The Portkey Solution

CHAPTER 7 - The Waiting Game

August 1

I had a real birthday yesterday. I had a cake and presents and my friends around me. I blew out candles and made a wish. I'm listening to music on the WWN on my new radio. Ginny's Kneazle is curled up around the survival kit--I think it likes the moke-skin. I'm wearing my new watch, which says it's time for breakfast. I can smell sticky buns in the oven, so I reckon it's accurate.

Harry looked across the room at the futon that had been pulled out for Ron. He was still asleep, his arm over his face. Sirius was in one guest bedroom; they had invited Hermione to stay in the other (the one where the mats Transfigured into a bed and dresser) but when she phoned her parents on Harry's new mobile phone, they asked her to come home and plan on an overnight visit later in the week. Bill had stayed late, talking to Staci after Sirius had gone to sleep and the boys had retired to Harry's room to play a game of chess.

Harry remembered dreaming the night before, where the nightmare with Cedric in the graveyard had melted into another Death Eater council. Harry had felt pain his scar, but had been able to hear some of the conversation going on as Voldemort wasn't flinging Unforgivables about. Voldemort was conducting a furious search for Harry, wanting to find him before he was at Hogwarts again. In the back of his notebook, Harry jotted down everything he could remember before the dream faded. He shoved the journal under his pillow and headed for the bathroom that connected his and Sirius' rooms.

In the bathroom he realized he could hear voices on the other side of the door. Staci and Sirius seemed to be arguing. Harry put his ear next to the door, but he heard one final sharp burst from Staci and then silence. He finished up quickly and padded to the kitchen in his pyjamas and bare feet to see Staci coating cinnamon-covered buns with icing.

***

It had been weeks since Sirius had slept so well. The guest bed was luxuriously large. The scent of the sea floated in through the window he had dared to leave ajar. The room was neat as a pin; he had been staying with Remus, and while Remus kept his cottage clean, books and instruments cluttered every flat surface. He lay in the bed and listened to the surf for a few minutes, then got up and pulled on the simple blue robes he found hanging behind the door.

Someone tapped on the door, and Sirius called, "Come in."

Staci came in with a folded pile of Muggle clothes. "These are my dad's. They should fit you well enough, if you want to borrow them long enough for us to wash yours."

Sirius shook his head, fastening the clasp of the robes. "These will do well enough for that. Thanks."

"OK, whatever. I've got cinnamon rolls in the oven for all of us. What do you like to drink in the morning? Coffee? Tea? A shot of single malt?"

Sirius looked at her. "You can stop playing hostess. I'm going to talk to Harry about coming with me for the rest of the summer."

She put the clothes in her hands down on a bureau. Hands on her hips, looking him dead in the eye, she asked, "Where were you when the Dursleys were preparing to lock Harry up in a mental institution?"

"That's not fair. Dumbledore got in touch with me as soon as possible."

"As soon as possible for wizards. It still took at least a day for an owl to reach you, from what I understand. You can't be Harry's guardian and Dumbledore's scout at the same time."

"James and Lily were very specific in their will!"

Instead of quailing at the mention of Harry's parents, respecting the wishes of the dead as Sirius expected, she shifted in the doorway, and lifted her chin. Suddenly Sirius had a flash of memory, seeing a small girl of four or five standing just that way in the hallway in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, furious because "Flourish and Blotts" wouldn't open the Gryffindor entrance the way it did Ravenclaw's. He had let her in with him, where she had proceeded to collect sweets from every Gryffindor in the common room.

"Sirius, don't even think about trying that with me! Yes, you're his legal guardian. And I'm family. We want the same things for Harry and we should be working together instead of bickering about this. If you can honestly say Harry will be better off with you, travelling from shack to cave to forest while you search out allies, then by all means let's ask him. But here we both know he's safe, his whereabouts are unknown to Voldemort, and he's being given a chance to rest and finally heal from what happened at the end of the tournament."

"I have a house!"

"That you don't dare approach because those ministry buffoons have yet to even believe in your innocence, much less publicly announce it! If you showed up in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade you know someone would raise the alarm to have you arrested again!"

Sirius was about to respond but a bell rang in the kitchen and Staci flounced off angrily to attend to it. Without her presence to prod him, he sank down on the bed again and gave in to the despair for a moment. She was right. He would very likely be arrested if he were recognized away from Hogwarts. He was able to ignore that fact normally, travelling as a dog and communicating with those who trusted Dumbledore's opinion of him. But eventually he would have to try and clear his name or he would never be able to provide a home for Harry. He wanted that desperately, to atone for failing James and Lily, and he knew Harry had wanted the same thing once.

