Harry Potter & The Knights Of Merlin's Keep

Fan fiction: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental.

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned.

AN: This is a revised version of the story. It is not complete and though I am working on completing it, I have many other things of higher priority (like school) that I must do first. Please read & review.

---

The houses were all lined up next to each other down each side. Each house appeared to be an exact duplicate of the next, save for the various different types of gardens. The sun was well on its way to setting and most of the residents of Privet Drive were just sitting down to dinner. Most of them.

There was one who was working in his garden. He barely looked fourteen years old. His raven black hair was quite messy and sweat filled. His round, taped glasses were constantly slipping of his moist face. He pulled out weed after weed, looking very forlorn.

A voice yelled out from the front door of the house at #4 Privet Drive. It was loud and gruff, and full of anger.

"Boy!" it had been hollered, "You'd best hurry up if you want your dinner. You still have more chores inside!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," the boy said exhaustedly.

Harry Potter tried pulling the weeds even faster, but so long had he been out in the sun, it seemed the faster he pulled, the more weeds there were. He saw no end to this chore tonight, yet he kept pulling.

He had already missed breakfast and lunch because he had not finished certain chores by his Aunt's set deadlines, and now it appeared that he would miss his evening meal as well.

Harry was concentrating so hard on his chore that he had not noticed the wearied, haggard man that had shuffled his way down Privet Drive. Not until the man had collapsed right into the rose bush. The man rolled as he fell, causing more thorns to stick into his face and neck. He landed on his side facing Harry.

Harry didn't register everything that happened until the man was completely on the ground. Harry fell back in surprise, but soon his surprise turned into concern. The man was obviously not well and the thorns certainly didn't make matters any better.

"Are you okay?" He asked, shaking the man awake.

He opened his eyes and took a few seconds to focus on Harry, but when he did, the first thing he saw was Harry's lightning shaped scar. His eyes went wide and he smiled, but it was the pained smile of a man who met his salvation upon death. He took Harry's hand and placed something in it.

"Libero mei anima, Erus Deus," he said pleadingly. Harry had no time to ask what that meant, as the man went completely limp, hand still holding Harry's. Harry knew instantly the man was dead. He had seen the look of death not even two months earlier. Harry backed away, memories of the other flooding his consciousness. He felt it go cold, and his chest tightened. His vision blurred and he barley registered that his large uncle had grabbed him.

---

Harry had a lot of time to think on what had happened. Uncle Vernon didn't even give Harry time to blink before he threw him into the old cupboard under the stairs. He couldn't even bring himself to call out to the police that had inevitably turned up to make a report. His uncle had lied, saying that the man had just landed there and no one had seen anything. They believed him, for the Dursleys were upstanding citizens and did not truck with any unnaturalness.

When the police left, Uncle Vernon had given him the third degree, but believed not a word he had said. He said that if Harry had been quicker in the garden, none of this would have happened. Harry mused that he was right, but the weeds had come back with a vengeance this year. Harry worked much faster and harder in that garden than Petunia ever did, but even he couldn't have done the entire thing before nightfall.

So he sat, locked inside the cupboard. It was extremely uncomfortable, now that he was almost fifteen. Harry was still small for his age but he had grown to big for the cupboard. It didn't help that there was no longer a bed either. He tried to get into the most comfortable position he could, but it was difficult. Some part of his body would fall asleep so he would have to shift again. And something was poking his bum!

Harry reached around and felt something on the floor. He pulled it from underneath him and turned the lamp on to take a better look. It's circular yet flat shape reminded Harry of a pocket watch, though it was almost twice as large. On what Harry surmised was the face, was an intricately etched compass. In the center there was a crystal or gem of some sort. Harry wasn't an expert, but he thought it might be a diamond. He flipped it over and the back was just as interesting as the front. Either there was a second gem, or the one that was inside was larger than he first thought. There were no etchings but there were pronounced divots. It looked like it might fit into something else and the divots were to lock it in place.

