Realizations

Chapter 18 - Converging Lines

Thursday, July 20, 1995

Arthur Weasley sighed as he packed his briefcase, and tidied his desk for the evening. The last few days had been extraordinarily stressful.

Shaking his head ruefully, Arthur recalled how he'd stomped up to the Burrow, Harry's window bars in hand, full of fierce indignation on the boy's behalf. Originally, he'd planned to use the Floo System, but the bars had been rather wide, so he'd decided to use his Order portkey instead.

After assuring Ron and Ginny that he would do his best to help Harry, and promising Molly he'd send word if he'd be long, Arthur had gone out in the yard, pulled his phoenix pendant out of his robes, and activated it. Molly had considered accompanying him, but thankfully, she had opted to stay behind with her two youngest children when they insisted on coming along as well.

Arthur shuddered at the implications of that scenario. It had disaster written all over it. Molly, Ron, and Ginny would have led a Dursley-finding expedition right then and there, regardless of what time it happened to be in Perth, Australia.

Arthur smiled fondly, as his eyes slid over the framed wizard photos on his desk. Ron and Ginny, bless them, were closest to Molly in temperament, and Percy wasn't far behind. Although he tended to be less vocal, his middle son was just as stubborn as the others, and very firm in his beliefs. Sometimes a bit too firm, really.

The other Weasley sons, were more like their father in that regard, but his cheerful good nature could be deceptive, and had taken many people by surprise. Arthur had a higher tolerance and a longer fuse than Molly did, but once he was at the end of it, his temper could rival, even surpass his fiery little wife's.

Arthur picked up a large outdoor group shot he had taken only last summer, and lightly ran his fingers over the glass. Molly was there, and all the children. He had always been fond of this captured moment in time. It was an exceptionally good picture, yes, but recently, it had become especially cherished because it seemed to represent a more innocent time.

It had been taken before the fiasco at the Quidditch World Cup, before the TriWizard Tournament, before Cedric's death and before You-Know-Who's return. All the problems he'd had back then had been small, petty details--nothing to get in a flap over. Bill and Charlie had been home for the World Cup. For just a few days, all his children had been back at the Burrow again.

He chuckled softly as the group smiled and waved at him, their excitement and anticipation evident. Eight red heads, one brown, one black.

Harry. Arthur's smile turned a bit wistful as he studied the Boy-Who-Lived. He stood just right of center, flanked by Hermione and Ron, and surrounded by the rest of the Weasley clan. For reasons he couldn't explain, this photo made Arthur think of a raven, perched in the branches of a blooming rose bush.

Hermione, though not red-headed, actually blended in rather well, the wizard noted, as he regarded the brown-eyed witch. She wasn't as immediately obvious as Harry was. With his jet black hair, and almost feline green eyes, he stood out like a sore thumb. Where are you, Harry? What are you up to? I swear I just don't understand what goes through that head of yours sometimes.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Arthur set the picture back on his desk, took one last look 'round, then doused the lights with a wave of his wand. Picking up his briefcase, he left his office, heading for the exit.

He'd stirred up more than he meant to when he'd appeared in the Hogwarts Hospital wing. The weight of the bars had pulled him off balance, and he'd very nearly wound up in Sirius Black's lap. He'd come very close to hexing the man out of reflex before recalling that he was innocent and stopping himself just in time. Sirius had been sitting beside Remus' bed, watching as the werewolf gathered his things together. Madam Pomphrey had evidently just given him permission to leave, and the werewolf was wasting no time in making good his escape.

Black and Lupin had been curious about the bars, however, and had accompanied him to Professor Dumbledore's office. On the way they had run into Severus Snape and Arabella Figg.

The meeting that followed had been a real eye-opener, but toward the end of it, Arthur had found himself in a delicate position. Normally he stood firm in his belief that honesty was the best policy, but that night he had faltered. Dumbledore hadn't expressly sworn them to silence, but he had been very adamant that Harry's relocation be kept as quiet as possible. The press wouldn't be able to resist running a story on young Potter, and even if they weren't trying to keep word of this from getting back to You-Know-Who, Harry's muggle relatives packing up and vanishing with no warning was an opportunity ripe for exploitation by the Daily Prophet.

In the end, after weighing the pros and cons, he'd decided to just keep it to himself. He'd tell the rest of the family after the fact, once Harry was safely back. They wouldn't be pleased with him, but they'd come around. He'd reckoned that Albus would probably let the boy stay at Hogwarts, or perhaps with Lupin until they could finish warding the Burrow. Then he'd remembered that the house was done. If Harry agreed to remain indoors until the work was completed, there was no reason why he couldn't come to stay immediately once he was retrieved.

