Harry Potter and the Dark Mark

Chapter Fourteen: A (Mostly) Black Letter Day

Neither Dumbledore nor McGonagall spoke a word as Harry followed their hurried footsteps down an unfamiliar, winding staircase. Ahead of them was a cavernous tunnel, lit by rows of bright orange torches hanging upon magical emptiness.

And then suddenly, light.

He was standing in the midst of a room with a dozen archways and a high dome ceiling. An enormous stone slab table occupied the middle of the room-- around which sat ten bodies.

"I assume you know most of us," said Dumbledore lightly as he brushed past Harry and joined the rest of the people at the table, with McGonagall standing a good five feet behind them all, arms folded. Harry was staring into faces he wasn't all too familiar with, but also several faces that he knew so very well: Sirius, Hagrid, Professor Snape, even Alistair Moody... and the traitor Arabella Figg.

Harry's eyes paused on hers, who looked back at him with a solemnity that verged on that of pity. He had to make a conscious effort not to jump across that table and choke her.

"The faces before you at this table, Harry, are members of what is known as The Order of the Phoenix. We have been working very hard for two years now, to not just gather information about Lord Voldemort, his whereabouts and his agenda, but to do all that is within our power to thwart him and those working for him."

Harry put his thoughts of strangling Arabella Figg on hold, and he snapped to attention, perfectly worried by the graveness of Dumbledore's voice and the import of what he was saying.

"And since we operate independently from the Ministry, I am sure you can easily understand why such a mission as ours is by no means an easy undertaking. All of us," he motioned to the people at the table, "those here and those working in the field not present, all of us have pledged our all to see the triumph of the Order which means that our lives are literally at stake twenty-four hours a day.

Whatever Dumbledore was getting at, it wasn't good. No one at the table, not ever Sirius, was looking at all pleased.

Dumbledore sighed wearily. "Harry... it has come to our attention that you have been playing a most dangerous game. I understand your thirst to solve mysteries, indeed I've been most impressed by it these many years, but when it involves breaking serious school rules and needlessly risking your own life and the lives of others, I must remonstrate. Especially when it risks the fate of the Order and the Ministry."

Oh how Harry wanted to ask questions, but prudence screamed at him to keep his mouth shut.

"It has also come to our attention that you have been in rather close contact with one Rita Skeeter. From your digging, the two of you apparently discovered that the Death Eaters were planning to break into the Ministry of Magic to confiscate a very powerful dark magic spell book, is that correct?"

"Yes sir," said Harry meekly. "I wanted to tell you about it yesterday, but you weren't on campus."

Dumbledore's eyes measured Harry from overtop his spectacles. "And what was the name of this book?"

"The Book of the Intrata."

Arabella spoke. "The Book of the Intrata is more fabrication than it is fact, Harry."

Harry was dumbfounded at Arabella! How dare she accuse me of being a liar! How dare she sit here with Dumbledore and Sirius and pretend to be one of them--

He couldn't help himself. "Oh? That's not what you told Lucius Malfoy the other night!"

The faces at the table looked around at each other, all of them surprised-- none more so than Arabella herself. "My, but you're good Harry," she said finally, "with such a real talent for espionage, you should be sitting here at this table."

There were a few chuckles, even from Sirius, and Harry was left swimming in confusion. "Well," he urged to Dumbledore, "what are you going to do about it? She sat there for half an hour telling Malfoy what he--"

"Harry," said Dumbledore calmly, "Professor Figg is no more of a traitor than I am."

"But I saw her--"

"You saw her at the Malfoy manor on an assignment for the Order."

Dumbledore was obviously aware that such a simple statement was not going to satisfy Harry, so he leaned forward and fixed his gaze firmly on him. "We have all endured several months of preparation to lead the Dark Lord and his followers into a trap. Professor Snape worked many months at great risk to secure information regarding the Dark Lord's inner circle and their whereabouts. He would pick up whatever bits of Intel he could to try and piece together their game plan. We then capitalized off of Arabella's reputation as a purveyor, of sorts, to the dark arts and what you saw at the Malfoy manor was the result of careful, painstaking planning."

Harry's heart was pounding, no, rattling inside of him and the back of his neck was laced with perspiration. He couldn't have made such a terrible miscalculation, could he? It wasn't possible, was it?

