At Days End ~ Harry's Rather Dramatic Night~
Flourish & Blotts
Diagon Alley
Dudley releases a deep sigh as he enters the bookstore ahead of their group. He’s just about ready to be done with the crowds and eye-catching displays for a night or two. Maybe he can convince Piers to stay in reading books and taking notes until their clothing order is done. It feels shameful to be having such a good time while Harry is still probably locked in his room.
Dudley shakes his head to clear away the thoughts. There's only so much he can do until the DMLE is aware of the situation. It’s only one day, Dudley has to remind himself. Marissa had made it very clear that regardless of the situation, she can’t just spirit ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ away without repercussions.
Harry will get picked up and brought to the bank during the meeting tomorrow, and his cousin will finally get the healing, education, and safe living space he should have had from the beginning. Hopefully they can go straight from the meeting to one of his properties.
Paying more attention to his surroundings, Dudley notices that while Malfoy wasn’t with their group any longer, Crabbe and Goyle are loitering near the back. Nott and Zabini have Piers sandwiched between them as they look over the book list that EmeraldFang provided and the one on topics that they came up with in conversation throughout the day.
“Marissa, could you help me with this? I’m not really sure how to go about asking,” Dudley asks. Most of the day had been introductions and purchases, things that are hard to mess up even with his extremely minimal knowledge of Wizarding Britain. Meeting the group of boys he’s currently with was definitely the most stressful part since leaving the bank. So much could have gone wrong. Still could really.
He doesn't know the first thing about running a magical estate, or what could be considered a slight in this culture. The best he can do at the moment is base his current actions off of the non-magical Regency Era and hope for the best.
Marissa made her way to his side before answering, “You’ll want to give a general synopsis of your predicament. Ask if the shop can be contracted for the job or if they have any contacts that could help.” She gave Dudley a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder.
“Okay… I can do that. I think. Is this something that once I get an answer, I should send the information to EmeraldFang to do the rest?” Since he’s a Lord and not an Heir, Dudleys not sure if it would be rude for someone else to write it.
Marissa thinks about it for a moment before responding, “I believe you would send it to Ragnok since the library is related to your properties and therefore your accounts. However, your council would be present to help you with understanding the contracts, procedures, and anything else you may need an advocate for.”
She gives him a little shove towards the empty counter. They hadn't seen an employee since entering, but Marissa knows from experience that the owners installed an intent ward around the desk to summon someone when needed. Sure enough as they got close, a tall middle aged man stepped out from the back room.
“Welcome! What brings you to my lovely little literary establishment on this beautiful early evening?” Dudley lets out a gentle sigh of relief at the knowledge that this is one of the owners. A regular employee most likely wouldn't have referred to it as theirs.
Dudley does his best to seal away his nerves. The worst that can happen is he receives a ‘no’, in which case he’ll just have EmeraldFang or Ragnok give him a list of names they find to be suitable candidates.
“Hello my name is Dudley Dursley,” He starts with a polite nod of his head. Dudley feels his brain halt for a moment, what was he supposed to say again?! He catches sight of his rings as he glances down. Right. State the problem, ask for help. “Over the last couple days I’ve found myself in a rather… peculiar situation. A situation which gave me a library in desperate need of an update.”
The older wizard leans into the counter clearly interested in what was smelling like an intriguing story, “And what kind of peculiar situation could possibly lead to the possession of such a library?” He finishes his sentence with an amused questioning hum.
Dudley chances a cheeky grin as he starts to casually twist the LeFay ring around his finger in a way that shows it from multiple angles. If the other's wide eyes and slightly dropped jaw are anything to go off, the ring is recognizable. “I took a mandatory inheritance test this morning and learned I was the Heir Apparent to the House of LeFay-”
Before he could get the last syllable of the house name out, Dudley felt silencing wards slam into place around them. He jumps a bit in shock, head snapping to look at the shop owner as the rest of his body starts to fall into its ingrained fight response. A firm hand on his shoulder has Dudleys heart calming immediately. Marissa hadn’t left. In fact, when Dudley looks down at her, he’s blessed with the sight of her fiercely glaring up at the older wizard.