Feeling quite a bit more cheerful, Arthur had calmly met his family's anxious questions when he'd flooed back to the Burrow: He'd left the bars with Dumbledore, no, Harry wasn't with him, yes, Harry would most likely be removed from his relatives' guardianship, and no, he wasn't sure where Harry would be staying in the meantime.

It had taken a while, but they had eventually subsided. Even Fred and George had come downstairs to join in the discussion, which was something, considering they'd all but hidden in their room since the beginning of summer. Arthur knew that his family hadn't been completely satisfied with his answers, but all in all it had gone surprisingly well. His mood had been rather self-congratulatory when he'd finally gone upstairs to bed.

Arthur's brow creased thoughtfully as he continued down the corridor. Monday morning had been a different matter. He'd been at the breakfast table with the rest of the family, when he'd received a floo call from Arabella Figg.

She had apologized profusely for interrupting their meal, then asked if it would be possible for Arthur to come 'round for a few minutes before he went to work. Trying to act nonchalant, and ignore his family's curious stares, Arthur had agreed, and left soon after. Fortunately, the time had been such, that he'd really only had time to finish the toast he'd been eating and drain his teacup, before kissing Molly goodbye, calling fondly to the children, and stepping into the fireplace.

It hadn't taken them long to fill him in. Remus had been quick to assure him that it was still possible that Harry was with the Dursleys in Australia, and hopefully this was a purely precautionary exercise.

Sirius, on the other hand, seemed convinced that Harry was still in Britain, and scowled darkly at his friend's backpedaling. "That was Harry's scent you picked up and you know it," he scolded the werewolf. "Harry was at the Leaky Cauldron, Arthur. The question now becomes 'How long ago?'"

Remus had fidgeted, and looked uncomfortable. "Well, if it was him, the fact that I could pick him up at all is telling. In that kind of scent-rich environment, it's difficult to pick up old trails, unless I know exactly what I'm looking for. I didn't even notice Harry's scent here immediately, between the cats and the potion Belle brews for her arthritis. Unless I got exceptionally lucky, that seems to indicate that he was either there recently, has been there a lot, or he was there while we were."

Arthur hadn't been able to believe his fellow Order members could be so dense. "Don't be thick, Remus," he blurted, when Lupin stopped talking. "Clearly, he's staying at the Leaky Cauldron! You've found him! We can fetch him now!"

Arabella had stopped him, though, shaking her head regretfully. "Not unless Tom's changed his operating policy. I checked the register while we were there," she informed Arthur, while lifting a mildly reproving eyebrow. "He wasn't listed as a guest."

"He might have convinced Tom to cover for him, or he could be there under an assumed name," Sirius had said dismissively. "He didn't give the Knight Bus driver his true name when he ran away from the Dursley's the summer before his third year. Oh stop it!" he snapped when Arthur and Arabella looked faintly shocked. "Whatever else he may be, Harry's not stupid. Besides, if he'd been identified by anyone, it would be all over the news by now."

"The Leaky Cauldron is on our list of places to check out," Remus told Arthur pacifyingly. "We'll get there. However, since we know Harry was at King's Cross Station, Arabella and I thought we'd start there, then try to retrace his movements. We're fairly certain he took the Knight Bus from here, so we'll need to try and get a look at their travel log. Arabella knows which company is handling the sale of the Dursley's property, so we plan to speak to them, and perhaps Grunnings as well."

"But, for heaven's sake be discreet!" Arabella interjected, giving Sirius a particularly hard look. You never know who's around, and word of this, especially if Harry is no longer in his relatives' care, must not get back to You-Know-Who! It doesn't matter as much in the muggle world, but with the Knight Bus, for instance, don't let them know that you're searching for Harry Potter. There are no other witches and wizards living in this neighborhood, and the wards that are triggered by unauthorized magical persons haven't been activated since the Weasleys picked Harry up last summer. If the Knight Bus came to this vicinity while I was at Hogwarts or on assignment, it's highly likely that Harry summoned it."

Arthur had, of course, agreed to help in any way possible, although privately he considered the scenario a little far-fetched. While he couldn't deny that Harry was a capable lad, he just couldn't quite accept the idea that the Boy-Who-Lived was currently wandering around unnoticed. He could still clearly picture the excursion to Diagon Alley the summer before Ginny's first year. Harry had been in Flourish & Blotts with the rest of the kids, simply standing and minding his own business, when Lockhart, the great idiot, had spotted him and practically started a riot.

