Muggled

-Chapter 2-

Theodore turned back to Dumbledore as he whispered with a smile, "Just the man I wanted to see."

Theodore, however, was not smiling. Dumbledore was the absolute last person Theodore wanted to see. He stared up at the old man, and his wandering mind once again whisked him away to the summer before. Dumbledore's gray head slowly molded into his father's gray and brown one.

"Theodore," he was hissing through his bedroom doorway. Theodore sat up drearily. He rubbed at his sleepy eyes, and glanced toward the door. Even in the dim light spilling into his room from the hallway, Theodore could still see the gray in his father's hair. So gray. He turned his face down again, some how afraid that his staring would aggravate his father.

It seemed to Theodore that his father's hair got grayer by the day. He'd always understood that his father was old, but as the gray crept over his skull, Theodore could see the age. In his younger days, Theodore wished his father was younger, so he would be more willing to have a little fun. Theodore wished his parents had started their family when they were still brimming with their youth. Not when they were verging on being elderly.

But then again, it was his father's age that had saved him from arrest, wasn't it? Those shelves would have injured anyone, but a younger man could have stumbled back up to his feet eventually. His father instead had been abandoned by the others. The others had been arrested; Mr. Nott had found his way out. Or, rather, he had crawled his way out.

Theodore had been informed of all of this through a letter he'd received about a week earlier by owl. He'd kept the letter from everyone else, somehow ashamed. He should have been joyous; his father was one of the few un-arrested Death Eaters left. However, Theodore was ashamed that his father had limped away from battle, was so weak that he'd been abandoned. The letter was very short, and Mr. Nott briefly explained how he'd escaped and added that Theodore was to meet him right outside of King's Cross. Platform 9 ¾ was too risky.

"Theodore!" he hissed again, this time in a bit more snappish tone. Theodore finally turned his head to the door.

"I need you out of bed and ready to go within half of an hour. We've got to go and speak with the Malfoys in a bit."

Theodore slumped back against his downy pillows. He hated visiting the Malfoys. His father spent the entire time in the parlor with Lucius, and Theodore was forced to spend several hours with Draco.

Often, Theodore didn't mind the little chatting sessions with Draco. However, the majority of the time, Draco was a cocky git, who Theodore believed didn't deserve a minute of his time.

He sighed loudly, and flung himself back onto his side. He was acting childishly, but it was early, and it was the only way he could think of getting out of spending the day Draco.

Theodore heard quick footsteps approach his bed, and then felt a cold, cruel hand grab his arm. He was yanked back around to face his seething father. Theodore stared up at him fearfully, and quite suddenly, the cold hand became warmer, and much older. His dim bedroom dissolved into the bustling and bright Platform. Theodore followed the length of the elderly, frail hand, and up the arm it was connected to. The arm brought him to a shoulder, a neck, and then Albus Dumbledore's cheerful face.

With a strength that Theodore would have never expected, Dumbledore hoisted the sixteen year old to his feet. Theodore wobbled a bit; the sharp pains throbbing through his head and back made his legs unsteady. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, and desperately wished for his warm, soft bed.

Theodore was also desperately wishing to get away from Dumbledore. He didn't care much for the old Headmaster; too cheerful, too kind. Dumbledore aggravated Theodore to no end. However, one glance at Albus' face told Theodore that he wasn't going anywhere soon. Something in Dumbledore's eyes cause his stomach to ball up into a tight knot, and Theodore had to hold himself from being sick all over the place. Something in those bright eyes worried him so much, he wanted to break into a run; to run all the way home.

Theodore's legs wouldn't move. Inside, he was screaming at them to go, but they refused. Dumbledore continued smiling at him in silence. It was driving Theodore crazy; that smile. It was as though Dumbledore knew so much more than he did, and his eyes were boasting it. Theodore hated it. His father often looked at him that way.

Finally, Dumbledore broke the silence. "Follow me, please, Theodore."

Theodore's legs stayed cemented in place. "I've got to meet- " Theodore stopped cold. He wasn't going to finish that sentence with 'father'. He wasn't going to let on that his father had escaped. However, Theodore had an inkling feeling that Dumbledore already knew. "Got to meet my sister," he finished, knowing it sounded idiotic.

Dumbledore's grin widened. "You don't have a sister," he said simply. He turned on his heel, and began walking away, toward the exit of the platform. Theodore knew in the pit of his stomach he had to follow. His mind drifted to his father, who was somewhere outside of King's Cross. The thought was only brief, and his attention snapped quickly back to Dumbledore. He felt his feet begin to remove themselves from the ground, and slowly swing forward, one after the other.

