Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring

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                Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring

                     Chapter 2

                An Evening with the Dursleys

    "Hermione!" Harry exclaimed in a loud whisper. "What are you doing in my room?!"

    "Kingsley thought it would be best if nobody saw me come in," Hermione said rapidly, her face beaming. "And he let me apparate!" Hermione actually giggled. "Well, not entirely, but a bit. See, I was asking him all sorts of questions about it, because we're going to be studying it this year. So he said since I was so keen on it, he'd let me do part of it. He created the path, but I traveled it by myself, only he was with me, and I'm not explaining it well, but it was fantastic!"

    "Hermione," Harry said calmly. "I mean, what are you doing in here in the first place."

    Hermione's excitement faded into her standard detective glare. "Didn't you get my letter?"

    "No," Harry said looking at Hedwig. "Hedwig hasn't brought anything like that, and I haven't had any other owls in awhile and-"

    "I didn't send it by owl," Hermione said in her you-should-know-better tone. "I sent it by the muggle mail."

    "But why the muggle mail? Owl's are much faster, especially Hedwig."

    "Think Harry. After that fiasco at the Ministry, Voldemort must know that I'm one of your closest friends. Everybody else there was from a wizarding family, so they all have some level of defense, but my family's a prime target. Can't defend themselves, and won't make waves in the wizarding world. Kingsley's been watching my house in case the Death Eaters come looking for me. So far, he's been able to keep them lost, but there have been a lot of attacks on owls in my area looking for clues. Even the muggles are noticing. I figured the post would be the last place Voldemort would look."

    "But why are you here?"

    "Kingsley fought off a Death Eater a block away from my house. Even if they didn't know they were close, they did after he escaped Kingsley. So he talked with my parents and we all decided that I should stay with a wizarding friend, and that Mum and Dad are going to take a nice long vacation. Once the school year starts, they should be safe."

    "What is taking you so bloody long?!" Vernon hissed, sticking his head in. His face paled upon seeing Hermione. "What is she doing here?"

    "She's come to stay for a couple weeks," Harry said angrily. "Apparently, there was a letter."

    "Oh," Vernon said, suddenly flustered. "I may have misplaced that."

    "Misplaced it? You mean you destroyed it!"

    "Quiet boy!" Vernon hissed. "Too right, I did. Nothing good has ever come out of an envelope with your name on it."

    "Let me guess. Report card?" Mr. Scornsby laughed, as he came up behind Vernon. His laugh faded and it finally dawned on Harry how bad having a girl sitting on his bed looked to somebody who didn't know the situation.

    "It's not what it looks like," Vernon stammered, going bright red.

    "Oh, of course not," Mr. Scornsby said in a dazed voice. "So, um, what is it then?"

    "I beg your pardon?"

    "Well, since it's not what it looks like, what is it?"

    "Ah, good question. You see, well, ah, it's kind of like, um..."

    Harry enjoyed watching his uncle struggle, until he saw the resigned look on Mr. Scornsby's face. Here was a man who thought nothing but good, if rather misinformed, things about Harry, and he was letting his uncle suffer for his own enjoyment. Not to mention what he was allowing Mr. Scornsby to think about Hermione and himself. Harry suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

    "She's a foreign exchange student," Harry said loudly, earning him, for the first time ever, a grateful look from Uncle Vernon.

    "Yes!" Vernon exclaimed. "Very foreign. From... Japan!" Vernon immediately looked appalled at what he just said. "Uh, her parents transferred out there and she grew up there."

    "Really?" Mr. Scornsby said, his smile quickly returning. "Konbanwa," he bowed, "Anata wa desu ka?"

    Harry and Vernon turned to look, with fear and dread, at Hermione, who smiled and said, in a perfect Japanese accent. "Watakshi wa Hermione Granger desu. Ogenki deska?"

    "Genki desu!" Mr. Scornsby laughed. "I spent a couple years in the Japanese branch," He explained, mistaking Vernon and Harry's wonderment. "Soaked up the language. Boy is it hot in here."

    "That's because we haven't got around to replacing the curtains yet," Harry said shooting an angry glare at Vernon.

    "Redecorating," The large man laughed nervously. "Dudley and I were going to get the curtains in this evening."

    "Well, it's way too hot for a nice girl to wait in here. Tell you what. Why don't you and Dudley get those curtains up, and I'll take these two desert survivors out for some ice cream. We'll be back in time for drinks, and then off to the Crimson Lance."

    "Oh, great idea... Jim..." Vernon said weakly.

