ‘See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One…Two…THREE!’
Buckbeak started giving great big thrusts with his wings, and Harry felt them lift off the ground. He was rising through the air fast, his eyes water slightly, hair whipped back off his face. Around him brooms were soaring upward too, the long black tail of a threstral flicked past. His legs, he wrapped his legs tightly around Buckbeak and held a firm grip onto Hedwig’s cage and his rucksack, though his hands were already getting sore and starting to go numb. So great was his discomfort that he almost forgot to take a last glimpse of number four, Privet Drive, by the time he looked over the edge of the great beast he could no longer tell which one it was. Higher and higher they climbed into the sky—And then, out of nowhere, out of nothing, they were surrounded. At least thirty hooded figures, suspended in midair, formed a vast circle in the midst of which the Order members had risen, oblivious—Screams, a blaze of green light coming from every side: Hagrid gave a yell and the Buckbeak lurched over.
Harry lost any sense of where they were. Streetlights above him, yells around him, he was clinging to Hagrid and Buckbeak. Hedwig’s cage, the Firebolt, and his rucksack slipped from his grasp.
‘No—HEDWIG!’
The broomstick spun to earth, but he just managed to seize the strap of his rucksack and the top of the cage as Buckbeak stabilized his flight again. A second’s relief, and then another burst of green light. The owl screeched and fell to the floor of the cage.
‘No—NO!’
Buckbeak shot forward; Harry glimpsed hooded Death Eaters scattering as Hagrid blasted through their circle.
‘Hedwig—Hedwig—”
But the owl lay motionless and pathetic as a toy on the floor of her cage. He could not take it in, and his terror for the others was paramount. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a mass of people moving, flares of green light, two pairs of people on brooms soaring off into the distance, but he could not tell who they were—
‘Hagrid, we’ve got to go back, we’ve got to go back!’ he yelled over the thunderous wind, letting go of Hagrid just long enough to pull out his wand, Hedwig’s body jostled in her cage, he kept refusing to believe that she was dead. ‘Hagrid, TURN AROUND!’
‘My job’s ter get you there safe, Harry!’ bellowed Hagrid, and he lead Buckbeak further.
‘Stop—STOP!’ Harry shouted, but he looked back again as two jets of green light flew past his left ear:
Four Death Eaters had broken away from the circle and were pursuing them, aiming for Hagrid’s broad back. Buckbeak swerved but the Death Eaters were keeping up with him, more curses shot after them, and Harry had to hunch as low as he could to avoid them.
Wriggling around he cried, ‘Stupefy!’ and a red bolt of light shot from his own wand, cleaving a gap between the four pursuing Death Eaters as they scattered to avoid it.
‘Watch out, Harry, this’ll do it for at least one of ‘em!’ warned Hagrid, before turning around and aiming his pink umbrella towards the closest Death Eater. ‘Impedimenta!’
This made the Death Eater’s broom freeze in midair, causing its rider to fly right off their broomstick and begin to plummet. Craning his neck, Harry saw one of their fellows slowed up to save them, but they were swallowed by darkness as Hagrid dug his heels into Buckbeak slightly and the hippogriff sped up.
More Killing Curses flew past Harry’s head from the two remaining Death Eaters’ wands; they were aiming for Hagrid. Harry responded with further Stunning Spells: Red and green collided in midair in a shower of multicolored sparks, and Harry thought wildly of fireworks, and the Muggles below who would have no idea what was happening—
‘Here we go again, Harry, duck!’ yelled Hagrid, and he turned around again aimed his umbrella at the pursuing Death Eater’s, ‘Brachiabindo!’
Invisible cords entangled the closest Death Eater, but it only slowed them down for a second as instantly his buddy pointed and said, ‘Emancipare!’ and his partner was free and both continued to pursue.
What was even worse, the companion who had slowed to save their unconscious friend had caught up. He bloomed suddenly out of the darkness and now three of them were pursuing them all on Buckbeak, all shooting curses after them. Something else was bothering Harry, as the wand contained in Hagrid’s umbrella was snapped in two, because of that it often backfired or messed up the spell in some way, and Harry was beginning to be quite worried what would happen if one of these powerful spells backfires.
‘Buckbeak, when I cast this next set of spells, I want ya ter dive while still movin’ forward,’ said Hagrid, Buckbeak gave a little squawk. ‘This’ll do it, Harry, hold on tight!’
Once more he pointed his umbrella behind them, and then in quick succession yelled, ‘Confringo! Ventus Maxima!’
The Blasting Curse sent a large explosion behind them, causing the Death Eaters to dodge as a distraction, and then as Buckbeak began his dive the Windy Spell helped propel them forward at great speed.
Harry saw the Death Eaters swerve to avoid the deadly blast of force and flame. This left him having only a split second’s relief, however, as more curses streaked past him: The three Death Eaters were still closing in.
Hagrid was now focused on directing Buckbeak towards the Tonks’ safe house, but curses were still coming their way. Harry decided it was once again his turn to defend them. He pointed at the middle of the oncoming figures and yelled, ‘Impedimenta!’
The jinx hit the middle Death Eater in the chest; For a moment the man was absurdly spread-eagled in midair as though he had hit an invisible barrier: One of his fellows almost collided with him—Then Harry heard the third Death Eater cry, ‘Flipendo!’ and it hit Harry square in the chest.
Instantly he felt the pain, but the pain of the spell was nothing compared to how painfully his heart pounded as he and his personal belongings were flung off of Buckbeak and began falling towards the earth. He swung his arms and legs wildly as though to somehow start to fly, if only he hadn’t lost his broom, but it was likely to far now to summon.
‘I’m comin’, Harry, I’m comin’!’
A huge hand seized the back of Harry’s robes and hoisted him out of his plummet; Harry managed to grab the rucksack and hold it close as he himself was being pulled to safety. As Hagrid plopped him on the back of Buckbeak once again, Harry had a dreadful, gut-wrenching pang as he knew Hedwig’s body would slam to the grand, forever stuck in her cage.
‘Harry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ moaned Hagrid, ‘I shoulda brought a more secure ride for ya—yeh’ve got no room—‘
‘It’s not a problem, just keep flying!’ Harry shouted back, as two more Death Eaters emerged out of the darkness, drawing closer.
As the curses came shooting across the intervening space again, Hagrid swerved and zigzagged. Harry knew that Hagrid did not dare use the dive-Windy Spell combo again, after Harry falling off after the last time. Harry sent Stunning Spell after Stunning Spell back at their pursuers, barely holding them off.
He shot another blocking jinx at them: The closest Death Eater swerved to avoid it and his hood slipped, and by the red light of his next Stunning Spell, Harry saw the strangely blank face of Stanley Shunpike—Stan—
‘Expelliarmus!’ Harry yelled.
‘That’s him, it’s him, it’s the real one!’
The hooded Death Eater’s shout reached Harry even above the thunder of the wind in his ears. Next moment, both pursuers had fallen back and disappeared from view.
‘Harry, what’s happened?’ bellowed Hagrid, ‘Where’ve they gone?’
‘I don’t know!’
But Harry was afraid: The hooded Death Eater had shouted ‘It’s the real one!’; how had he known? He gazed around at the apparently empty darkness and felt its menace. Where were they? He clamored around on Buckbeak’s back to face forward and seized hold of the back of Hagrid’s jacket.
‘Hagrid, do the Windy-Spell thing again, let’s get out of here!’
‘Hold on tight, then, Harry!’ yelled Hagrid, pointing his umbrella behind them. ‘Ventus Maxima!’