Harry breathed out slowly. This had been the item the man had placed into his hand. It had some meaning to him, obviously, but what Harry couldn't guess. He remembered that the man had seen his scar and recognized it. He must have been a wizard, which meant that this trinket could be magical. Harry decided that he would not tell Vernon about it unless he had no choice. Otherwise, he'd be locked up in the cupboard forever.

---

Vernon was furious. He had never been so embarrassed in his life. Even having to take Dudley to the hospital to get that ruddy tail removed didn't compare. At least then he was able to lie and say it was nothing more than a wart that had gotten out of control. But this... This was inexcusable.

Harry was a danger to have around. He swore this to be true on his dear departed mother's grave. First his parent's get themselves blown up, then Dudley sprouts a tail, Vernon's sister was inflated to gargantuan size, the fireplace blows up and Dudley nearly chokes on his own tongue.

And to top it all off, Harry's crackpot headmaster has the gall to write to him. Has the gall to inform them of what happened over the previous year. Vernon didn't give a damn if this Volum.. Volgem.. Whatever his ruddy name was, he didn't give a damn if the wizard killed one of Harry's friends. He probably deserved it.

But this was the final straw. To kill a man on his own front lawn, in front of all the neighbors to see. If that wasn't proof of his unnaturalness, then nothing was. Vernon dismissed the police, telling them that no one knew the man was there until their dinner had been finished. They believed him without question and had the body removed. Some of Petunia's garden had to be dug up for evidence, but even police said that nothing would probably be found.

Vernon wasn't so sure, but he said nothing to arouse suspicion. He was sure the boy caused it. He didn't know how, but it mattered not. The boy would learn his lesson. He would stay locked in that cupboard until the start of his next term, then he'd write to that crackpot Headmaster and demand that he not be returned, ever.

After the first week, that blasted owl of Harry's started to make noises, so Vernon chased it out of the house. Harry protested at this, but a good slap upside his head shut him up.

"If it's a real bird, it can go get it's own food. You just be grateful I'm still feeding you!"

And Harry was left locked in the cupboard without food for another night.

---

Hedwig clicked her beak in annoyance. She was most upset. The largest Round One had chased her out of the house with her Green Eyes' broomstick. All she was doing was calling out to her Green Eyes. She missed her Green Eyes. He usually wasn't gone this long when they were at the Round Ones.

While at the Hogwarts, she only saw him every few moonfalls, but that was normal for all the owls' humans. But whenever her Green Eyes was away from the Hogwarts, there was hardly a moonrise when he didn't say something kind to her.

Hedwig knew that her Green Eyes wouldn't leave for the Hogwarts without her. True, there was that ONE time he almost did, but she forgave him and from that point on, she was the first thing he thought about when they left for a trip. No he couldn't have left for this long without her. Not intentionally, anyway.

Hedwig flew around the Round One's house every so often. She wanted to see if her Green Eyes was still there. It was difficult for her during the moonfall. It was so bright and she was always very tired, but she knew that humans are usually about during moonfall, and she didn't want to miss him if he was still there.

It had been quite a few moonfalls and she had still not seen her Green Eyes. She was very sad now. She knew he didn't leave her. Green Eyes' things were still in his nesting. He wouldn't have left without them almost as much as he wouldn't have left without her. Especially his broomstick.

Then it happened. She saw her Green Eyes. The largest Round One was screeching at him and he was screeching back, only not as loudly. Then the Round One struck her Green Eyes. Hedwig flew into action in an instant. She dive-bombed the garden and managed to pick up a small rock. On her way back up, she released the rock and it flew right into the window of the house. The rock did not hit very hard, but it was enough to crack the window.

Hedwig flew high and around, looking for another rock. It was difficult due to the brightness, but she found another one and snatched it up deftly. The Round One's face went beet red as she let the rock fly once more. This time, it hit hard enough to break the window. The Round One screeched loudly and definitely incoherently.

