If Only for Now

Chapter Three:

Broken Wards

Blazing pieces of brick and pavement flew apart. Harry felt himself flying forward, unsure if he was screaming or not. Mark's shrill cry of alarm and fear was the last thing he heard before he found himself lying in the mud at the foot of Number Two Magnolia Crescent. Blinking spots out of his eyes, Harry searched frantically for what had happened. Yet again, he found his wand firmly grasped in his hand. Realizing that he must have never let go of it, Harry observed Mark lying feet away, groaning.

Dark figures were materializing out of the alleyway. Harry could see green light reflected on Mark's face. He was staring up at something in the sky, his bright eyes shimmering a familiar sign in the contracted pupils. The Dark Mark was floating above them like some horrendous form of a firework.

"What is that thing?" Mark cried, his voice unnaturally high.

"It's the Dark Mark!" Harry told him, as quietly as he could, but at that moment, there was another roar of sound as another explosion blew a large, square house to pieces, the inhabitants screaming as they ran out. There was a flash of green light, and the next thing Harry saw made him feel nauseous. Averting his eyes from the now motionless Muggles about one hundred yards away, Harry yelled, "Mark, get out of here! Run, hurry! Run to Number Four, get my owl, and send a letter getting help. Tell her it's urgent and she'll know where to go!"

"I'm not leaving!" Mark shouted back as he and Harry rose unsteadily to their feet. His face was set, and his eyes fiery with determination. He drew his wand. "I can be a distraction -- I can --"

"Well, well, well," said a sneering voice from nearby. Harry moved automatically in front of Mark. "If it isn't Potter, trying to save the little children."

Harry was not surprised when he looked up to see Lucius Malfoy scowling down at him.

"Stupefy!" he yelled, unaware of his decision to cast the spell.

Caught off guard, Harry's curse struck Malfoy full in the face. He keeled over backward and hit the earth with a soft thump! Mark gave the unconscious man's head a sharp kick. Harry could only assume that this was to further injure their opponent.

"How did you do that?" Mark shouted over a tidal wave of sound. Death Eaters were yelling, running. There had to be about seven or eight. Harry couldn't count. Before he could answer, he realized that they were beginning to encircle them.

Harry's breath came in painful wheezes, as he fought to clear his mind. Someone from the Order should have detected this by now. Why was no one coming? Unless ... no one watching. ... They had to run. It was their only chance. Harry backed against the fence just as the businessman who lived in Number Two walked out to see what on earth was going on. Just like his fellow Muggles down the street, Mr. Buget crumbled to the ground as about three or four Killing Curses hit him in the chest, illuminating him for a couple moments as the sound of rushing death took him. Harry could feel Mark begin to quiver against his shoulder.

But as the Death Eaters began to laugh, Harry grabbed his arm and led him through the back gate. In blind terror, they ran to the backyard fence of Number Two. Harry was tall enough to literally throw Mark over the wall. Harry stared back, unsure what to do. He knew there was no time to fight. He had to run or he would be captured to be brought back to Voldemort. The seconds he'd taken to decide cost him. The Death Eaters blasted the wooden barrier to pieces.

"Harry?" he heard Mark's faint voice say.

With an enormous leap (which Harry credited almost entirely to magic) he was able to hurdle over the hedge. He plummeted face first, his glasses breaking, and the wind soaring out his lungs, but Mark pulled him to his feet and guided him to the already smashed open gate. Once behind a new hedge, Harry quickly mended his glasses and cleared his swimming his head, filling his lungs with the air so viciously stolen from him. His chest still hurt from the fall, but experience told him that there was no time for weakness or pain. Dueling would be their only chance if they couldn't get away fast enough. This meant that his only real option was to move.

But how could he run? These streets, as he'd learned last summer, were full of elaborate twisting and turnings that would undoubtedly lead him back to the alleyway from which this all began. His heart was beginning to pump more intensely than ever. His thoughts circled around the Order. Where were they? Why hadn't they come to his aid immediately? If they'd all be captured or ... worse ...?

"Harry, we've got to run!" Mark hissed. "I don't know much about magic - but I don't think you can fight all of these Death Eaters on your own!"

"No," Harry panted. He was thinking of his knowledge of the streets of Little Whinging. If he ran all the way down the street and turned left, he would be able to get away from the Death Eaters, but they would need to remain close by, so that the Order, or whoever would come to their aid, would be able to find them.

"Oh, Harry," he could hear Bellatrix calling in the distance. "Little Harry, where are you?"