Remembering, the Weasley patriarch sighed again. He felt for the boy, he really did. Wealth wouldn't be so bad, but he didn't think he'd fancy being famous. It was just short of idiotic how everyone carried on, ready to idolize or vilify Harry at the drop of a hat. Even his own family hadn't been immune. Ginny had been almost embarrassingly star-struck over a five-second meeting at King's Cross Station, Ron had been spiteful and jealous when Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, and dear Molly had been taken in by Rita Skeeter's vicious muckraking.

Arthur chuckled when he recalled the incident. One would have thought one of their own sons had been slighted the way she carried on! Unfortunately it had been Hermione rather than Rita Skeeter who'd borne the brunt of his wife's reaction.

The trouble was, the more time that passed, the more he began to wonder if Black might just have the right of it. He had approached the project rather half-heartedly at first, certain that it was a fruitless exercise, and his time could be well spent doing more useful things, but the more they poked around, the more tiny clues they uncovered.

Weasley grimaced as he considered the thought, and fervently hoped against hope that Dumbledore would be contacting them soon with the news that Harry had been retrieved. His family would probably understand the Australia scenario, but if it turned out that the boy had gone missing, he'd be well and truly in the doghouse for a long time to come.

"Hey, Tom!" Janet Wright called cheerfully, as she and her daughters entered the Leaky Cauldron. She glanced around a bit, then asked, "Where's the Sparkster?"

"Oh, he's helping out at the book store this afternoon," Tom said, consulting his pocket watch. "I'm expecting him back any time now," he added kindly when both girls' faces fell.

Well, we'll just have to wait, I guess," Janet said with a shrug. "In the meantime, we've come for our usual!" she grinned, waggling her two-quart plastic pitcher as she and her daughters took seats at the bar.

"Of course, dear, won't be a minute," Tom said jovially, pausing to ruffle Kitty's hair and tweak Becky's nose before accepting the pitcher and heading for the kitchen.

Janet and her girls were fast becoming regulars at the Leaky Cauldron. Kitty and Becky, it seemed, had taken a liking to pumpkin juice, and requested that their mother purchase some. Janet had been agreeable, since pumpkin juice seemed to be more healthful than some other drinks her children were partial to, and had added it to her grocery list.

Chuckling as he entered the kitchen, Tom filled the pitcher as requested. Oh, he would have loved to have been there when poor Janet tried to explain what she wanted to the local green grocer. What was even better, was he had asked her if pumpkin juice was some barmy American thing! He and Harry had laughed quite hard when she'd told them that.

"Yeah, well," Mrs. Wright had said with a shrug, snickering a bit herself. "I must have gone to four places before I finally realized that pumpkin juice must be a specialty of the house. I don't suppose you sell it in larger quantities, do you?" Tom didn't, normally, but he'd quickly agreed, and the current Bring-Your-Own-Container deal had been struck.

Actually, he was glad of their blossoming friendship. Besides the fact that he simply liked them, Janet and her girls were good for young Potter. The little ones thought he could walk on water, and he and Janet had evidently hit it off as well. She was having a bit of trouble trying to learn "English," and Harry was having great fun "educating" her.

Tom had watched this process carefully, ready to step in if necessary. James Potter might have thought it funny, at that age, to fill an unsuspecting person's head with a lot of stuff and nonsense, but by all appearances, this thought never occurred to Harry.

Of course the learning was a two way street. Just recently, they'd been trying to arrange a visit, and had been having difficulty determining what time she would come by to collect him. Janet had laughed until tears ran down her cheeks, when Harry had finally shrugged and told her to just "knock him up" whenever it was convenient.

When he finished measuring out the juice, Tom snapped the lid back on the pitcher, and wandered back to the bar. "Thanks, Tom," Mrs. Wright said, handing him a few pounds. "It's nice of you to cater to us like this."

"My pleasure," the innkeeper replied, pocketing the muggle bills, and smiling at them. He was just about to ask if he could get them anything else, when Kitty smiled and waved, and Becky clapped and giggled. "'Parky! 'Parky!" she crowed, holding her arms up in an irresistible demand for attention.

Tom turned, and saw Harry standing in the kitchen doorway, a look of pleased surprise on his face. "Just in time, Mr. Patterson," he said with a flourish. "These lovely young ladies have been waiting to have a word with you."