Her Green Eyes yelled something familiar. He said "Ron". She recognized that as the human name of Pigwidgeon's Red Hair. She didn't like Pigwidgeon that much, but she did like his Red Hair. And her Green Eyes liked his Red Hair as well. She knew that her Green Eyes wanted her to fly to the Red Hairs. She would do this reluctantly, but if he said to, then she knew he would soon follow. He always did.

---

It was a beautiful morning on Privet Drive. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. Harry could not see all this, though. He was still locked in the cupboard under the stairs and had been there ever since that man had died on their front garden.

The first week was due to that very incident. Uncle Vernon was livid, blaming Harry for what happened. Said he attracted strangeness and that he had brought it all upon himself. As if Harry wanted some strange man dying in front of him.

But Harry was not released when he thought he would be, and he thought that was for when he objected to Uncle Vernon chasing Hedwig out of the house. And Vernon used HIS Firebolt to do it! Hedwig was only trying to call out to Harry.

But this last week was the worst and he didn't even know why he was still locked in the cupboard. Even in the worst cases his sentence had not been this long. He finally tried telling his uncle about the strange artifact the man had given him, if only to get some reprieve. Vernon looked more livid than ever. He grabbed the odd artifact in order to throw it out, but it didn't stay in his hand long enough for him to accomplish this. The gem inside turned from crystal clear to an eerily beautiful blood red. Vernon howled, dropping the artifact on the floor. Harry noticed that Vernon's hand was red with a burn.

Then Vernon started yelling at him again about his unnaturalness and his evil desire to hurt him and started spouting off even more about Harry's unnaturalness. Harry tried to apologize but Vernon wouldn't have it. He gave the boy a good slap upside his head, knocking him to the floor.

Harry could feel the blood rushing to his cheek where Vernon had slapped him. He could also taste the blood where his lip had split when he hit the floor. Already weak from his previous two weeks in the cupboard, Harry was slow to get up, but he tried. Then a shadow caught his eye from outside the front window.

The next few moments were rather surreal for Harry. He could have sworn that Hedwig had just thrown a rock at the front window. Vernon was shouting about the window being cracked. Then another rock came, this time breaking the window. It WAS Hedwig!

Vernon was furious. Harry knew that he was in for a rough time now, but it didn't matter. Hedwig was okay and even though her action would be the cause for more punishment by Vernon's hand, she'd be able to go for help. He called out to her, yelling for her to go to Ron's. She obviously understood because she immediately flew off towards Ottery St. Catchpole.

It was at that moment that Harry realized just how much trouble he was in. He had not gotten further than his hand and knees when Uncle Vernon... No, not Uncle Vernon, just Vernon. When Vernon kicked him in his side, HARD. Harry rolled over from the force of the kick and started coughing. He thought he heard a crack in his chest, but he wasn't sure.

Vernon wasn't finished with him, though. He threw another kick at Harry, this time landing it just above his hip. Harry felt his insides burst with pain. The pain was so great that he lost control of his bladder and bowels. Then he felt the strap across his chest, then arms, his face and head. He couldn't tell how many times Vernon had hit him, for he had soon blacked out.

His last conscious thought was of...

---

Bill Weasley admired the old professor's office. It was one of the more interesting things about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and that was saying something. Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, was sitting on its perch, quietly preening itself, occasionally pausing to glance at Bill. The Sorting Hat sat on the three-legged stool off to one side. Various trinkets and knick-knacks were scattered about the office, not messily but it appeared a haphazard arrangement nonetheless. Bill knew that Professor Dumbledore put things exactly where he wanted them, so as cluttered as the office might appear to the casual observer, to Dumbledore it was perfectly organized.

As Bill looked at the various items about the office (never touching even one), Professor Dumbledore entered.

"Ah, young Bill Weasley," He said, his eyes twinkling with pleasure at seeing his former student and once Head Boy, "I appreciate you taking the time away from your work to see me. I know that your employers are probably not to happy with you leaving Egypt so soon after you got back."