He heard voices in the kitchen. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and down his face, then stood and entered the main room.

***

Staci seemed to be calm, but already Harry could read her well enough to see the vigorous jabs of the knife in the icing, the set to her jaw. "Everything all right?"

"It will be," she replied, putting the kettle on and pulling out a teapot. In contrast to Harry's vague preconception of coffee-swilling Americans, Staci was quite familiar with the proper way of preparing tea and would have a pot of an Irish blend or an herbal peppermint tea each morning. "Sirius wants you to stay with him the rest of the summer."

Harry blinked. "But he's travelling all over the place now for Dumbledore." Staci nodded but kept silent. "And the protections---they're linked to you, a blood relative." Harry sat for a moment, lost in thought. He had wanted to go with Sirius last year, before Sirius had had to run for his life. But admittedly it was just as much about getting away from the Dursleys as it was about living with his father's best friend. And now he did have family, Staci and her parents and this brood of uncles and aunts and cousins many-times removed. He wanted to get to know them, too.

Staci picked up her wand and prodded the kettle on the stove impatiently. "Calefacto!" she snapped, and it obediently began to whistle. She began brewing the tea and carefully didn't look when Sirius came into the room.

Harry took the initiative. "Sirius, as much as I would love to stay with you, shouldn't it wait until Christmas or next summer when it might be safer and you don't have to travel so much?"

Sirius looked at him, resigned. "Intellectually, yes, it's the best decision. Emotionally, I'm having trouble convincing myself."

Staci softened a bit and handed him a cup of tea. "How about a compromise? Make this your home base. That way you can spend more time with Harry in between your trips until school starts."

He brightened considerably, seeing Harry look excited. "Will that work?"

"We've got the room. We may not be central to the country, but it's easy enough to Apparate anywhere within Britain."

"Then, yes, I will. And thank you--" whatever else he was going to say got lost as Harry jumped up and pounded him on the back in an enthusiastic embrace.

Staci began setting places at the bar. "Harry, you'd better get Ron before breakfast gets cold."

Harry ran to do as she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

***

Harry and Ron spent the day indulging in their freedom. They swam in the pool and then in the ocean. They gorged on leftover birthday cake. They took turns racing over the waves on Harry's Firebolt until Staci caught them at it and made them stop. They came inside during the hottest part of the day and played chess.

Staci sent Ron home after sundown with a handful of recipes on index cards and a huge carton of food for Mrs. Weasley, having sensed the family's ever-present money shortage. Sirius had been out looking for a few people on Dumbledore's list and returned soon after. They were eating the promised Mexican dinner, a dish called mole that included a dark and spicy sauce over chicken, when Harry realized that both Sirius and Staci were trying to find a way to introduce a subject they didn't want to approach. Harry thought about it and came up with the most logical possibility.

"Is there any news of Voldemort?"

Sirius looked more sombre than before. Staci sighed in resignation. "Yeah, there is."

"He's getting desperate about finding me, isn't he?"

Sirius looked astonished. Staci raised an eyebrow and asked, "More dreams?"

Harry nodded and ran for his journal. He whispered the unlocking password and handed it to Staci, opened to the back where he had been recording the dreams he'd had.

His vision of Voldemort's hideout had grown clearer with repeat viewings. It was definitely the cellar of a large house, with wine racks lining some walls and a crest on a barrel of beer that he couldn't quite read. Old-fashioned torches in sconces lit the room, which convinced Harry that the cellar belonged to some pure-blood Death Eater wizard who was above using Muggle conveniences like electricity. He was trying very hard not to assume it was Lucius Malfoy and not succeeding very well.

Staci scanned the pages and passed the book to Sirius, who read with growing concern. "What's this about dreams?"

Harry and Staci took turns describing the first instance of the visions. After they finished, Sirius looked even graver.

"We--that is, us, Dumbledore and the Weasleys--have come up with a possible plan, but the only way we can be sure it will work is with you, Harry. We are prepared to lure Voldemort into watching Diagon Alley for you to come do your shopping for Hogwarts. Once he appears, we'll have an army of wizards and witches ready to capture him. You will have Portkeys in your pockets so you can return here immediately, and we're also going to teach you how to Apparate, in case of an emergency."

Staci took up the thread. "We could try all kinds of illusions or disguises, or even Polyjuice to put someone in your place, except I'm willing to bet Voldemort will be able to sense whether it's you through the blood he used in that spell to regain a body. Just like you would almost certainly be able to sense him by your scar. So we're stuck with the worst option...irresistibly tasty live bait."