    And so it was that Harry found himself on the way to the ice cream parlor for the first time in his life. The look on Dudley's face would have been enough by itself. Mr. Scornsby's joyful attitude was reflected in his driving. The three of them zipped down the streets at speeds that rivaled Harry's Firebolt at top speed. Harry closed his eyes and he could imagine himself racing through the clouds. Hermione, in the front seat, was enjoying it less so. Her hand gripped the door handle so hard that her knuckles were turning white.

    Soon, too soon by Hermione's standards, they were at the ice cream parlor. While Harry and Mr. Scornsby waited in line, Hermione made a dash to the restroom, looking very green.

    "So," Mr. Scornsby said with a devious smile. "How long have you two known each other?"

    "Hermione? We've been friends for years. Ah, she was here once before in my first year of secondary school," Harry added quickly, remembering the cover story.

    "Back again, eh? So are you two..." Mr. Scornsby raised his eyebrows implacably.

    "Oh, no, sir."

    "Please, call me Jim. Are you sure? She's quite a looker."

    "Yes, sir. I mean Jim. She's an old friend, but nothing more. Truth is, she has something going with my best friend, Ron."

    "Really?"

    "Yes, but please don't mention it. I don't reckon she really knows it yet."

    This prompted another boisterous laugh from Jim, which caused everybody to turn and stare. "Ahh, to be young again."

    Hermione came back at that point. Jim gave Harry a twenty pound note and instructions to buy the largest double chocolate possible, then left the two to find a seat. Harry was grateful, as it meant he could finally talk to Hermione.

    "How did you do that?" He asked in a whisper.

    "Do what?" She asked, as she grabbed his arm to steady herself. She still looked a bit woozy.

    "Speak Japanese. I thought our cover was blown for sure."

    "I happen to be fluent in Japanese," Hermione said in her you-should-have-known-but-didn't tone, "although it's proper name is actually Nihongo. I also know Spanish, French, German, Russian, and Bill taught me some Sanskrit last summer, but I only have a two hundred word vocabulary in that so far. It's really fascinating, though. I'm thinking of studying Egyptian Runes for my focus in N.E.W.T. level Runes."

    "Calm down, Hermione," Harry said, noticing the funny looks from the people in front of him.

    "I'm sorry, I'm just so excited. I got eighteen O.W.L.s, all of them Outstandings except for an E in Runes Theory. Professor Tofty said it's a record. The last one to set the record was a girl named Rascia over fifteen years ago, and she only got seventeen O.W.L.s."

    "Congratulations," Harry said, still nervous about the attention. Hermione, though, must've mistook it for embarrassment.

    "Not that you didn't do well too. Thirteen O.W.L.S is very impressive. I mean, Percy only got twelve."

    "Well, I thought I'd done better in - wait. You read my mail?!"

    "Um, sorry," Hermione said sheepishly, turning a light pink. "I was alone in your room for over an hour. I didn't want to leave because I was afraid of running into your relatives before I talked with you. So I waited, and I saw the O.W.L. cards and I had a peek. Nothing more, I promise."

    By now, they were at the front of the line, so Harry decided to let the topic go and bought three large chocolates. He paid for the order and they made their way back to the table that Jim was at.

    "So, does Ron know you're back in England?" Jim asked, as he took the tray from Harry.

    "You know about Ron?" Hermione asked, slipping back into a Japanese accent. She shot Harry a quizzical look.

    "He came up in conversation," Jim laughed. "Harry says you three are real close." He winked casually at Harry. "So what's he up to?"

    Hermione stared despondently at her ice cream. "I don't know," She sighed. "I haven't heard from him all summer."

    Harry, who had just put a large spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, quickly swallowed, and immediately regretted it. "I have," He choked through his now frozen throat. "He wrote me a couple weeks ago. He said he was staying with Bill and Charlie, his brothers, Mr. Sco- I mean, Jim. They're rooming together in Africa now. He wrote you a letter but was afraid it wouldn't make it with all the... extra security." Harry shared a glance with Hermione, hoping she'd understand the hint. She looked as if she did. "But they'll be back soon and we'll be joining him at his house in a couple weeks for the rest of the holidays."

    Hermione perked up at that, but then looked curious. "Are all the Weasleys there?"

    "No. Mr. Weasley's... on a business trip and Mrs. Weasley took Ginny to visit a sick uncle in America. The twins are working hard at their new shop. Ron's visiting Bill and Charlie to do some research for possible careers."

    "Oh, and what do they do?" Jim asked.

    "Well, Charlie works with... dangerous animals," Harry said, choosing his words carefully. "And Bill's... kind of a debt collector for the bank."

    "So what are you two aiming for?"

    "Well, I'm hoping to become an..." Harry thought briefly for a muggle equivalent to an Auror. "...an MI5 agent."

