Harry Potter and the Ancient Order

Harry Potter and the Ancient Order

Chpt. 1. The Dazzling Glove

"I believe in America. America has made my fortune... and I have raised my daughter in American fashion. I have given her freedom, I have taught her what is honor in family. She found a boyfriend (not an Italian). She went to the movies with him. She stayed out late. I didn't protest. Two months ago, he took her for a drive, with another boyfriend. They make her drink whiskey. And then, they try to take advantage of her. She resisted. She kept her honor. So they beat her...like an animal.

"When I went to the hospital, her nose was broken, her jaw was shattered, held together by wire. She couldn't even weep because of the pain. But, I wept. Why did I weep? She was the light of my life. Beautiful girl... now she will never be beautiful again... I... I went to the police, like a good American. These... the boys were brought to trial. The judge sentence them to three days, and then suspend the sentence. Suspended the sentence! They went free that same day! I stood in the courtroom like a fool. And those two bastard, they smile at me! Then I said to my wife, 'For justice, we must go to Don Corleone'."

Harry Potter sat upright in his seat, watching the screen intently. He had already seen this movie once before and had been captured by the magic of the movie, the silky dialogue masking the brutal actions of the Family. Harry had already attended four years of school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but had never seen magic like this before.

"Let's be frank here. You never wanted my friendship. You were afraid to be in my debt. I understand. You found paradise in America. You had a good trade, made a good living; police protected you in their courts of law. You didn't need a friend like me. But, now you come to me and you say, 'Don Corleone give me justice'. But you're not asking for respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me 'Godfather'. Instead you come into my house on the day that my daughter is to be married and you ask me to do murder for money."

The enchanting words flowed through the speakers, ensnaring each patron in the theater. How could someone speak so simply, of committing murder?

"Bonasera, what have I done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? If you had come to me in friendship, then this scum who ruined your daughter would be suffering this very day. And if by chance an honest man like yourself should make enemies, then they would become my enemies. And then they would fear you."

Harry looked over at the person sitting next to him. Ron Weasley was captured by the magic as well, from the instant the mourning trumpets played their sad tune to open the movie. Harry had snuck Ron into a muggle theater to experience the spell cast by "The Godfather". Ron had his doubts about it, not understanding how a film could be more enjoyable than the live-performance plays favored by the wizarding world. "It's all fake. No real fights, no one really dies, you don't even get burned by the explosions. Mental," he had stated. Harry could only grin at the look on Ron's face now.

The two friends sat enchanted, not able to tear their gaze from the screen. When to movie finally ended, Harry had to nudge Ron to gain his attention. Ron was still staring open-mouthed as the credits rolled.

"Harry! Why didn't you tell me things like this existed in the muggle world? That was amazing! What a story!" Ron rambled on for several more minutes, receiving a few quizzical stares from other patrons at the mention of "muggle world". Harry had to speak loudly to overtake Ron's volume level.

"C'mon, let's get back before they find out we're gone. Your mum will birth gnomes if she finds out we snuck off."

Harry had spent the last week with Ron's family, the Weasleys. It was a wonderful change to be away from his aunt and uncle, the Dursleys, and their dreadful son Dudley. Harry's relatives still seemed determined to pound the magic out of him after all these years. It often made Harry wonder why Professor Dumbledore always insisted that Harry return there to live at the end of every term.

Ron's mother was always protective of Harry when he was around, much like he was her own son. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley had set down rather strict rules this year. Ron had moaned loudly during the lecture, but Harry understood all too well the reasons behind the crackdown. In light of the return of Voldemort, many wizarding parents who believed he had risen again (such as the Weasleys) would not allow their children much beyond their sight. Harry and Ron knew that Mrs. Weasley meant well, but two free spirits such as themselves just could not be cooped up any longer. They had often wandered into dangerous situations together at Hogwarts even though strict security measures had forbidden them to do so.

Harry and Ron exited the theater in high spirits, letting the warm night air wash over their faces and carry away their worries. They began peering down alleys, into abandoned buildings, and anyplace that appeared to be empty. The pair needed to be alone in order to flag down the Knight Bus, the wizarding world's "emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard." The Knight Bus appeared seemingly out of nowhere when you flagged it down, and would cause quite a fright to the observing Muggle.

"Let's go down here," pointed Ron. It was a rather dingy looking alley, but at least it was empty. Muggle objects magically "jumped" out of the way anytime they were in danger of being destroyed by the rickety vehicle, so they weren't worried about a lack of open space. Walking into the darkness, Harry noticed that there seemed to be quite a lot of rats infesting the garbage dumpster.