“I apologize for the rudeness of my actions, my lady, but you can never be too careful about extra ears,” his voice genuinely contrite. He turns his attention back to Dudley and the excitement in his eyes is practically bursting. “Are you implying you have access to the LeFay family library?” It was asked in a borderline reverent whisper. Dudleys immediately remembers the way Nott reacted when he mentioned the library.
Feeling a bit of the excitement again now that he's not so on edge about the sudden use of magic, Dudley says, “Not just implying. The goblins are inspecting the property at the moment. Everything was held under stupidly strong stasis wards, so it's all in the same condition more or less as it was 600 years ago.”
They could see the gears in the man's head turning as he took in the information. Dudley is pretty sure the guy's eyes are legitimately glowing at this point. Deciding to lay out his position better, Dudley continues, “Since no one has had access, it hasn’t been updated in over half a millenia. While I also have the Flamel library, I don’t know how meticulously it was kept up to date. Updating the LeFay library would mean I wouldn’t need to guess where to fill in the blanks for the Flamel library.”
The older wizard nods his head vigorously in agreement, “Once you have a complete library, finding out what the other is missing would only be a couple spells to compare book registries.” He gains a thoughtful look as he mentally sorts through the requirements such a project would mandate. “Are you wanting a single contact for the project, or would you be willing to hire a team?”
Marissa answers the question, “Noone will be able to step foot through the wards unless they sign the job contract written by Gringotts. The size of the team is dependent on how many you’d be willing to split the contract's monetary completion payment with,” she finishes with a shrug. She’s heard Grippli talk about contracts enough to know what was standard and in which situations.
“Then I would love to be a part of this endeavor,” he says with unbridled enthusiasm. “Oh! Goodness me, I got ahead and haven’t introduced myself. My Apologies,” the older wizard gives the two of them a formal, if not dramatic, bow, “I am Morell Flourish, Co-Owner of Flourish and Blotts, and Master Librarian. 14th owner on the Flourish side.”
Marissa and Dudley both give an amused smile before Marissa introduces herself, “Marissa Polkiss, I work for BBMI.”
Flourish’s eyebrows jump to his hairline as he looks from Marissa to Dudley, “Peculiar situation indeed it seems. Should I be expecting some interesting news out of the court circuit in the next couple months?” He directs the last part back towards Marissa.
Marissa sighs heavily, “I’ve no doubt about it.”
When it was clear she wasn't going to say anything more on the topic, “Well, I wish for an outcome in your favor. As far as a team for the project, I know some individuals who would be more than interested regardless of the completion pay. Between us, we’d have sourcing and procurement, warding, charms, and runes covered. Do you have a project manager?”
“Uh-” Dudley looks over to Marissa unsure, “EmeraldFang?”
“She doesn’t seem like the type to let someone else do it,” Marissa responds with another shrug and small smile. Magical estate management is most definitely not her specialty. These types of details are why he needs another Lord to shadow after. EmeraldFang could help with most of them, but the advice would be decidedly Goblin in nature. Which may not be the worst course of action actually. He’s certainly gotten along better with them than wizards.
Dudley nods his head in understanding, the young apprentice took tenacity to a different level. “Either a member of my council or my account manager will reach out with the official offer soon. They seem to be speed running the estate startup, so I can’t see it taking them too long to have the contract drafted.”
“Wonderful!” Morell exclaims as he claps his hands causing the silencing spells to fall. “Now, you may want to head to the healing section to act as moderator for your friends. Mr. Nott looks like he wants to either curse the books or the other boys and I’d rather my books remain unharmed.”
Dudley leans to the left to look down the indicated aisle. Now that he was listening, the sound of Piers in near hysteria was a lot more clear. His friend is rapidly writing notes as he bombards Nott with questions. For his part, Nott was steadily getting redder as he had to tell Piers again and again that he has no idea what DNA, genetics, molecules, atoms, or the periodic table is. The young heir was looking at the books in the healing section with his dissatisfaction visible on his face.
