Harry Potter and the Horcrux Quest

Chapter 3: A Sunday Drive

Mr. Dursley and Harry left Privet Drive around midmorning. The day was slightly overcast, but didn't feel like rain. Before they left, Harry used a map to write down the way to Sirius' house. He kept watching the street signs, and giving directions as needed. He almost tried to start a conversation, but decided against it. He fumed inside, knowing that anything he said would likely lead to a verbal--or physical-- fight. Other people could go for car rides without insulting each other, or verbally abusing their nephews. Harry knew he was building up frustration, and tried some Occlumency to clear his mind. His mind didn't really clear, but the anger slipped away. His mind was full of memories, plans, and random thoughts. He wondered how anyone could clear their mind. Actually, since Snape taught it, that probably wasn't even the right method of learning Occlumency. He wondered what a book on it would say. He decided to pick one up the next time he was at Diagon Alley.

"Left at the next signal," Harry said, looking at the instructions. They were getting close. He concentrated more on his job as navigator. Which seemed unfair, since he wasn't asked to be. Harry just knew if he hadn't prepared the directions he would be in trouble. In trouble for not doing something he hadn't been asked to do. He hated his uncle.

"Right here, and then another right after the second block. Then the house should be in view, on our left, I think."

His uncle just grunted. He looked around at the older houses, and big trees that grew over the street, giving it some shade. Harry could guess that Vernon was silently congratulating himself for living on such a clean, normal street, where all the houses looked the same. They made the last turn, and Harry looked for the house. It wasn't there.

He was right about which side of the street it was on. He remembered the route the Weasleys and he had taken to Kings Cross Station. He even remembered the houses next door to the Black house. But of Sirius' house, there was no sign.

"Pull over here, Uncle Vernon. It's right near here, but I don't see it. We better stop until I figure this out."

"Boy! This had better not be one of your tricks," Uncle Vernon growled. Harry checked the number of the house in front of which they parked. It was number ten. Harry checked his paper. The address, which he had printed at the very top, was unreadable. It was like trying to read a foreign language, except the language kept changing. "Oh, no!" he thought, "Now what?"

"Well, where is it?"

"It's right around here, but you can't see it. Someone must have cast a Fidelius charm on it. Unless the Secret Keeper tells us the address we can't find it."

"What sort of rot is this, boy! If this is some sort of trick...." His face reddened, and the veins on his neck throbbed. Harry, next to him in the front seat, had no place to run.

Another voice entered the fray. "It's not rot, and it's not a trick. It's magic."

Uncle Vernon jerked as if struck. He saw someone standing next to the car on Harry's side, but couldn't see the face.

"Come on, Harry, Mr. Dursley. You might as well get a tour of the place, since you're here."

Harry eagerly opened the door, hopped out, and shook the hand of the man standing besides the car. Uncle Vernon got out slowly, and looked at the stranger who knew the boy. He was stocky, but not fat -- muscular. His hands were calloused. He wore jeans and a t-shirt and a vest of some black material, maybe leather. His boots looked similar to the vest. His face was broad and freckled, and framed with red hair.

"Uncle Vernon, this is Charlie Weasley. Charlie, my uncle."

"Pleased to meet you," Charlie said, but his manner had cooled. He took out a piece of paper, and showed Harry. Harry studied it for a moment, and then handed it to his uncle.

"Read this, Uncle Vernon."

Dursley took the paper, and read "Harry's house is at number twelve, Grimmauld Place." He looked up and down the street.

"You're daft. You're all daft! There's no number twelve. That's number eleven, and the next house is number thirteen! When we get home, boy, you are going to be punished!"

Harry held up a hand to stop Charlie's intervention, and said, "Uncle Vernon, look at the paper and really think about what it says!"