"Hurry up, I don't want to be here any longer than necessary," prompted Harry. Even though he was raised in the Muggle world until the age of 11, Harry was always disgusted at the way Muggles simply tossed their trash anywhere instead of disposing of it in a place that wouldn't foul up the city. The sight of all these alley rats infesting dumpsters further turned his stomach. Ron held his nose while he took out his wand and waved it vaguely around, until an almighty BANG! knocked the two of them back several steps.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergen-" started the conductor until he smelled the rotting trash in the alleyway. "Blimey, you two pick a rotten enough stop?" he said with obvious distaste for their choice. Harry's spirits lifted slightly when he noticed that the conductor was not Stan Shunpike, who had very little education and found it terribly pleasing to be in Harry's company, and who was basically an annoyance.

"Too many Muggles around," stated Ron in irritation. Ron always felt peeved when someone second-guessed him, especially if he felt that the offending person could do no better on his own. By the looks of this conductor, he would have a hard time hitting water if he fell out of a boat. "Know where the Burrow is?"

"The Burrow, right well, come aboard, eleven sickles each, fifteen for cocoa and a bed," said the conductor. Harry and Ron paid the conductor and found an empty compartment near the middle of the Bus. Harry was always amazed at the interior of wizarding shelters. From the outside, the Knight Bus was no bigger than a normal Muggle double-decker bus, but the inside was nearly as big as a small roadside motel. The pair settled into their seats and began talking about the movie they had just watched, among other things. They had been talking for a good while when a thought occurred to Harry.

"Ron, how are we going to sneak back in? Won't your parents hear us when we stop?" asked Harry. The Knight Bus made a good deal of noise, not needing to tone it down in the wizarding world.

"Nah," said Ron, brushing the topic off. "Mum and Dad replotted the Burrow once You-Know-Who came back. Since Pettigrew obviously knows where we live, they thought it might buy them time should anything happen. Makes it quite difficult to get owls, but it's worth the extra effort. Our house isn't within hearing distance of where everyone thinks it is."

"You told your parents about Scabbers?" asked Harry. He had wondered often exactly how Ron had explained his pet rat's sudden disappearance and the emergence of a new owl, but had not mentioned it in hopes of sparing Ron some trouble.

"It was a wrench, but I thought it needed to be told," shrugged Ron.

"Shocking display of responsibility," grinned Harry.

"Ah, go to hell."

Seemingly content with this answer Harry started on his cocoa, which the conductor finally remembered to bring them. Sipping carefully, he gazed out the window at the passing streets. He was enjoying the privacy they were getting, always happy to avoid the now routine eye flick towards his scar. He knew he could do nothing to avoid it or even stop wizards from gaping at it but it always bothered him nevertheless. As Harry saw a large manor jump out of the way of the bus, it stopped quickly, sending the two tumbling into the aisle.

"I hate that part," grumbled Harry as he nursed the new welt on his shoulder. Ron didn't appear to appreciate it anymore than Harry, judging by the expression his face held. They heard the conductor rattle on to the new passenger when a gasp escaped his lips.

"What an amazing glove you're wearing. Is that real silver?" he asked, awestruck. Harry's ears perked up at this statement. By the sound of it, this new passenger was far too rich to require the services of public transportation. He walked to the nearest window to get a better look at the new guest. Wiping the fog off the window and peering outside, something seemed familiar about this man.

"Pure silver, yes, now may I take my seat?" asked the man, who didn't wish to dwell on his wealth. The conductor stepped aside as the new passenger came aboard, his hood drawn up so that you couldn't see his face. Harry and Ron could hear compartment doors opening and closing in regular intervals. The man apparently found the place he was looking for as they heard no more doors opening.

"Privacy!" growled the man with a not so subtle trace of irritable urgency. The conductor stumped off, muttering under his breath about the rudeness of the man. The mysterious passenger began to look all over the compartment. Harry thought this person was being incredibly paranoid with respect to his surroundings. Who or what would hide on the Knight Bus, or where would they hide for that matter?

"Show yourself!" ordered the man. To Harry's surprise, a tall, thin person emerged from the shadows, almost materializing out of nowhere. "Why must you hide like that? I don't want this to take long. I have other pressing matters." Harry couldn't see this new addition, but got a cold feeling nonetheless. Ron had joined him at the window and in his interest in eavesdropping.

"How do you know he's here?" asked the taller man. His head was swinging back and forth as if expecting someone else. "I thought he had protection measures beyond our capabilities to break?"