"That's right," said Arabella, "the Book of the Intrata was a ploy to lure the death eater's right into our hands."

The solemn eyes that were staring at him (Snape's particularly venomous) were testimony that it was indeed very possible he had, in layman's terms, screwed up.

And the more Dumbledore spoke, the more Harry's guilt swelled.

"I believe that you are almost certainly unaware that your very... er... shall we call her your eager partner, Miss Skeeter, wanted so much to break the story herself that she went to the Ministry and notified them of the impending break-in. The difficulty with this is that Miss Skeeter failed to realize that perhaps there might be spies and Dark Lord supporters within the Ministry. There are of course, just as sure as we have spies there, which meant that Voldemort was then immediately advised of the Ministry being put on a tactical alert."

"So," said Arabella, "When our agents arrived from the Order, they were understandably surprised to find the Ministry was on a full alert, awaiting an ambush--an ambush that was never to happen."

"They never came," Harry said weakly.

"No," said Arabella, "they most certainly did not. Voldemort is working very hard to make a spectacular move, and having his supporters caught breaking into the Ministry is something he didn't want."

"Which means," vented Snape as he was surely eager to, "that your presumptuous and impetuous behavior has not only foiled an undertaking that we have planned and risked our lives to execute, but has also alerted the Dark Lord to the fact that Arabella Figg is not a sympathizer of his, but rather is working to his demise. Something that places her in a very precarious situation indeed, and sets the rest of us back at least six months simply due to your arrogant..."

"Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, "while we can certainly tolerate to be spared your forays into the scope of the English language, you do make your points correctly and plainly. Harry, do you understand the seriousness of what has happened?"

All Harry could do was nod in agreement, too ashamed now to look at any of them-- least of all Sirius whom he wanted nothing more than to always make proud.

"There is," said Dumbledore suddenly, "one good thing that has resulted from all of this. It appears that Miss Skeeter did obtain enough physical evidence to have a certain school Governor removed from his position."

Harry looked up.

Dumbeldore held up what looked like a small, round black button. "She had the foresight to attach a recording device to your traveling cloaks-- something I must admit that none of us were clever enough to think of ourselves. The entire conversation between Lucius and Arabella was saved on the device, and the Ministry of Magic is currently making arrangements to have Mr. Malfoy discharged for what they're calling, 'possessing sympathies with the Dark movement.' He's going to have a very nasty shock come Monday morning."

'Atta girl, Rita.

"Harry, I understand that your actions were in fact done with the best of intentions, but it has resulted in a regrettably very serious situation--"

"--And it's time you learned once and for all that famous Mr. Potter does not know everything, and that your actions can't go without punishm--" Snape was seething, but Sirius cut him off.

"I believe Dumbledore is perfectly capable of handling this, Severus."

Sirius' angry eyes shifted from Snape to Harry, but they did not lessen in

their severity. Harry became distraught by the fact he was disappointing the most important person in his life.

"Thank you, Sirius," said Dumbledore who took a long pause before

Continuing, "Harry, I have discussed this matter with both the members of the Order as well as the other heads of house, and all were in agreement that we cannot let this go without appropriate disciplinary action."

Harry gulped.

"We have decided that a five day suspension is in order."

A FIVE DAY SUSPENSION?

Harry didn't dare say a word, let alone protest the decision, but their verdict was enough to nearly bring him crumbling to his knees. Instead, he hung his head in shame, unable to bear the faces at the table: Hagrid who kept biting at his fingernails in his uneasiness, Snape whose eyes were bright with a mad satisfaction and smiled with noted superiority, and then Sirius whose dark eyes still refused to move from Harry...

He'd never felt as hopelessly asinine or immature as he did at that moment. Words would not come, nor did Harry particularly feel that anything he could say in defense would do any sort of good.

"The suspension does go into effect immediately," said Dumbledore, "and we have already notified your guardians of the decision--"

The Dursley's are going to tar and feather me, I know it...

"You will be escorted on the Hogwarts Express by Professor Figg, and she will see you safely back to your home. The train leaves at precisely eleven am, so Professor McGonagall will be waiting for you in the common room at exactly half past ten. You'll have just enough time to gather whatever things you'll need for your stay..." Dumbledore stopped suddenly and then added, "do you have any questions, Harry?"