The gust of wind propelled them forward at incredible speed: Harry felt himself nearly slipping off the end off Buckbeak, Hagrid was flung backward upon Harry, nearly falling off himself—
‘I think we’ve lost ’em Harry, I think we’ve done it! Good job Buckbeak!’ yelled Hagrid.
But Harry was not convinced; Fear lapped at him as he looked left and right for pursuers he was sue would come…Why had they fallen back? At least one of them had still had a wand...It’s him…it’s the real one…They had said it right after he had tried to Disarm Stan...
‘We’re nearly there, Harry, we’ve nearly made it!’ shouted Hagrid.
Harry felt the Buckbeak drop a little, though the lights down on the ground still seemed remote as stars.
Then the scar on his forehead burned like fire: as a Death Eater appeared on either side of them, two Killing Curses missed Harry by millimeters, cast from behind—
And then Harry saw him. Voldemort was flying like smoke on the wind, without broomstick or thestral to hold him, his snake-like face gleaming out of the blackness, his white fingers raising his wand again—
Hagrid let out a bellow of fear and urged Buckbeak into a vertical dive. Clinging on for dear life, Harry sent Stunning Spells flying at random into the whirling night. He saw a body fly past him and knew he had hit one of them, but then there was a blinding white light accompanied by a near defining bang that left Harry’s ears ringing. What was worse was it seemed to have disoriented or stunned, Harry desperately hoped nothing worse, Buckbeak; the large hippogriff spiraled through the air, completely out of control—
Green jets of light shot past them again. Harry had no idea which way was up, which down: His scar was still burning; he expected to die at any second. A hooded figure on a broomstick was feet from him, he saw it raise its arm—
‘NO!’
With a shout of fury Hagrid launched himself off Buckbeak at the Death Eater; to his horror, Harry saw both Hagrid and the Death Eater falling out of sight, their combined weight too much for the broomstick—
Barely gripping the plummeting Hippogriff with his knees, Harry heard Voldemort scream, ‘Mine!’
It was over: He could not see or hear where Voldemort was; he glimpsed another Death Eater swooping out of the way and heard, ‘Avada—‘
As the pain from Harry’s scar forced his eyes shut, his wand acted of its own accord. He felt it drag his hand around like some great magnet, saw a spurt of golden fire through his half-closed eyelids, heard a crack and a scream of fury. The remaining Death Eater yelled; Voldemort screamed, ‘No!’; Somehow, Harry found himself conscious enough to say ‘Rennervate!’ while pointing at Buckbeak, causing the bird to instantly regain full consciousness and dived away at great speed towards the ground.
‘Hagrid!’ Harry called, holding on to Buckbeak for dear life. ‘Hagrid—Accio Hagrid!’
Buckbeak sped up, heading towards the earth. Harry could see nothing but distant lights growing nearer and nearer. He was going to crash and there was nothing he could do about it. Behind him came another scream, ‘Your wand, Selwyn, give me your wand!’
He felt Voldemort before he saw him. Looking sideways, he stared into the red eyes and was sure they would be the last thing he ever saw: Voldemort preparing to curse him once more—
And then Voldemort vanished. Harry looked down and saw Hagrid spread-eagled on the ground below him. He braced himself for Buckbeak to crash headfirst into the ground, but instead the Hippogriff pulled up at the last second, however after everything Harry had been through this caused him to let go and be thrown into a muddy pond.
54 Votes in Poll
73 Votes in Poll
These characters are ranked based on what we know of their magical abilities and skills in canon. First of all, I am going to exclude the Hogwarts founders and the Peveralls as they are sort of OP. Second of all, I am going to try my best only include one person from each wizarding family because otherwise the list could get overcrowded with the same surname. Thirdly, I want you all to comment on what you think of the list and to reveal your own top 10 list. Anyways, here are the top 10 most powerful purebloods:
Bellatrix Lestrange
Barty Crouch Jr
Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Horace Slughorn
Molly Prewett
Sirius Black
James Potter
Frank Longbottom
Bill Weasley
Honourable mentions: Fabian and Gideon Prewett, Ron Weasley, Alice and Neville Longbottom, Rodolphus Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy.
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003622070
Chapter 2: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003623371
Chapter 3: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003624429
Chapter 4: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003627163
Chapter 5: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003627566
Chapter 6: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003628099
Tags: @Bellatrisblack @CatsAndRoblox @Heli aesthetics
(Happy Canada Day 🍁)
Chapter Seven: The Ministry Of Magic
Harry awoke at half-past five the next morning as abruptly and completely as if somebody had yelled in his ear. For a few moments he lay immobile as the prospect of the hearing filled every tiny particle of his brain, then, unable to bear it, he leapt out of bed and put on his glasses. Remus had laid out his freshly laundered jeans and T-shirt, and wizarding robe at the foot of his bed. Harry scrambled into them. The blank picture on the wall sniggered again.
Theodore lay in his bed all wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets despite the August heat, while Ron was lying sprawled on his back with his mouth wide open, both were still fast asleep. They did not stir as Harry crossed the room, stepped out onto the landing, and closed the door softly behind him. Trying not to think of the next time he would see Theodore and Tracey, when they might no longer be fellow students at Hogwarts, Harry walked quietly down the stairs, past the heads of Kreacher’s ancestors, and into the kitchen.
He had expected it to be empty, but it was not. When he reached the door he heard the soft rumble of voices on the other side and when he pushed it open he saw Mr and Mrs Weasley, Sirius, Remus, and Tonks sitting there almost as though they were waiting for him.
All were fully dressed except Mrs Weasley, who was wearing a quilted, purple dressing gown. She leapt to her feet the moment he entered. ‘Breakfast,’ she said as she pulled out her wand and hurried over to the fire.
‘M-m-morning, Harry,’ yawned Tonks. Her hair was blonde and curly this morning. ‘I’m glad I got to see you before I have to head to work. Sleep all right?’
‘Yeah,’ said Harry.
‘I’ve b-b-been up all night,’ she said, with another shuddering yawn. ‘Come and sit down....’
She drew out a chair, knocking over the one beside it in the process.
‘What do you want, Harry?’ Mrs Weasley called. ‘Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?’
‘Just—just toast, thanks,’ said Harry.
Remus glanced at Harry with concern for a moment, then said to Tonks, ‘What were you saying about Scrimgeour?’
‘Oh...yeah...well, we need to be a bit more careful, he’s been asking Kingsley and me funny questions...’
Harry felt vaguely grateful that he was not required to join in the conversation. His insides were squirming. Mrs Weasley placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade in front of him; he tried to eat, but it was like chewing carpet. Mrs Weasley sat down on his other side and started fussing with his T-shirt, tucking in the label and smoothing out creases across the shoulders, and folding the robe in his hands that he’ll be wearing later. He wished she wouldn’t.
‘...and I’ll have to tell Dumbledore I can’t do night duty tomorrow, after working all night and going to have to work all day, I’m just t-t-too tired,’ Tonks finished, yawning hugely again.
‘I’ll cover for you,’ said Mr Weasley. ‘I’m okay, I’ve got a report to finish anyway...’
Mr Weasley was not wearing wizard’s robes but a pair of pinstriped trousers and an old bomber jacket. He looked like he was going to speak but Remus beat him to it.
‘How are you feeling this morning, Harry?’ asked his adoptive father. ‘I noticed you aren’t that hungry.’
Harry shrugged, ‘Bit nervous.’
'It’ll all be over soon,' Mr Weasley said bracingly. 'In a few hours’ time you’ll be cleared.'
Harry said nothing.
'I think you have to go now, Tonks, but before you do tell Harry the good news,' said Sirius.