    "Now that's ambition!" Jim laughed enthusiastically. "How about you, Hermione?"

    Hermione chewed her lip for a moment before speaking. "Well, I haven't really decided yet. I mean, there are so many fascinating choices, so I read up on them, and now I want to do them all even more, and I still can't decide which, even though Professor McGonagall said-"

    "Calm down, girl," Jim said reassuringly. "You've got, what, two more years to decide, right?"

    "Actually, sir, Hogwarts is different from most schools," Harry explained. "In our last two years, we're supposed to take specific classes to help us qualify for the job we want. But Hermione, you were planning on continuing all your classes anyway."

    "Yes, but there are focuses, and special research, and lots of other things to decide based on what job you want."

    "I've never heard of this Hogwarts," Jim said curiously. "What kind of school is it?"

    Harry and Hermione exchanged nervous glances. Had he said the name of the school? How could he be so stupid?!

    "It's a private school," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "For gifted children. Very selective."

    "Well, you must like the school, or you wouldn't have come beck, eh? What do you think of it Harry?"

    "Oh, it's great, Mr. - uh, Jim," Harry said enthusiastically. "Great teachers and classes. I've learned about things I never knew existed before I got there."

    "How's the atmosphere?"

    "Atmosphere?" Harry blinked.

    "You know, how friendly is it?"

    "Oh, it's very friendly," Harry said, and he explained about the houses, and Hagrid and Dumbledore, and even McGonagall. Of course, he avoided any real details, especially about Hagrid.

    "Sounds fascinating," Jim smiled. "I'll have to look into it."

    Harry and Hermione shared another nervous glance. "What for?" Harry gulped.

    "Well, I have a daughter, Summer. She's about to start secondary school. Right now she's lined up for Smeltings, but... it just seems too cold. I'm afraid they'll smother her spirit. I've been looking into other schools, but I haven't found anything that satisfying. But the way you describe Hogwarts, it sounds like a nurturing, but serious school, which is what I reckon she needs."

    "It's not that great," Harry said lamely, feeling extremely guilty. "Besides, it's um, very selective."

    "Couldn't hurt to check it out, though."

    "It's more complicated than that," Hermione added. "They only take students that they've personally selected from school rosters. You can't apply. In fact, you'd have problems even talking to a representative. I'm sorry, Scornsby-san, but if they don't find you, you won't find them."

    "Oh," Jim sighed, "well, I suppose I was getting ahead of myself anyway. C'mon, we'd better head back."

    "You really sold him," Hermione whispered as they left. "If you don't make it as an 'MI5 agent,' you could always go into advertising."

    "Shut up," Harry snapped sullenly.

    But Mr. Scornsby's spirits proved more resilient than that. No sooner were they in the car than he was telling Harry, and a rather queasy Hermione, about some jokes he had played on Vernon in the past.

    "I'm telling you, the man has no sense of humor," He laughed as he barely managed a tight corner. "Good man though. I don't mind telling you, he sure stumped me. I have a gift. I'm an excellent judge of character, and my gut feelings are never wrong. Except with your uncle, Harry. When I first met him, I had him pegged as one of those elitists, who reckon their own world is perfect and better than anyone else's. Then I found out about you and, well, let's just say I was happily proven wrong. I suppose it shows that nothing is fool proof."

    Harry decided that he didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. Hermione, actually managed to find her voice, although she looked all the greener for it.

    "You called it a gift?" She asked in a weak voice.

    "Yeah, I can't really explain it any better than that. It's a gut feeling, an impulse. I'd almost call it magic. I see a guy, and I just know what kind of person he is. Like youfor example. I didn't need Harry to tell me that you're as smart as a button. As for you, Harry," he said turning around to look at Harry, which caused Hermione to shriek about keeping his eyes on the road. "I knew, when I saw you, that your Uncle isn't quite fair with you. You're a better kid than he thinks, and I'm betting more often than not, the trouble you get into is for the good of others. Am I right?"

    "Yes, sir. You could say that."

    "Speaking of trouble, where'd you get that shiner?"

    "Uh, bully," Harry said with a weak laugh. "Walked in on the wrong place at the wrong time. But I managed to teach him a lesson."

    "Eh, see! That's what I meant. Always for the greater good, eh Harry?"

    "Yes, sir. For the greater good," Harry said weakly, thinking about how far fighting for the greater good was likely to take him. He didn't have much time to dwell on it, because they soon arrived at Number Four Privet Drive.