Harry was using all his strength to keep his eyes from watering-- he softly shook his head no.

"Well then, that is all." Dumbledore stood up, as did the other members of the Order who began immediately to chat amongst themselves. Professor McGonagall came to his side, "Come, Potter."

"Oh, allow me, Minerva," said Dumbledore pleasantly, joining Harry.

Harry followed Dumbledore out of the chamber, not having the gumption to look back at his Godfather-- how could he when he knew exactly how much of a disappointment he was.

Dumbledore was quiet for some time as the two walked back towards the Gryffindor tower, and it was Harry who broke the silence.

"I... I'm so sorry..."

Dumbledore answered slowly. "I know, Harry. There was no way that you could have known..." he sighed, "I was afraid that you would get involved, which is why I've been..."

"Ignoring me?" Harry spat.

"Keeping my distance. You and Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are quick on your way to becoming legends in the art of Code-Cracking, so it was decided that the less you knew the safer we'd be from, well, from what happened yesterday..." he sighed, "you're very bright... despite your Potions marks--"

Harry wanted to laugh, but couldn't somehow.

"-- and I well know how you and your friends do love a good adventure. But things are different now. Dangerous, Harry. Very dangerous. You mean much too much to everyone at that table, myself included, to be lost to Voldemort. Not now-- not when we've come so far."

"I just... I couldn't sit by while he kills people, Professor. I... I wanted to help, to bring him and the people on his side down..."

"Which is the same thing that we're dedicated to doing--"

"--well then perhaps I can help, or... or..."

But Dumbledore was shaking his head sagely. "No, Harry. You're a Hogwarts student. And any Hogwarts student should be focused on their academics first and foremost."

Harry was quiet, thinking hard. "But..." he ventured slowly, "you have to agree that I am not just any Hogwarts student... I mean, well, because of everything that's happened over the years..."

"I understand, Harry, yes," Dumbledore said soothingly, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder, "but since you are a minor, I have obligations too: too protect you, and all the students here, from any and all harm. Something that..." he sighed, "is certainly not as easy as it was a few years ago... and we just can't have students purposefully placing themselves in front of the danger we are trying so very tirelessly to protect them from..." Dumbledore sighed, "I know this probably is very frustrating to you, Harry..."

"I understand, Professor... I do. I... just didn't know... about the Order... I didn't... I wasn't thinking." And then he remembered. "But at least Lucius Malfoy is out of a job, right?"

Dumbledore chuckled lightly and whispered so that the eavesdropping portraits couldn't hear, "and thank Merlin for that!"

When Harry told Ron and Hermione in the common room, they took the news pretty much as Harry expected them to. There was an immediate explosion, something akin to a nuclear blast, then the flow of expletives all beginning with the word "bloody" from Ron, and then the "oh Harry's" from Hermione.

"Bloody Privet Drive? Oh, this just isn't happening! If you leave for Privet Drive today then you miss the game against Ravenclaw on Tuesday! And we need you, mate."

"I know Ron, but what can I do about it?" Harry removed his glasses so that he could massage the stressful pain at the bridge of his nose. "I was a bloody moron for what I did."

"You weren't a bloody moron," said Ron with a smile. "how were you supposed to know about this Order of the--"

"RON, shut up!" Hermione's face had turned beet red in her agitation and she looked like she was ready to strangle him with her bare hands. Her voice lowered in a furious whisper. "If Harry didn't know about the Order, what makes you think that Dumbledore wants the entire Gryffindor common room to know about it?"

Ron reddened and clammed up.

"Harry," said Hermione sympathetically, "you can't take it too hard. At least now we know that they're all working against the dark movement, and you did something that even they weren't able to do."

"Yeah," Ron piped in, "you got that bloody wan--"

"Ron,"

"--ker thrown off the school board!"

Despite Hermione's distaste at Ron's swearing, she had to smile. And so did Harry.

"Hey," said Hermione, "you know how seriously I'd view a suspension--"

Ron laughed. "Even a detention would send you off your rocker."

"--but," she continued, gaining a smile, "five days out of school is a worthy trade off to having Malfoy dishonorably discharged."