Dudley had to chuckle a little at the sight of Zabini almost getting smacked in the face from where he was leaning over his friend's shoulder to read the notes.
“That… Might be best.” Piers was just going to keep working himself up if there wasn’t interference. “Thank you for your time, and I hope to be in contact again soon.” with that, Marissa waved him off as she stayed near the register.
Nott looks up as he approaches and offers a nod of acknowledgement before turning back to Piers’ rant about the importance of science. In a swift motion, Dudley reaches around his friend and snags the notebook out of his hands.
“-and the Wixen with blood curses, might just have genetic disorders!” The rant cuts short as the book exits his grip abruptly. “Hey, give it back! I was in the middle of a good thought!”
“No, you were in the middle of working yourself into a tizzy. We’ll have plenty of time to do a deep dive on the wizards' lack of scientific capabilities another day. And trust me, I have plenty to scream about when it comes to wizard engineering, or the lack thereof.” Dudley held the book behind his back and out of sight long enough for Piers’ breathing to even back out.
“Uhm-” Blaise said, drawing their attention to him, “What's engineering?”
“Nope! Another time!” Dudley said quickly when he noticed his friend already gearing up for another rant. “We can schedule a time for the two of you to come to the villa before you're off to school.”
“Oh, so you’re going with the villa? I can’t wait to explore the rooms.” Piers says before looking at the titles on the row of books next to him.
Suddenly remembering that there had been two additional members of their group, Dudley turns around to see if the other burley boys were still around. Sure enough, they were at the end of the aisle standing out of the way but listening in. He still isn’t quite sure what to make of them, any of the Heirs really, but these two haven't uttered a word since they met.
“I don’t know if you two would be interested in an educational debate, but I can always use a sparring partner if you’d ever want to learn how to box.” There, Dudley made sure to include them. Hopefully it makes up for forgetting they were present. “Have you gotten the books from the list yet?” He asks Piers.
“Most of them! I uh… got sidetracked once we got to this section. We need the book that explains the health scans in detail, and another about soul damage.” Piers makes grabby motions toward his notebook untill Dudley relinquishes it with a look that promises it’ll get taken again if he starts back up.
“Why do you need a book on soul damage?” Nott asks with a frown.
Dudley flounders for a moment, the secrecy agreement keeps tripping him up in situations like this. “It’s uh, personal health concerns. I want to have a bit more understanding before I see the healer again next week.”
His statement only made the other Heirs frown deepen before he received a single nod. “I may have something in my family library, I’ll ask my grandfather tonight if I can send you a copy.”
Oh. Dudley had to blink a couple times as he gathered his thoughts. He hadn’t expected an offer of goodwill from either of the other teens this early into meeting each other. “You have my appreciation, Heir Nott.”
Finding the books went fast with Nott and Zabini’s help, and Dudley had to physically drag his friend to the register. After getting each of their addresses, and a promise to set up a meetup time before school, the three headed to the leaky cauldron for the rest of the night.
Gringotts Bank
Trial Chamber
The echo of heavy boots stomping their way down the torch lit stone tunnels reach the ears of various account managers. There are very few reasons Gringotts warriors would be in this portion of the bank, all of which have the Managers tenseing and reaching for weapons regardless of if they were with a client or not.
None dare to move from their desks once it is obvious the troop has indeed entered the tunnel that houses the manager offices for the titled families. Messengers held their position where they were stationed throughout the hall. Not one is willing to miss out on the spectacle about to happen by taking refuge in the offices.
It’s certainly a thing of wonder for them to be greeted by sight of their Chief in full regalia at the head of the group. Normally a general took the position, but something big must have occurred to draw Ragnoks explicit attention. The moment the warriors and Chief stopped before the office of a well known and highly decorated Manager, they all instantly began to draw their own conclusions.