Bill smiled as the professor came in and sat down. "Well, sir, this is true, but I have the feeling that you wouldn't have invited me up here for tea if it weren't important. That is unless you finally have gone completely nutters."

The old headmaster chuckled at Bill's good-natured ribbing as he gestured for Bill to take a seat. "I assure you, Mr. Weasley, that I am as sane and competent as I ever was, more so if I dare say. And you are right, it is important. At least to me it is. As you know, we are in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Alastor Moody had not planned staying for more than one year, and I am afraid, that after spending the entirety of that year in his own trunk, he is even less willing to continue on. That is why I invited you up here. I would like to offer the position to you."

"No offense, sir, but you invited me all the way up here to offer me the job? Wouldn't an owl have sufficed?"

"Alas, I am afraid that it would not. You see, in addition to the position, I wanted to speak to you about some other matters. But first, the position. I am unaware of what a Gringotts Charm breaker makes, but I can offer you a reasonably handsome wage and lodging and meals are, of course, free. You will also have a budget for course materials..."

Bill politely interrupted, "Pardon me, Professor, but I must interrupt. It's not about the money for me. It might have been ten years ago, when I freshly graduated, but now it's about the work. I enjoy my job at Gringotts. I don't make much at all to be honest with you. The goblins are extremely frugal, to put it politely, but I make enough to get by and still save up for the future.Simply put, I love my job. I have a lot of fun there.

"I'm sure that the wage you were planning on offering me was probably at least double, possibly more, than what I am currently making now, but I don't think even that is worth leaving Gringotts."

Dumbledore nodded, "It's important to do what makes you happy. I am embarrassed to have forgotten that for you, it was never about money."

Bill grinned slightly, "Well... I wouldn't go that far. I don't mind being a little capitalistic now and then."

"Be that as it may, I must ask if there is anything I can do to change your mind? This is very important to me." His face grew serious, though the twinkle never left his eye. Bill recognized that look. Albus was serious, but it wasn't a matter of life and death. That was good.

"Would it have to be permanent? I mean, I've heard the rumors that the position is cursed, but that doesn't bother me. However, cursed or not, I don't think I could stand to be away for more than a year, and even that's being generous."

"One year would be acceptable, Mr. Weasley."

Bill mulled it over for a few seconds, "And you'll talk to the goblins? I'm not sure if they'll let me take a year off without trying to permanently replace me."

"I would be more than happy to put in a word or two for you." Albus' face grew lighter. He was winning.

"All right, I'll do it. Just please don't look so damned smug." Bill gave a slight grin, "And I'll be more than happy to accept your reasonably handsome wage."

Albus glowed with amusement. "Excellent! I trust you will need some time to relocate some of your things, but I will need you here full time by the end of a fortnight. I will have Argus Filch prepare you a flat and your office. Now, on to the other business."

Bill noticed that the glow disappeared quicker than it had appeared. The twinkle in his eyes was also considerably more subdued.

"As you know, Minister Fudge has refused to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned," Bill twitched slightly at hearing the name but said nothing, "Alas, we have fewer friends in the ministry than I had hoped, your father and brother being the most supportive. I would like you to see who you can muster up to help us. If I remember correctly, you once had a friendship with a gentleman named Darrin Killroy?"

Bill paled as the name of his old friend was mentioned. Only a select few had known that the two were friends, mainly because Darrin was a Slytherin and Bill a Gryffindor, and Dumbledore had not been one of those. Even years later, after they had both graduated, they had kept it to themselves. Bill mostly from his youngest brothers, and Darrin from pretty much everyone he knew. Darrin traveled with a rather shady lot. But Bill couldn't bring himself to lie to the headmaster.

"I-I did. We still send each other owls now and then." He replied, barley able to control his nervousness.

"Good. It is my understanding that he deals with the black market, both Muggle and wizard alike. He will have connections that could prove most useful to our fight against the dark lord. I would ask, not demand, but ask if you could try and enlist his help."

