A/N: Thanks for the continued interest in this story. I appreciate all the comments! This chapter sort of took on a life of it's own. I'm writing two others simultaneously (not the best way to work!). I realized I needed this chapter for the sake of continuity, so here it is. It's kind of boring, but it's one of those "necessary evil" chapters.
It appeared that the entire house of Gryffindor was waiting for Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys when they walked into the common room.
"Is there anything we can do?" Lavendar Brown asked. It was evident that she had been crying, as had many of the girls. It had stunned everyone to hear that Harry's entire family had been murdered. Many wondered why they were a target when it was public knowledge that they did not even treat Harry well. Everyone knew that the Dursleys were likely just a beginning to the killings. Before, it had been easy to think of the looming threat as something less than it was.
Harry shook his head. "There's nothing anyone can do. Thanks for asking," he added, not wanting to seem ungrateful that his housemates cared about him. "Everyone, just go to bed and get some rest."
Many students echoed the sentiment to let them know if they could do anything to help as they filed out of the room.
Harry sat down by the fire with his wife and adopted siblings. Neville lagged behind too. "I don't think I can sleep. You guys can go on up if you want," said Harry.
"We're not going to leave you," Ginny told him. She patted his hand. "I know they were awful, but they were your family."
"I don't want to be in the way," Neville said. "I only wanted to let you know I'm here and I understand. Or, I sort of understand. I mean, I still have my Gram."
Harry nodded, "Yeah. I know you understand. Thanks, Neville."
"If you want me to leave, I will," he offered, not wanting to impose on what was essentially a "family" situation.
"It's okay," Harry told him.
"Stay," Ginny answered, reaching up to touch Neville's arm. He blushed at this, but sat down in a chair across from her.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry said, looking away from her.
"Why are you apologizing to me?" she asked. She had not let go of his hand since they sat down.
"I felt your fear when they said Muggles had been attacked. My first thought was of your parents too. We can't ignore that they're going to be targeted. They've killed everyone in my family, or at least everyone they know to be in my family. God, Ron, I'm sorry," he said as it hit him once again that his closeness to the Weasleys made them prime targets.
"Harry, it doesn't matter if we're pure blood. Look at what they did to Neville's family." He cast the other boy a sympathetic look.
"He hates Muggles too. And he hates Muggle borns," Hermione added, yet she knew that her closeness to Harry did put her family in more danger than most Muggles.
"Where are we safe?" Ginny asked, hopelessly.
"We're safest here with Dumbledore," Harry told them. "None of us will really be safe until Voldemort and the Death Eaters are gone though. I think we should do something about hiding your family, Hermione. We can't leave them out in the open."
"Any suggestions?" Hermione asked.
"At Padfoot's old place," Harry answered. It was enough to convey the message to Hermione without conveying it to Neville.
She nodded in agreement. "That would work."
"Mr. Potter," called a shrill and stern voice. They five students saw Professor McGonagall enter the room.
"Yes, Professor?" he answered.
"You all need to get to bed. Professor Lupin and I will escort you to Little Whinging tomorrow."
"Why?" Harry asked. He had long since settled himself with the idea of never returning to Privet Drive.
"You have to make decisions regarding your family's memorials. The Muggle authorities are expecting you."
"But, they signed me off," Harry replied. He was not being argumentative; he was surprised that he was needed. "I'm nothing to them anymore. Wouldn't Aunt Marge be in charge of everything?"
"Oh, no. Didn't you know?" Professor McGonagall asked, shocked. "Marge Dursley died from a massive heart attack last winter."
"She did?" Harry asked, stunned. Even though the Dursleys rarely said a word to him, it seemed odd that no one had told him about Marge's death. It also seemed odd that they had not found a way to blame him and his magic for it. "No one mentioned it to me. They're all gone?"
Professor McGonagall nodded sympathetically. She was flabbergasted that no one had told Harry that his aunt had died.
"What happened to her dogs?" Harry asked absently, despite having nothing but bad memories of her animals.
"No idea," McGongall replied, noting that Harry seemed more concerned about them than about the woman herself. "Now, go to bed, all of you. Harry, we're leaving first thing in the morning."
"I should go with him," Hermione interjected. "I'm his... fiance. He needs me."