It was the sort of thing you just did. Like being told not to think about green elephants will almost always bring the image of verdant pachyderms to mind. Being told to think of the words on the paper brought them to Uncle Vernon's mind. When he realized that he was doing something that his nephew wanted him to do, he looked up. And stepped back, almost falling over. There, right between numbers eleven and thirteen, a house was appearing. Dirty windows, walls giving the impression of falling down, an overall feeling of decay -- yes, this was the sort of house those freaks would live in. He straightened himself, and marched up to the house.

Harry and Charlie followed him. Uncle Vernon grabbed the snake shaped doorknob turned it and opened the door. Charlie looked at Harry and smiled. The two wizards entered the house just in time to hear Mrs. Black start screaming.

"Muggles! Scum! Dirt bags infesting the ancient house of Black! Disgusting, dirty Muggles! Abnormal, fat, ugly, Muggles!"

Dursley stood shocked. His eyes bulged, and he took a few steps back. The abuse continued at a high volume, and seemed to overwhelm Uncle Vernon. Charlie gestured to Harry, and they went over to the portrait, and pulled the curtains closed. They put a finger over their mouths in a quieting sign, and signaled to Harry's uncle to follow them upstairs. They went into the parlor, and closed the door behind them.

"Sorry about that. Those of us who work here know not to make any noise in the entrance hall. The portrait is rather abusive."

"Work? What kind of work do you do here?"

"Mostly meetings. You do know that we're at war, don't you?"

"What you freaks do is your own business." Uncle Vernon didn't seem to realize that he just contradicted himself. Harry did, and looked apologetically at Charlie.

"Mr. Dursley, if you had joined the Muggle-born Support Group like you had been invited, you would know that your kind are in the most danger from this war. So kindly keep a civil tongue."

"No one would be in any danger if it weren't for your kind!"

Charlie took a deep breath, and said, "Well, that's one bigoted opinion. I see no further good will come of this meeting. You might as well leave now."

"Who are you to tell me to leave?"

"I'm a representative of the group that has the owner's permission to use this house. I assume we can still use the house as a base, Harry?"

"Oh, yes. I told Dumbledore he could, and I'm not changing my mind."

Vernon turned on Harry. "Boy! You tell these people to clear out! And take that screaming picture with them!"

Harry looked at his uncle, and for some reason was totally calm. He figured he'd pay later, but at the moment he wasn't afraid of his uncle.

"No, Uncle Vernon. They're doing important work, that may help to save the lives of both wizards and muggles."

"DO NOT USE THAT TONE OF VOICE WITH ME, BOY!"

Harry gave his uncle a confused look. "What tone of voice? I'm speaking totally calmly."

Vernon now looked confused. For a moment the truth seemed to penetrate his awareness.

"Thanks Charlie, we'll be going. Oh, and who's head of the Order now?"

"We'll be voting on that at the next meeting. I'll let you know. We'll probably change Fidelius charms at that time, so you'll need to arrange before hand when you come here."

"OK, Charlie. Thanks for everything. Let's go Uncle Vernon."

Being told what to do seemed to return Dursley to himself. "We came here to see your house, and we will see your house!"

Harry shrugged, and gave his uncle a tour of the place. The four-poster beds and plush furniture seemed to interest Uncle Vernon more than anything. Harry didn't take him downstairs to the kitchen and the silverware (or what Mundungus Fletcher had left). A few rooms were locked, but Harry was able to steer his uncle away from them. They also missed the room Ron and he had shared a few years ago. Harry thought it was next to that bedroom, but it wasn't.

But when they came to Mrs. Black's bedroom, Charlie smiled, and said, "I wasn't sure if you'd get up here, so I didn't say anything sooner, but there's a friend of yours here."

Harry looked surprised, and threw open the door. Uncle Vernon saw Harry make a deep bow, then step into the room with a cry, "Witherwings!"

Charlie quietly told Mr. Dursley, "Better not go in there. It's dangerous. Just look in from the doorway."

About the same time, Uncle Vernon sniffed a strong animal aroma.

"What, you have a menagerie in there?" He moved closer to the door, and looked in. There was his nephew petting the strangest creature he had ever seen. Not strange, unnatural. And bloody well dangerous. He backed away, stupified by the sight.