She talked as she stood while grabbing a muffin (knocking over the remainder of Remus' orange juice in the process), 'Your hearing will be done in Amelia Bone's office, and as Remus tells it she is a friend of the family. Anyway I got to go, best of luck Harry.'
She left, but Harry now felt slightly better. Amelia Bones' family had fought with the Order, and after the war Remus and Sirius got in contact with her and had Harry hang out with her niece Susan who she was raising. Amelia Bones is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and is strict, but fair.
'Now, don’t lose your temper,' said Sirius abruptly. 'Be polite and stick to the facts.'
Harry nodded again.
'The law’s on your side,' said Remus quietly. 'Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations.'
Something very cold trickled down the back of Harry’s neck; for a moment he thought someone was putting a Disillusionment Charm on him again, then he realized that Mrs Weasley was attacking his hair with a wet comb. She pressed hard on the top of his head. Remus hadn't managed to get any Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, so his hair was as wild as ever.'
'Doesn’t it ever lie flat?' she said desperately.
Harry shook his head.
'Not in the fourteen years I've known him,' said Sirius.
Mr Weasley checked his watch and looked up at Harry.
'I think we’ll go now,' he said. 'We’re a bit early, but I think you’ll be better off there than hanging around here.'
'Okay,' said Harry automatically, dropping his toast and getting to his feet.
'Good luck Harry,' said Remus. 'Everything will be alright.'
'And if it’s not,' said Sirius grimly, 'I’ll see to Amelia Bones for you...'
Harry smiled weakly. His parents than gave him an encouraging hug.
'We’ve all got our fingers crossed,' said Mrs Weasley.
'Right,' said Harry. 'Well...see you later then.'
He followed Mr Weasley upstairs and along the hall. He could hear Sirius’s mother grunting in her sleep behind her curtains. Mr Weasley unbolted the door and they stepped out into the cold, gray dawn.
'You don’t normally walk to work, do you?' Harry asked him, as they set off briskly around the square.
'No, I usually Apparate,' said Mr Weasley, 'but obviously you can’t, and I think it’s best we arrive in a thoroughly non-magical fashion...makes a better impression, given what you’re being disciplined for...'
Mr Weasley kept his hand inside his jacket as they walked. Harry knew it was clenched around his wand. The run-down streets were almost deserted, but when they arrived at the miserable little Underground station they found it already full of early morning commuters. As ever when he found himself in close proximity to Muggles going about their daily business, Mr Weasley was hard put to contain his enthusiasm.
'Simply fabulous,' he whispered, indicating the automatic ticket machines. 'Wonderfully ingenious.'
'They’re out of order,' said Harry, pointing at the sign.
'Yes, but even so...' said Mr Weasley, beaming fondly at them. They bought their tickets instead from a sleepy-looking guard (Harry handled the transaction, as Mr Weasley was not very good with Muggle money) and five minutes later they were boarding an Underground train that rattled them off toward the center of London. Mr Weasley kept anxiously checking and rechecking the Underground map above the windows.
'Four stops, Harry...three stops left now...two stops to go, Harry...'
They got off at a station in the very heart of London, swept from the train in a tide of besuited men and women carrying briefcases. Up the escalator they went, through the ticket barrier (Mr Weasley delighted with the way the stile swallowed his ticket), and emerged onto a broad street lined with imposing-looking buildings, already full of traffic.
'Where are we?' said Mr Weasley blankly, and for one heartstopping moment Harry thought they had gotten off at the wrong station despite Mr Weasley’s continual references to the map; but a second later he said, 'Ah yes...this way, Harry,' and led him down a side road.
'Sorry,' he said, 'but I never come by train and it all looks rather different from a Muggle perspective. As a matter of fact I’ve never even used the visitor’s entrance before.'
The farther they walked, the smaller and less imposing the buildings became, until finally they reached a street that contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub, and an overflowing dumpster. Harry had expected a rather more impressive location for the Ministry of Magic.
'Here we are,' said Mr Weasley brightly, pointing at an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffittied wall. 'After you, Harry.'
He opened the telephone box door.
Harry stepped inside, wondering what on earth this was about. Mr Weasley folded himself in beside Harry and closed the door. It was a tight fit; Harry was jammed against the telephone apparatus, which was hanging crookedly from the wall as though a vandal had tried to rip it off. Mr Weasley reached past Harry for the receiver.
'Mr Weasley, I think this might be out of order too,' Harry said.
'No, no, I’m sure it’s fine,' said Mr Weasley, holding the receiver above his head and peering at the dial. 'Let’s see...six...' he dialed the number, 'two...four...and another four...and another two...'
As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in Mr Weasley’s hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them.
'Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.'
'Er...' said Mr Weasley, clearly uncertain whether he should talk into the receiver or not; he compromised by holding the mouthpiece to his ear, 'Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing...'
'Thank you,' said the cool female voice. 'Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.'
There was a click and a rattle, and Harry saw something slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. He picked it up: It was a square silver badge with Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing on it. He pinned it to the front of his T-shirt as the female voice spoke again.
'Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.'
The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They were sinking slowly into the ground. Harry watched apprehensively as the pavement rose up past the glass windows of the telephone box until darkness closed over their heads. Then he could see nothing at all; he could only hear a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth. After about a minute, though it felt much longer to Harry, a chink of golden light illuminated his feet and, widening, rose up his body, until it hit him in the face and he had to blink to stop his eyes from watering.
'The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,' said the woman’s voice.
The door of the telephone box sprang open and Mr Weasley stepped out of it, followed by Harry, whose mouth had fallen open. They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were paneled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right-hand side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart. Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur’s arrow, the tip of the goblin’s hat, and each of the house-elf’s ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks of Apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strode toward a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.
'This way,' said Mr Weasley.
They joined the throng, wending their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases, still others reading the Daily Prophet as they walked. As they passed the fountain Harry saw silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glinting up at him from the bottom of the pool. A small, smudged sign beside it read:
"All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren will be given to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries"
If I’m not expelled from Hogwarts, I’ll put in ten Galleons, Harry found himself thinking desperately.
'Over here, Harry,' said Mr Weasley, and they stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees heading for the golden gates, toward a desk on the left, over which hung a sign saying security. A badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his Daily Prophet.
'I’m escorting a visitor,' said Mr Weasley, gesturing toward Harry.
'Step over here,' said the wizard in a bored voice.
Harry walked closer to him and the wizard held up a long golden rod, thin and flexible as a car aerial, and passed it up and down Harry’s front and back.
'Wand,' grunted the security wizard at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand.
Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it onto a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it.
'Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?'
'Yes,' said Harry nervously.
'I keep this,' said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. 'You get this back,' he added, thrusting the wand at Harry.
'Thank you.'
'Hang on...' said the wizard slowly.
His eyes had darted from the silver visitor’s badge on Harry’s chest to his forehead.
'Thank you, Eric,' said Mr Weasley firmly, and grasping Harry by the shoulder, he steered him away from the desk and back into the stream of wizards and witches walking through the golden gates.
Jostled slightly by the crowd, Harry followed Mr Weasley through the gates into the smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles. Harry and Mr Weasley joined the crowd around one of them. A big, bearded wizard holding a large cardboard box stood nearby. The box was emitting rasping noises.
'All right, Arthur?' said the wizard, nodding at Mr Weasley.
'What’ve you got there, Bob?' asked Mr Weasley, looking at the box.
'We’re not sure,' said the wizard seriously. 'We thought it was a bog-standard chicken until it started breathing fire. Looks like a serious breach of the Ban on Experimental Breeding to me.'
