Mysteries

Chapter One Homecoming

Harry had forgotten what had taken place at #4 Privet Drive the day that he left, just months before. It didn't really have much impact until he stepped in the front door a year later and then it all rushed back at him; the Dementors showing up in the alley, the surprise at finding Mrs. Figg was a squib and that he was being watched, the flurry of owls that had brought his Uncle to hysterics and then the surprise that his Aunt had been in touch with the wizarding world.

Harry stepped into the familiar downstairs hallway and felt his gloomy spirit deepen. His Uncle walked past him brushing his shoulder, still angry at the treatment he'd received at the train station. Dudley had departed almost immediately for different environs and that left Harry standing at the bottom of the staircase with his trunk, Hedwig's cage and his Aunt standing in front of him, staring at him.

He stared back. He didn't speak.

He was a year older and wiser and he'd just watched Sirius die. Harry didn't think there was anything his aunt or uncle could say or do that would make him feel like he was a child again. However, the weight of Sirius' death and his responsibility for it was enough to put him on edge. Enough that if she pushed too far he knew he'd come apart and he wasn't sure what would happen next.

"We've had a very quiet year here, Harry," she said, her voice steady. "We've had word from your headmaster that you will only have to stay here a month. If you do your chores as always, keep your room clean and follow the rules, then we shouldn't have any problems. I am to expect someone to pick you up at the end of the month. I'm not going into any explanations of how difficult it was for your uncle and myself last Fall. We do not want a repeat of that again. I have reassurances that Dudley and Vernon and I are safe while you're here, otherwise I simply would not tolerate it. I ask also that you do not speak to your uncle, stay outside or in your room as much as possible and be as quiet as possible."

Harry continued to stare.

She seemed less composed at his lack of protest and hurriedly finished what she was saying, "You...you are not to use ma...mag...."

"Magic," Harry finished for her.

"Yes, you are not to do that at all, for any reason," she flushed red and turned to follow Vernon down the hall to the kitchen. "Go to your room."

He watched her hurry down the hall to the kitchen and stood looking at his heavy trunk and the flight of stairs. He began the arduous task of pulling the trunk up the stairs one step at a time.

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Harry sat for a long time on his bed thinking. The world was in as much disarray as his feelings. Voldemort was strong, alive and out in the wizarding world. Cornelius Fudge was now aware as was everyone else, that Harry and Dumbledore had not been lying. It didn't help much because no one was any safer than they had been the first time Voldemort had come to power. His own name was cleared as was Dumbledore's, although Harry didn't care much now whether people believed him or not.

Members of the Order were putting their lives on the line every day as they had before; his own parents, the Longbottoms and others, to stop Voldemort. Harry stared at the wall. It was all happening again, only this time the outcome rested on his shoulders. If he lost... He shuddered and closed his eyes wishing the thought would go away. But it danced just at the edge of his thinking and he couldn't make it disappear.

Even the growing darkness of his room and the oncoming evening didn't have an effect, nor did the growling his in stomach or the dryness of his throat. He lay on his bed and thought; until he thought he could not stand it any longer.

Harry waited until the murmurings of voices and the clinking of china ebbed away and he knew that his aunt and uncle and Dudley had finished dinner. No one had thought to call him for supper. He waited until he heard the sound of the television stop. Then each member of the family climbed the stairs and there was some activity involved in getting to bed, a door opening, water running and soft mumblings. Doors closed and the night closed in.

Harry stood and opened the door and listened; waiting. He shoved his wand into his pocket and crept down the stairs and out into the night. He took a deep breath as if he had escaped a prison and listened to the streets sounds. People were settling in for the night and only a few lights remained on in the houses along the street.

He started walking, wanting more than anything for the feelings he carried to dissipate out into the night. It was easier to deal with them when he could walk. He felt suffocated lying in his room.

Something's got to give

, he thought, or I'll go mad. He smiled at that as he walked. They can put me in a room next to Gilderoy Lockhart, he thought. I wonder if Voldemort would think to find me there? We could sign autographs together since we're both famous. He snorted at the thought and moved on.

He crossed the street and walked on. It grew later and the streets quieter.