"What in God's name is that thing?" he croaked out.

Charlie gently moved him away from the door.

"That's Harry's hippogriff. He inherited it with the house."

"And you keep it in here?" Vernon was still not quite himself, and allowed himself to be maneuvered into a chair down the hall. Charlie pulled up another, and sat down near him.

"No, most of the time it's quartered in Scotland. I flew him down in the early morning to give him some exercise."

"And he goes back, when?"

"I'll probably fly him back in a few days. Mr. Dursley, what are you doing here?"

Vernon was rapidly recovering.

"I came to see my nephew's property."

"And now that you've seen it?" Vernon didn't answer. "The fact is, there's no way for you to profit from this house. It's magical."

Vernon reacted in a way similar to a wizard hearing the name 'Voldemort.'

Charlie continued, "And unusable by Muggles. Harry has been generous, and in the end may never actually use the house. It's of no use to you, and there's no way you can force Harry to share his inheritance with you. His friends won't let you steal from him."

That got his attention.

"How dare you!"

"Are you going to honestly tell me that you aren't trying to get Harry's money?"

Vernon suputtered, and seemed to be at a loss for words.

"And since you're being so honest, is there any reason that Harry should be generous to you? You've lied to him, abused him, underfed him, and dressed him in rags."

"That is enough!" Vernon had found his voice. "How dare you...."

Harry came out of Buckbeak's room at the sound of shouting.

"I dare, because I am Harry's friend. Harry has lots of friends, despite your attempts to stop it."

"You, you, you - freaks!"

"You can call us names, but you can no longer abuse Harry. Your reaction has helped me agree to a plan of another friend of Harry's. When you take him home, he gets a body guard. And while Harry is prohibited from casting spells because he's underage, his bodyguard has no such restriction."

"NO! I won't have it! I forbid it!"

"Sorry, it is no longer your choice. Your actions here today tell me that we have to protect Harry from you, for the remainder of his time with you."

"Don't I get a choice?" Harry stated angrily.

"See! Even the boy doesn't want this."

Charlie smiled at Harry, "Of course you get a choice, as soon as we get out to the car. Until then, I ask you to trust me."

Harry looked at Charlie. His outburst seemed to have only amused Charlie. If it was Dumbledore who was arranging something that Harry didn't like, he wouldn't smile about it - he would act contrite, but not let his feelings get in the way. Unbidden came the thought that Snape would have sneered and insulted him. No, there was something else going on here, and Harry got the impression that this was not a bad thing.

"OK, I trust you. And thanks so much for letting me visit Witherwing."

"You're very welcome, Harry. You should probably be going now."

They made their way back to the front entrance. Vernon was strangely silent. They left the house without further incident, and Harry saw his bodyguard standing by the car.

"Ron! Did you think this up?" The tall red-head nodded, smiling from ear to ear. "That's bloody brilliant!"

"WHAT! Not another one of you red-hair freaks! How many of you are there?"

"Seven, Uncle Vernon. Ron's my best mate. Making a few extra Galleons keeping me safe?"

"Ginny would kill me if anything happens to you. I'd also have to refund her part of my salary." Ron winked at Harry.

"Any objections, Harry?" Charlie asked.

"I object!" Vernon shouted.

Charlie, still smiling, said, "Since he's hired partly to protect Harry from you, I don't think your objections are acceptable."

"It's my house! I won't have it!"

"And you won't have the 150 pounds a week for his room and board for the next two weeks."

That stopped Dursley.

"250," he countered.

Charlie and Vernon bickered a little, and split the difference. Ron would sleep in Harry's room, and (Harry's condition) they would each get as much food as Dudley. Harry whispered to Ron that they'd eat out, too, so they would get extra. He also warned Ron not to expect the feasts of Hogwarts or Mrs. Weasley's table.

Ron had his trunk packed and waiting by the car. They put it in the boot, and the three drove back to Privet Drive.