With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended in front of them; the golden grille slid back and Harry and Mr Weasley moved inside it with the rest of the crowd. Harry found himself jammed against the back wall of the lift. Several witches and wizards were looking at him curiously; he stared at his feet to avoid catching anyone’s eye, flattening his fringe as he did so. The grilles slid shut with a crash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling all the while, while the same cool female voice Harry had heard in the telephone box rang out again.
'Level seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office.'
The lift doors opened; Harry glimpsed an untidy-looking corridor, with various posters of Quidditch teams tacked lopsidedly on the walls; one of the wizards in the lift, who was carrying an armful of broomsticks, extricated himself with difficulty and disappeared down the corridor. The doors closed, the lift juddered upward again, and the woman’s voice said, 'Level six, Department of Magical Transport, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Center.'
Once again the lift doors opened and four or five witches and wizards got out; at the same time, several paper airplanes swooped into the lift. Harry stared up at them as they flapped idly around above his head; they were a pale violet color and he could see ministry of magic stamped along the edges of their wings.
'Just Interdepartmental memos,' Mr Weasley muttered to him. 'We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable...droppings all over the desks...'
As they clattered upward again, the memos flapped around the swaying lamp in the lift’s ceiling.
'Level five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law, and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats.'
When the doors opened, two of the memos zoomed out with a few more witches and wizards, but several more memos zoomed in, so that the light from the lamp in the ceiling flickered and flashed as they darted around it.
'Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau.'
'’S’cuse,' said the wizard carrying the fire-breathing chicken and he left the lift pursued by a little flock of memos. The doors clanged shut yet again.
'Level three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee.'
Everybody left the lift on this floor except Mr Weasley, Harry, and a witch who was reading an extremely long piece of parchment that was trailing on the ground. The remaining memos continued to soar around the lamp as the lift juddered upward again, and then the doors opened and the voice said, 'Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.'
'This is us, Harry,' said Mr Weasley, but Harry did not need him to say that, as the second the doors open Harry was face to face with a livid Allison Runcorn.
'You,' Harry had just managed to say before she forcefully grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the lift.
'For a month I don't receive a word from Tracey and Theodore, and then I hear you're being tried for breaking the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy! You wouldn't do that unless your life was at risk, but I didn't hear from you for over a week! I thought you were seriously hurt!'
Mr Weasley stood awkwardly, likely wanting to take Harry to his office. However Harry did not dare even think about moving from an angry Allison's sight.
'Why are you here,' he said in partial shock.
'I knew you're trial was today, so I forced dad to take me with him to work, and I thought your cousin would be escorting you here. That doesn't matter though, I want to know why Tracey, Theo, and now you have been ignoring me, especially after you've likely been attacked by something.'
Harry just barely registered Arthur being approached by Kingsley Shacklebolt, his focus was on his angry friend. 'I can't talk about it right here, but Tracey and Theodore were forbidden from writing anyone, as was I when I was taken from the Dursley's. Allision, you have no idea how much all three of us wanted to write you, to tell you everything.'
'Tell me what, what has been happening?'
Harry wasn't sure what to tell her, he knew he shouldn't risk exposing the Order of the Phoenix, but Allison really deserved an explanation.
He didn't get a chance to make a decision, as Mr Weasley took a page out of Allison's book and grabbed Harry's arm.
'Harry, I'm sorry about your friend, but we have to go.'
'But—' Harry protested.
'Come along,' he then turned his head to face Allison. 'You'll see Harry in a couple weeks...probably.'
Arthur then pulled Harry along, he was reluctant to leave Allison, but he thought something had happened.
'Is everything alright?' Harry whispered as they got farther from Allison.
'No, you were about to give away top secret information to a child of Albert Runcorn, I had to pull you away before you made a horrible mistake,' said Mr Weasley, quite mad, but not as mad as Harry.
'You're telling me there isn't an emergency. You wouldn't let me talk to my friend who was worried about me because of her father?'
Mr Weasley sighed, 'We can discuss this later if you'd like, but first we must get to my office. Just round here, Harry.'
They turned a corner, walked through a pair of heavy oak doors, and emerged in a cluttered, open area divided into cubicles, which were buzzing with talk and laughter. Memos were zooming in and out of cubicles like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read auror headquarters.
Harry looked surreptitiously through the doorways as they passed. The Aurors had covered their cubicle walls with everything from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their families, to posters of their favorite Quidditch teams and articles from the Daily Prophet. A scarlet-robed man with a ponytail longer than Bill’s was sitting with his boots up on his desk, dictating a report to his quill. A little farther along, through a second set of oak doors, into another passage, turned left, marched along another corridor, turned right into a dimly lit and distinctly shabby corridor, and finally reached a dead end, where a door on the left stood ajar, revealing a broom cupboard, and a door on the right bore a tarnished brass plaque reading misuse of muggle artifacts.
Mr Weasley’s dingy office seemed to be slightly smaller than a broom cupboard. Two desks had been crammed inside it and there was barely room to move around them because of all the overflowing filing cabinets lining the walls, on top of which were tottering piles of files. The little wall space available bore witness to Mr Weasley’s obsessions; there were several posters of cars, including one of a dismantled engine, two illustrations of postboxes he seemed to have cut out of Muggle children’s books, and a diagram showing how to wire a plug.
Sitting on top of Mr Weasley’s overflowing in-tray was an old toaster that was hiccuping in a disconsolate way and a pair of empty leather gloves that were twiddling their thumbs. A photograph of the Weasley family stood beside the in-tray. Harry noticed that Percy appeared to have walked out of it.
'We haven’t got a window,' said Mr Weasley apologetically, taking off his bomber jacket and placing it on the back of his chair. 'We’ve asked, but they don’t seem to think we need one. Have a seat, Harry, doesn’t look as if Perkins is in yet. I have to look through these notes Kingsley gave me in the hall.'
Harry put his robes over his muggle clothes, then squeezed himself into the chair behind Perkins’s desk while Mr Weasley rifled through the sheaf of parchment Kingsley Shacklebolt had given him.
'Ah,' he said, grinning, as he extracted a copy of a magazine entitled The Quibbler from its midst, 'yes...' He flicked through it. 'Yes, he’s right, I’m sure Sirius will find that very amusing—oh dear, what’s this now?'
A memo had just zoomed in through the open door and fluttered to rest on top of the hiccuping toaster. Mr Weasley unfolded it and read aloud, ‘'Third regurgitating public toilet reported in Bethnal Green, kindly investigate immediately.’ This is getting ridiculous...'
Harry was still mad at Mr Weasley, but something he said was to odd to ignore, 'A regurgitating toilet?'
'Anti-Muggle pranksters,' said Mr Weasley, frowning. 'We had two last week, one in Wimbledon, one in Elephant and Castle. Muggles are pulling the flush and instead of everything disappearing—well, you can imagine. The poor things keep calling in those—those pumbles, I think they’re called—you know, the ones who mend pipes and things—'
'Plumbers? I think.'
'—exactly, yes, but of course they’re flummoxed. I only hope we can catch whoever’s doing it.'
'Will it be Aurors who catch them?'
'Oh no, this is too trivial for Aurors, it’ll be the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol—ah, Harry, this is Perkins.'
A stooped, timid-looking old wizard with fluffy white hair had just entered the room, panting.
'Oh Arthur!' he said desperately, without looking at Harry. 'Thank goodness, I didn’t know what to do for the best, whether to wait here for you or not, I’ve just sent an owl to your home but you’ve obviously missed it—an urgent message came ten minutes ago—'
'I know about the regurgitating toilet,' said Mr Weasley.