    Drinks with the Dursley's proved only mildly annoying, and much easier conversation than before. Vernon broke out brandy for himself and Jim, while Petunia had wine. Hermione and the boys had tea. Harry and Dudley spent most of the time making up stories to tell Jim, who wanted to hear about all the "crazy adventures they must have had." So they took turns, one upping each other and their stories got so ridiculous, that Harry was sure Jim didn't believe them, although he acted as if he did. Harry, of course, blew Dudley out of the water with creativity, and tried to make him look bad as much as possible without seeming malevolent. Harry might have actually enjoyed

it, if Dudley wasn't kicking him under the table.

    It wasn't until they were getting ready to leave when they heard a knock on the door. Vernon told Dudley to get it. Dudley, still mad about actually having to do some work that afternoon, stomped over to the door like an overweight elephant.

    "What do you wa- AAAGGGHH!" Dudley screamed as he fell over backwards. Harry and Hermione both jumped to their feet, knocking over their chairs, Harry fumbling for his wand in his oversized sleeves.

    "Don't get up on my account," A familiar, gruff voice said, causing Harry to look up. There, in the doorway, in bright contrast to everything that made Privet Drive what it was, stood Mad-eye Moody. He was obviously trying to pass for a muggle, for he wore sandals, pastel blue nellbottoms, with dark purple suspenders over a rainbow plaid dress shirt with a red bow tie with bright orange polka dots, topped off with a frayed old trench coat that was patched up with leather in no less than twenty places. He wore the bowler hat, pulled down over his magic eye, as he had at the train station. He also had a hickory walking stick tucked under one arm.

    Dudley stayed motionless on the floor, paralyzed with fear. Vernon looked as if he was in shock. Petunia seemed more worried that he'd come in and get her carpets dirty.

    Realizing that he had to act before anybody got their voice back, Harry shouted, "Uncle Moody!"

    Moody turned to stare at Harry, his walking stick swinging so it pointed more or less at Him. Harry felt a pinprick in his forehead, then felt a presence that felt like a wave of water rushing at him. He tried to hold strong and force the presence out.

    *Stop struggling, Potter!* A voice snapped. Harry recognized it as Moody, even though it sounded nothing like him. The voice was calm and cold, as if stating facts and daring you to say otherwise. Harry realized this must be how Moody hears himself.

    *Sorry, sir.* Harry thought back.

    *What's going on, Potter?*

    *Mr. Scornsby can't know anything.* Harry thought back.

    *On that, I agree.*

    *Please play along.* Harry thought desperately.

    Moody grunted his displeasure, but said aloud, "Was in the neighborhood, thought I'd check on my grandnephew. Harry, can I talk to you and your friend in the kitchen?"

    Harry and Hermione fell in behind the battered old auror, who ignored Petunia's baneful glare and marched into the kitchen. The moment they were in, he slammed the door, and tapped it with his cane. Then he spun around and fixed both eyes on Harry.

    "Explain, Potter," He snapped. Harry quickly retold the events of the day, leaving out things he felt Moody would think trivial, such as Dudley hitting him, or the gifts. Moody just nodded as Harry went on, although he did call Vernon a "dunderheaded old walrus!" when Hermione's letter came up.

    After Harry finished, Moody remained silent, his eye studying something behind him. Finally he spoke.

    "Tell me," he said in a calm voice, "is Mr. Scornsby an accomplished wizard?"

    "No, he's muggle, sir."

    Then why did you lave the house with him?!" Moody roared.

    "But I was told nobody who wanted to harm me could enter the house."

    "Yes, but that doesn't make you safe! Just because he didn't want to harm you doesn't mean somebody couldn't attack you. And Mr. Scornsby wouldn't be able to do a damn fool thing!"

    I'm sorry, professor. I wasn't thinking and-"

    "Obviously. And don't call me professor. Now, you two are not to leave the house again!"

    "But I have to. Mr. Scornsby is taking us to dinner. Uncle Vernon needs to make a good impression."

    "I would reckon your own life, not to mention the fate of the world, would matter more to you than your uncle's foolish job!"

    Harry wished he wouldn't mention it. He was tired of being the last hope for mankind. He wished he could be just an ordinary kid with a loving family, who's biggest worry was girls, which was quite enough for him all together. He'd even be willing to give up all of Hogwarts and wizardry for that. Well, maybe not, but almost.

    "But you don't understand," Harry pleaded, forcing his mind back to the problem at hand. "Last time I blew a promotion, Uncle Vernon tried to stop me from going back to Hogwarts. If I do it again, he might kick me out together!" As he said it, a part of Harry wished it would happen. If it did, he'd probably get sent to an Order of the Phoenix house like last year, and get to help out, and possibly get some information on what's going on. While he understood the need for silence much more this year, it still annoyed him.