"The rats," stated the short one matter-of-factly. He lowered his hood, revealing to Harry and Ron the glove that held the conductor spellbound as he did so, and also revealing his face. Harry and Ron looked at each other, fear filling their young faces.

The thin pane of glass was all that separated Harry and Ron from Peter Pettigrew.

Chpt. 2. Sanctity in Diagon Alley

Harry almost froze in his shoes. The betrayer of his family was a mere twenty feet from him. Ron's shock still hadn't worn off. Ron hadn't been this close to Pettigrew since that fateful night over two years ago when they had found out that Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, was innocent of murder. The two best friends still held each other's gaze as Pettigrew and his accomplice argued back and forth about where to start looking. Are they searching for me? wondered Harry.

Harry and Ron scrambled to the back of the compartment, praying for the chance to open the door unnoticed. A sickening thought suddenly occurred to Harry.

"Ron, Pettigrew knows where you live. What's gonna happen when the conductor mentions The Burrow as our stop?" asked Harry.

"Oh shit," was all Ron could manage. "We're in it deep."

"How're we gonna get to that conductor? He won't come back this way, not since they demanded privacy," thought Harry out loud. He frantically searched the cabin, looking for a way out. Ron had begun this too, more out of instinct than quick thinking. The voices in the adjoining cabin had thankfully continued their argument for the past several moments, giving Harry time to find an emergency escape hatch in the roof. Pointing his wand at Ron, he whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa." Ron levitated to the hatch, and narrowly missed hitting his head.

"Unlock it," whispered Harry.

Ron finally had a grip on his nerves and moved to action. He was quite reliable in an emergency once he had time to think the situation through, always having trouble controlling his emotions. Once atop the Knight Bus, Ron in turn pointed his wand at Harry and levitated him up as well.

"Let's wait here a moment," whispered Harry. "I wanna hear what's going on."

"I swear I'm gonna kill every rat I find until the day I die," swore Ron. "No wonder snitches were named after them. Not a trustworthy rodent in the whole damn lot of them."

"Sh," commanded Harry, as the Death Eater's search began. He pressed his ear to the roof of the bus since closing the escape hatch had silenced all noise coming from the compartment.

"Well, where do we begin," mumbled the tall companion whom Harry didn't recognize. "I can't believe I was sent to find a teenager. How degrading."

"This teenager will bring you riches beyond your dreams," spat Pettigrew. "You should feel honored to be here. Now quit your bitching and get busy. He's to be taken alive."

"Let's go," mouthed Harry, very afraid to make even the slightest noise to alert the search party of their presence. Together they managed to navigate the roof, casting charms on each other when necessary. Several minutes and a lot of swearing later, they made it to the conductor's cabin and shimmied down his escape hatch.

"What the hell are you two doing?" he cried. "You ain't supposed to be playing games here. One stop and you'd a been launched halfway to Camelot."

"We need to change our stop," explained Harry. "Emergency," he added, thrusting a small fistful of galleons at the conductor. It was a trick he once saw Uncle Vernon do in a restaurant when the hostess refused to bump up their reservation on Aunt Petunia's birthday. The hostess had immediately moved them to a table and gave them first-rate service for the remainder of their meal.

The conductor turned out to be very bribable, and promptly changed his tone of voice. "Where to, sirs?" he asked, adding a very low bow that made him look foolish.

At this question, Harry looked to Ron, not having thought of this. Ron blurted out the first magical site that popped into his head.

"Diagon Alley."

"Quickly," added Harry.

"Straight away, sirs," bowed the conductor, who retreated to the driver's seat and left them alone to form a plan.

"Quick thinking," said Harry. "It's so common, they won't think twice about it. We can rent brooms and fly back to the Burrow," he added, his plan quickly forming in his head.

Ron's thinking caught up with Harry's. "We can tell Mum we were practicing Quidditch," Ron chipped in. "We'll get a talking-to for being out flying this late again, but hell, at least we're alive."

Their plans were interrupted by the voice of Pettigrew, now talking to the conductor. They couldn't make out all of his words, but managed to overhear "red hair", "Green eyes" and "Shabby-looking house".

"No sirs, I've not seen such boys on board this night," stated the conductor loudly, a little more loudly than necessary. "Perhaps if you two gentlemen could give a more detailed-" Harry quit listening at this point. His palm-greasing had paid off more than he thought, getting the hint that the conductor was both warning them and buying them time until their stop. All he wanted at that moment was to hear-

"Diagon Alley!" cried the driver as the bus halted. Amazing timing, thought Harry. They quickly ran for the doors as they heard the tall man lose his patience and shove the conductor out of his way.