Harry smiled at what was fast becoming one of his favorite muggle families (along with the Grangers.) He grinned at Janet, then scooped Becky up, and tugged playfully on one of Kitty's pigtails. "Hey, Kit," he said to the brown-haired girl. "Hi Snidget," he greeted the blue-eyed toddler.

Janet watched the way he interacted with her children, and smiled fondly. Kitty, bless her, was not an unattractive child, but all too often she was overlooked because of her sister. One of the things she liked most about Jim, and Tom too, was the way they could divide their attention between the girls, so no one felt left out.

"So is there anything I can do for you, or is this a social call?" Harry asked, wincing as Becky grabbed a lock of his hair, and extracted vengeance for her sister. "Ouch! Not so hard, Becky," he admonished lightly.

Janet shook her head and rolled her eyes at the effect his gentle rebuff had on her daughter. She was instantly contrite in a way she never was with mere parental scolding.

"I wanted to know if you would be available to babysit for me on Saturday evening," she informed the boy, watching, amused, as Becky kissed her fingertips then pressed them against Harry's head to 'make it all better.' "I apologize for the short notice, but it just dawned on me that I had someone I could ask to watch them. Steve's flight gets in a little late in the evening, and it's going to take a while to get to and from the airport. It's going to be a long trip, and the kids will be tired and crabby. I'd rather not drag them out if I don't have to."

"Well, I'd like to help, but I've never done that before," Harry said uncertainly, setting Becky back down next to her mother. "What would I be expected to do?"

Janet shrugged. "Same thing you did the other night when you distracted the kids so I could unpack in peace." She started ticking off choices on her fingers. "Read, color, play games, watch videos... I'll make sure they've had their dinners and baths before I leave. You make sure the house doesn't fall down, entertain them for a little while, then put them to bed."

Harry shrugged. He could do that. "Okay," he agreed, while the girls voiced their approval.

When they quieted down, Janet became all business. "Great. How much do you charge?"

"Charge?"

"Yeah. What's the going rate here in London?" When Harry continued to stare at her blankly she prompted, "People usually get compensated for their time when they look after other people's children."

"Uhhhh..." Harry was lost. She wanted to pay him for playing with her kids and watching movies?

"Well, you can ask all your girlfriends what they charge. Just go easy on me, okay? I just moved and I haven't started my new job yet," Janet said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "As a matter of fact," she went on a second later, "I imagine we'll be getting back fairly late. If you want to, you could just bring a change of clothes and crash on the couch. I know Tom has you up with the chickens getting everything ready for breakfast."

Harry wasn't sure about that. What would happen if he had another nightmare? "Let me get back to you on that," he hedged. "I need to see what my schedule is."

"Sounds good. Thanks, Spark. I appreciate it."

"Anytime."

Petunia Dursley sniffed discontentedly at the state of her living room, and doggedly reached for another box. The last six weeks or so had been the most frightening, turbulent, and topsy-turvy days she had ever experienced.

It had all started back at the beginning of June. Vernon had come home with the news that Grunnings was expanding, and he had been offered the chance oversee one of the new sites. At the time it had seemed terribly exciting. It was a wonderful opportunity for Vernon, after all. There were several sites available in Britain, so they would not disrupt Dudley's schooling, Vernon would receive a promotion, and Grunnings would pay all their moving and travel expenses.

Although staying in England was an option, they had toyed with the idea of living abroad as well. If they didn't go too far away, Dudley could come stay with them for his Christmas and summer holidays, and perhaps spend Easter with his Aunt Marge. Vernon had always wanted a vacation home in Majorca, so they had considered Spain, France, and Northern Africa. Any of those places would allow them to pop over to Majorca for an odd weekend holiday, and they wouldn't be straying too terribly far from the United Kingdom.

Plans set for two possible scenarios, they had begun casual preparations. Once Vernon had told his superiors that he would be agreeable to such an arrangement, they had begun packing seldom-used items, and identifying items for disposal. Always organized, Petunia had drawn up a schedule of things that had to be done, assuming they would be leaving at the end of Dudley's summer holiday.

Harry, she hadn't worried about. He didn't bother coming home for Christmas and Easter, which she was frankly glad of, and he hadn't spent the entire summer holiday with them since he'd started attending that freak school. She had planned to get as much work out of him as possible, while he was there, then he would probably want to go visit that horrid red-headed family again.

Actually, she hadn't been inclined to let those destructive animals anywhere near her household ever again, especially after what they did to poor Dudders last summer, but she and Vernon had been faced with the problem of what to do with Harry when they moved.