Ron and Hermione... in the span of only five minutes they'd sent him from the depths of the doldrums to, well, he was still in the doldrums but their smiles and assurances let him see the light at the end of the tunnel... and five days wasn't so bad after all. Hermione was right, a worthy trade-off indeed!

He packed a small bag with a few days worth of clothes, readied Hedwig's cage for the trip, and Ron and Hermione waited with him for Professor McGonagall to arrive.

"Besides," Ron was saying, "I know Privet Drive is a fate worse than death, but at least Dudley will be there, right?"

"Yeah... Dudley..." I hope he'll be all right with me.

"And maybe you'll even get to see Sophie? Assuming that your Aunt and Uncle don't chain you to your bed."

Harry's heart forgot how to beat just long enough for him to sway off balance. "Yes... Sophie..." he hurried to a table and pulled open the lid pulling out a spare parchment and some ink. His writing was worse than usual:

Sophie:

I don't have much time to write. Something awful has happened: I've been suspended from Hogwarts for five days. It's a long story and my train for London is leaving soon, so I'll tell you all about it later. I'm hoping we will be able to meet while I am back in Surrey. Owl me as soon as you can-- I should be home around nine o clock or so.

Love,

Harry

He quickly folded the note and stuck it in Hedwig's beak. "Go on Hedwig, it's for Sophie."

She remained stationary, her amber eyes firmly on Harry, waiting. "What? What are you waiting for?"

Hedwig sat. And waited.

"Hedwig, girl, I don't know what you want, I..."

Hedwig finally gave up and began to rub her head affectionately against Harry's fingers. Harry laughed. "Oh! Oh, Hedwig..." he ruffled her fur and scratched the top of her head while Hedwig cooed most approvingly. And then she was up and flying up the dormitory steps towards the open window.

Ron laughed. "Women."

Hermione was surely about to press him on what exactly Ron meant by that, but the door swung open and Professor McGonagall marched into the room.

"Ready, Potter?"

He said goodbye to Ron and Hermione and picked up his bag. The other Gryffindors were now gathering, whispering, wondering what was happening.

"Oy, Harry," said Neville, "where you going, mate?"

But Harry was already outside of the common room and followed a silent Professor McGonagall down from the Gryffindor tower. Their journey in the carriage was more or less silent; with the Professor's eyes making firm contact with Harry's every few minutes.

Just as they were approaching the station, she actually directed an entire statement towards Harry.

"I'm quiet disappointed in you, Potter."

Harry lowered his head.

"I was most anxious to see what the results of your Apparition exam would be."

Harry's eyes shot back up at her, and she was smiling. Faintly, but smiling nonetheless. Heartened, he took a change and replied to her.

"You and me both, Professor."

The carriage jerked to a stop and they hopped out onto the wet morning ground. The Hogwarts Express was rumbling, steam jetting up from under it's wheels, and Arabella Figg was standing outside of the nearest door wearing the same sort of floral print granny dress he'd grown up seeing her wear.

But there was another man next to her... tall and slender with a keen and darkly beautiful face, however weathered it was.

"Sirius?"

"Professor Gray was so kind as to accompany Professor Gray on the long trip to London," said McGonagall casually, and then she said sharply. "Goodbye, Potter."

Sirius did not look nearly as cross as he had at the meeting earlier, so Harry was only slightly cautious as he approached him.

"This way," said Arabella, stepping into the train.

Harry paused in front of Sirius, feeling the need to apologize to him. "Sirius, listen, I'm sorry that I..."

But Sirius placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and nodded after Arabella Figg. "Get on, Harry."

He did so, Sirius following behind him, and the doors closed shut behind them.

What a strange company in such a strange situation. The Hogwarts express should have been pounding with the laughter and delighted shrieks of the students. But instead, all that was heard was the syncopation of the wheels grating tracks underneath. And in front of him? Arabella Figg, the mad old lady from Magnolia Crescent turned Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, turned Voldemort supporter, turned Voldemort fighter. And next to her Sirius Black, whose resume was much too exhaustive to even consider at such a moment. But the fact that Sirius was here, even if he was mad at Harry, made things better-- everything was always better with Sirius around.

Sirius was, currently, stretching his long left leg by resting it on the chair across from him. Sirius' boot was so close, Harry could smell the dirt on it and upon closer inspection, noticed that they were of a very expensive make-- Wizardo's, if Harry wasn't mistaken, which were made exclusively in southern Italy and were imported at a hefty sum.