The people around Theodore became a colorful blur; his eyes could only see Dumbledore. He followed the aged professor to the exit of Platform 9 3/4, stepped through the liquid like wall, and appeared out into King's Cross. A thought suddenly came to him. "Professor?" he called. "What about my trunk?"

Dumbledore glanced over his shoulder briefly, and then turned back around, never slowing his pace. "Your trunk will make it home safely."

Theodore forgot about it again, regained his speed, and resumed following Dumbledore.

Dumbledore led Theodore out of the bustling train station, and into the clear, sunny day outside. He took a sharp turn left, went around the backside of several parked cars, and followed the pavement for nearly half a mile. He took another sharp left, and slipped into a dark alleyway in between two old, crumbling buildings.

Theodore followed, craning his neck upwards, studying the sorry looking buildings. He'd only dimly noticed that no one paid them any attention out in the Muggle world. He stopped in the middle of the dank, smelly alley and stared ahead at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was shuffling around, looking all over the ground for something. He shoved a crooked, dirty shopping trolley to the side, and exclaimed excitedly, "Aha! Found you!" Dumbledore bent down, and scooped up a ragged looking book. He jogged back over to Theodore, and held one end of the book out to him. Inscribed on the black cover was a golden Phoenix. Theodore took the book from Dumbledore, and flipped slowly through its moist pages. Every page was blank; the book had nothing in it. He handed the odd book back. "What do we need this for?"

Dumbledore smiled down at Theodore. "You're a smart boy, Mr. Nott, I thought you would have this all figured out by now."

Theodore thought for a moment, not really understanding. Yet another memory came back to him; he and his father on a hill, clinging to an old boot. They were going to the Quidditch World Cup.

"The book is a Portkey?" he guessed, at last.

Dumbledore grinned proudly. "Very good."

"But why do we need a Portkey? Where are we going?" Theodore looked up at the Headmaster, confused.

Dumbledore didn't answer. Instead, he stuck one end of the book out at Theodore. Theodore grabbed it, thinking Dumbledore wanted him to take it again. Suddenly, he felt a tug behind his navel, and the world dissolved in a spiral of brilliant colors. He spun around faster and faster, and he could vaguely see Dumbledore at his side, still clutching the other end of the book. Theodore was just beginning to feel extremely sick when the spiraling stopped. He found himself standing in a large, bright room. There were many portraits of men and women running along the walls; most of them looked very old. The majority of them were also sleeping. A few stirred when Dumbledore and Theodore appeared, but they merely grumbled and went on dreaming.

Without a word, Dumbledore glided over to a large desk in the middle of the room. Beyond that, Theodore could see a gargantuan red armchair, a spiraling staircase, and a beautiful, bored looking Phoenix on a tall perch.

Dumbledore pulled out the chair behind the desk, sat down with a comfortable sigh, and then flicked his wand at the chair in the front of the desk. The chair scooted out a little way. Dumbledore motioned for Theodore to sit with a wave of his hand. Theodore turned his head slowly every way as he walked slowly toward the desk. He was amazed by all the gadgets and objects in the large room. He sat down at the desk, facing Dumbledore. Realization slowly crept upon him, and, without looking at Dumbledore, asked quietly, "We're back at Hogwarts, aren't we? In your office?" Theodore wasn't sure exactly why he knew that, but where else could they be? Where else would Dumbledore take him?

Dumbledore nodded, the same joyous smile still plastered on his face. "And do you have any idea why I brought you here?"

Theodore stopped examining every inch of the room, and let his gaze rest on Dumbledore. "No, sir, I don't." Sir. He hated calling Dumbledore that. In all honesty, he didn't feel Dumbledore was worthy of such politeness. He found Albus Dumbledore to be a bumbling idiot, who was too cheerful and optimistic. He looked away from Dumbledore as these thoughts flew around his mind; he was somehow afraid Dumbledore could read them. He felt he should keep up the politeness; it would be easier for him to weasel his way out of this and get home.

Dumbledore turned around, and pointed his wand at the huge arm chair behind him. He twirled the wand, and with it, the chair spun around. Sitting, or rather sleeping, in the chair was a boy around Theodore's age. He had jet black, soft looking hair. The boy looked to be about two to three inches shorter than Theodore, and much better built. His arms were bulging with muscles, and beneath the dark brown shirt he was wearing, Theodore could see a defined chest. His eyes weren't even open, but Theodore could tell this guy was handsome.

Theodore felt a twinge of jealousy; he'd never found himself that good looking. He tugged slightly at his mess of brown hair, and then ran his fingers through it. He glanced down briefly at his own chest, arms, legs, and clothing; and was a bit disappointed in what he saw. He'd just taken his first look at this guy, and already he could feel a growing hatred. He didn't want anything to do with him, no matter who he was. The boy looked very comfortable; he was slouched in the chair, his head slightly lolled to one side. Theodore was jealous of even that; it was quite uncomfortable sitting in front of the Headmaster, feeling very exposed and vulnerable.

