The Portkey Solution

CHAPTER 3 - Arguments and Answers

Albus Dumbledore sat in the Owlery at Hogwarts, stroking Fawkes who had shown up to keep him company. He waited, scanning the sky occasionally. Other times he would re-read the parchments in front of him: the message from Hermione, the one from the Weasleys, one from the Gringotts Head Goblin alerting him to the fraud and their lack of success in tracing it so far. And the one on a neat sheet of stationery that had arrived from a courier service in the United States, hand-delivered by one of their messengers who had Apparated to Hogsmeade this evening.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a shadow across the moon. It was too large to be an owl, and Dumbledore recognized the hippogriff Buckbeak immediately. He held up his wand and muttered, "Lumos," giving them a signal as to where he was.

The hippogriff dived in and hovered just long enough for Sirius Black to scramble off his back and through a window, then took off again.

"I sent him to Hagrid's hut to rest." Sirius looked in decent health, his trimmed hair and a neat goatee altering his appearance somewhat.

"That will be all he can do. Hagrid is still with his mother's family, trying to rally more giants to our side."

Sirius shrugged. "I'll see that he eats later, then. Now tell me, what happened to Harry?"

Dumbledore handed the parchments to Sirius, but kept the courier letter back. Sirius read through them quickly and looked back up. "I don't understand. Why would someone tell the Dursleys about Harry's money?"

"Apparently so the Dursleys would react by harming Harry in some way. If Harry can't be touched by magic while he is living with them, there is nothing to prevent the Dursleys from acting contrary to Harry's interests." Dumbledore stroked the phoenix as it nudged its head under the wizard's hand.

Sirius glared at Dumbledore. "Some protection, if it can only protect from one kind of attack."

"I could not have done anything more than I did. It is not in my power to prevent all death and injury by deliberate act or mischance, or I would ensure that many, many beloved people were alive today."

Sirius opened his mouth, but thoughts of James and Lily stopped him, along with the profound sadness in Dumbledore's eyes. Instead, he asked, "So, do we take him from the Dursleys? Set up new kinds of protections?"

Dumbledore handed over the letter he had kept back. "It seems that the matter has been taken care of." He held some kind of novelty pen in a sealed plastic bag.

Sirius read the last message and stared back at Dumbledore in disbelief, who gave a small sarcastic smile and nodded. "I will be leaving now."

***

She closed the door gently behind her, leaving Harry settled in bed for the night. It hadn't taken much of a Restful Sleep Charm to get him to drop off, but at least he ought to be free of nightmares. She was moving toward the computer when she felt the tingle on her skin, alerting her that one of her Portkeys was being used to bring someone directly to her.

Dumbledore popped into view and glanced around the cottage, seeing the open areas and wide doorways of a modern American-inspired house. He turned to her and without a pause stated, "Anastacia, Harry must return to Privet Drive at once. When I contacted your family for support against Voldemort, I had no idea you'd respond by abducting Harry!"

"No, Albus. I'm sorry, but I won't. You did the best you could with what you knew at the time, but if you'd done as we asked two years ago the Death Eaters wouldn't have been able to try the Gringotts ruse."

"Harry and Hermione both acted quickly to call for help. We could have defused the situation without removing him from the protections of his family."

"He has those protections, Albus. Take a look."

Dumbledore frowned, squinted at her, and paled suddenly. "What have you done? You can't--"

"I did. I transferred the protection spell from Petunia Dursley to myself and strengthened it with the blood ritual. You can't break it without a bit more blood from both of us, and I don't plan on giving any up any time soon."

"That is dangerously close to dark magic! I cannot believe Harry would have let you--"

"He doesn't know yet. I performed the ritual before I woke him from the sedative. Since he's still a minor, I didn't need his permission. And given his reaction when I told him what the Dursleys had planned to do, I think he'll be positively ecstatic to know he can stay with me and still have the benefit of the wards you set up."

Dumbledore looked like he might work himself up into the kind of cold rage that Harry had only witnessed once, at the end of his fourth year. She had seen it before and waited, watching impassively as Dumbledore's face grew red, then faded back to his natural colouring as he regained his temper. "Anastacia, please reconsider. You're young; you have a career that requires a lot of travel. Caring for a child, even one as self-reliant as Harry, is a monumental commitment."