~~
For all intents and purposes, Argit, the Potter Account Manager, had been having a wonderful day. His office was set at the perfect temperature, coffee the perfect blend and aroma, and his suit pressed to perfection. Jeweled cufflinks, a pleasant gift to himself at the start of the year, glittered in the torch light.
Argit has a couple years yet before he has to begin dealing with the Potter child. That is, if the boy ever finds out about his inheritance. When Harry Potter had failed to inquire about the Potter Heirship when he was 11, many of the Goblins in the bank made bets surrounding when he’ll take it up. The general consensus being that the boy isn’t interested in his titles. An image well fostered by his magical guardian.
The Account Managers' fingers still in their pursuit of his porcelain teacup. Perked ears catching the echo of marching footsteps. Unknowingly mirroring the actions of his peers, Argit grabs the set of daggers attached to the bottom of his desk. However, unlike his peers, fear claws its way up his throat the closer the sound of footfall comes to his office.
Argit's mind is whirring in a storm of panic. They couldn’t know. How could they possibly know?! He had covered his tracks diligently, and the charm on the boy shows that he hasn't left his relatives neighborhood this summer. All of the denial went out the window with his hope when it became obvious the squadron had turned into their hall.
His hands grow limp and the daggers fall to the floor with a clatter as his office door finally slams open and reveals who's leading the charge. There's no way Argit is going to let them add the charge of High treason for holding arms against his chief onto the roster.
The middle aged goblin gives no struggle as he is searched, gagged, bound, and hooded. Argit could feel how strongly his body is shaking as the warriors grab his arms and haul him out of the room. Even if they had left his ear unhindered, barely any sound is making it past the thundering of his heart. As such, it’s probably a good thing he couldn't hear the sounds of the Messengers scurrying to relay the byplay to their assigned Managers, clients be damned.
The air grew cold as he was led further beneath the bank and into the true halls of the goblin nation. The twists and turns of the path did nothing to quell the fear crawling up Argits spine, for even if it was only once as a young, bright eyed employee, he would always remember the path that led to the jury chamber.
The march halts long enough for a door to open, letting through a cacophony of voices from the other side that abruptly falls silent at their entry. The arms holding the disgraced account manager began to once again drag him forward into the chamber. With little fanfare, Argit was dropped to the floor, unable to hold his weight enough to stand after being unexpectedly released.
How has everything he built over the past 20 years fallen so quickly? When his predecessor passed and the position opened up for him, Argit thought he had hit his big break. James Potter hadn’t thought to officially claim the lordship after his father passed due to the target on his family's backs. Upon the man's passing, the family magic for the heirship attached onto the son.
Argit knows he should have dismissed Dumbledore the moment the old fool showed up in his office a few short days following the family's demise. He should have never humored the wizard's requests or accepted the extra percentages offered on transactions out of the vaults for his cooperation and leniency on bank policy.
The Managers' thoughts are derailed as the hood blocking his vision is suddenly yanked off. His eyes naturally adjust quickly in the dim lighting and he immediately wishes they hadn't. Seats in the jury are not hereditary. Goblins work to blood and bone for the chance at even receiving a nomination when a spot opens up. Every single member is a Master of Masters. The smartest and most competent minds the nation has to offer. And Argit was currently kneeling at the bottom of a stone pit with the entire 300 member ensemble staring down at him curiously from their plyths.
The Chief's voice cuts through the shifting of suits and reaching across the domed room, “We are here today for the trial of Argit of Clan Khor, Master Account Manager and holder of the Potter Family Accounts Contract.” Murmurs swept through the hall as those who didn't recognize his face were able to put his name to his reputation.
“The preliminary charges against his person are as follows; Gross misuse of Gringotts Banking Policy, severe obfuscation and deletion of official account records, theft from assigned Gringotts client, aid in the theft from assigned Gringotts client, and lastly, failure to follow mandated policies for ‘last of line, Heir’ and ‘Heir without a lordship guardian’, as well as the policy for ‘Heir living with non-magical guardians' resulting in the unchecked physical and mental abuse of a top-rank underage client.”