There was no choice now. He took Mark's arm and they sprinted together down to the end of the road. They had almost reached the lamppost when the curses began to fire at them. Harry felt his hair ruffle as purple flames glazed the top of his head. He had to change direction, and swiftly. The only alternative was to the right. He had no time to hesitate. Mark followed Harry as he swerved to the right side of the road, just avoiding a Killing Curse.

They flew down the street, trying to breathe as quietly as was possible. Shouts and screams pursued them. Harry looked down the road and saw the pile of rubble at the end of it, which was the ruined alley. Not even stopping to think of how wrong he'd been in the directions of the street and how much trouble he would have been if he'd turned left, Harry froze. There people nearby it - at least dozen - turning their heads, searching. Harry noticed that one of them had a slight limp. It was the characteristic limp of his godfather, Sirius. The two of them just stood there. They were silent, unable to move for fear that it was more Death Eaters. Finally, one of the women twisted in his direction. She gathered the others attention.

Harry's legs ached to bolt again. Mark's wrist was still in his fist. Mark would trust him, he knew that. His judgment meant everything. What if it wasn't Sirius? It was his only chance now. About four of them made a swift advance toward Harry and Mark. He wouldn't be able to run even if he could. The first person he recognized was Lupin. Harry's lungs expanded in relief. They were saved. Next in the line was Bill Weasley, Harry's best friend's oldest brother, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Professor McGonagall, his Transfiguration teacher, was panting after them, leaning on a cane.

"Potter," she said, as Harry hurried over to them. "Good Lord!"

"Where are the Death Eaters?" asked Lupin, his voice tight.

Harry grabbed Mark's arm again and forced him to hide behind himself. "Not far behind us," he told him, gasping for breath.

He raised his wand, like the others, as they stood waiting for the Death Eaters to turn a corner. There was no time to even think what would happen when they did, because at that moment, three Aurors Apparated about twenty feet away from them. One of them was a wizard Harry recognized as Dawlish, another was a man with a pony tail even longer than Bill's, whom Harry had seen before at the Auror Headquarters and was almost sure that his name was Williamson, and other was a witch who had a patch over her eye, whom Harry had seen a year ago, talking to Kingsley in the Ministry Headquarters.

"You found Potter then," Dawlish said to Kingsley. "How did these civilians get involved?"

"You'd better get used to them being involved, Dawlish," said Kingsley, surprisingly cold at the Dawlish's comments of any members of the Order of the Phoenix being "civilians".

Harry could hear the footfalls of the rest of the Order members coming toward them. It wasn't long before Harry realized what a fault this was, because Williamson twirled around and recognized Sirius before any of the Order could give any warning. He swept his wand in one swift movement that struck Sirius on the back of his head. Sirius' head jerked upward, his eyes rolled back and he fell to the ground, limp and unconscious.

Harry made to move forward without thinking, but Bill put a hand on his shoulder. Williamson pulled Sirius up by the hair, his face wrinkling in utter disgust.

"What was he doing?" he asked Hestia Jones, who was standing very close to Mrs. Figg.

"He was helping!" Hestia answered. "I know it sounds odd --"

"We should summon a dementor right away!" exclaimed Dawlish. "Right here. This bag of filth doesn't deserve have anything ceremonial, does he?"

"There are children here, Dawlish," Professor McGonagall complained loudly, "for heaven's sake!"

Dawlish didn't even look at Harry or Mark, whose arm was still in Harry's hand.

"And we're not at the point in war where we can do such things!" growled Moody. "We need to take him the Ministry! The fact that he may have been helping merits an investigation. Do you realize the kind of information we could loose if we gave him the Kiss without a trial? Or interrogation?"

Harry heard everything Moody said, but his eyes were fixed on his godfather, still being held upright by Williamson, who had his fingers dug deep in to the roots of the convict's hair.

"And where will we put him?" asked the witch. "The courtrooms? This is a lengthy operation for the Ministry, as you would know, Mad-Eye!"

"I'm in charge of Black's case," said Kingsley loudly, cutting Moody's angry response from ever reaching his lips. "We will bring him to the Ministry under my orders."

"This is public safety that you're messing with Shacklebolt --"

"You will bring him to the Ministry of Magic," said a voice from behind Lupin.

Everyone jumped in one single motion, which looked like a ripple around the small crowd. Harry twisted and saw Albus Dumbledore, his hard, fiery blue gaze fixed on Dawlish and Williamson.

"Dumbledore, you're not the Minister of Magic!" said Dawlish furiously. "You cannot decide these kinds of things!"