They both heard something fall in the next room, then the sound of someone thrashing around. She was across the room like a shot, opening the door to Harry's room. She looked in, then beckoned to Dumbledore and entered as Harry cried out in his sleep, "No, Cedric! Get away! NOOO! DON'T!" The pain and fear in Harry's voice startled Dumbledore and he moved to follow Anastacia.

He came in just in time to see her finish reinforcing a Restful Sleep Charm. Harry was in his pyjamas, tangled in sheets and sweating, but relaxing out of what must have been a powerful nightmare. He watched her tidy the bed around him and gently wipe his tear-streaked face with a cloth she summoned and dampened by magic. As Harry appeared to settle down again, she set the small bedside table back up and motioned Dumbledore back to the main room.

"You were saying, Albus? I know exactly what I'm doing. Harry needs the protective wards when he's away from Hogwarts. My parents don't need me at the firm constantly and I should be free for the rest of this summer and the next. We can arrange for me to be available on Hogsmeade weekends, Christmases, whatever is needed.

"You saw what happened just now. I've been keeping tabs on the Dursley house all summer and Harry's been having nightmares like that one on a regular basis. What is it doing to him to have to suffer like that, grieve for a death that shouldn't have happened, live with the reality that Voldemort is back and apparently stronger than before? And not just with no support from those around him, but with their active hatred of him?" She glared at him, her temper rising.

Dumbledore sighed. "I don't like it, Anastacia."

"You mean you don't like that we did this without consulting you first. Unfortunately, I didn't think there was time to ask your permission," she snapped, then paused, realizing how she had sounded. "I'm sorry, Albus, but it's not like this was a surprise. We've been asking you for two years."

"I know."

"I'll have him at King's Cross on September first, just as usual if you want. Or I'll be happy to take him straight to Hogwarts myself. You've got the Portkey, feel free to drop in anytime before then--I'll alert you if we need to leave here, but I don't see that happening. Ninety-nine percent of the wizard population wouldn't have the first clue how to untangle the financial maze to identify this place as Patterson property. And if someone does, they'll have to get past the wards, my wand and my body to get to Harry."

Dumbledore sighed again, admitting defeat in the face of her iron stubbornness. "Is there at least something I can tell Sirius, the Weasleys? They'll be quite worried unless they can see Harry for themselves."

She thought for a moment, then went to the desk. She rummaged around a minute and thrust something at Dumbledore. "Here."

Dumbledore looked at the round shiny disc in a plastic sleeve that Staci had handed him. "What is it?"

"Another Portkey, set to send someone directly into this room once the sleeve is removed. Sirius, the rest of the Weasleys and Miss Granger can use it to come and see Harry, see that he's all right, and leave again without knowing exactly where we are."

Dumbledore was entranced for a moment, watching the rainbow of colours play on the disc. "But what is this thing?"

She grinned. "AOL starter software. We keep getting them in the ordinary mail and we use them for coasters or other actually useful things." At Dumbledore's confused look, she relented. "Ordinary people use them in computers, usually when they don't know what they're doing."

He didn't feel completely enlightened, but at least she had given him the means to appease Sirius. "When shall I bring them?"

"Monday, if you can get them to wait that long. It's about time Harry had a proper birthday party."

***

Harry prowled around the house, drinking the last of the milk that had come with breakfast. They had stopped at a restaurant for lunch yesterday, where Staci (as she had asked Harry to call her) had bullied him into eating a full meal, then bought several bottles of water for the rest of the trip. When they had arrived, Harry was feeling ill from the effects of the sedative, nearly a day without proper food, and the sudden re-introduction of it. She had made him go to bed very soon after they had arrived, and he'd slept the night through without any nightmares that he could recall.