Each word has Argit sinking lower hoping the stone would take pity and consume him, but the smooth stone did nothing more than amplify the deep voice rolling across its surface and wick the beads of sweat dripping from his ashen face. When listed like that, his fate is sealed. Argit doesn't need to look up to know some of the Jury are already gnashing their teeth in his direction. The whispers of treason slinking across the stone twist the goblins' already panic ridden heart.
From the left side of the court closest to the chief, a voice speaks up, “Information shared in Case #P4775 instigated a department wide audit on the Potter Accounts at 2pm today, August 6th 1995.” The goblin pressed a rune stone to the top of the document and copies appeared across the room for the other occupants. “Evidence present.”
Caverns Below Vertic Alley
Rabbla’s Residence
Rabbla creaked the door open as quietly as she could, wanting to both surprise her family and to make sure she didn't cause a disturbance in the late hour. The events of the day had kept her in the bank far past when her job normally required. She certainly won’t be forgetting that trial anytime soon.
The sound of a battle cry is her only warning before the Messenger is sprawled across the floor as her three little nephews sit on various parts of her body. “YES! I told you going for a knee tackle before leaping on her back would get her down.”
“Definite improvement to attacking from the same direction like last time,” Rabbla says with a groan as she pushes the little war heathens off her. She’ll be feeling that during her rounds for the rest of the week. “Lets maybe stay away from my knees in the future, yeah? I do walk for a living.”
She gets a chorus of contrite apologies before, “Why are you home so late anyways, Uba?”
Rabbla can’t help the grin that breaks out on her face at the question. Their clan wasn’t as large as some of the others in Britain, and the jobs most held didn’t bring much gold into the family coffers. Her position in Gringotts being the only reason these boys were able to get the beginnings of an education after her brother passed away in an accident with one of the forges. But things are going to change. Things are all going to change, and she can’t believe she has a 16 year old muggle-raised wizard to thank for it.
Scooping two of them up while the third clings to her back, she starts to head to the room the elders like to occupy. “Are you boys ready to see the family shocked speechless?” She just hopes the shock doesn't bring any of the older generation to an early grave.
Unplottable (but somewhere in the english countryside)
Greengrass Manor
Daphne and Lucille step out of the floo and into the receiving room. A soft pop draws their attention to the house elf who had come to greet them. “Welcome home, young mistresses. Dinner will be soon, Masters are in the dining hall going over mail.”
Daphne nods her understanding and ushers her cousin off to get washed up before they see their dads. She’s grateful for the moment of solitude as she drops her masks to sort through the events of the day. What had started as pursuing an idle fancy, quickly turned into forming a potentially very important friendship.
While the two of them were understandably ignorant of the wizarding world, she had seen enough ‘cracks in the mask’ so to speak, to be wary of their actual intelligence levels. Daphne frowns at herself in the mirror. Her first impressions have rarely been wrong, especially with people who emote so openly, but her gut refuses to let go of the idea that she's severely underestimating one or both of them. Maybe it's the idea of what they could be capable of when working in combination that has her on edge.
She blinks at her reflection as a thought annoyingly comes to her. Despite their conversations and evidence to the contrary, Daphne was still unconsciously grouping Dursley with Crabbe and Goyle due to his size. Giving her an inherent bias against his capabilities. A brief throb of pain behind her eyes has her rubbing at her face in agitation, maybe her father will have insight.
She changes into more casual wear quick enough to be ready by the time Lucille bangs on her door and yells for her attention. Opening the door reveals Astoria waiting along with their cousin. “Father said he got a letter he wants your opinion on.” That certainly peaks her attention.
Sure enough, when they get to the dining room, her father is frowning down at an official looking letter on the table. His eyes flick up at her as they sit down in their respective spots. “Welcome back girls, I hope you had a productive trip. Daph, love, could you read this?” The Gringotts seal on the heavy parchment shines in the candle light as it’s slid over. “I’ve already penned my acceptance, but if you have any serious objections I don't have to send it. I’m sure the goblins have someone else already picked out should I decline.”