"Sirius," he said quietly, "are those a pair of Wizardo's?"

Sirius couldn't help but smile. "Beauties, aren't they? Won 'em from a fella at the Hog's Head last week. First nice thing I've owned since..." his expression darkened somewhat, "well, it's been a long time."

"Hermione would have you arrested for wearing those," Harry said bemusedly, "she says that they're made with the enforced labor of freed house elves, whose situation has been exploited by companies like Wizardo's for decades." He'd heard Hermione's tirade so long, he could repeat it in his sleep if he wanted.

"Thanks for the warning," said Sirius good naturedly, "if there's one person I never want to cross wands with, it's Miss Granger."

"I'll second that," said Arabella with a chuckle.

Arabella and Sirius both looked relaxed that Harry decided to use their good mood as a chance to try and patch things up.

"Professor Figg... I really want to apologize for thinking that you were... with Voldemort. I mean, of all people I should know that you can't always believe all of what you see."

Arabella nodded. "I can only imagine what it must have looked like, seeing me walk into Malfoy's home. Let me tell you, Harry, I couldn't wait to get out of that place. Such a gaudy display of money," she was frowning now, most severely, "Lucius is getting precisely what he deserves... thanks to you," she added softly.

Sirius crossed his leg with his other equally as smelly boot. "And I can't pretend to be a hypocrite, Harry, because if I'd been in your shoes I would have done the exact same thing."

Harry nearly said the words 'would you really?' And then of course, he remembered he was talking to a Marauder-- of course he would have. Harry didn't say anything, but it was immensely wonderful to hear Sirius say that.

The hours stretched on, and Harry dozed in and out of sleep. But his mind was too full to let sleep take over for too long. He kept going back and forth between feeling glad he was sitting next to Sirius, and then feeling dread of what the Dursley's were going to say when he got back to Privet Drive... then there was Dudley and the worry of whether or not he would still give Harry the cold shoulder... there was Sophie-- how he wanted to see her... and then he'd go back to beating himself up over what had happened... the humiliation of being suspended... the great many questions he had about the Order...

"What do you do?" Harry asked Sirius suddenly and without warning.

Sirius, whose head was back in an attempt to catch a nap, opened his eyes groggily. "What?"

"For the Order, I mean. What do you do?"

Sirius took his legs off from the seat and leaned forward, eyeing Harry. "You know... I could answer that question with a simple 'none of your business.'" He leaned back again. "But what the hell, right Bella?"

Arabella smiled at Sirius.

"I'm the only person she'll let call her that." He yawned lazily before continuing. "Well... to be perfectly honest, Harry, I don't do too much field work. After all... I am still Sirius Black-- Escaped Murderer From Azkaban. Remus, now, he gets to do a lot. So does..." Sirius snorted, "Snape. Hagrid too-- Hagrid's got the hardest job, in my opinion. Trying to keep those Giants from going over to the dark side. Not much keeping 'em on our side, not with the way they've been treated over the years. But Hagrid's done a damn fine job."

"Oh," said Harry, "so then... everything is fine with the Giants?"

"Everything is far from fine with the Giants," said Arabella firmly. "In fact, Hagrid's been pretty worried lately over some things he's been hearing. It's a work-in-progress, Harry. Hagrid is doing the very best he can, which is all we can ask for."

The train pulled in to King's Cross and once they went through the barrier into the Muggle world (Sirius putting his glasses back on grudgingly) Harry was struck by how cold it was. The station was much quieter than he was accustomed-- it was after nine o' clock at night-- and what London Muggles there were, hurried past them unconcerned.

Harry, Sirius and Arabella stood under the arrivals and departures board and waited... and waited...

"I'm sure they're just late," said Sirius hopefully.

But Arabella and Harry exchanged doubtful glances.

Harry looked up at the clock which read 10:23-- it had been over one hour since their train arrived. And the security guard was starting to give them funny looks-- particularly Sirius whom he kept sneaking glances at.

"Harry," said Arabella, "perhaps you should use one of those payphones to call home? Just to see when they left?" She pulled out three 50P coins and handed them to Harry.