    But Moody didn't appear to like that idea. "Mmmm..." he muttered, scratching his chin. "Haven't found a good safe house since we lost House Black. Order members are at risk enough as it is."

    "Order members are in danger?" Hermione asked worriedly.

    "'Course they are," Moody grunted. "Everybody's always in danger. You'd do well to remember that. No matter who you are, there's always someone who wants what you have. And if you don't have anything there are still those who just want your life. Your only safety is CONSTANT VIGILANCE! But order members are in particular danger. Sure, it's a lot easier to move around these days, what with the ministry finally backing us, but more members mean more spies. We've got at least two in our ranks. Plus with that fool, Fudge's official statement saying Voldemort is back, more people are willing to help the Death Eaters. Dark times, Harry. It's best you stay here, at least until the Weasley's are back. We'll humor that zoo of a family of yours, but precautions must be taken."

    Harry remembered, what felt like a lifetime ago, when he first met Hagrid, Hagrid had referred to Voldemort’s war for power as "dark times" as well. "Dark days, Harry," Hagrid had said, "Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches..." Harry couldn't quite accept the fact that there was a good number of people out there who were willing to help Voldemort with his dark mission, but obviously, that was the case. Moody, for all his eccentricities, was right.

    "Um, what kind of precautions?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.

    "I'm coming with you."

    So, after much arguing from Mr. Dursley, although much of the arguing was very timid, and the phrase "Mimble wimble" came up again, Harry found himself once again in Mr. Scornsby's car, only this time, Hermione was in the back seat with him and Moody was in the front seat. He liked the way Mr. Scornsby drove even less than Hermione, and was much louder about it too.

    "Slow down! There's no need to go this fast! Nobody's chasing us yet! Watch it! You nearly hit that guy! There's no way you're going to make that tuuuuurn! Are you insane! You're going to get us all killed! Doesn't that red glowing thing mean stop? Because you just drove right under one, that's why!! Okay, that sign definitely said stop! I will calm down when you command this thing to travel at a safe speed. Don't look at me! Look at the road! Constant vigilance! CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!!!"

    They arrived at the Crimson Lance in record time, Moody insisting Harry come with him to the restroom, where he was promptly sick and then attacked the automatic hand dryer.

    By the time they emerged, the Dursleys had arrived and were being greeted by the Maitre D'. He frowned at Moody's appearance, but said nothing. Harry had explained away Moody's odd clothes and behavior by claiming he was a shell-shocked veteran. Moody willingly took up the part.

    They were soon seated. Harry sat at one end of the table with (at Moody's insistence) Moody and Hermione sitting to either side. Mr. Scornsby sat next to Moody and Vernon sat next to him. Petunia sat across from Vernon, and Dudley sat between her and Hermione, so he could stare at Jim in admiration. Dudley, however, was more interested in staring at Hermione. Apparently, whatever views he had on witches didn't apply if they were good looking. He smiled lecherously at Hermione, and Harry wasn't sure who was more revolted: Hermione or Aunt Petunia.

    Harry allowed himself a quick glance and realized that Hermione wasn't just good looking, she was beautiful! Either the school uniforms hid more than he thought or she had really filled out over the summer. But she was quite alluring now, in tight denim shorts and a white T-shirt (which had "SMILE!!" written across it in red letters) which would have been modest if the hot day hadn't made it clingy with sweat. Her hair, as bushy as ever, was longer now, and fell forward to frame her face, which was notably clearer in complexion, and softer-looking too.

    Surprising himself, the first thought that entered his head was *Lucky Ron.* In truth, he was happy for Ron. It was nice, seeing his two best friends become something more to each other, even if it was very slowly, even if they drove him crazy with their bickering, even if they barely had a clue how they felt and absolutely no clue how the other felt. And he doubted he would ever think of Hermione as anything but a friend, even if Ron wasn't in the picture. But deep inside of him, a part of him resented Ron for doing absolutely nothing and having a wonderful girl fall in his lap, while he worked and stressed and sweated over Cho for two years and walked away with nothing. And Ron didn't even know what he had!

    Needless to say, it was a part of himself he tried to forget about.

    Meanwhile, the rest of the table was oblivious to Harry's inner turmoil. Hermione, who was normally pretty good at detecting Harry's moodswings, was too busy warding off Dudley's unwanted advances. Petunia, who was as white as Nearly Headless Nick, was trying to remind Dudley of "that nice girl Annie you met at your birthday party." (Harry remembered Annie, a pretty but dim-witted girl, a very wealthy iron tycoon's daughter, who was convinced Harry was a live in servant, not to mention partially deaf.) Across the table, Vernon was trying to tell Jim about a big sale he once made, but Jim was more interested in trying to get war stories from Moody. Moody found the attention unsettling and tried to dismiss him, glancing nervously around the crowded room.