Her jaw almost drops when she registers what she's reading. The goblins are requesting his presence at a meeting the following day where he will act as Lordship Council for a newly titled underage Lord. A very unladylike snort slips past her lips, surprising everyone at the table. What are the bloody chances of a coincidence like this?
Daphne can't help herself when she says, “You should let Lucille read that, but yes, definitely go.” She almost regrets passing the missive to the nine year old when her ears are assaulted by truly devilish giggling. The little snake is probably already making mental adjustments on her plan to secure a shiny new mother figure.
#4 Privet Drive
Harry's Room
The sun was beginning to set over the neighborhood of Privet Drive. Harry watches the rays as they drag a path across the walls of the room. The room. Not his room. Regardless of what everyone keeps trying to tell him, this will never be his home. He lifts his left hand to brush along the partially eaten sandwich laying on his chest. His right extended just enough to occasionally reach out to feel the note he received with it earlier that morning.
Nothing has felt real since the day he and Dudley encountered the Dementors. Perhaps it's a side effect of exposure? Harry’s mind was thankfully starting to feel clear after finally getting water and being able to eat something other than a bit of soup. Nothing like the beautiful cure of chocolate, but more than enough to help him feel a bit more human. Worries and all.
Harry couldn’t quite decipher the feeling in his stomach at the thought of Dudley and Piers apparently trying to help him. How they plan on doing it stumps him entirely. His problems are so entirely not muggle, but the mental image of them trying to navigate the wizarding world is bringing him more entertainment than he initially imagined it could. Currently, his top head-cannon is that Dudley and Malfoy will hate each other before they even have a full conversation. There's no way they could see their reflection and actually like it.
If the two try to involve the police, the most likely scenario, Harry is pretty sure the officers might just ‘forget’ about the whole incident entirely. Enough teachers in Primary had drastic moments of forgetfulness or a full 180 on how they treated him that Harry is starting to get suspicious as he ruminates on it all.
Before the sandwich and note slid through the door flap, Harry never had a real reason (or time) to question some of the unfortunate situations and circumstances of his pre-Hogwarts years. Now, with knowledge of magic and its capabilities, and far too much time on his hands to ‘reminisce’, hindsight is really slapping him around.
The lack of contact from his friends and chosen family almost seems like the culmination of something years in the making. At this point, Harry’s almost hoping Dudley found himself a wizard to bully into helping. His cousin had been acting really strange all week. In the few times Harry saw Dudley, the young wizard had grown genuinely concerned for the others' health, and got seriously close to an attempt at contacting St. Mungos.
Replaying the attack over again in his memories throughout the day, Harry has also been trying his best to rationalize the fact that Dudley clearly saw the creatures. Something that shouldn’t be possible working under the assumption that his cousin is 100% non-magical.
Releasing a groan of frustration, Harry lifts his head to take a bite of the sandwich. Piers had done a good job, which annoys Harry in equal proportion to his appreciation. Not for the first time, he lay wondering what his cousin could have seen that not only had him catatonic for half a week, but spurred an extreme change in behavior. At least it seems to be a positive change this time around.
His finger brushing across the note has him bringing it up to read again. After a shitty summer of isolation, the nervously scrawled letter was becoming something precious to him. Dudleys a stupid, pig-headed asshole, but perhaps this was the harsh reality check he needed? Harry's eyes linger on the send off ‘your cousins, who’s trying to be less of a dick,’.
A soft ‘hoot’ drew his attention to Hedwig who was slightly extending her wings in an imitation of flight, “I’m sorry girl, but maybe we’ll be out of here soon, yeah?” He tosses her a chunk of bread. When Harry had read the letter out loud to her earlier, Hedwig had been surprisingly thoughtful. He has a feeling she's been trying to tell him something that he just keeps misunderstanding.