"I'll see what I can do, but I don't think much will come of it. He isn't one to take sides or causes. Never has been. For him, it's about survival and profit, in that order."

"Well the worst he can do is say no." Albus replied. He was about to continue when his fireplace burst alive with flame. Soon after, the voice of Bill's mother, Molly Weasley, could be heard.

"Molly Weasley calling for Professor Dumbledore. Urgent."

"Albus stood and walked over to his fireplace. "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley, what can I do for you?"

Mrs. Weasley's disembodied head appeared in the fire with a pop.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Professor Dumbledore, but I'm afraid something bad might have happened to Harry Potter. He hadn't written to any of us for at least three weeks now. Now I originally thought that his uncle," she nearly hissed the name, "had just forbidden him to write but Hedwig is here now and she has no letter. She's also quite agitated. I think something has happened."

Dumbledore nodded sagely, "This is most unusual indeed. I will have someone drop by and investigate. If the need arises, would you be available and willing to take Harry for the rest of the summer?"

"Of course, Professor. We'd be delighted to. Just make sure he's safe."

"My top priority, Mrs. Weasley. In fact, I think it would be the perfect thing to break in our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Albus stepped to his side so Mrs. Weasley could see her son, now slightly red faced.

"Bill? Oh how wonderful! The boys will be pleased as punch about this."

"Hi, Mum. Don't tell them just yet. I just accepted and I want to surprise everyone. And don't worry about Harry. I'll make sure everything is okay. I'll be by for dinner tomorrow night and tell everyone then, okay?"

"Well if that's the only way to get you to visit then by all means." She threw him a warm smile with her motherly nagging. "Thank you, professor. I have to go now. I think the twins are getting themselves into trouble."

"When aren't they? Good day, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly's head disappeared with another pop and the fire died down soon after.

"Well, Professor Weasley, it seems you will begin your new job immediately."

---

Bill Weasley scanned the Muggle nightclub once again. Still no sign of his once and always hidden friend.

Darrin Killroy was no dark wizard, but his activities weren't always legal. As a result, he spent most of his time in the Muggle world, away from prying Auror eyes. This made finding him most difficult. He had tried to keep in contact with Bill, but soon it became too risky to send post by owl. Bill finally broke down to Darrin's suggestion and learned how to use e-mail.

Though Bill only had access to a computer in Cairo when he was between digs, he and Darrin had never corresponded that often to begin with so there was little change in the frequency. However, this time, when Bill e-mailed Darrin, he asked to meet with him. Darrin had reluctantly agreed (after multiple threats of Bill unleashing his mother upon him) to meet him. Now Bill was waiting for him. And he was late.

As long as Bill had known him, Darrin had always been punctual. He said that punctuality breeds respect, and in his line of work, you need all the respect you can get. But it had been a good twenty minutes since their designated meeting time and Bill was starting to get worried.

He didn't know who he was more worried about, however. The denizens of this club were beyond seedy. He'd seen several almost blatant drug deals, quite a few solicitation transactions (one didn't even bother to go into one of the back rooms, she just ducked under the table cloth), and Bill wasn't completely sure, but the androgynous Goth, who was leashed to what he could only guess was a pimp, looked suspiciously young. It was really hard to tell with all the make-up but Bill didn't try to get a closer look.

Bill decided to order a pint before the barkeep decided to kick him out. Even the "Johns" were spending money. When his pint was good and paid for, the barkeep served him, even giving him a napkin to wipe up the spill that was made as the pint was clunked down. As Bill cleaned the mess, he noticed that the napkin had writing on it. Careful not to be obvious, Bill read the clandestine note. It was Darrin's distinct handwriting telling him to meet him in the alley out back. The writing disappeared as soon as he finished reading it.

Bill was perplexed. Darrin wasn't the type to play cloak and dagger games, but that was as near to his handwriting that Bill had ever seen. Going for broke, he finished his pint then made his way for the door. As he exited, he pulled out his wand. He didn't care if any Muggles saw him, this whole situation just screamed out wrongness.