If I stay

, he thought, then I have to go to #12 Grimmauld place when I leave the Dursleys. He swallowed hard and walked on, running his hand along the peaks of a picket fence. The thought of returning to Sirius' house brought that horrible feeling back in his chest. He could almost feel the tears welling up and his throat tightened. Fighting them back, he found himself standing in front of a dark house, just staring at it. For a second, he couldn't think what he'd been thinking about. His mind was a total blank. Then it was back, Ah yes, Grimmauld Place, his head whispered.

It suddenly occurred to him that he wasn't sure where he was. The street didn't look familiar and it curved ahead so that he couldn't see what was further up the street. It was poorly illuminated by only a few street lamps and it was deadly silent. Harry turned on his heel and pulled his wand out. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he'd made a serious error in judgment and had not been watching his surroundings.

It was an older neighborhood, away from the manicured lawns of Privet Drive. This was a street with crumbling stone walls that hid small ancient houses behind it . The street lamps were old fashioned and barely gave off any light. Here and there he found a gate and an alleyway that stretched into inky blackness. It reminded him of the night the Dementors had attacked him and Dudley. He shied away from it and rounded the corner. He stopped dead. Sitting on a bench under a street light sat a lone figure. Harry was holding his breath and eased it out slowly, pondering his choices.

He could tell very clearly that the figure was dressed in wizarding robes and not muggle clothing and yet, there were few other details. He couldn't distinguish the face or even the general size of the figure; whether it was male or female. Harry knew that he could retrace his steps, cross to the other side of the street, walk up to or by the person on the bench.

Harry found his feet guiding him towards the sitting figure and then stopping in front of it. He was able to tell that it was a grizzled old man who sat with his head down and the only thing visible was a stubbly chin. His hood was pulled over the rest of his face and a broom stick was leaning against his shoulder.

"You 'ave a death wish boy?" The man asked him quietly.

"Who are you?" Harry asked angrily. "Are you following me and watching me? You know, I don't need to have my hand held. I can take care of myself!" Harry knew the words that flew from him were not for the man seated in front of him. He wasn't angry at this stranger; but he was angry. And he didn't have any idea what to do about it. He stood glaring down at the man daring him to make the wrong move.

The stranger looked up, his face partially lit by the street lamp. He was a man in his fifties, with several days growth of beard. His clothes were moderately neat, but old. He looked like the kind of man who lived by himself and didn't have anyone to care for him.

"Yes, that's what I'm here to do; watch you," he said simply. "But not for the reasons you think."

"Well you can tell Dumbledore I've made it home safely," Harry said it sarcastically and made to walk on.

"And what if it wasn't Dumbledore that sent me?" the man asked. He remained sitting and shifted his broom to the other side.

That stopped Harry. He watched for the other to pull out a wand. He was ready. He wanted to fight. He wanted to fight and hurt someone and if it meant that he was injured or killed that was alright too.

He'd walked through the Department of Mysteries and fought Deatheaters and hadn't got a scratch on him. Yet his friends had been hurt and his godfather had died. He wanted to fight. The hand that held his wand, itched, and ached to be used.

The other wizard was wary. "Thought that would stop you,' he said.

"If' you're one of Voldemort's followers then stand and fight me. If you're a friend of Dumbledore's then you're wasting my time. I can take care of myself. Run back to him and tell him everything is alright," Harry stood resolute his jaw sat and his wand now out in front of him. They stood within the circle of light cast by the lamp and appeared almost like the only two people left in the world.

"I can't say that I am a follower of Voldemort," the man said, shaking his head, "nor of Dumbledore."

Harry was surprised that he had said the Dark Lord's name. But he waited for the man to make the first move.

"I guess I should make it clear that I've not been sent by Dumbledore, not exactly. Although he did seek me out with a request concerning you. Now, you should know that I don't exactly call him a friend, although I don't count him among my enemies either." The man stood slowly. "My name is Humphrey Peabody. Most people consider me a sort of a social outcast. I, on the other hand, consider myself a scholar, a friend to wizard and muggle alike." He bowed his head a little and smiled.

When he stood, he pulled his hood back to reveal his face. Harry studied him more closely. His hair was almost white and there was not much left of it. He was bald almost back to his crown and what was left of his hair fell to his shoulders in gossamer white strands. He was small. Almost the same height as Harry. It was hard to tell with the robes concealing almost his entire body, but he was slim almost frail in body. It brought the image of a leprechaun to Harry's mind, although he couldn't fathom where the idea had come from.