Seemingly having had enough of him, or because sunset is a better time for her to fly, Hedwig hops over to his bed and settles next to Dudleys letter. One of her talons taps impatiently at the bottom near his cousin's name.
“Dudley?” Hedwig bobs her head before doing the imitation of flying again, and it was like a lightbulb finally flickered to life in his brain. Harry feels like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. They did some tests at the beginning of summer and while Hedwig can't seem to leave or enter the wards if she's carrying a letter, she can if she is letterless. “Oh you’re just brilliant aren't you,” He coos scratching at her cheek.
A peck at his fingers later and she's flying into the sinking light to track down his errant cousin. Hedwig may not be able to carry any letter to or for him, but she is more than intelligent enough to answer ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to his questions about location. Hopefully the next time he sees his friend, he’ll have a better understanding of what his cousin’s attempting to do.
Harry tries to settle back into the quiet of the empty house. Vernon and Petunia had decided to celebrate Dudleys return to health by having a date night. Locking him in of course. Normally it would be a breath of relief that he doesn’t have to worry about them, but he can’t shake the nagging feeling that it might have been better to not be home alone tonight.
The feeling of something increasing with the dimming natural light has Harry rolling out of bed, sandwich clutched securely to his chest. He had decided to pack up all his things a couple hours ago. Even if the chances of Dudley accomplishing anything are slim, it’s still a chance he wanted to be ready for. From one breath to the next he disappears under the cloak and moves to sit on his trunk he stationed in a corner that would require any intruder to enter the room to see.
Maybe he's being paranoid, but this is the time of year Dumbldore always seems to magnanimously allow him to leave for greener pastures. It's not out of the question he could be sending someone to collect him at night to avoid suspicion. Which Harry can't help but feel is logically illogical. It might keep away the eyes of the neighbors, but if anyone was spying on the house they would be painting a huge target on themselves.
The urge to shift as his anxiety mounts is hard to shove down. Catching sight of his letter still on the bed makes his stomach swoop uncomfortably. Quick as he can while avoiding squeaky floorboards, Harry shoves it deep into his pants pocket. It’s on his way back to the trunk when he hears the slightest of thumps come from downstairs.
Aborting his path, Harry sinks into a low crouch and stains his ears over his heartbeat. It’s most likely not anyone that means him harm, but quite frankly? He’s pissed beyond reason at the moment. Maybe it’s because Dudley has been on his thoughts all day, maybe he’s just tired of being pushed out of sight only to be brought back when he's on the verge of breaking. But the thought of emulating his cousin's ability to be an absolute negasonic douchebag really doesn't sound like too bad an idea at the moment.
A couple gasps filter through the door from whoever just made it to the landing. Harry makes a mental note to look up what spells cancel out of the sound of footsteps. There's a small viscous bubble of satisfaction in his chest sitting alongside the expected resignation. While he’s never really wanted anyone to know the extent of his living situation, no morally upstanding adult should feel guilt free when seeing the number of locks on his door. Let alone the express food delivery flap. He may or may not also still be stewing over Mr and Mrs. Weasley brushing the whole ‘bars over his window’ situation under the rug.
He counts the clicks one by one until, only sparing half a thought as to why they're being so quiet in an empty house. The burst of bright light as the door finally flys opens seems to defeat the attempt at stealth in anycase. Harry remains crouched a couple steps away from his trunk with a perfect view of the people in the door being illuminated by street lamps.
There's a beat of hesitance before the woman in the front realizes she can't see him in the room. Harry almost releases a loud breath when he spots Moody lingering in the left side of the door frame, his eye whirling around its glass enclosure. The silence and tension are almost palpable when confronted with an empty room. He knows that they know about the cloak, but the ‘what if’ is always a strong motivator.
The teen holds in a cheer when the woman leans her head in to look at the corner. The shift made him realize there were alot more people on the landing than he was anticipating, and none of the visible faces were in any way familiar. “Oh,” the word is spoken softly and Harry can see a bit of the tension bleed from her shoulders as his trunk comes into view. She takes a step into the room, wand still aloft but not quite as ready as before.