He looked down the alley and saw Darrin standing there, staring back at him. Darrin noticed the wand and held out his hands to show that he was unarmed. Keeping an eye out, Bill walked down the darkened alleyway toward his old friend.

"Are you planning to use that or are you just trying to be a show-off again?" Darrin asked.

"You tell me. Seedy bars, secret notes, back alley meetings. If I didn't know any better I would say that this was one of those Humpley Boggart films the Americans love so much. This cloak and dagger crap isn't you, Darrin."

"That's Humphrey Bogart. And if it were five years ago, I'd agree with you. But recent developments in the wizarding underworld have forced me to hide from more than just Aurors."

Bill looked straight into Darrin's eyes as if reading his soul.

"What happened?"

"You-Know-Who happened. He's back in full force. And before you try and deny it, remember that I see things the Ministry doesn't see, or more accurately, refuses to acknowledge."

"I believe you, Darrin, but how do you know this?"

"The black market has been flooded with demands for anything even remotely resembling dark magic. Business has been absolutely fantastic for guys in my line of work. And don't give me that look, you know damn well I don't deal in that shit. Anyway, people talk, and word is that he came back a couple months ago. Something to do with the Tri-Wizard tournament. I heard a kid was even killed."

"It's true. I was there." Bill said morosely.

Darrin went pale and his voice cracked minutely, "It wasn't Harry?"

"No. A schoolmate of his named Cedric Diggory. Look, I'll tell you all about it, but I came here for a purpose. I need to ask you a favor."

"That depends on how much money I'm going to make and how much trouble I have to avoid to make it."

"Nothing, and a hell of a lot." Bill said as he took a look around them, himself, "You know, I feel rather vulnerable in this alley, wand out or not. Can we go someplace a little warmer and a lot less scary?"

"Yeah, we can head back to my flat on my motorbike. You can tell me all about your favor on the way."

Bill had to ride behind Darrin on the motorcycle, though there was plenty of room. It was huge. As Darrin drove them back to his flat, Bill explained most of what happened at the Tri-Wizard tournament. He left out certain things, namely about Sirius Black and Barty Crouch, Jr., but told him most everything that Harry had relayed to Dumbledore the awful night of the third task. Then he told him about having to check on Harry and Dumbledore's request.

Darrin didn't answer right away. Bill could see that he needed to think about it, so he remained silent. It wasn't until they pulled into a car park that Darrin spoke.

"I need to think about this one, Gryffindor, and that's only because it's you asking." Darrin's eye twitched. A sign to Bill that Darrin was either seriously distraught or in very deep thought. Bill accurately presumed it was both. "It's late. I won't be able to sleep tonight, that's for sure, but you're welcome to stay."

Bill could only nod in silence. Darrin needed to work out this quandary in his own way, and Bill knew from their years at Hogwarts that his way usually involved a lot of pacing on Darrin's part with little to no noise to distract him. Darrin handed him the key.

"308. Leave it unlocked and there's some leftover stew mum made in the icebox."

Bill nodded again then went up to the flat. The stew was cold but a welcome relief for Bill's empty stomach. Darrin's mum wasn't as good a cook as his own, but she was good in her own right. Then Bill laid down on the davenport. His thoughts were a torrent of chaos. He pondered about what exactly he was going to teach his students. He wondered about Harry's welfare. He considered what it was he was asking his old friend to do. He didn't realize when he fell asleep, but he was awoken with the smell of sizzling bacon and eggs.

He got up and stretched, then wandered over to the kitchen to see Darrin frying up a large breakfast.

"Typical Gryffindor, having a lie in when there's work to be done." he said with joviality.

"I take it you're human again, then?"

"No, but I did get a couple hours of sleep so I can fake it for a bit. You are taking me with you to check on Harry Potter." It wasn't a request.

"Darrin, I don't think..."