They were in a cottage on the beach, somewhere on the southern coast. It was surprisingly isolated--the only house for miles around--but as up-to-date as one could want. The kitchen was loaded with appliances that would have made Aunt Petunia drool. A satellite system brought dozens of TV channels in to a large-screen television. One of the bookcases was filled with compact discs of music, and a smaller one with software for the computer on the desk. Staci had spent some time writing and answering email, showing him just how much more there was to do on a computer besides play Dudley's games. He had noticed that her longest message was to someone at [email protected]. Now she was shutting down the computer.

Harry ran and got two fizzy drinks from the refrigerator and followed her out to the porch. She had promised to answer every single question as truthfully as she could after breakfast, if he'd give her the chance to go through her email and phone messages first.

A strong breeze blew inland and Staci reached to pull all her hair into a comb in what looked like a reflex. The sun shone on the deserted sand and water. They climbed into side-by-side hammock chairs and Harry handed Staci the diet cola.

She looked at the water for a few minutes, as if replenishing some spiritual void, then cracked open her can and looked at him. "Thanks for letting me wade through the business first. I am all set for Twenty Questions. You may fire when ready, Gridley."

Harry grinned and started with the obvious one. "Who are you, seriously? And not just what was on the card."

"The stuff on the card's out of date anyway; I went back to the family business last year. Anyway, my name is really Staci Patterson. Patterson Transport is real--my family has run it for nearly two centuries, ever since great-great-et cetera Granddad came over to New York from the Isles and founded it. The purpose is to aid in deliveries and communication between the wizarding and ordinary worlds. Some people always need to get in touch with those in the other world and we help. We also do a great deal for the U.S. wizarding agencies, of which there are many. Not like here where it all falls under the Ministry in one department or other."

Harry digested this, then asked, "What did you mean by you once knew Sirius? And why did you say he'd sent you?"

"I used his name, figuring it would convince you I was on your side more quickly than Albus' or some Ministry paper-pusher. Sirius' innocence is still not general knowledge since old Cornball Fudge hasn't made it a priority to broadcast how badly they screwed up that time.

"I knew Sirius in school briefly. My family spent three years in Hogsmeade when I was small, and my sister attended classes at Hogwarts at that time. I was allowed to visit. And yes, I also knew your parents as well, in that everyone-knows-who-the-little-American-lassie-is way."

"What's with all the nicknames?"

"I tend to go by Staci. Since we were doing some fairly underhanded, if not illegal things in the process of getting you out of Privet Drive, Bill and I used "Will" and "Annie" instead, in case someone was eavesdropping."

"Bill?"

She grinned. "Bill Weasley, my partner in crime." She broke into a laugh at Harry's astonished expression and continued, "He was the one flirting outrageously with the Ministry witch who was on monitor duty for illicit magic at Privet Drive yesterday morning. Supposedly he was there to surprise Percy. Percy had conveniently been called away to a sudden meeting with a representative..."

"...from Patterson Transport & Courier," Harry finished with her, laughing.

"Very good," she replied. "My uncle Jacob occupied Percy. Bill Apparated in stages from Cairo to London Thursday evening, and returned after you and I left Little Whinging. He had to do something to be covered at work, given the time zones, but he was supposed to be out in the field anyway. His email last night said he'd managed it fine. He also said he had to send a soothing owl to his mum, who was rapidly emptying the local post office with her messages to everyone about your going missing."

Harry chuckled at the mental image of Mrs. Weasley in full temper, railing at some poor postal worker to find more owls. He felt good about what she'd told him so far, and the way she'd told him. He felt more comfortable with her than with any other adult he'd spent this much time with, even the Weasleys or Sirius. Time to try the questions that were really nagging him. "Why did you go to all this trouble for me? And why did you say I don't have to go back to the Dursleys?"

"The protections Albus set up for you after your parents' murders hinged on your being in the care of a blood relative. He used the Dursleys, thinking that they were your only living relatives. But a few years ago my dad got on this genealogy kick and started researching the Pattersons back beyond the point where we emigrated.

"Turns out that many-times great Granddad Patterson left England because of a massive disgrace of some sort. Bad enough that he even changed his name once he came to the States.

"Our original name was Potter. You've got scads of distant cousins over in America."

Harry's jaw dropped and his drink can clattered to the floor.