    A waiter came and after staring disapprovingly at Hermione and Moody's attire, took their orders. Jim ordered for all of them. By the time the soup arrived, Him had given up on getting a war story, and was reluctantly talking business with Vernon. Meanwhile, Moody talked in hushed tones to Harry.

    "You want to be an auror, eh?" He smiled sinisterly. "Well, let's test your instincts. Now, no looking around. This is a memory test. How many exits are there."

    Harry thought hard, staring deliberately at Moody's hat, so his eyes wouldn't wander. "Well, there's the way we came in... There has to be a back door through the kitchen... I reckon I saw a staircase that might lead to the roof. And... I'm pretty sure there was a window in the lavatory."

    "Very good, Potter. But next time, either know the window is there, or don't! Now, let's go to profiling. Anybody here could be a dark wizard. The question is, who should we be watching? Who is most suspicious?"

    Harry looked around. Only five other tables were taken. Right behind him was a young couple with a five year old boy. At the closest table behind Hermione was what Harry supposed was business meeting, two Dursley-ish men talking earnestly with two bored looking women beside them. Further away, behind Moody, an oily looking man was pouring wine for an attractive woman in a fancy green dress. Across the room, in the corner to Harry's left, was a family of five, consisting of a mother, a father, two boys, about six and twelve, and a fourteen year old girl. Finally, there was an elderly couple sitting near the kitchen doors. None of them looked like dark wizards.

    "I don't think any of them look suspicious," He said bluntly.

    "Think again, Potter," Moody grunted. "Now, let's start with the staff."

    I doubt any of them are dark agents," Harry said skeptically.

    "True, but do you know why?"

    *Common sense.* Harry thought, but kept quiet. Instead, he tried thinking like Moody. "Because... they wouldn't have enough time to get someone hired. And a polyjuice potion would be too complicated to use so quickly, assuming they even had some ready, which isn't likely."

    "Good, Potter. You're thinking. But you forgot about sleeper agents or a Imperius curse. A sleeper agent is unlikely, since we're far from any wizarding circles. And most dark wizards consider a muggle's ways of killing too crude and risky to use them. So we can assume the staff is more or less safe, though we should keep an eye on them anyway. But what about the customers? How about the family over there?"

    "They don't seem very likely."

    "How about the old couple?"

    "Even less likely," Harry sighed, exasperated by Moody's questions.

    "Wrong," Moody said gruffly. "Much more likely. They're far away, so we're less likely to notice them. And why are they sitting so close to the kitchen, eh? It's not exactly a choice location."

    "Maybe it's their anniversary and they sat there when he proposed?" Harry guessed wildly.

    "Possibly," Moody grunted. "Or maybe it's because it gives them a quick exit, and hostages to boot.

    "Now the family is safe. First of all, they're in the corner and dark wizards never sit in the corner, because that's the first place you look for them. More importantly is all the children. One child would give as good a cover as three, and when it comes time to fight, those extra children will get in the way. Even the girl is more likely to get in the way then help. Not old enough to know how to fight properly."

    Harry looked over at the table. The girl wasn't much younger then him, and he could do plenty. H was about to tell Moody that, when she noticed him and waved, timidly. Harry waved back. She was pretty good looking too.

    "Ahh, that clinches it," Moody grumbled. "If she was a dark wizard, she wouldn't have drawn attention to herself. Unless she was leading you into a trap. Be careful if she makes any more contact."

    "Okay, now you're being para-"

    "But the bigger danger is in the closer tables. Easier to notice, but much less reaction time when they do attack. What's your assessment of the business couples?"

    Harry was starting to get the hang of this, even if he didn't believe any of them were dark wizards. "Well... the women could be assessing the room and just pretending to be bored. And the men could be discussing the best way to attack, possibly in code."

    "You're getting better. But my galleon is on that table."

    "The single mother and her date?!" Harry whispered harshly.

    "Don't be deceived, Harry. Notice how she keeps trying to quiet the kid and the 'date' is just ignoring him."

    "Maybe she's just strict and he doesn't want to interfere with her childraising."

    "Or else she's trying to keep the boy quiet so he can listen."

    Harry still found it unlikely. His eyes roamed the room and fell on the final table, with the oily man and the attractive woman.

    "Moody? What about them?"

    "Huh? Unlikely. Their position is terrible. Not far enough to avoid notice, not close enough for a good ambush. Plus they're drinking alcohol, which impairs the senses and slows the mind. There's a final reason, if you can find it."