"I didn't ask you to think, Gryffindor. It's real simple. My help comes at a price. No exceptions. My price is that I go with you so I can meet Harry myself. I doubt I'd ever get another opportunity and frankly the same can be said about my help."

Bill breathed in and was trying desperately to think of a rebuttal, but none came. He let out a sigh.

"Thank you, Bill."

Bill was shocked. Darrin only called him Bill once before, and that had been at Hogwarts, after Bill tried to prevent a group of older year students from completely mauling him. In the end, they both got beat up, but Darrin was grateful for the attempt. Their friendship amidst the shadows began then.

"Damn it, Gryffindor, I'm allowed to go soft once in a while, now sit down and eat your eggs before I do."

The two ate breakfast in silence. Not because the weight of the times was bearing on their shoulders, but merely because they were stuffing themselves with hefty portions of eggs and bacon. Having been fed and watered, they grabbed their coats and made their way to the car park.

"Can you ride?" Darrin asked, tossing him a set of keys. "Take that motorbike with the sidecar. If what you told me about these Muggles is true, we'll most likely be taking him with us. You can stick his trunk in the sidecar and he can piggy back on mine."

"You own two motorbikes?" Bill asked as he walked over to his ride.

"Gryffindor, I own the whole freaking building." Darrin said with a devilish grin as he mounted his motorcycle, throwing the tail of his leather trench coat behind him, "I may have made a bundle on the black market, but I had to launder it into the Muggle world somehow. What better way than through a legitimate business."

"I don't want to know. I really don't want to know."

"Always the Gryffindor." Darrin said has he put on his helmet.

The two started up and Bill led the way to Little Whinning, Surrey. To a quaint street called Privet Drive.

---

Bill Weasley and Darrin Killroy rode their motorcycles down the quiet street of Privet Drive. Bill knew the moment he started the engine back in London that Darrin had some sort of quieting enchantment on them. Bill had ridden a few times and every last one was noisier than all get out.

Bill didn't ask what other enchantments they had on them. His father was the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department with the ministry. The less he knew, the less trouble he might get him and his father in.

Bill looked around for Number Four. It wasn't hard to find as the house numbers were prominently displayed for all to see. They parked their bikes in front of Vernon Dursley's driveway.

Bill thought the street looked unusually empty, but then it was the weekend. Perhaps everyone was having a lie in. The two walked up the Dursleys' brick path. Bill readied himself with his most charming smile. Everything he had heard about the Dursleys meant that his long hair and dress style would make his task that much harder. Darrin's wasn't much help either.

They got up to the door and Bill knocked. After a minute, a very large boy answered. He looked at the both of them with an odd look, as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of the two.

"Who are you?" He asked, not intending it to be rude.

"I am Bill Weasley, I need to speak with your father or mother about a very important matter. Is either one of them here now?"

"They both are. One moment." The boy eyed the two suspiciously, almost as if expecting them to attack him if he turned away, "Dad! Some men are at the door for you!"

Not to long after the boy shouted for his father, was a portly, thick-necked man at the door, wondering who was bothering his breakfast. He took one look at Bill's fire red hair and instantly recognized him. Or at least his relation.

His face turned as red as Bill's hair and he started to sputter.

"What are you doing here?! I thought I made it perfectly clear to the other one that none of your kind were ever allowed back here!"

Bill nodded, "And if it weren't an emergency, sir, we'd be more than happy to oblige, but you see, there's a problem. Harry's owl, Hedwig is currently at my parent's house. My mother, dear sweet lady that she is, is under the silly notion that if Hedwig is over there, and Harry isn't, then something is quite wrong. I was sent here to make sure that nothing is wrong. Mother's can be very intrusive sometimes, don't you think? You don't mind if we speak with Harry for a moment, do you?"

As Bill spoke, Darrin pushed the fat man inside so that they could enter. They did quickly and shut the door behind them. Vernon was beyond livid.

"YOU WILL GET OUT OF MY HOUSE THIS INSTANT!" he bellowed, spit flying from his mouth.