She watched as Harry turned this information over in his mind, then set his jaw in a fierce determination. Sirius blinked, struck by the sudden resemblance to Staci...and to James. Apparently righteous anger ran in the Potter family.

"I'm in. And I don't want to hear anything about how dangerous it is. I want to bring him down, forever."

Sirius and Staci looked at each other, then Sirius nodded. "I'll go to Dumbledore and tell him we're set."

***

The next few weeks flew by for Harry. He received a document from the Ministry, signed by Mafalda Hopkirk, which gave him permission to work magic under supervision or in case of an emergency. Sirius and Staci worked together to teach him to Apparate, which came to him relatively easily compared to Charms or Transfiguration. Staci theorized that this was because Apparating was an instinctive type of magic, like flying a broomstick, rather than ritualized. They practiced with short distances up and down the beach and once to a room in the Leaky Cauldron, booked for the purpose.

Harry also practiced basic aikido daily. Sirius was intrigued by the idea and joined in when he was there. The first time Harry successfully threw Sirius over his own wrist and took his "wand" was a special thrill. Staci showed them both a routine to practice every day, to improve their flexibility and rehearse certain moves.

She also gave Harry some instruction in other areas when Sirius wasn't around. She taught him to open and hotwire the Citroën with and without magic, and how to drive, on the theory that if he were caught in Muggle territory he had an emergency non-magic option, albeit an illegal one, for escape. She showed him some illusions and some things he could do without magic to alter his appearance or even his walk and possibly go unrecognized by the Death Eaters. She found a Muggle makeup among her things that would cover his scar. She taught him a charm that would temporarily correct his vision so he could go without his glasses as well as one that would change the colour and length of his hair.

The next set of lessons covered Portkeys. Staci explained the difference between the transportation methods: "Apparating takes your own energy as a wizard. How far one can Apparate varies with the individual wizard, and most don't test their limits often. It's possible to Apparate from here to Hawaii, but you'd keel over and be unconscious for days when you got there, if you didn't splinch yourself in the process. The advantage is Apparating is nearly impossible to trace and completely pen as to destination.

"Portkeys are different; they're enchanted objects. So there's really no limit as to how far a Portkey can take someone, and they're used for long-distance travel. Also, Portkeys can be very flexible despite their fixed destinations: they can be created to activate at a certain time or anytime they're touched. They can be single-use or multi-use. They can be one-way or round-trip. They can even be specially created so only certain people can use them. A lot of the company Portkeys are set to work for a Patterson-by-blood only. The effort is in producing them--it takes a decently complicated set of spells to set them up beyond a simple 'take-me-there'. And unless you take steps, Portkeys can usually be tracked."

She worked with Harry to turn yet another of the ubiquitous software-coasters into a Portkey to the Weasley house. The first time they used it they surprised Mrs. Weasley; she screamed and dropped a chicken that was just coming from the oven. Staci helped repair the damage and they stayed for dinner.

They sent Harry's second Portkey to Hermione with Hedwig. She used it to visit three times. The first time Harry shared an idea with her that had come to him when listening to Staci talk about Portkeys. The second time she brought a stack of books and the astrolabe her parents had given her as a gift upon receiving the news that she had been named a prefect. The third time Harry summoned Hermione with his mobile phone when Staci was called to meet with Dumbledore for a few hours, and they performed the necessary spells. They sealed the final result in a plastic bag and hid it in a pocket of Harry's cloak.

Ron visited once more, bringing George and Fred with him, and the four of them worked on more jokes for the twins' inventory. When Staci caught wind of the twins' career plans, she booted the computer and showed them how a few enterprising young wizards in California had taken the Muggle idea of the World Wide Web and adapted it for the wizarding world. By the end of the afternoon, Fred and George had a list of contacts to help them create wwww.weasleywheezes.com and learn how to use a magic-enhanced computer.

All of this activity should have kept Harry from obsessing about the coming confrontation, but he couldn't force it out of his mind. He was feeling the kind of jitters that he usually experienced before Quidditch matches. He went over scenarios in his mind, wondering if he could possibly manage to carry out his nebulous plan. It didn't help that Staci was also growing more and more tense. At times he would catch her muttering to herself, racking her brain for any more useful spells or defensive manoeuvres to teach him. He had to work to prevent her from interrupting one lesson for another as the days passed and the stress level ratcheted higher.