"His name is Jack Moore," Dumbledore said quietly, as though afraid of waking him. "He's a Muggle boy from Bristol."

At the sound of the word 'Muggle', Theodore cringed a tad. The word disgusted him. He figured this was a pet peeve he'd picked up from his father. He suddenly wanted even more to be out of this room, and away from the sleeping boy. "What's he doing here?" Theodore asked slowly, not comprehending at all.

"Theodore, do you admire your father?" Dumbledore stared at him intently, analyzing him. He asked the question calmly, as though they were having a simple conversation.

Theodore paused a moment to think about his answer. He knew Dumbledore was asking him if he admired his father as a Death Eater or not. "Yes, very much so," he answered finally.

Dumbledore showed little reaction. Theodore could see a slight smile hiding on his face. Theodore briefly wondered if Dumbledore was ever upset or angry over anything.

"Do you want to follow in his foot steps?" Dumbledore asked.

Theodore stammered a bit, stunned by his bluntness. "Well, I...I...no, I mean, well, yes, I think so..." he trailed off, knowing it was no use. He suddenly wanted out of this room badly, wanted to be home. He hated feeling analyzed, and realized he may end up giving away too much information about his father.

Dumbledore continued, never skipping a beat. "Are you coming back to Hogwarts this year?"

"I-I-I...Look, I don't know! I have no idea what's going on, I want out of here, now! What in the hell do you want me here for?" Theodore dropped all formality; he just wanted out as soon as possible.

Dumbledore sighed. "Alright, to the point then. Voldemort is back to his full powers. He and his Death Eaters will be in full commission this summer. By the beginning of the next school year, the war will have begun."

Thank you for stating the obvious, Theodore thought, a little bitterly. He remained silent, not daring to speak the words in his head.

Dumbledore paused briefly for a reaction. When he received none, he lumbered on. "I've thought long and hard about a way to curb this; a way to help. Unfortunately, as I've always known, this is out of my hands. This all rests upon one person, and I can do nothing but attempt to help him."

Theodore wondered why Dumbledore was telling him all of this. Why would he have such a conversation with a child of a Death Eater?

"I don't believe there's any way for me to halt the Death Eaters and Voldemort's efforts, but there is a group of people I can turn in the right direction." He paused again, and studied Theodore with raised eyebrows. He waited for a reaction again, to no avail. He sighed, and continued. "I could stop the potential Death Eaters. This would take out a number of their up and coming ranks."

"Why are you telling me all this, for Merlin's sake?" Theodore finally burst out. "What do you want with me, the son of a follower of Voldemort?" He stood from his chair, and leaned forward. "What do you want with me?" he demanded again.

Dumbledore leaned in further towards him slightly. "I want you to know the truth. You are far more mature than many children your age, and you have the ability to find good. This talent has been stumped, however, by what your father has taught you. You could do so much for the world, Theodore. I want you to see what good this world has to lose. I want you to see what wonders Voldemort could destroy. I want you to see what great things the Death Eaters could destroy; what good your father could destroy. I want you to see the truth; I want you to see what is right."

He fell silent, and leaned back again. Theodore slumped down into his chair, feeling queasy. I already know what good my father can destroy, he thought disgustedly. A woman's screaming rose again in his mind, and his head began to throb. He groaned, and squeezed his eyes shut. "How do you plan to show me this? What makes you think I want anything to do with you?"

"I don't think you want anything to with me, or Hogwarts." He turned slightly and nodded towards the Muggle in the chair. "You know what a Polyjuice potion is?"

Theodore nodded, now becoming interested.

"There is a spell, 'Corporis Abeo', which works in the same way. However, unlike the potion, the spell does not simply wear off. It must be reversed."

Theodore leaned forward in his chair, suddenly understanding. "You are not switching me with that-that-that Muggle!" He spat the word out disgustedly; as though it were a dirty swear. "Especially when I can't get myself out of it!"

Dumbledore rose. "You'll understand soon, Mr. Nott. I can only hope you'll understand. This is the only way."

"How can that be the only way?" Theodore growled. He felt a panic rising in his chest. "I don't want to be a Muggle, and I'm sure he wouldn't like being me."

Dumbledore chuckled a bit. "Jack will have no idea he's actually a Muggle. I'll put another charm on him to make sure. You on the other ha-"

"No!" Theodore cut him off. "There's no way I'll let you do this!" He paused, thinking. "What if...what if that Muggle dies in my body? What if he gets my body killed?"