Harry nodded and hurried to the phones, putting in the money. He'd nearly forgotten their phone number, but soon it was dialing. Soon there was a loud beeping noise in his ear-- he'd been around Muggles long enough to know what that meant.

Damn. He hung up the phone in fury and trudged back to Arabella and Sirius. "It's a busy signal."

"Busy signal?" Sirius repeated slowly.

"Yeah. And no one talks on the phone in that house except Aunt Petunia..."

"Then maybe just your Uncle is coming," said Sirius.

"Oh damn this," Arabella said, her face scrunched up in anger, "Knowing the Dursley's they'll not show up on purpose, just to make a point. Harry, have you any idea how to hail a taxi?"

They were now outside of the station, a line of black taxi cabs parked, motors purring, and Harry had to smile. "It's not that hard, actually," he said walking towards the queue, raising his hand to get the nearest cabby's attention. "Excuse me, but I'm going to--"

"Harry! Wait! We're here!"

Harry spun around, startled out of his wits, and he found Sophie's face rushing towards him, her father close behind.

"What's going on," whispered Arabella urgently, but Harry was already making a break for Sophie.

He practically fell into her arms, and she held him tightly, her heart pounding against his.

She pulled him away and beamed into his face, her breath still trying to catch up with her. "So-- sorry--we're--late--stupid--accident--on the--M1."

"I've missed you so much... oy! You've cut your hair!"

Indeed she had, and Sophie laughed nervously. "Oh yeah, you... you like it?"

"You look lovely," he said and took hold of her hand firmly with his left, and

extended his had to Roger with his right. "All right, Mr. Banbury?"

"Yes Harry, and you?"

"All right. What... what on earth are you doing here?"

"Oh well there's a story," said Sophie, "but come on, let's talk in the car, it's bloody cold out here."

"Right you are-- oh!" Harry spun around and both Arabella and Sirius were staring at him. Harry blushed. "Oh... Sophie? Mr. Banbury? You remember, uh, Professor Gray?"

Sirius shook hands with Roger, "Good to see you again, Mr. Banbury."

"And you."

"And Professor Figg, this is Sophie's father Mr. Banbury."

Arabella nodded cordially, "How do you do."

The five of them packed themselves into the Banbury's Renault and soon Roger was weaving out into the surprisingly light London traffic.

"All right," said Harry, "now what happened?"

"Oh," said Sophie, turning around in the passenger seat, making her hair fall so delicately into her eyes. "so I got your note from Hedwig this afternoon. I immediately called the Dursley's because, well, we know how the Dursley's are. Dudley answered and said that his Mum and Dad weren't going to be able to pick you up after all, something important came up. Of course, I think they just didn't want to miss the season premiere of Keeping Up Appearances. Anyway, so I scolded Dudley for not telling me about it because Dad and I would have been more than happy to come get you. And... well, here we are!

"We would have been here on time, Harry," said Mr. Banbury, "but of course, that stupid accident."

"Well we are all very grateful," said Arabella, "thank you."

Sirius' legs were quite squished in the back seat, but he seemed altogether pleased with the situation. "I can't remember the last time I've been in a Muggle car," he said to Mr. Banbury, his eyes glued out the window on the cars in the other lanes. "You don't by any chance own a motorcycle, do you?"

Mr. Banbury laughed. "When I was younger, I did. A mate of mine at the station, though, he collects them."

Sirius' eyes were still stuck on the cars. "This mate of yours doesn't sell them, does he?"

"Oh, I suppose so, if the price is right. You're fond of motorcycles, Professor Gray?"

Sirius voice was becoming all the more distant. "You could say that..."

Harry well remembered that Sirius had once owned one himself. According to Hagrid he'd really loved it, but had given it to Hagrid on the night that Harry's parents were murdered. And this was the first mention of a motorcycle from Sirius Harry could remember.

Harry was beginning to recognize the scenery passing by the windows, and knew that he'd be back at Privet drive in no time. They turned onto Magnolia Crescent, Arabella pointing out to Sirius where she lived for so many years, and then number four was right before them.

All five of them walked to the front door and Harry rang the bell.

Uncle Vernon swung the door open and nearly gave out a belch of fright upon sight of five faces on his front porch.