"I once worked at Hogwarts as a teacher and of course was employed by Albus. We two never saw eye-to-eye on many things and so it was easy for me to leave after a course of time went by," the other mused, rubbing his chin. Harry listened, his wand still pointed towards the man. Humphrey continued, "He sent a message to me this evening and out of curiosity I thought I'd come to visit you. Mind I don't visit people often. As a matter of fact, I haven't been out of my rooms for...well let's see- several years now, other than to have a little dinner now and again. But I thought I'd carry out this little task on my own."

Harry bristled at the words, "Little task!"

Humphrey held his hand up, "Sorry, poor choice of words. Just let me say that Albus has got you all stirred up about this prophecy thing. Something I wasn't keen on believing myself when it was revealed for the first time."

"You know about the prophecy," Harry hissed.

The other nodded, "Oh, yes."

"What are you here for?" Harry asked circling his opponent.

"Well, I guess you could call me a connoisseur, Mr. Potter," Peabody said carefully. " I study the events that go on in the world. Some events are more interesting than others; some lead to more interesting results if you take my meaning. There seems to be a pool of events occurring around you all of the time. I thought I'd come and see it in person."

Harry shook his head in confusion.

"For instance..." the man was shaking his head along with Harry, "this death of Sirius and Voldemort's rise. All very interesting. Albus drew my attention to you and the part you played in these events. Of course, I have watched you for years. You seem to create a sort of maelstrom of events wherever you are." The man smiled again and Harry wasn't amused; he continued to frown. The man must have realized he was being insensitive. He suddenly leaned forward and said very kindly, "He knew that you were angry and suffering from guilt and feeling very confused."

Harry snorted and looked into the darkness beyond them.

"Well those were his words," Peabody said. "I think Albus is too old to remember having a feeling actually." He shook his head slightly, not looking at Harry who had swung around to stare at him. "Well maybe that's not being polite. He does try in his own way, I suppose." Humphrey turned and seemed to notice Harry staring. "Not that you aren't suffering boy, it's just that everyone around Albus always seems to be so...so melodramatic. He sort of engenders that in people. I on the other hand, have been in my little attic for so long, my feelings and sensitivities are rather moldy with age."

"What are you going on about?" Harry felt his anger seeping away as he caught himself listening against his will.

"You know people think I'm terrible. Always have," Peabody said, taking up his broom and stepping out of the circle of light and walking down the street. "Always have had a way of looking at what others felt as inconsequential or superfluous; over the top some might say. I tend to think of myself as a hardened critic of life. Never believed in anything until it was proven to me and don't have much use for the softer things in life, like emotions." He turned and waited for Harry. "But they do serve a purpose sometimes. They generate and lend power to events. You coming boy?"

Harry started after him, not quite keeping up, but listening to the endless chain of chatter. The man seemed impervious to the dark and the shadows along the walk, as if the threat of the Dark Lord attacking them was inconsequential.

"You see I have lived by myself for many a year, well almost by myself; isolated and living a delightful life in my study. I go out for a spot of wine and dinner once a week and then straight home. Of course, don't take me wrong, I do read the news. Although how much credence can you give to the Daily Prophet? You have to read between the lines to see what's really happening in the world. I have other sources of course. Some of them better than that rag. And, I have followed the course of your adventures, dear boy. With some interest I might add."

"Don't call me that," Harry said a few feet behind. "Call me Harry, just Harry." He almost ran into the back of the man who stopped and looked back.

"Very well, Harry," Peabody said. "You may call me Peabody as most do. Now, as I was saying. I followed what was going on in the Daily Prophet. Aghhh, that Delores Umbridge," he tut-tutted and shook his head. "I remember her from school. Power hungry then and still is. Got her come-uppance now though it seems. Umbridge will probably end up in the same cell in Azkaban as Cornelius Fudge and good riddance to them both!" He stomped on and Harry hurried to catch up, "So, Harry, it seems that our Tom Riddle has gotten loose in the world again and is up to his old tricks and you dear-...ah, Harry, you've been told that you are the Champion of the wizarding world. Well!" The man stopped short and scratched his jaw, peering into the dark. "Heavy, heavy burden, that."