Dumbledore stopped smiling, and sighed a heavy sigh. "If any harm comes to Jack, I will be forced to switch you back, no matter if you've seen what you need to see or not. I will make sure nothing happens to you, Theodore. You have my word on that." He glanced at a sundial next to his desk. It came to Theodore that the sundial was nowhere near a window; and wondered how it could possibly tell Dumbledore anything. "I'm afraid we've got to get moving. Your father will be getting worried. Although, a Time Turner should fix that little problem." He motioned for Theodore to follow him.

Theodore wasn't planning on going anywhere. He was too scared to run; he knew Dumbledore would stop him in an instant. He settled on pushing himself farther back into his chair, as though hoping to disappear into its cushions. There was no way he was leaving that chair.

Dumbledore, however, had different ideas. "Accio chair!" he cried. The chair flew from underneath Theodore and flew toward Dumbledore. He leaned to the side and let it fly by. Theodore crashed to the floor on his back. He was really getting sick of looking up at the sky and ceiling all the time. He struggled to push himself up onto his elbows, and scanned the room for Dumbledore. He found the old wizard lifting the boy named Jack out of the chair and onto the floor.

Theodore suddenly wondered why the boy was asleep in the first place, and how he and Dumbledore had avoided waking him this whole time. His attention was quickly diverted from this subject as he noticed Dumbledore moving again. Dumbledore moved to a position in the room that was right next to the huge desk. He was in a direct line between the two boys, and turned to give Theodore one last glance. "I'm terribly sorry for throwing you to the floor, Mr. Nott. I hope you're alright." He pointed his wand toward the high ceiling, and cried, "Corpus Abeo!"

The room was illuminated with light. A bright, yellowish beam shot from the end of Dumbledore's wand, nearly touching the ceiling. Accompanying the beam was a low humming noise. The beam suddenly spilt; peeling into two pieces and falling over like a banana peel. The two beams tightened themselves again, and shot out at the two bodies on the floor.

Theodore felt a rush of panic. Get up, run! His mind was screaming at him, everything was a jumble. The beam of light was rushing straight at him. The light was blinding; Theodore shielded his eyes with his arm. The woman's screaming became louder, and Theodore felt the tears well up again. "No, father, please," he yelled, begging. The screaming became an all out shriek, and Theodore no longer could take it. His hands clamped over his ears, trying to block it to no avail. He began screaming back, just like that day in front of the fire place. In the distance, Theodore could vaguely hear another shout. "Quiet Theodore, you'll raise the dead! Quiet now, it's all..." Theodore didn't hear the rest; the woman's painful shriek, his own roar, and the buzzing beam of light overpowered it.

Quite suddenly, Theodore felt a floating sensation. There was a tightening in his chest; it was only slightly painful. And then, there was nothing but darkness.

***

Theodore awoke what felt like days later. He was so very cold, and he lay shivering on the floor with his eyes shut. He felt hands slide under his arms and haul him to his feet. He couldn't stand, and slumped back against the warmth of the person attempting to steady him. In the end, the gentle arms scooped him, and carried him a short distance. He was set back on his feet, much to his displeasure. Theodore noticed heat and a crackling noise coming from in front of him. He felt a powdery substance being shoved into his hand. He nearly let it slide between his fingers when a voice whispered in his ear, "Hold on to it, Theodore." The voice was quiet, and soothing. Theodore did as he was told, and clenched his fist shut.

Theodore was too exhausted to open his eyes and see who was standing next to him, or examine his surroundings. He desperately wanted to just slump over on to the floor, and sleep for days on end.

Instead, the voice whispered more instructions in his ear. "Listen carefully," it said. "I want you to throw this powder into the fire. Can you do that?"

Theodore nodded a small nod, unable to find the strength to do more. Eyes still shut in sleepiness; he tossed the powder in the direction of the crackling heat. Theodore suddenly felt himself be scooped up again, and then set amidst all the crackling. He moaned, frustrated that he couldn't understand what was happening.

"Repeat after me, as loudly as possible, Theodore," the comforting voice called. It spoke again, and this time, Theodore shouted the words the best he possibly could after the voice said them. He felt himself begin to spin faster and faster, and heard the gentle voice drift away with, "Fawkes will check in on you soon!"

Theodore spun faster and faster, until he felt sickness wash over him. He tumbled out of a large fireplace just when he could no longer take it. Theodore staggered to his feet, and rubbed at his eyes. He opened them slowly, but the world had become blurry, and even the dim light pained his eyes. He'd noticed a bed off to the left, and stumbled toward it. When he reached it, Theodore collapsed on it, thinking, Thank God I'm finally home.

Theodore then promptly fell asleep.