"The current Minister of Magic, however, trusts my word," Dumbledore told them evenly, "and so, as his Aurors, you must do the same."

Williamson gulped and didn't reply. It was obvious that he was frightened of the Hogwarts headmaster's wrath, and would by no means provoke it. Dawlish simply nodded, a cold flare in his eyes at being overruled.

"Mobilicorpus," muttered Williamson.

Harry had seen the effect of this spell before and watched as Sirius' form straightened, as though his feet, arms and neck had been bound. It was ironic, however, that it had been Sirius who'd used this charm in front of Harry to tie up his old school nemesis, Snape, and carry him back to Hogwarts. Sirius' head was limp and he could see a dribble of blood seeping down onto his forehead.

"Wotcher, Harry," he heard in his ear, and wasn't surprised to see Tonks standing there.

Her hair was spiked again, but bright orange tonight. Tonks was a Metamorphmagus, meaning that she could change her appearance at will. Dark eyes darted over to Sirius and then snapped back to see Harry biting his lip.

"Don't worry too much, Harry," she said quietly. "This could be Sirius' chance to be free if we're careful."

Harry continued to bite his lip. "But --"

"The Ministry'll listen to Dumbledore now," whispered Tonks. "He's trusted again, and they don't know what to do. Whatever Dumbledore says, goes! They'll give him a trial."

"What are we going to do with Potter?" asked Dawlish, glancing at Harry for a moment, and then looking away, as though he was nothing of great concern.

"Harry is in my custody now, Dawlish," said Dumbledore calmly. "Mr. Lupin here will escort him to Hogwarts and he will attend Black's trial."

"You're giving him to a werewolf?" asked Williamson. "Are you sure --"

"I trust Lupin with my life," said Dumbledore, his fiery blue eyes cold, which made the wizard beneath it freeze. "He and an escort will take Harry to the Ministry so that he may attend Black's trial."

"Why should he?" Dawlish snarled. "He's not involved in criminal affairs."

"Sirius is his godfather," Dumbledore said firmly. "You will allow him into the courtroom and it is necessary that he participate in the hearing."

There was no refusing Dumbledore's voice. Harry almost pitied Dawlish as he quailed under his gaze in spite of himself. He watched helplessly as they carried Sirius' unconscious body away. Kingsley was in the lead, magicking Sirius away. Tonks left Harry's side to follow. When they were out of earshot, Harry was sure that Williamson had made a portkey and he almost ran after them as Williamson, Kingsley, Tonks, the witch, and Dawlish vanished.

"Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, "go with Remus. He will take you to London. I'm sure Hermione and the Weasley children can explain everything to you when you arrive."

The Order began to disburse, Hestia, Moody and Bill going to inspect the bodies, their faces grim.

"But what about --"

"I will make sure that Sirius is safe," said Dumbledore softly. "He will have a fair trail! I can swear that to you Harry."

Reassured almost against his will, Harry nodded. Mark was still standing uncertainly behind him. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled for the first time that night as he gazed down at the boy.

"Ah," he said pleasantly. "I knew you two would find meet each other."

"This is Albus Dumbledore," Harry told Mark. "Don't worry, he doesn't bite."

"Hullo," said Mark shyly. He was still shaking.

Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall and Mrs. Figg, who were the only Order members apart from Lupin left. "Arabella, Minerva, would you please escort Mr. Evans here to his home, right up to the front door, and explain what has happened to his mother and family."

"Of course," said McGonagall, placing a hand on Mark's shoulder.

Harry was the only person he had ever talked to, and so Mark stared at him, looking for reassurance. Harry grinned encouragingly, and Mark allowed himself to be led away.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Lupin, who grinned in the same way that Harry had only seconds ago. He and Lupin set off down the street to collect his trunk.

"What Hell do you mean by it boy?" bellowed Uncle Vernon.

Their welcome had been far from warm. Harry had thought that Lupin's presence would cause Uncle Vernon to have some manners, but he was so angry that he took no notice of the wizard. Lupin stepped backwards in alarm.

"First you threaten my son!" he raged. "And now you bring hermits to the door!"

Lupin seemed to realize that he was talking about him, but his expression was only that of mild interest.

"I'm here to take Harry to his godfather," Lupin explained placidly. "He'll be safe with him until the end of the summer, and then he'll be taken to Hogwarts."
The mention of Harry's school seemed to jolt his uncle to realize that he'd just called full-grown wizard a hermit and quailed. This fear appeared to shock Lupin more than anything else.