***

The tension came to a head one afternoon, as the two of them worked on a series of escape manoeuvres for being grabbed from behind. The timing was essential to make the ushiro kotegaeshi work, and Harry kept moving too soon or too late, but never at the right second. After the seventh or eighth time that Staci landed awkwardly in a poor throw, she snapped at him, "Think, for God's sake, Harry! Wait for me to actually make contact but don't give me the chance to get a grip. Don't try to force it through."

Harry glared at her, but swallowed the retort he longed to make. He turned around and waited for her to come at him again. This time, he moved far too soon, stepped in the wrong direction, and caught her across the face with his elbow as he turned. She stumbled and fell back, her hands cupping her mouth, and Harry started forward, aghast to see blood trickling through her fingers.

She waved him away angrily and stormed into the bathroom. He heard water running, and she returned a moment later with a washcloth pressed to one side of her mouth, where he'd split her lip. She spoke around the cloth in a cold voice. "So, why was that a damn-fool move?"

He flushed, then asked in frustration, "Why was it such a bad move? I injured you, didn't I? You wouldn't have been able to attack again before I could get away."

She removed the cloth, and he saw how her lip had swollen and darkened. "If I were on the chase, pumped full of adrenaline, I might have ignored this. It's not such a blow. And it only worked because I'm a little shorter than you. If you'd been working with Sirius, all you would have done would be to whack him in the chest or shoulder and he wouldn't have noticed at all. You don't have the body weight to guarantee a stunning hit without perfect aim. That's why we're working with aikido, which is good for evening the odds against bigger, stronger opponents."

She probed her mouth to see if the bleeding had stopped, tossed the cloth back into the bathroom and came forward. "Again."

Harry had listened with growing anger at her lecture, irked by how much she sounded like Professor McGonagall and by her dismissal of his response. He had felt this growing for days as she crammed spells and knowledge and options into his head. Now it came to a peak of frustration and fury: the nerves, the worry, the sense of time running out. He let it boil over in a shout, "Why? Why should I bother when Voldemort is going to wave his wand at me and try to Avada Kedavra me?"

"We have to prepare for as many possibilities as we can! What if the confrontation spills out into London, in front of ordinary folk? What if someone manages to disarm Voldemort? What if his intent is to have two of his Death Eaters wrestle you to the ground to prevent your dodging spells or firing back?" She was as mad as he was now, almost tripping over her words as they poured out.

"What if, what if...you're so worried about covering all the possibilities! You can't cover them all!"

"I know that!" she shouted at him. "But I have to try!" Her voice broke and wavered.

Harry was about to yell back, but he saw the stricken look on her face and the words died in his throat. She whirled and escaped through the bathroom, into her own room, and he heard doors slam shut. He stomped out to the deck and flung himself into one of the basket chairs, staring down at the shore and the waves coming in. The sun was significantly lower in the sky when he was finally calm enough to think about what had been said and what hadn't.

And he remembered the conversation between them. Practically the first day he'd been here, they'd gone down to the sand and told each other something of their lives. She had blamed herself for her brother's death, and probably still did--look at how she had thrown herself into medical training after the fact. Now she had Harry to look after, and he only had the most feared wizard in recent history after his blood.

He knew he owed her an apology. He sighed and got up to go back into the house...

...and found Staci at the door, her eyes red from crying. They spoke at the same time: "I'm sorry--"

They both stopped and grinned. Hesitantly, Staci came forward and put her arms around him and he returned the hug. Carefully, not wanting to sour the mood again, he said, "I know this is hard for you."

"And I know it's hard for you, too. But we'll get through this together. That's what families do."

***

Finally, the last evening arrived. Staci and Harry were eating grilled fish and vegetables when she told him, "We ought to go to bed early. We're supposed to meet Sirius at nine at Gringotts."

Harry swallowed hard, then nodded. "I'll be ready."

After dinner, Harry went to his room and pulled out the journal. He flipped through the pages he'd filled already, mostly about the Dursleys, but here and there he'd begun to explore his feelings about Cedric and Voldemort. What was on paper said he didn't want to be the one on whom everyone's hopes were pinned. He didn't feel like hero material. A real hero would have found a way to save Cedric. A real hero would have defeated Voldemort, not fought him to a draw. And yet...Staci's voice echoed in his thoughts, reminding him that Cedric had died at Voldemort's hands, not his. Harry picked up a pen.

I did not create Voldemort. He was out spreading his evil for decades before I was born. He is the one who tried to kill me and nearly got himself destroyed in the process. He is the one who has lived by hate long enough to resurrect himself. I stand against him because I can't sit back and watch him ruin my world, but I don't have to do it alone.