Chapter 12
Dumbledore disapparated to outside Drake Manor and knocked three times on the door. He wasn’t surprised when no one answered. His heart had momentarily stopped when he received a patronus from Kinsley saying that Tim and Harry had never turned up to Platform 3/4. Neville, Ron and Hermione all insisted that they knew nothing about the Drake’s sudden absence. Skimming their minds with legilimency, Dumbledore watched Harry and Tim disappear but he had no idea where they went.
Dumbledore could only imagine the public’s reaction to finding out that he had lost the Boy-Who-Lived not once but twice. He had no doubt that the boys had left by their own free well but they were still children. They had no idea the danger they faced beyond Lily’s blood wards. Voldemort was back. He may not have a body but even as a child, Voldemort had proved to be both resourceful and ruthless.
Dumbledore’s summer only got worse after Kinsley’s patronus.
Somehow the students’ housing records had mysteriously vanished when Dumbledore tried to uncover Harry’s new address. Professor McGonagall swore that they must be around somewhere but was strangely uncooperative in his effort to find them. The letter he received from Nicholas Flamel later that day did not improve his head ache. His old friend had, in no uncertain terms, severed their professional and personal relationship calling Dumbledore “blinded by his own brilliance” and less poetically “a senile goat.”
Crumbling the letter, Dumbledore transfigured the nearest paper weight into a portkey to Gotham. It was a miserable city. Dumbledore appeared in a puddle of what he hoped was water and a muggle almost immediately attempted to mug him. The filthy man didn’t seem to believe that Dumbledore didn’t have a wallet or a phone. Dumbledore was forced to cast a quick confundus charm and spent the rest of the day somewhat wary of MACUSA descending upon him. However, it seemed that not even MACUSA wanted anything to do with Gotham.
Dumbledore had to resort to muggle methods to find Drake Manor. He was fortunate that the random muggle he asked directed him to Bristol before he tried to mug Dumbledore for the second time that day. Each day, Dumbledore returned to Bristol and searched for Harry and Tim. He knocked on each door and found that the upper-class Gothamites were just as disagreeable as those living on the streets. It was only after Dumbledore replaced his robes with an expensive muggle suit that they stopped from outright slamming the door in his face.
Feeling that his summer couldn’t get worse, Dumbledore was proven wrong when Rita Skeeter released an article about Harry Potter’s disappearance. Dumbledore was bombarded with letters and summoned repeatedly to the ministry. He assured Cornelius Fudge that Harry Potter was safe and receiving private tutelage away from Hogwarts but he knew that the Minster was unsatisfied with his answers. The public wanted proof of life and Dumbledore couldn’t provide it. When Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, it took decades of occlumency not to visibly react.
Dumbledore was tired. All his careful plans were falling around him and the war that he knew was coming had never felt closer. Everyone was turning to him for answers and here he was making house calls in a city that seemed determined to strip the last of his sanity.
When he saw Harry inside a packed, gothic style foyer Dumbledore just about broke the statue of secrecy and summoned the boy straight to him. It was infuriating to have the boy so close and yet forced into a banal conversation with the most frustrated muggle he had ever met. None of his silent compulsions worked on him leading Dumbledore to the conclusion that the man didn’t have enough of a brain left to manipulate.
Exercising more patient than he thought was in him, Dumbledore allowed himself to be led away from Harry by the muggle Bruce Wayne. He couldn’t risk using magic in a hall full of muggles but each step away from the boy was painful.
In the police station, Dumbledore did not have such reservations. He cast confundus once more and received not only Tim Drake’s address but the phone number of his parents. When he apparated to the manor on the advice of Bruce Wayne, he quickly realised it was one he had already visited. A quick homenum revelio showed that no one was inside. Unlocking the door, Dumbledore stepped into the manor and found the kitchen cupboards were empty and there was a light layer of dust on everything. Harry was not here and Dumbledore thought it had been some time since anyone was.
Dumbledore disapparated back to Wayne Manor. He should not have listened to the words of that airheaded muggle and returned instantly. Striding up the long driveway, Dumbledore was about to reach the door when he hit an invisible barrier out of nowhere. He stumbled back, scanning the solid force that blocked his path to Harry. At his touch, the barrier rippled with energy, emitting an irritated hum that seemed to be telling Dumbledore to “stay away.”
He scanned the barrier with his wand and stared dumbfounded at the results. How was this possible? He had been certain that Lily’s protections only extended to her blood relations. It hadn’t been ideal to leave Harry with the Dursleys but it was a necessary evil. They might not care for him as their own son but they would at least keep him alive. Dumbledore wasn’t so certain now. The wards around the Dursley house had been strong but they were nothing compared to these. They practically shone with a fierce warmth that engulphed Dumbledore.
He stepped forward and the ward repulsed him. None of the spells he knew could even make a dent in the solid wall between him and Harry. Nothing could touch Harry with these protections. Not Voldemort and seemingly not even Dumbledore.
What to do now? The wards indicated that Harry would be safe here, he might even be loved but Dumbledore could not know for certain. There was so much he just didn’t know. He was meant to be a saviour, the defeater of Grindelwald and leader of the light. There was nothing Dumbledore should not know.
He placed his head in his hands and took a long breath of Gotham’s foul air. It didn’t appear there was anything Dumbledore could do. He reached for the portkey in his pocket and disappeared in a swirl of light and colour. Landing back in his office, Dumbledore slouched down into his armchair. The boy would have to remain in Gotham, at least for now. It was not Dumbledore’s first choice, too removed, too unknown and with rats the size of kittens but the wards were unmovable.
A owl flew through the window holding yet another smoking red envelope in its grasp. Dumbledore sighed. Perhaps Nicholas Flamel was right. He was growing too old for this.
“HOW COULD YOU LOSE THE BOY WHO LIVED? I DEMAND TO KNOW WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO HIM.”
“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore muttered, stroking Fawke’s red tail feathers, “you and the rest of the wizarding world.”