    Harry glanced at the table, where a waiter was serving them their main course. Harry's own table was at least ten minutes from being served.

    "They got here before us," Harry finally said.

    "Very good. The test is over. You did all right, but you have a long way to go. Now, while still watching the tables, lets pay attention to our host before he gets suspicious.

    And Moody turned to listen to Jim tell a story about a time he went hang gliding and swore he nearly crashed into an oddly dressed boy who was sky-diving with a broom of all things. Harry felt the story sounded vaguely familiar. He also noticed that Moody's magic eye, which he could barely see under his hat, never left the single mom, except to make periodic sweeps every other minute.

    It was after the main course had been served that Harry figured out why the couple behind Moody bothered him. Hoping to help Dudley lose some weight, Him had ordered him a light vegetarian dish. Harry was loving the forlorned look on Dudley's face as the fat boy stared longingly at Harry's half-pound burger, but his eyes kept flicking to the oily man and his date. They were staring, but then again, Moody's vibrant costume was causing everybody to stare. As Harry pushed away the second half of his burger, feeling he was about to burst, his eyes locked with the woman's and he realized that they weren't watching Moody; they were watching him!

    He was about to tell Moody this, when Moody grabbed the waiter's arm and whispered something to him, gesturing at the table behind Harry. The waiter smiled and nodded, then signaled to the other waiters.

    Suddenly the room exploded with noise as the waiters sung Happy Birthday, very badly, to the kid behind Harry. The kid squealed happily and started banging his plate, demanding cake. The mother started furiously yelling at the waiters, and the date smiled weakly, while trying to calm her down. Moody smiled at his handiwork, but Harry did not. Behind Moody, the woman in the green dress was anxiously pulling something out of her purse. It was a wand!

    Desperate to get Moody's attention without alerting the witch, Harry kicked Moody in the shin. A loud clunk and a sharp pain told Harry he'd kicked the wooden one. But it was enough. Moody's eye made a reactionary three-sixty degree scan, then swung back to look at the couple.

    Meanwhile, the single mother had identified Moody as the source of this, and was leveling her anger at him. "Sir, if this is your idea of a joke-"

    "Madam, I do not joke about the safety of my country," Moody snapped, standing up and gesturing wildly with his cane. "Now get to the designated drop point before the enemy forces make a move!"

    "He's gone into shell shock!" Jim exclaimed, and only then did Harry realize how well Moody was orchestrating the chaos around him. He also realized that the random cane gestures weren't random at all; they were wand motions.

    "Call Captain Exelliarmus!" He roared. A near-invisible bolt shot out of the cane and struck the woman square in the chest. Her wand flew high into the air, while she stumbled backwards, knocking over her chair, which hit the floor with a loud crack. "Enemy fire! You hold the fort! I'll evacuate the villagers!" Moody tucked his cane under his arm, grabbed Hermione and Harry by the collars, and pulled them towards the exit. Hermione shrieked in surprise, but Harry let himself be dragged out, feigning shock. He saw the oily man reach into his jacket so Harry kicked out at the man's chair, tripping him up. A loud crunch, told Harry that Moody had just stepped on the woman's wand.

    Moody didn't let go of them until they were out of the restaurant and he had to catch his breath.

    "What is going on?!" Hermione demanded in a huff.

    "Dark wizards!" Harry explained. "Moody stopped them"

    "Is that way you told the waiters it was the kid's birthday?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

    "Standard... tactic," Moody gasped. "Draw attention... to the dark wizards. Makes it too risky for them to act."

    "Brilliant thinking," Harry exclaimed excitedly.

    "Too bad I got the wrong target," Moody grumbled, obviously displeased with himself. "I'm getting too old for this. But the REAL dark wizards won't come after us now. They're down to one wand, and we're alert. The odds are too stacked against them."

    "Could someone please explain what just happened?" Hermione asked impatiently. Harry quickly filled her in. When she had heard it all, she looked confused.

    "But how could they have been after you, if they were here first. Nobody said anything about where we were going except in your house, where they can't hear us.

    "Coincidence?" Harry guessed. "They were in the right place at the right time."

    "I don't believe in coincidence," Moody huffed. "Divinations is behind this."

    "Divinations?" Hermione asked, the skepticism coming back into her voice.

    "Yeah, I know. Load of dirty dishwater most of the time, but occasionally you can squeeze something of value out of it. Like a time and a place."

    Harry wanted to ask more, but just then, Vernon burst out of the restaurant, looking once again like an enraged rhino. At least this time his mustache remained in tact.

    "You senile old badger!" he snarled. "You ruined everything!"

    "Bah!" Moody snorted, brandishing his cane, which Harry figured held his wand inside. "In my day we respected our elders." But Vernon’s rage overpowered his self-preservation.