'No, no, it’s not the toilet, it’s the Potter boy’s hearing—they’ve changed the time and venue—it starts at eight o’clock now and it’s down in old Courtroom Ten—'
'Down in old—but they told me—Merlin’s beard—'
Mr Weasley looked at his watch, let out a yelp, and leapt from his chair.
'Quick, Harry, we should have been there five minutes ago!'
Perkins flattened himself against the filing cabinets as Mr Weasley left the office at a run, Harry on his heels.
'Why have they changed the time?' Harry said breathlessly as they hurtled past the Auror cubicles; people poked out their heads and stared as they streaked past. Harry felt as though he had left all his insides back at Perkins’s desk. For a second he could hear Allison call his name, but in seconds they were to far away for Harry to call back.
'I’ve no idea, but thank goodness we got here so early, if you’d missed it it would have been catastrophic!'
Mr Weasley skidded to a halt beside the lifts and jabbed impatiently at the down button.
'Come ON!'
The lift clattered into view and they hurried inside. Every time it stopped Mr Weasley cursed furiously and pummelled the number nine button.
'Those courtrooms haven’t been used in years,' said Mr Weasley angrily. 'I can’t think why they’re doing it down there—unless—but no...'
A plump witch carrying a smoking goblet entered the lift at that moment, and Mr Weasley did not elaborate.
'The Atrium,' said the cool female voice and the golden grilles slid open, showing Harry a distant glimpse of the golden statues in the fountain. The plump witch got out and a sallow-skinned wizard with a very mournful face got in.
'Morning, Arthur,' he said in a sepulchral voice as the lift began to descend. 'Don’t often see you down here...'
'Urgent business, Bode,' said Mr Weasley, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet and throwing anxious looks over at Harry.
'Ah, yes,' said Bode, surveying Harry unblinkingly. 'Of course.'
Harry barely had emotion to spare for Bode, but his unfaltering gaze did not make him feel any more comfortable.
'Department of Mysteries,' said the cool female voice, and left it at that.
'Quick, Harry,' said Mr Weasley as the lift doors rattled open, and they sped up a corridor that was quite different from those above. The walls were bare; there were no windows and no doors apart from a plain black one set at the very end of the corridor. Harry expected them to go through it, but instead Mr Weasley seized him by the arm once more and dragged him to the left, where there was an opening leading to a flight of steps.
'Down here, down here,' panted Mr Weasley, taking two steps at a time. 'The lift doesn’t even come down this far...why they’re doing it there...'
They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape’s part of the dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.
'Courtroom...ten...I think...we’re nearly...yes.'
Mr Weasley stumbled to a halt outside a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock and slumped against the wall, clutching at a stitch in his chest.
'Go on,' he panted, pointing his thumb at the door. 'Get in there.'
'Aren’t—aren’t you coming with—?'
'No, no, I’m not allowed. Good luck!'
Harry’s heart was beating a violent tattoo against his Adam’s apple. He swallowed hard, turned the heavy iron door handle, and stepped inside the courtroom.
So this was never officially confirmed, but I'm pretty sure that the Order of the Phoenix was based on a real life secret society that practiced occultism.
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003622070
Chapter 2: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003623371
(Before I continue I just want to clear something up, over the next three books there are going to be characters from the Hogwarts Mystery game, however I have never played it myself so the only information I got on these characters is from this wiki, also I have made these plans for these characters over a year in advance but the game isn’t technically over yet so by the time I introduce a character it’s possible something drastic may have happened in the game (died, changed sides, major plot twist), so going forward I only consider things that happened up to the end of year six of that game canon to my story.)
Tags: @Bellatrisblack @CatsAndRoblox @Heli aesthetics
Chapter Three: The Advanced Guard
"I’ve just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what’s going on and when I’m going to get out of here."
Harry copied these words onto five separate pieces of parchment the moment he reached the desk in his dark bedroom. He addressed the first to Sirius and Remus, the second to Nymphadora, and the other three to Canini, Theodore, and Tracey, he knew those three were likely all together but he hoped if he wrote them separately one may crack and write back. His owl, Hedwig, was off hunting; her cage stood empty on the desk. Harry paced the bedroom waiting for her to come back, his head pounding, his brain too busy for sleep even though his eyes stung and itched with tiredness. His back ached from carrying Dudley home, and the two lumps on his head where the window and Dudley had hit him were throbbing painfully.
Up and down he paced, consumed with anger and frustration, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists, casting angry looks out at the empty, star-strewn sky every time he passed the window. Dementors sent to get him, Mrs Figg and Mundungus Fletcher tailing him in secret, then suspension from Hogwarts and a hearing at the Ministry of Magic—and still no one was telling him what was going on.
And what, what, had that Howler been about? Whose voice had echoed so horribly, so menacingly, through the kitchen? Why was he still trapped here without information? Why was everyone treating him like some naughty kid? Don’t do any more magic, stay in the house...
He kicked his school trunk as he passed it, but far from relieving his anger he felt worse, as he now had a sharp pain in his toe to deal with in addition to the pain in the rest of his body.
Just as he limped past the window, Hedwig soared through it with a soft rustle of wings like a small ghost.
'About time!' Harry snarled, as she landed lightly on top of her cage. 'You can put that down, I’ve got work for you!'
Hedwig’s large round amber eyes gazed reproachfully at him over the dead frog clamped in her beak.
'Come here,' said Harry, picking up the three small rolls of parchment and a leather thong and tying the scrolls to her scaly leg. 'Take these straight to my parents, Tonks, Canini, Theodore, and Tracey and don’t come back here without good long replies. Keep pecking them till they’ve written decent-length answers if you’ve got to. Understand?'
Hedwig gave a muffled hooting noise, beak still full of frog.
'Get going, then,' said Harry.
She took off immediately. The moment she’d gone, Harry threw himself down onto his bed without undressing and stared at the dark ceiling. In addition to every other miserable feeling, he now felt guilty that he’d been irritable with Hedwig; she was the only friend he had at number four, Privet Drive. But he’d make it up to her when she came back with his friends and families answers.
They were bound to write back quickly; they couldn’t possibly ignore a dementor attack. He’d probably wake up tomorrow to five fat letters full of sympathy and plans for his immediate removal to the Cottage. And with that comforting idea, sleep rolled over him, stifling all further thought.
But Hedwig didn’t return next morning. Harry spent the day in his bedroom, leaving it only to go to the bathroom. Three times that day Aunt Petunia brought him food but did not speak a word to him. Every time Harry heard her approaching he tried to question her about the Howler, but he might as well have interrogated the doorknob for all the answers he got. Otherwise the Dursleys kept well clear of his bedroom. Harry couldn’t see the point of forcing his company on them; another row would achieve nothing except perhaps making him so angry he’d perform more illegal magic.
So it went on for three whole days. Harry was filled alternately with restless energy that made him unable to settle to anything, during which he paced his bedroom again, furious at the whole lot of them for leaving him to stew in this mess, and with a lethargy so complete that he could lie on his bed for an hour at a time, staring dazedly into space, aching with dread at the thought of the Ministry hearing.
What if they ruled against him? What if he was expelled and his wand was snapped in half? What would he do, would he be allowed to return to his childhood home? Would his family be so ashamed that they would force him to live with the Dursley's forever, banished from the magical world he loved so much. Would he even be allowed to live alone with the Dursleys, or would the matter of where he went next be decided for him; had his breach of the International Statute of Secrecy been severe enough to land him in a cell in Azkaban? Whenever this thought occurred, Harry invariably slid off his bed and began pacing again.