"All right there, Vernon?" Arabella was beaming at Uncle Vernon who turned about three different shades of green upon sight of her.

"Mrs. Figg? What are you doing here... with Harry... and..."

"She's a Professor at my school this year," said Harry happily.

"What the devil?" Uncle Vernon was frozen.

"Well Vernon," she pressed, "is this any way to treat an old friend? How about inviting us in and putting the kettle on?"

The five entered the warm house, Dudley hoisting himself up from where he'd been sitting in front of the television. "Hey Harry," he said casually, his eyes studying the company. It had been quite some time since he, Dudley and Sophie had been in the same room together and Harry was once again worried about Dudley's reaction.

"Hey Dudley," said Harry, "guess you forgot to tell your Mum and Dad about Professor Figg, huh?"

Dudley shrugged. "Didn't forget. Just knew they'd freak out."

"Then... Dudders, it's true?"

"Yes, dad, she's a witch just like the rest of 'em. And don't call me Dudders again." He turned and disappeared up the staircase, Harry wishing he could go up after him, but, well, Dudley had been right: Uncle Vernon was currently in the process of freaking out.

"But... Arabella, we... trusted... you can't... PETUNIA?!?"

Aunt Petunia was no less surprised than Vernon had been, and she served the company tea in a sort of daze. What ensued was about ten minutes of pure torture for the Dursley's, and ten minutes of blissful joy for Harry as Arabella gave them the story about herself, freely using such verboten words like 'magic' 'Hogwarts' and 'wizards.'

Sirius was having a grand time as well, knowing just so much his mere presence terrified Vernon and Petunia. "And Mr. Dursley, it was really ever so kind of you to arrange for the Banbury's to pick us up at the station." He smiled deliberately and added, "I had almost thought that you'd forgotten us. And of course, that would have been most regrettable."

"Y-yes, m-most regrettable indeed."

Mr. Banbury nudged Sophie, and they announced that they did have to be getting back as Mr. Banbury had to be at the station quite early in the morning.

"But I really need to talk to you," Sophie whispered, "so keep your window open because I'll send an owl tomorrow to figure out where we could meet up..."

Harry nodded, and she squeezed his hand tightly. He almost thought she was going to cry, but he couldn't be sure.

"And M-M-Mrs. F-Figg," said Uncle Vernon, "d-don't let us keep you."

"Oh, it's no bother. Might I trouble you for another cup of tea, Petunia? Thank you, dear."

Sirius stretched and yawned and Petunia, reluctantly, poured another cup. "You know Bella, Mr. Dursley is right. It's quite late, you know."

"Good heavens," said Arabella, "you're right. It's after midnight."

"Yes," said Uncle Vernon enthusiastically, "so, er, I trust you know you're way--"

"to the bathrooms? No, actually, I don't remember where they are. And shall I just take the sofa right down here or is there a spare bedroom upstairs?"

Harry's heart leapt-- they were going to stay the night!

Petunia had upset the tea, and tried to sop up her mess with shaking fingers.

Uncle Vernon was shaking as well-- no doubt from trying to keep calm. "N-now, see here Mr. Black, we can't have y-you're s-sort staying the night here. W-what would the neighbor's think if they knew w-we were harboring an escaped c-convict?"

"Don't reckon the neighbors will ever have to know," said Sirius unconcernedly.

"It's out of the question," said Petunia suddenly, and firmly. "This is our home, and I will not permit an escaped murderer nor a treacherous liar to stay here."

Arabella was duly surprised at being called a treacherous liar, but Sirius remained perfectly nonplussed.

"Oh come now Mrs. Dursley, surely you don't think we're as bad as all that."

"And worse." Said Petunia coldly.

Sirius sighed. "Ah, well then Arabella, I suppose if Mrs. Dursley won't let us stay we have no other choice..."

Petunia and Vernon gloated.

"...we'll just have to create a scene."

"A scene?"

"Oh, it won't be anything serious," said Sirius, lifting his jacket just enough so that the edge of his wand caught in the light, "just enough for you to see reason."

Five minutes later, Sirius was trying out the sofa for size. Petunia and Vernon weren't livid. They were about six or seven notches above that, and whenever Uncle Vernon's face turned that particular shade of purple, Harry knew it was in his best interest to steer clear out of their way.