    "Silence! I want you out of my sight. And take the boy and his tramp of a friend with you!"

    Harry had no idea what he would do now, without the protection cast over Number Four, Privet Drive. He also didn't know what Moody would do to Vernon, but he bet it would be equally unpleasant.

    Fortunately, for both Harry and Vernon, Jim emerged from the restaurant at that moment, a huge smile on his face.

    "Oh, what a show!" He bellowed in his typical laughing voice. "Best dinner I've ever had. Here you go Harry. Caught Dudley trying to steal your leftovers. Eat up, you need to put some meat on those bones."

    "B-b-b-ut the manager had Grunnings blacklisted!" Vernon stammered, completely confounded by his boss's behavior.

    "Relax, Vern. Once he realizes how many Grunnings meetings are held here, he'll be offering us ten percent off to come back. I must say though, if you can manage this motley crew, you can manage anything. I can't promise anything official, but off the record, the position is definitely yours."

    "R-r-r-eally?" Vernon said, going pale.

    "Like I said, nothing official, but yeah. Now, I've got to get back to Summer. Drive safe."

    "Like you can talk," Moody muttered as the jolly man walked away. He turned to the Dursleys. "Well, looks like somebody kept their end of the bargain. Now, what did you promise the boy? Don't look at me like that, Potter. I can read the deal you made on both your faces.

    "You're right," Vernon said stiffly, "a deal is a deal. I'll buy you your game system tomorrow."

    "No. Potter's not going out again for a long time. Tonight was dangerous enough. We're picking it up on the way home."

    Vernon opened his mouth to argue, but Moody lifted his bowler hat to stare at him with his magic eye, and Vernon agreed.

    When they got back, Moody marched Harry double-time into the house, Harry's new things held under his arm. He had a Playstation 2, and two games, called Monster Rancher 3 and Soul Caliber 2. Harry didn't really know anything about either game, but Vernon didn't give him much time. Of course, Dudley had walked away with four more games, but Harry didn't care. He didn't care much about the games he had either. The important part was, he had finally managed to force the Dursleys to get him something new.

    Just as Vernon was closing the door, an owl swooped in, dropping a letter on Moody's head. Moody clawed it open and read it hungrily.

    "I have to go!" He said urgently.

    "What? Where?" Harry asked worriedly.

    "No time to explain," Moody grumbled. "Just stay here. Don't leave your room for anything! You're vulnerable! I'll send Smirl for you. Don't get the door and don't talk to anybody who doesn't tell you the password 'dragonsblood.' And take this!" He thrust a package under Harry's arm. "Now go!"

    Harry watched Moody hobble quickly off down the walk. The moment he touched the street, he disappeared with a crack. He disapparated.

    Upstairs, Harry unwrapped the package. It was a Foe Glass. He hung it on the wall in his room.

    Sleeping arrangements were strained. Hermione was in Harry's room and Harry was too big for the cupboard now, so finally Vernon agreed that he'd sleep on Dudley's floor. It wouldn't have been too bad, if Dudley didn't keep kicking him as he got out of bed for a glass of water. Eventually, Dudley grew tired of the joke, and fell asleep. Harry drifted off soon after, wishing he hadn't left the settle-mint in the other room.

    Harry found himself in a gray hall with many doors. Behind him everything was clear, but everything in front of him was blurry and undefined. He squinted. There was something down there. Something defined and white on the gray blurry path. It turned, and red eyes spotted him. A loud, evil hiss filled the air. It charged.

    Harry gasped as its form came into focus, revealing it to be a giant, hideous beetle, its carapace pure white, its eyes the color of dried blood. Harry turned to run. The hallway seemed

familiar, but there were no turns, no places to hide. He could hear the bug creature getting closer. He tried to push himself to run faster, but he couldn't. He could feel the bug's icy pinchers about to close on him.

    Suddenly, with the sound of metal slicing through the air, the bug was gone. Harry turned to see a large man standing behind him. He was dressed in a red tunic with metal armbands around his muscular arms. Each arm band was three pieces, forearm, upper arm, and shoulder, and each piece was a different color. His long silver hair and beard both flowed widely, about his chiseled features, as if in a fierce wind.

    "You must keep your guard up, Harry. The Creelin will get you if you don't. And there are things you must do."

    "What must I do?" Harry asked, curious more than anything.

    "You must seek out my legacy." He said sternly.

    "Your legacy?"

    "Ask the ha-" All of a sudden the man was gone. The gray walls and familiar doors were gone.

    Eight glasses of water had caught up with Dudley. He had kicked Harry awake as he raced for the bathroom.