On the fourth night after Hedwig’s departure Harry was lying in one of his apathetic phases, staring at the ceiling, his exhausted mind quite blank, when his uncle entered his bedroom. Harry looked slowly around at him. Uncle Vernon was wearing his best suit and an expression of enormous smugness.
'We’re going out,' he said.
'Sorry?'
'We—that is to say, your aunt, Dudley, and I—are going out.'
'Fine,' said Harry dully, looking back at the ceiling.
'You are not to leave your bedroom while we are away.'
'Okay.'
'You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions.'
'Right.'
'You are not to steal food from the fridge.'
'Okay.'
'I am going to lock your door.'
'You do that.'
Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, clearly suspicious of this lack of argument, then stomped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Harry heard the key turn in the lock and Uncle Vernon’s footsteps walking heavily down the stairs. A few minutes later he heard the slamming of car doors, the rumble of an engine, and the unmistakable sound of the car sweeping out of the drive.
Harry had no particular feeling about the Dursleys leaving. It made no difference to him whether they were in the house or not. He could not even summon the energy to get up and turn on his bedroom light. The room grew steadily darker around him as he lay listening to the night sounds through the window he kept open all the time, waiting for the blessed moment when Hedwig returned.
The empty house creaked around him. The pipes gurgled. Harry lay there in a kind of stupor, thinking of nothing, suspended in misery.
And then, quite distinctly, he heard a crash in the kitchen below.
He sat bolt upright, listening intently. The Dursleys couldn’t be back, it was much too soon, and in any case he hadn’t heard their car.
There was silence for a few seconds, and then he heard voices.
Burglars, he thought, sliding off the bed onto his feet—but a split second later it occurred to him that burglars would keep their voices down, and whoever was moving around in the kitchen was certainly not troubling to do so.
He snatched up his wand from his bedside table and stood facing his bedroom door, listening with all his might. Next moment he jumped as the lock gave a loud click and his door swung open.
Harry stood motionless, staring through the open door at the dark upstairs landing, straining his ears for further sounds, but none came. He hesitated for a moment and then moved swiftly and silently out of his room to the head of the stairs.
His heart shot upward into his throat. There were people standing in the shadowy hall below, silhouetted against the streetlight glowing through the glass door; seven or eight of them, all, as far as he could see, looking up at him.
'Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone’s eye out,' said a low, growling voice.
Harry’s heart was thumping uncontrollably. He knew that voice, but he did not lower his wand.
'Professor Moody?' he said uncertainly.
'I don’t know so much about ‘Professor,’' growled the voice, 'never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly.'
Harry lowered his wand slightly but did not relax his grip on it, nor did he move. He had very good reason to be suspicious. He had recently spent nine months in what he had thought was Mad-Eye Moody’s company only to find out that it wasn’t Moody at all, but an impostor; an impostor, moreover, who had tried to kill Harry before being unmasked. But before he could make a decision about what to do next, a second, more familiar voice floated upstairs.
'Wotcher Harry, its ok, that's really the Alastor that trained me.'
Harry’s heart leapt. He knew that voice too, though he hadn’t heard it since August of the previous year.
'Tonks?' he said hopefully. 'Is that you?'
'It is. Why are we all standing in the dark?' she said in her thick southern England accent. 'Lumos.'
Her wand tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. Harry blinked. The people below were crowded around the foot of the stairs, gazing intently up at him, some craning their heads for a better look. The only people amongst them that Harry recognized was Tonks, Moody, and Bill Weasley who gave Harry a little wave.
Nymphadora stood nearest to him. Though still only in her early twenties, Tonks looked more tired and worried then he had even seen her before. Nevertheless, she still had her dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair, though was a violent shade of violet. She was smiling broadly at Harry, who tried to smile back through his shock.
'Its safe to come down, we're here to bust you out,' said Tonks who was holding her lit wand aloft. 'Its been a while, you are really growing into a young man.'
'Yeah, I see what you mean, Tonks,' said a bald black wizard standing farthest back; he had a deep, slow voice and wore a single gold hoop in his ear. 'He looks exactly like James.'
'Except the eyes,' said a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired wizard at the back. 'Lily’s eyes.'
Mad-Eye Moody, who had long grizzled gray hair and a large chunk missing from his nose, was squinting suspiciously at Harry through his mismatched eyes. One of the eyes was small, dark, and beady, the other large, round, and electric blue—the magical eye that could see through walls, doors, and the back of Moody’s own head.
'Are you quite sure it’s him, Nymphadora?' he growled. 'It’d be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?'
'You know I prefer Tonks, and yes I am sure it’s him, but to ease your mind I'll ask him a question,' her hair had turn a bit more red from frustration. 'Harry, who do I consider the first person I seriously dated?'
'You technically dated Tulip first, but you consider Ben Copper your first serious relationship,’ said Harry nervously.
‘That’s my cousin, Mad-Eye,’ said Tonks.
Harry descended the stairs, very conscious of everybody still staring
at him, stowing his wand into the back pocket of his jeans as he came.
‘Don’t put your wand there, boy!’ roared Moody. ‘What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!’
‘Who d’you know who’s lost a buttock?’ Tonks asked Mad-Eye interestedly.
‘Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket!’ growled Mad-Eye. ‘Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers about it anymore...’ He stumped off toward the kitchen. ‘And I saw that,’ he added irritably, as the Tonks rolled her eyes at the ceiling.
Tonks came over to Harry and gave him a big hug, then looked him over, ‘How are you, have the Dursley’s been starving you, have you been experiencing any long term effects from the Dementor attack?’
Recovering from his shock, Harry’s angered feelings towards his family returned, ‘I’m fine, no thanks to you, I’ve written you nearly everyday for the last four weeks and you haven’t responded once. Four weeks of nothing, not the tiniest hint of a plan to remove me from Privet Drive, and suddenly a whole bunch of wizards are standing matter-of-factly in this house as though this were a long-standing arrangement. This has been the most alone I have ever felt and you haven’t written so much as a word, at least the rest of my family has been sending vague notes!’
Her Metamorphmage abilities made her reddish-purple hair turned back to violet, as well as lengthened to cover her face more. Harry became more aware that the other people surrounding Tonks were now gazing at him. He felt very conscious of the fact that he had not combed his hair for four days.
‘I’m—you’re really lucky the Dursleys are out...’ he mumbled, a little embarrassed at his outburst.
Tonks tried to laugh off the situation, ‘Haha, luck had nothing to do with it. It was me that lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling them they’d been short-listed for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They’re heading off to the prize-giving right now...Or they think they are. Thought it was the best excuse based off their descriptions you’ve given in your letters.’
‘So you did receive my letters,’ he mumbled quietly.
‘Yes, but now isn’t the time to discuss it.’
Thinking about Tonks’ excuse for getting the Dursley’s to leave Privet Drive, Harry had a fleeting vision of Uncle Vernon’s face when he realized there was no All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition.
‘We are leaving, aren’t we?’ he asked. ‘Soon?’
‘Any minute now,’ said Bill Weasley. ‘We just have to wait for the all-clear.’
‘Where are we going? To the Burrow with your family, or to my families Cottage?’ Harry asked hopefully.
‘No, sadly we won’t be going to the Burrow,’ said Bill, motioning Harry toward the kitchen; the little knot of wizards followed, all still eyeing Harry curiously. ‘It is too risky and we currently don’t have enough space or defensive spells up. I’m surprised you don’t actually know where we are going...’
Mad-Eye Moody was now sitting at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, his magical eye spinning in all directions, taking in the Dursleys’ many labor-saving appliances.
'I don't think you've actually been properly introduced, this is Alastor Moody,' Bill continued, pointing toward Moody.