In fact, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hadn't even said a word to him for the entire evening. And when they did give him eye contact it was as Sirius was testing out the sofa.

"Bed," snarled Vernon, "Now." He charged out of the living room and up the stairs, grumbling the whole way.

Harry stood quietly, waiting to hear the Dursley's bedroom door slam upstairs. "Come on Harry," said Arabella after the house stopped quaking from the tremendous bang from Uncle Vernon's bedroom door, "I'm staying up in the guest room."

Harry said goodnight to Sirius and then led Arabella up the stairs and down the hall. "Er... here's the guest bedroom," Harry whispered, opening the door at the far corner of the hall. "I'm afraid it's not very big, but..."

"I'm sure it's bigger than that cupboard under the stair," said Arabella whose frown was visible even in the dark hallway. "I saw it while we were having tea. That wasn't just cruel of them, that was... inhumane."

"It's in the past," Harry shrugged. "I've pretty much forgotten about it."

Arabella smiled. "And that's why you're such a good sort, Harry. Most people wouldn't forget about something like that."

"Well... most people haven't been through what I have. When you have memories of... being face to face with evil Lords... nearly having your soul sucked from you... watching friends die... well, living in a cupboard sort of gets lost in the shuffle." Harry took a breath, knowing what he was about to ask would almost definitely get no reply. "Professor Figg... what... what exactly are the Death Eaters trying to do?"

Arabella stared at Harry for some time, with no reaction. Harry waited tensely for something, anything. He opened his mouth to tell her 'never mind' when she took hold of his hand and said, "Come here,"

She led him back towards the staircase and took a seat on the top step, and motioned for Harry to do the same.

"I don't know why I'm going to tell you all this... I suppose it's being back here again... or perhaps it's the way you look so very much like your father... you look just like him Harry, I'm sure you've been told."

He nodded.

"I... I hesitate telling you this because... I don't know how you'll react..."

"I promise I won't say a word."

Arabella nodded. "Well... I'm sure that you're aware of the Fidelius Charm. Just as Peter Pettigrew was your Mother and Father's secret keeper, so is the case with myself and Dumbledore."

This Harry hadn't expected, and he waited for her to continue, which she did with a voice hushed and solemn.

"I am Dumbledore's secret keeper. You've been told that the reason your home here at Privet Drive is so well protected is because of the immensely powerful protective charms here. They are the same protective charms that were used on Hogwarts itself. This is all true... partly. You see, when... when you conquered Voldemort as a baby, the night your parents died, Dumbledore did not treat things as though Voldemort would never come back. He knew perfectly well that if Voldemort did come back, he would stop at nothing to kill you. The protective charms used on Hogwarts were indeed most powerful, but they were also charms familiar to Voldemort. Voldemort knew them, and unfortunately, even the most powerful of protective charms can be countered. Dumbledore, knowing that you would one day come to Hogwarts, improved on those protective charms. He invoked an ancient magic, and this new protective spell was put in place not only at Hogwarts, but here at Privet Drive as well."

Harry had to break his promise of keeping quiet. "So Dumbledore... basically... he invented a new charm?"

"A damn genius, Dumbledore is, and it pains me that he'll not ever be recognized for such an immense achievement!"

"Why not?"

"Because," she said, "even though Dumbledore's charm, the Magnus Altus charm, can be countered... it can't be countered if people like Voldemort don't know it exists."

The pieces were falling together and Harry nodded. "I see... so... you set Voldemort up, knowing he was trying to find a way to... to... get to me... by telling him that the answers to his problems were in this Book of the Intrata. But since you are Dumbledore's secret keeper, Voldemort won't ever know about this Magnus Altus, and that means he'll never be able to counter it!"

"Precisely."

"Bloody hell," Harry whispered, "I mean... bloody hell."

"The Ministry of Magic works this way: when a spell is invented, it must be legally published, along with its counter curse. Now, Dumbledore placed the secret of the spell, as well as the location of the book, inside of me." She smiled. "Voldemort will never find it, which means that as long as you're here or at Hogwarts, you and everyone with you is perfectly safe."

Harry leaned in closer to her. "Where is it? This book?"

The dark lighting was awful, true, but Harry could have sworn that he saw tears in her eyes. "It's buried deep underground up north... in Godric's Hollow."