"Check them! See if it's them!" cried Pettigrew, who was now physically restraining the conductor.

The duo didn't bother to climb down the steps, opting to jump them all at once instead. Ron slightly twisted his ankle when he landed but his sudden adrenaline rush masked the pain for now.

"Aks tsaroth minas akarai!" they heard over their shoulders as red beams knocked bricks off the wall of The Leaky Cauldron, vaguely wondering exactly what spell that was. Harry turned around to shout a well-timed Jelly-Legs curse at the tall man, who hadn't bothered to defend himself in his attempt to subdue the boys. Ron had already ran through the front doors of the pub and was holding the door for Harry, wand at the ready.

"They're still coming!" puffed Ron, the two now hurtling out the back door to the magical entrance to Diagon Alley. Harry mechanically opened the passageway and they ran onto the half deserted street, bumping into a frazzled-looking witch along the way.

"Sorry," muttered Harry in apology as they ran aimlessly, so long as they got away from their pursuers. They ran for several minutes, not caring where they went until they found themselves down Knockturn Alley.

"The only time I'll ever get to be here is when I don't wanna be," Ron complained, but was nonetheless looking for someplace to hide.

"Here Potter Potter Potter!!!" taunted the tall man.

"Be veerwy veeeeerwy qwiet, I'm huntin' fow weasels!" crowed Pettigrew in a horrible Elmer Fudd imitation. It would have been rather comical under different circumstances.

"In here," whispered Ron as he wrenched Harry's arm through a door. Ironically, it was the very shop Harry had gotten lost in after his first ever attempt at using floo powder. They hid in the very cabinet that Harry had, prompting Harry to mutter "Deja-vu all over again," thus unknowingly quoting Yogi Berra.

Again history repeated itself, as Lucius Malfoy entered the shop, though sans Draco. He rapped his cane impatiently on the counter and whined about bad service until the shopkeeper emerged from his warehouse.

"Ah, good evening Mr. Malfoy. Selling more artifacts, I presume?"

"Quiet, you fool," spat Mr. Malfoy. "I'm buying on this trip. I have a list I need immediately." He pulled out a short roll of parchment and continued to haggle over several items.

"My dear sir, you know it's illegal for one to stock such-"

"Don't pull that Ministry bullshit on me," returned Mr. Malfoy shortly.

"I didn't say I didn't have them I merely stated it's illegal for me to-"

"In any case, I would greatly appreciate it if we may bring our dealings to a close," Mr. Malfoy cut in again.

"Right away, sir," said the shopkeeper irritably. He retreated to his private stock as Mr. Malfoy tapped the floor impatiently with his cane waiting for his return. He wandered through the shop, examining several items at random, stopping to note a few on his parchment.

"Here we are, sir. I do trust in your confidence in this matter. You know what could happen should anyone find out where you bought ingredients for-"

Lucius thrust a rather large sack of money into the shopkeeper's hands, which he jingled merrily.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy." Said the shopkeeper, and he disappeared as Lucius left the shop.

"Ain't that a bitch," muttered Ron. "Bribing saves us from Pettigrew, but keeps us from finding out what Malfoy's up to. Isn't it ironic?"

"Don't cha think?" grinned Harry "C'mon, let's go. We've got," Harry checked his watch, "Half an hour before Hermione comes in. We're dead if we don't get back by then."

Harry and Ron dashed out of Knockturn Alley and headed for Quality Quidditch Supplies, ringing the bell for service. They gaped at all the supplies, which Harry always managed to find time to inspect.

"Good evening, young sirs," said the lady at the counter in an Irish accent. "What may I do for ye to-dee?"

"We need to rent a broomstick," said Harry. In his hurry, he had forgotten to brush his hair over his scar, which the lady noticed almost immediately.

"Harry Potter! It's me pleasure to help thee. People still be talking about your flying in the Tournament this past year! Amazing!"

Harry stared at the floor, red-faced, and thanked the lady for her compliments. Ron gave a somewhat forced grin, always having a little trouble dealing with Harry's fame and talents. They asked the shopkeeper to rent a decent broom, which she would hear none of.