'Yeah, I know,' said Harry uncomfortably; it felt odd to be introduced to somebody he’d thought he’d known for a year.
'This is Kingsley Shacklebolt'—he indicated the tall black wizard, who bowed—'Elphias Doge'— the wheezy-voiced wizard nodded—'Dedalus Diggle—'
'We’ve met before,' squeaked the excitable Diggle, dropping his top hat.
'—Emmeline Vance'—a stately looking witch in an emerald green shawl inclined her head—'Sturgis Podmore'—a square-jawed wizard with thick, straw-colored hair winked—'and Hestia Jones.' A pink-cheeked, black-haired witch waved from next to the toaster.
Harry inclined his head awkwardly at each of them as they were introduced. He wished they would look at something other than him; it was as though he had suddenly been ushered onstage. He also wondered why so many of them were there.
'When he said the task was to rescue you nearly everyone volunteered at once,' said Bill, as though he had read Harry’s mind; the corners of his mouth formed a smile.
'Yeah, well, the more the better,' said Moody darkly. 'We’re your guard, Potter.'
'Once the signal lets us know it's safe we'll set off,' said Bill, glancing out of the kitchen window. 'But we still got about fifteen minutes.'
'Very clean, aren’t they, these evil Muggle relatives of yours?' said Tonks, who was looking around the kitchen with great interest. 'I just expected them to be disgusting slobs but there isn't even a spec of dust in this place.'
‘Er—yeah, Petunia is a clean freak,’ said Harry. ‘Look’—he turned back to Bill—‘what’s going on, I haven’t heard anything from anyone, what’s Vol—?’
Several of the witches and wizards made odd hissing noises; Dedalus Diggle dropped his hat again, and Moody growled, ‘Shut up!’
‘What?’ said Harry.
‘We’re not discussing anything here, it’s too risky,’ said Moody, turning his normal eye on Harry; his magical eye remained pointing up at the ceiling. ‘Damn it,’ he added angrily, putting a hand up to the magical eye, ‘it keeps sticking—ever since that scum wore it—‘
And with a nasty squelching sound much like a plunger being pulled from a sink, he popped out his eye.
‘Mad-Eye, you do know that’s disgusting, don’t you?’ said Tonks conversationally.
‘Get me a glass of water, would you, Harry?’ asked Moody.
Harry crossed to the dishwasher, took out a clean glass, and filled it with water at the sink, still watched eagerly by the band of wizards. Their relentless staring was starting to annoy him.
‘Cheers,’ said Moody, when Harry handed him the glass. He dropped the magical eyeball into the water and prodded it up and down; the eye whizzed around, staring at them all in turn. ‘I want three-hundred-and-sixty degrees visibility on the return journey.’
‘How’re we getting—wherever we’re going?’ Harry asked.
‘We’ll be using brooms,’ said Tonks. ‘For this situation it’s the only option. You can’t Apparate yet but even if you did the Ministry would know, they’re watching the Floo Network, and setting up a Portkey in a densely muggle populated area would land us all in Azkaban.’
‘Tonks says you’re a good flier,’ said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep voice.
‘He’s even better than Uncle Sirius,’ said Tonks, who was checking her watch. ‘We’ll be going soon, you should pack Harry. I’ll help.’
‘No,’ said Harry.
‘What?’
‘I survived a month without your help, I can survive another night.’
Tonks looked hurt, ‘We-we don’t have that much time.’
Bill stepped forward, ‘I’ll help him out. Come on Harry.’
He followed Harry back into the hall and up the stairs, looking around with much curiosity and interest.
‘My father would love this place,’ he said, ‘though I agree with Tonks, it’s overly clean. Oh wait, never mind,' he added, as they entered Harry’s bedroom and he turned on the light.
His room was certainly much messier than the rest of the house. Confined to it for four days in a very bad mood, Harry had not bothered tidying up after himself. Most of the books he owned were strewn over the floor where he’d tried to distract himself with each in turn and thrown it aside. Hedwig’s cage needed cleaning out and was starting to smell, and his trunk lay open, revealing a jumbled mixture of Muggle clothes and wizard’s robes that had spilled onto the floor around it.
Harry started picking up books and throwing them hastily into his trunk. Bill tried being helpful by putting anything wizard like into Harry's trunk. Harry felt awkward packing in silence so he started a conversation.
'So how come you are back from Egypt? Last I talked to Ron he said you still loved it there.'
'I transferred back. There is a lot going on right now so my family needs me here, there was a Curse-Breaker position open at the London branch so I at least don't have to change my job.'
'Besides Tonks I recognise everyone downstairs as an ex-Order member from photos, except for Kingsley, who is he?'
'Ex...?' Bill said confused, but then shook his head. 'Er, Kingsley is a high ranking auror, he knew Remus from back when he was still an auror himself.'
'Why would he be here? An auror like Tonks or Mad-Eye I understand, but a Ministry worker with very little connection to my dads? What is going on?'
'I'm starting to realise you haven't been told anything, so I'll let your folks explain when we arrive. For now just focus on packing, you won't be coming back until next summer.'
'More like never, I don't care what happens at this point, I am never coming back here again.'
Bill stayed silent, and soon all his books, clothes, telescope, and scales were all packed and ready to go, so Harry slammed the trunk's lid shut.
‘Ok Harry, do you have everything? Cadge? Cauldron? Broom? Bloody Merlin! Ron never said you had a Firebolt!’
His eyes widened as they fell on the broomstick in Harry’s right hand. It was his pride and joy, a gift from Sirius, an international above standard broomstick.
‘I’ve had the same broom since I left Hogwarts and it’s only a Comet Two Twenty,’ said Bill enviously. ‘Anyway, you’re positive you got everything, wand still in your pocket?’
Harry nodded and so the two boys brought Harry’s trunk, cage, and broom down the stairs.’
Back in the kitchen, Moody had replaced his eye, which was spinning so fast after its cleaning it made Harry feel sick. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Sturgis Podmore were examining the microwave and Hestia Jones was laughing at a potato peeler she had come across while rummaging in the drawers. Nymphadora was sealing a letter addressed to the Dursleys.
‘Signal will come in about a minute, so we should probably move to the lawn,’ she informed Harry and Bill. ‘I’ve leaving a letter just so that they know where you’ve gone...’
‘They won’t care,’ said Harry.
‘As well as a message about the horrible state of this house, maybe that’ll get them to freak out and give them just a little bit of discomfort compared to the discomfort you’ve been feeling here for years.’
Harry was still mad at his adoptive cousin, but he had to admit that was funny. For the first time since they’d arrived, Harry and Nymphadora both smiled at each other.
‘Come here, boy,’ said Moody gruffly, beckoning Harry toward him with his wand. ‘I need to Disillusion you.’
‘You need to what?’ said Harry nervously.
‘Disillusionment Charm,’ said Moody, raising his wand. ‘Sirius says you’ve got an Invisibility Cloak, but it might not stay on while we’re flying; this’ll disguise you better. Here you go—‘
Harry has about to protest that he had managed to fly from London to Hogwarts on his broom with his cloak on, but he remembered that while he concentrated on flying Theodore had been focused on keeping the cloak around them. Moody rapped Harry hard on the top of the head and Harry felt a curious sensation as though Moody had just smashed an egg there; cold trickles seemed to be running down his body from the point the wand had struck.
‘Nice one, Mad-Eye,’ said Tonks appreciatively, staring at Harry’s midriff.
Harry looked down at his body, or rather, what had been his body, for it didn’t look anything like his anymore. It was not invisible; it had simply taken on the exact color and texture of the kitchen unit behind him. He seemed to have become a human chameleon.