As distasteful as it was, she and Vernon had decided to have Harry write that gang of ruffians, and inquire as to whether he could stay with them next summer. The summer after, he would turn seventeen. He would be of age in that freak world of his, and would no longer be her concern.

Then it had arrived. That damnable letter. The letter that informed her that Harry had been forced to participate in some insane tournament, one of his classmates was dead, and the monster that killed her sister had been reborn.

The monster that had a deep abiding hatred for half-bloods and muggles.

The letter had gone on, discussing safety precautions and the like, but Petunia had barely registered it. He would be after Harry in an instant. She and her family would never stand a chance! They had to run! Hide! The boy could no longer stay with them.

After that things had happened very fast. Suddenly it had been not just important, but imperative that they get themselves and Dudley as far away as possible. Equally important, they had to get their hands on and destroy as many of Harry's legal records as possible. The boy must not be traced back to them!

Actually, it had been amazing how conveniently things had fallen into place. Vernon had rushed to work the following Monday to see if it was possible to move up their timetable. As if by providence, a time-sensitive position in had come open, that had to be filled immediately. Something had happened to the person who was supposed to run the site. For once in her life, Petunia neither knew nor cared what had happened.

Vernon had snapped it up, of course, and had been given a bonus and a Special Recognition Award for his trouble. The fact that it happened to be in Australia was so much the better. Petunia wanted as much distance between her and Britain as possible at the moment. She wasn't sure if Vernon understood properly, but he was happy to be getting rid of the boy.

The next few days had been a blur. Packing and cleaning had been done in one mad rush. Most of the little improvements they'd planned on making to the house over the summer had been abandoned, since they no longer had two months to prepare. Everything had to be done right now, and most of the work had fallen on Petunia. Besides packing and cleaning, she'd dealt with estate agents, asked for the utilities to be disconnected, hired movers, and made travel arrangements. Her husband and son had been of little help, since Vernon was trying to get his affairs in order at work, and Dudley hadn't arrived from school.

As it was, they'd barely had time to see the movers off, leave the key with the company selling their house, meet Dudley's train, and get to the airport in time to catch their plane. When Dudley had asked after Harry, he'd been told that his cousin would no longer be staying with them. Shrugging, Dudley had accepted their story without comment. They'd taken off, heading for the Land Down Under at approximately the same time Harry would be arriving at King's Cross.

Petunia had felt a small niggle of guilt, which she'd squashed ruthlessly. Harry would either go directly home with that Weasley family, or else he had his owl. He could write to his blasted godfather to come and collect him. One way or another the boy would be looked after. Those freaks always looked after their own. It was the nonmagical folk who were left to their own devices. All Lily's fancy powers hadn't been enough to save their parents, and now she was gone.

Arriving in Australia had been a shock. Petunia knew about the weather phenomenon, of course, but it still hadn't prepared her. They were experiencing winter still, and Dudley had been less than pleased to learn that he'd be starting school again once they got settled. Grunnings had arranged for them to view several houses in Perth's many suburbs, so they'd spent about ten days looking at properties. Once they had selected one, they'd seen to the business of enrolling Dudley in one of the finer private schools. It would be a change for them all for Duddy to be returning home from school each day instead of living on site as he had at Smeltings.

Petunia sighed as she poked though a hopelessly disorganized box. Toward the end, they'd been literally throwing anything and everything in whatever container they could find. There simply hadn't been time to do a proper job of it. She sighed, thinking longingly of the way she'd planned to have Harry help her pack, organize, and catalog the contents of every box. The boy might be an abnormal freak, but he did have his uses. The unpacking wasn't going as smoothly or quickly as she wanted, but all things considered, she was making good time.

A knock on the door made her look up. "Who on earth could that be?" she wondered aloud as she went to answer it. When she opened the door, she found herself facing a sandy-haired man in khakis who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties.

"G'day!" he greeted her brightly. "The name's Nathaniel Baker. I'm trying to locate Vernon or Petunia Dursley."

"I'm Petunia Dursley."

"I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Dursley. Welcome to Western Australia."

Relaxing a bit, Petunia nodded graciously, then accepted the man's proffered hand, and shook it. "Thank you, Mr. Baker," she said sneaking a quick look at her disheveled living room. "I'm afraid I'm not prepared to entertain. I'm in the middle of unpacking and really quite busy."

"No worries," Nate said amiably, waving off her concern. "I'll just take a minute of your time. I've come 'round to fetch young Harry Potter as a favor to one of me mates in the International Confederation of Wizards. If you'll kindly direct me to the lad, his presence is required at Hogwarts."

Petunia closed her eyes and paled.