"Or what?" Darrin asked calmly, "You'll call the police? By the time they get here we'll already have gone, and do you honestly think they could follow us? Best if you just let us speak to Harry. Then we'll leave and be done with you. It's either that or have us wander around your house looking for him. It's up to you, but we are going to see Harry and nothing short of Divine intervention will stop us."

Vernon obviously didn't believe him, because he made for the telephone. Darrin was quicker. He pulled his wand out and aimed it at the phone. As soon as Vernon picked up the receiver, it turned into a baby toy version of a phone, squeaks included. Vernon clamped his mouth shut and squeaked himself as he dropped the now tiny plastic receiver.

"I warned you." was all the sandy blond man said, wand still out and pointing almost at Vernon.

Bill took this as his cue to start searching the house. Petunia had heard what was going on and wisely stayed in the kitchen. She gasped in fright when Bill poked his head through the door. Bill just smiled friendly like.

"Smells delicious. Excuse me." He then ducked back out. His search of the rest of the house was quick. He found Harry's room, with some of his things scattered around in typical teenage fashion, but no Harry. The rest of the house proved fruitless as well.

"He's not upstairs and I don't think this place has a basement." Bill said, starting to sound worried.

"Okay, Dursley. Where is he?"

Vernon didn't seem to be able to speak but his eyes had glanced towards the staircase briefly.

"Check the staircase." Darrin hadn't missed one twitch; he was so focused on Vernon.

Bill looked at the locked cupboard. He pulled out his wand and said, "Alohomora!" The lock popped open and he quickly pulled the door open. The sight that he beheld nearly caused him to faint. As it was, he was already weak-kneed.

Their Harry lay, bloodied and unconscious. An acrid smell of feces and urine hit Bill's nose and he almost lost his lunch. Anger swelled within him. In one instant he turned towards Vernon, wand ready to cast a nasty curse, but Darrin had caught him with his free hand.

"Not now, Gryffindor. He'll get his later. Harry first. We need to help Harry."

Bill's breathing was fast and furious, but he managed to calm down enough to put his wand away. He then gently picked up the unconscious Harry. The battered boy was extremely light, showing his near starvation. He set him down and quickly assessed his vitals. Harry was alive and breathing, albeit irregularly and stifled.

"He's alive, barely."

"Good. I'll see to his things. Make sure these gelatinous landmasses stay put. And you, Dursley, don't give him another reason to kill you."

Darrin ran upstairs. It didn't take him long to find Harry's room. He cast a series of charms. The first collected all the things that belonged to Harry; the next packed them in his trunk. He quickly cast a shrinking spell on Hedwig's cage and packed it as well. Then, once the trunk was full. He closed and shrank it as well. He put it in his coat pocket and went downstairs, hoping that Bill hadn't gone off the deep end and done something bad to the Dursleys.

He was in luck. Bill still resembled a human.

"Okay, I got Harry's things. Let's get him out of here. Can you ride?"

It took Bill a moment to compose himself, but soon he nodded. He picked up Harry and took him out to his motorcycle. They were originally going to put Harry's trunk in the sidecar, but the plan had obviously changed.

Darrin lingered behind for a moment. He put his wand away, but maintained his glare.

"If I were to curse you right now, I'd be arrested and sent to a place worse than hell. You see, our laws prevent us from using magic on Muggles such as yourself in a harmful manner, even if you do deserve it. However, if I were to beat you within an inch of your life, they wouldn't bat an eye. Hell, they might even thank me.

"But I'm not going to do that. I'm a better man than you, Dursley. A criminal, yes. Mercenarial, even more so, but I am still a better man than you. However, I will give you this one, and only one warning," Darrin pulled out an automatic pistol and shot out the Television screen, "You are being watched. Don't fuck up again."

He left the Dursleys to shudder in fear, though in Petunia's case, it was to faint, for she had only heard the gunshot.

Bill looked at him in horror as he mounted his own motorcycle.

"Your father will be disappointed to know that there is one less Muggle television set in this world."