"The sooner we get inside," said Harry loudly, thoroughly enjoying himself, "the sooner I can get my things and leave."

He led Lupin upstairs to his room. Of course, Lupin had been in the Dursley's house before, but he'd never seen Harry's room.

"They don't give you much space, do they?" he said quietly.

Harry laughed. "It's better than the cupboard under the stairs," he said.

Lupin widened as he gazed at him in astonishment. "You slept in a cupboard!" he said softy. "I thought that was just a rumor!"

"Yeah," said Harry, throwing what little he'd taken out of his trunk back in. "But ... let's go." He didn't want to complain to Lupin. Lupin noticed this, but moved forward to help Harry carry his trunk downstairs. "Er ... how are we getting to Gr--there?"

"Floo Powder," he explained. "We've got connections now. I've just got to give the signal."

As they entered the living room, Harry saw Aunt Petunia and Dudley scuttle into the kitchen, a place that had always been one of refuge. He almost laughed, but was unsure if Lupin would be impressed. They lowered the trunk onto the lounge floor, and Harry watched eagerly as Lupin took out his wand. The Dursley's fireplace was empty. Ever since their encounter with Mr. Weasley, the Dursleys hadn't bothered to replace their electric fire.

Lupin had begun to roll up his sleeves. Unsure what "the signal" was, Harry retreated to the wall and stood against it. Lupin had his wand in hand. He pointed it at the fireplace, and muttered, "Incendio" and a lively fire roared into life in the grate. He stood still for a moment, observing it, and then drew his wand back in a manner that so resembled the curse that had almost killed Hermione and Sirius that Harry jumped, and said, very loudly and clearly, "Ingniso Accerso!" The flames blazed purple and almost leapt from the fireplace onto the carpet. In fact, Harry was sure that it was magic alone that could be credited to have stopped the flames from doing so.

"And now," Lupin said, "we wait for the return signal."

He sat down on one of Aunt Petunia's fancy lounge chairs. Harry followed him, his face glum, and sat down on the chair beside Lupin. He would have given anything now to just be lying in bed, thinking about his OWL results -- to be worrying about something normal. If only I had stayed here all night, Harry thought. Then Sirius would be safe and all of those Muggles wouldn't be dead! He stared at the ground.

"This isn't your fault, Harry," Lupin told him. Harry raised his head slowly to gaze at him. Lupin smiled wanly at him, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced than ever as they were illuminated by the light of the purple flames. "It was the Order's."

Harry tried to shake his head. How could it be Order's fault? It was he who had attracted the Death Eaters! But Lupin continued.

"When we sent you to live with your aunt and uncle," he explained, "we knew it meant that we would have to protect not only you, but the Muggles all around you. That's why we sent Arabella Figg to live here and -- erm -- convinced Mark's family to move here so that they would be safe if word ever got out that he was your cousin. We didn't want the word to get out," he said, noticing the expression on Harry's face, "because that would increase the danger for him before he even got to Hogwarts."

"So he'll be in danger?" Harry asked.

"There is no place safer than Hogwarts," Lupin assured him. He continued with his story, as though there had been no interruption, "But we always knew that the alley between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk was the weakest place. It was how Sirius was able to visit you. Even though he'd meant you know harm, the Order had made sure that he could not get into Privet Drive. That's why the dementors were able to find you. It was a mere stroke of their luck that you were in that alley at the time, because it was the only place in which they could appear.

"We now know that the Death Eaters must have spoken with these dementors and learned of the weakness. However, the second mass breakout from Azkaban, I'm sorry to say, stopped us from being able to monitor the Map as well as we should have --"

Lupin was interrupted by the fire, which had begun to blaze emerald green, as was natural for Floo Powder. He magicked Harry's trunk into the fire. Harry had expected him to shout, "Grimmauld Place" but he didn't say anything. The trunk spun very quickly in the fireplace for a mere moment, but then slid away.

"Weren't you --" he stammered. "How come --"

"Our 'connections' are working it out at the moment," Lupin told him. "We don't have to say anything. If we did, it might give away our Headquarters." He waited a few seconds and then said, "All right Harry, it's your turn."

And he pushed Harry into the fire.

Author's Notes: I have at last finished chapter six, so here it is. Chapter four will come when I'm finished with chapter seven. I like to stay ahead, you see. That way I can change things in the plot.

Last time I didn't get any reviews! Not one! Please ... It's like I said before, I just like to know that I'm not writing into oblivion. I know people are reading. Just a few sentences about what you think. ...