"Aren't you afraid of Voldemort?" Harry asked. They were making more noise than Harry thought was wise as they walked along the street.

Peabody looked at him as if surprised that he was standing there. He seemed to be deep in thought. "Voldemort? Oh, good heavens no! He's up to his elbows in the Dark Arts that's for sure, but he's not invincible. Just a step up from Malfoy and the others. Like a house of cards, dear boy- er, Harry. Once one falls they all come tumbling down. History tells us there have been many others. They do wreak havoc on the population though." Peabody stood in the middle of a deserted dark intersection and turned in a circle. Harry stood at his side and watched. "I know all about your parents and such. Sad thing about them and their death. Good people, too."

"What do you know about my parents?" Harry asked. He was starting to feel mildly dizzy as Peabody continued to spin around and speak at the same time. He was having trouble following the words and the man. "Stop doing that! Here, this way," he finally slowed the wizard down and pointed down a familiar street.

"Oh, knew them both," Peabody said without pausing and referring to Harry's question about his parents. "Taught them in school you know. At Hogwarts." He used the broom handle as a staff and marched off down the street, the bristles of the broom standing in the air. "History is an important thing, a guidepost if you will. So very important it is," he said continuing to mumble and walk.

Harry didn't think any wizard he ever knew would treat their broom as Peabody was doing. He also was curious about the man who knew his parents. He followed him from one dark area to one lit area as they marched down the middle of the street.

"Why did you come? You say Dumbledore didn't send you, but sent you a message about me?" Harry asked as they entered the interconnecting street to Privet Drive. "You aren't friends and you don't seem awfully worried about Voldemort, but you seem to know a lot about...everything," Harry said frowning. What Harry also wanted to say was that Peabody didn't look like he could fight a First Year student in dueling let alone a Deatheater. He seemed a very poor choice for a body guard.

"Perhaps I don't look very formidable," Peabody said staring up the street. "But I can handle myself. I've already told you I know about Sirius. Albus thought you might be feeling guilty about what happened in the Department of Mysteries."

"What would you know about it," once again Harry felt the crushing weight of his guilt and was instantaneously angry.

"See, there you are. He was right," Peabody smiled. "You do feel responsible." He held up his hand when he saw Harry bristle again, the wand raised to his face. "I understand, I understand." He nodded and once again seemed distracted. "Things happen you know. Sometimes we can't make it any different and we can get trapped questioning every action we take so that we stop taking any action at all. I think Albus worries that is what will happen to you. Anyway, in answer to your question, I've come with a proposal," He shrugged as he spoke. "While you're trying to sort it all out, I thought perhaps you might want to come and stay with me. I'm not really interested in being your nanny if you're worried about it. Albus can find someone else to watch you if that's the whole ticket."

"Stay with you?" Harry asked, once again puzzled. The man was a total stranger.

"I know you have to remain here with your relatives for a month. But perhaps after that... A chance to get away from it all, a new environment, if you like," he turned to Harry and for the first time he looked deadly serious, "Up to you of course." Then he turned and stared up into the night.,

Harry looked up too. "What are you looking for?" he asked. He thought the man might be on the lookout for wizards or witches flying over head. His silhouette reminded him of the Centaurs who were notorious star gazers; easily lost in their sole vigils.

"Oh, the fruit bats are flying now," Peabody said abruptly. "Spring is the best time to see them." A dog barked in a yard and then there was a hiss and yowl of a cat taking off across a trash bin.

Harry felt the hair rise on his arms and he shivered involuntarily. For the first time that night he felt nervous.

Peabody walked him towards the dark house on Privet Drive.

Harry no longer felt angry and exhausted. He wasn't sure at the moment if he was ready for a confrontation with Voldemort or any of his Deatheaters like he had been when he left the house hours before. He stared at the strange man and then glanced up at the half moon riding high in the night sky.

Peabody flipped his broom over and climbed on. "I'll come back in a month. It's my understanding that you'd have to stay at Sirius' house until the school term started again. There isn't anyone that's going to be there besides you and that filthy elf, Kreacher. If you decide you want to join me, then I'll come for you." Harry watched as the man stepped over the broom handle and took off.

"How will I contact you? Harry asked.

"I'll know," the voice came back.

He dropped to the cement stoop at #4 Privet Drive and sat watching the night sky, alone and very confused.