"Young Potter here in me shop, no, ye may not rent. I have the latest prototype, if ye could be a kind chap and test it, it's do me a service. Here, lads, try this." At this, she brandished a new Carerra Precision. Harry and Ron's jaws both fell to the floor. It's handle shone brilliantly, as if it were made from-

"Crushed diamonds," stated the shopkeeper jubilantly. "Melted by dragon's breath and molded into the most aerodynamic handle ever known! Tail twigs selected from the finest California redwoods, adding years to its durability. Calibrated handle notes your average grip, so it responds only to the swerving touches you want. No more false moves made in excitement. The more you use it, the better it flies!" She had lost her accent in her sales pitch, sounding much more like a new car salesman.

Harry and Ron could barely mutter a heartfelt "Thank you," as they accepted the broomstick and set off for the Burrow. They had even managed to forget that they were being hunted for a moment, until they lost the security of shelter and became wary once more.

They found a nicely deserted alley and took off on their borrowed brooms, nearly falling off the back after having pushed off too hard in their excitement. The acceleration was remarkable. Harry wondered if his Firebolt would ever feel the same again. They began to form concentric loops, having flown so high they were now out of sight. They just could not stop smiling.

"Harry, I reckon these have built-in Cheering Charms," laughed Ron. The feeling was simply euphoric.

"I don't even want to think of how much this costs. The diamonds alone are worth more than my Gringotts vault," said Harry, who was now thinking longingly of chasing the Golden Snitch on this rocket of a broomstick. It was so easy to maneuver that Harry felt it was more of an extension of his thoughts than talent.

The trip to The Burrow took no time on the new racing brooms, and they were loath to land. The thought of Mrs. Weasley scolding them into next week was all that could bring them down from the air. They quickly buried the brooms in the field behind Ron's house, not daring to use more magic, and recovered their own brooms from the shed and flew deliberately in from of all the windows of the house.

"There you are!" came a shrill voice from the third floor window that was Ron's room. Mrs. Weasley was hanging out of the window having apparently been looking for them in Ron's room. "Touch down this instant! You two need to wash up before Hermione comes in. Where have you been!?"

"Sorry, Mum. We were playing Quidditch and lost track of time," said Ron morosely, hoping that his mom didn't notice exactly how dirty his shirt was.

"Harry dear, Hedwig brought you a letter, it's on your bed," Mrs. Weasley said more kindly to Harry. She could never bring herself to yell at Harry outright, but that never stopped Harry's guilty feelings anytime he and Ron had done something to betray her trust.

"That was close," muttered Ron. Harry could see the relief flood his face.

"Yeah, a little too close," smirked Harry. They stored their barely-used-but-well-covered brooms back in the shed and entered the house.

"It's awful quiet in here," observed Ron as they entered, noting the lack of people in the house.

"Yeah, a little too quiet," whispered Harry. Even though all hands on the Weasleys' magical clock pointed to "Home", no one was in sight. They searched the house for Ron's family, or any semblance of life for that matter. Their search ended in the attic, however. Ron thought that the clicking was coming from the resident ghoul, but when he opened the door he started.

"It's Hermione!" said Ron in surprise.

"Yeah, a little too Hermione," said Harry seriously. Ron punched Harry in the arm as Hermione ran to greet her friends.

"Where have you two been?" questioned Hermione. She hadn't lost her mother-hen tone over the summer holidays. "I've been waiting for ages for you to finally show up." She gave Harry a swift hug, but hesitated slightly when she face Ron. Ron gave her a rather uncomfortable hug, to which Harry had to turn his head to hide his smile. He noticed that Mr. Weasley was putting together-

"A pool table! Cool!" said Harry. Mr. Weasley was very fond of Muggles and brought home any artifact that interested him. Mr. Weasley turned to smile broadly at Harry. He never missed a chance to quiz Harry about Muggle lifestyle.

"Ahoy there Harry! I see you know how to use this, then. I just thought is was an altar of some sort," Mr. Weasley admitted sheepishly. He had apparently been having too much fun with the hammer as the legs of the table had not a few dents in them.

"Harry can explain later," scolded Mrs. Weasley. "It's far too late and we still have dinner to eat. All of you, wash up and come down stairs!" she ordered, to which everyone obeyed for fear of increasing her ire.

After they had all washed and began eating, Harry started to explain the rules of billiards to the Weasleys'. After a solid fifteen minutes of trying to convince Mr. Weasley that pool cues were long sticks of wood and not overly-large wands, Muggle sports was dropped in favor of more mundane conversation, such as Percy's desire to find power inside the Ministry of Magic or discussion of buying school supplies, but Harry didn't mind. He was back with people he loved, who treated him like family. He lost every care he had, even his earlier encounter with two Death Eaters having slipped his thoughts for the night.