‘Come on,’ said Moody, unlocking the back door with his wand. They all stepped outside onto Uncle Vernon’s beautifully kept lawn.
‘Clear night,’ grunted Moody, his magical eye scanning the heavens. ‘Could’ve done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you,’ he barked at Harry, ‘we’re going to be flying in close formation. Tonks’ll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Weasley’ll be covering you from below. I’m going to be behind you. The rest’ll be circling us. We don’t break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed—‘
‘Is that likely?’ Harry asked apprehensively, but Moody ignored him.
‘—the others keep flying, don’t stop, don’t break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they’ll join you.’
‘Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he’ll think we’re not taking this seriously,’ said Tonks, as she strapped Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage into a harness hanging from her broom.
‘I’m just telling the boy the plan,’ growled Moody. ‘Our job’s to deliver him safely to headquarters and if we die in the attempt—‘
‘No one’s going to die,’ said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, calming voice.
‘Time to mount our brooms everyone, the first signal is up!’ said Bill sharply, pointing into the sky.
Far, far above them, a shower of bright red sparks had flared among the stars. Harry recognized them at once as wand sparks. He swung his right leg over his Firebolt, gripped its handle tightly, and felt it vibrating very slightly, as though it was as keen as he was to be up in the air once more.
‘And there’s the second, time to go!’ said Bill loudly, as more sparks, green this time, exploded high above them.
Harry kicked off hard from the ground. The cool night air rushed through his hair as the neat square gardens of Privet Drive fell away, shrinking rapidly into a patchwork of dark greens and blacks, and every thought of the Ministry hearing was swept from his mind as though the rush of air had blown it out of his head. He felt as though his heart was going to explode with pleasure; he was flying again, flying away from Privet Drive as he’d been fantasizing about all summer, he was going home...For a few glorious moments, all his problems seemed to recede into nothing, insignificant in the vast, starry sky. The flying must have cheered Tonks up to because within seconds her hair had become its regular short spikey bubblegum pink.
‘Hard left, hard left, there’s a Muggle looking up!’ shouted Moody from behind him. Tonks swerved and Harry followed her, watching his trunk swinging wildly beneath her broom. ‘We need more height...Give it another quarter of a mile!’
Harry’s eyes watered in the chill as they soared upward; he could see nothing below now but tiny pinpricks of light that were car headlights and streetlamps. Two of those tiny lights might belong to Uncle Vernon’s car...The Dursleys would be heading back to their empty house right now, full of rage about the nonexistent lawn competition...and Harry laughed aloud at the thought, though his voice was drowned by the flapping of the others’ robes, the creaking of the harness holding his trunk and the cage, the whoosh of the wind in their ears as they sped through the air. He had not felt this alive in a month, or this happy...
‘Bearing south!’ shouted Mad-Eye. ‘Town ahead!’
They soared right, so that they did not pass directly over the glittering spiderweb of lights below.
‘Bear southeast and keep climbing, there’s some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!’ called Moody.
‘We’re not going through clouds!’ shouted Tonks angrily. ‘We’ll get soaked, Mad-Eye!’
Harry was relieved to hear her say this; his hands were growing numb on the Firebolt’s handle. He wished he had thought to put on a coat; he was starting to shiver.
They altered their course every now and then according to Mad-Eye’s instructions. Harry’s eyes were screwed up against the rush of icy wind that was starting to make his ears ache. He could remember being this cold on a broom only once before, during the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw in his third year, which had taken place in a storm. The guard around him was circling continuously like giant birds of prey. Harry lost track of time. He wondered how long they had been flying; it felt like an hour at least.
‘Turning southwest!’ yelled Moody. ‘We want to avoid the motorway!’
Harry was now so chilled that he thought longingly for a moment of the snug, dry interiors of the cars streaming along below, then, even more longingly, of traveling by Floo powder; it might be uncomfortable to spin around in fireplaces but it was at least warm in the flames...Kingsley Shacklebolt swooped around him, bald pate and earring gleaming slightly in the moonlight...Now Emmeline Vance was on his right, her wand out, her head turning left and right...then she too swooped over him, to be replaced by Sturgis Podmore...
‘We ought to double back for a bit, just to make sure we’re not being followed!’ Moody shouted.
‘ARE YOU MAD, MAD-EYE?’ Tonks screamed from the front. ‘We’re all frozen to our brooms! If we keep going off course we’re not going to get there until next week! We’re nearly there now!’
‘Let’s start our descent!’ came Bill’s voice. ‘Harry, followed Tonks lead!’
Harry followed Tonks into a dive. They were heading for the largest collection of lights he had yet seen, a huge, sprawling, crisscrossing mass, glittering in lines and grids, interspersed with patches of deepest black. Lower and lower they flew, until Harry could see individual headlights and streetlamps, chimneys, and television aerials. He wanted to reach the ground very much, though he felt sure that someone would have to unfreeze him from his broom.
‘Here we go!’ called Tonks, and a few seconds later she had landed. Harry touched down right behind her and dismounted on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square. Tonks was already unbuckling Harry’s trunk. Shivering, Harry looked around. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the street-lamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors, and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.
‘Where are we?’ Harry asked, but Bill said quietly, ‘Just a moment.’
Moody was rummaging in his cloak, his gnarled hands clumsy with cold. ‘Got it,’ he muttered, raising what looked like a silver cigarette lighter into the air and clicking it.
The nearest streetlamp went out with a pop. He clicked the unlighter again; the next lamp went out. He kept clicking until every lamp in the square was extinguished and the only light in the square came from curtained windows and the sickle moon overhead.
‘Borrowed it from Dumbledore,’ growled Moody, pocketing the Put-Outer. ‘That’ll take care of any Muggles looking out of the window, see? Now, come on, quick.’
He took Harry by the arm and led him from the patch of grass, across the road, and onto the pavement. Tonks and Bill followed, carrying Harry’s trunk between them, the rest of the guard, all with their wands out, flanking them.
The muffled pounding of a stereo was coming from an upper window in the nearest house. A pungent smell of rotting rubbish came from the pile of bulging bin-bags just inside the broken gate.
‘Here,’ Moody muttered, thrusting a piece of parchment toward Harry’s Disillusioned hand and holding his lit wand close to it, so as to illuminate the writing. ‘Read quickly and memorize.’
Harry looked down at the piece of paper. The narrow handwriting was vaguely familiar. It said:
“The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London”
63 Votes in Poll
57 Votes in Poll
Kingsley is out. Comment who you want out next! (based on the last comments I think I know who will be next)
Molly Weasley
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Delphini “Diggory” (Quotes not Required)
Ronald Bilius Weasley
Hermione Jean Granger
And....
Harry James Potter.
(Bonus: Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Godric Gryffindor)
My try:
Molly Rtdfkry
Kingdoey Fhsvhkebikt
Slbid Rtbibsl Eulfirb. Brian Fuknbjrdird
Dekoyubu Durfiry
Ronald Bukudy ersfkry
Hernuinr Jrwn .fresbger
Hsrry Hejrd Itte
Helga Gurflepdd
Rowena Ravencksw
Salacsr Sottherun
Gofric Gtyggnfir
I got all the Weasley’s first names right- ;-;
Guess the Weasley’s aren’t that bad anyways ;D
82 Votes in Poll
78 Votes in Poll
86 Votes in Poll
Neville longbottom
Ron weasley!
Remus lupin
Fred weasley:
Bill weasley:
George weasley:
Colin creevey
Kingsley shacklebolt
Alastor moody
Dean thomas
That much!
74 Votes in Poll
91 Votes in Poll