It's a split second, completely impulsive decision that has Harry reaching out the very short distance between himself and her robe. And either Harry is much stronger than previously assumed, or she has the worst balance known to humankind, because she topples fast. And hard. The sympathy grimace is entirely instinctual.
Without waiting for the others to enter the room themselves, Harry drops his sandwich and snatches her wand from between loosened fingers. Pointing it between her shock wide eyes as his right hand comes up to level the tip of his own at Moody. The man at wand point looks like he can’t decide if he wants to scream at the woman on the ground, or congratulate Harry for putting her there. A smile threatens to make its way onto his face. Moody's pretty alright, all things considered.
“Nice weather tonight,” Harry says, breaking the brief silent standoff, “Perfect for long walks, cuppa on the porch, and kidnapping teenagers apparently.” That seems to get the choir singing as many of the hall inhabitants voice their objections.
“Cub! Harry!” and then Professor Lupins pushing his way through the door frame, a bright smile on his face despite the way his body tenses as he takes in the state of the room.
Harry's anger softens a little when faced with the werewolf. “Hey Moony,” he says hesitantly, lowering his wands enough to be useful for defense but not quite ready to take their heads off any longer. “You with this lot?”
Lupin nods as Moody finally speaks up, “He is,” before grousing, “Off the floor Tonks! I’m half tempted to get you demoted back to trainee after this!”
Trainee? For what? Harry can’t keep in his snort as the woman, Tonks apparently, scrambles to her feet while her hair rapidly changes colors with her embarrassment. He tosses her wand back to her, “Soo, what are you doing here, Professor Moody?”
“Rescuing you, of course,” not waiting for an answer, the man shoots a spell out and shrinks his trunk and starts levitating it to his pocket.
The anger that had taken a summering back seat at the sight of familiar faces, rears its head in a spectacular fashion. “I’ll take that,” he manages to bite out, “I have perfectly good pockets of my own, thank you.”
“Harry, it really would be best-”
He cuts Lupin off, sounding more determined than he certainly felt, “I will be keeping my things on my person.” This whole situation was starting to give him a headache. He just wants his sandwich. Speaking of, Harry bends down to grab the discarded meal, sliding a tomato back into place from where it was dislodged in the fall.
Sandwich secured, he turns his attention back to Moody who just stares at him for a moment longer before coming to some internal decision and handing the trunk over. “We need to leave now if we want to maintain a low profile. We should fly above the cloud line for better coverage.”
Harry falls behind them to observe as Tonks jumps into the conversation to argue the man is being too paranoid. The number of people they brought with them doesn't make it seem like he has much of a choice in leaving or not. He lets his eye flick over the faces he could see as they make it to the first floor. Do they work for Dumbledore? It’s a rather odd grouping of people in anycase.
When Tonks finally looks at him pleadingly to back up her points he just shrugs, “I don't know if you really get a say when a 15 year old de-wands you because you didn’t check for invisible enemies.” It earns him a snort from both Moody and a tall dark skinned man in fancy robes. “Why are we flying rather than using a portkey anyway?”
“The magic on portkeys can be tracked much like with apparition,” the dark skinned man explains before introducing himself, “Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt.” His voice was low and smooth, with an accent Harry hadn't heard before. Approachable, reasonable, and kind. Harry narrows his eyes at the Auror suspiciously.
“Pleasure,” Harry responds blandly, not about to give an inch to any of his ‘rescuers’. Turning back towards Moody and Tonks, “Well, if my opinions bloody worth anything in this situation, I say we follow Moody's suggestion. The amount of people you brought is seriously the biggest ‘Look At Me’ sign I could ever dream of.”
Harry only mildly regrets backing the crazy old man up once they are, in fact, drenched by the cloud vapors and Tonks complains the rest of the trip. None of them noticed Arabella Figg closing her drapes and convening with her kneazles.