"Fine," McGonagall agreed. "Now if I have to tell you to clear out one more time..." She did not have to finish her sentence as Ginny, Ron, and Neville got up immediately. Hermione kissed Harry's cheek and told him she'd see him in the morning. Tonight more than any other night since they returned to Hogwats, both wished they could return to their sleeping arrangements of the summer,.
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After a restless night, Harry got up, took a shower and dressed in Muggle clothing for his trip. He met Hermione in the common room. Some of the students leaving for breakfast stopped to ask how he was feeling and others said nothing as they passed. Professors McGonagall and Lupin arrived together. They brought muffins for Harry and Hermione to avoid having to use the Great Hall for breakfast. The four of them took a portkey to an empty store space near the Little Whinging police department.
"Is it safe for us to be here?" Hermione asked, afraid that Death Eaters might be lurking and using this as a trap for Harry. She looked around to see if anything seemed abnormal. It was unusually quiet given the tragedy of the previous evening.
"We're surrounded by Aurors," Lupin answered softly. "You may never know they're around, but they are." The four walked in silence to their destination.
A detective met the group soon after they found the police station. He extended his hand to Harry and introduced himself as Roger Fleming. The group exchanged names and pleasantries and he invited them to all sit down while he retrieved a file.
"Mr. Potter, I see you've been away at school?" Fleming asked, scanning the file.
"Yes. He attends Hawthorne Honors Academy in Scotland," McGonagall answered. "I'm the head of his dormitory. Professor Lupin is a friend of the family."
"And you are?" Fleming asked Hermione.
"My girlfriend," Harry answered. "The headmaster allowed her to come along since," he swallowed, "since I have no family left." Images of Sirius falling to his death and the sound of his mother's screaming floated through his mind. Everyone had been killed because of Voldemort.
"Ah," Fleming nodded. "Hawthorne Honors Academy? I've never heard of it."
"It's very exclusive," McGonagall explained. "Only the finest students are accepted. Harry's parents arranged for his attendance as soon as he was born. They were both students there as well."
"You two must be very bright to go to such a fine school," Fleming said in a friendly manner.
"You have no idea," Lupin responded. "I would say these are the two top students of our school, wouldn't you Minerva?"
"Well, I would, but not in front of them," she laughed.
Hermione blushed and Harry looked down at his knees. This Honors Academy story sounded much better than the truth that they were both studying witchcraft. It was doubtful that the detective would have the same attitude if he was told the truth. In fact, it would probably move Harry right up to the head of the suspect list.
"Detective, what happened?" Harry asked. "How did so many people get killed?"
He shook his head slowly as if he could barely believe it himself, "A full tanker of propane lost control, slammed into the Dursley's garage and blew up. It was a chain reaction. The initial explosion and fire was so massive that it set fire after fire and explosion after explosion. Fortunately, most of the neighborhood was evacuated, but there were several houses where people didn't have time to know what was coming, much less to get out."
"That's horrible," Harry said, thinking of his neighbors. "What about Mrs. Figg?" he asked for the second time, hoping the initial reports were wrong.
"She didn't make it out," Fleming answered sympathetically. Her house was far enough away that it was not destroyed, but it appears the fumes got to her.
They all knew that Mrs. Figg had not fallen to fumes, but, more than likely, to a Death Eater's curse. She was a known squib since her testimony on Harry's behalf the year before.
"Do you think?" Harry started. "I mean... did they suffer? Was it quick?" As much as the Dursleys despised him, he did not want them to have suffered a horrendous or slow death, not even Vernon. They would never know if the explosion had been to cover the murders or if it had been the means to commit the murders.
"Mr. Potter, your house was blown up immediately. They never knew what hit them," Fleming answered.
Harry nodded. "At least it wasn't drawn out," he consoled himself. "Was there anything left?" he asked, trying to get a better picture of what exactly had happened.
"It's the damnedest thing," Fleming shook his head disbelievingly, "Even with the blast centered at #4, somehow, the closet under them and part of the stairs was still standing when the fires were finally put out."
"That doesn't make any sense," Harry said as his companions exchanged looks of wonder.
"Tell me about it. Maybe the stairs had steel reinforcement," the detective theorized. There was still much to investigate about the scene of the "accident."
"Why was a propane tanker in a neighborhood at that time of evening?" Hermione asked, changing the subject. It bothered and comforted her at the same time to think that the cupboard under the stairs was still standing after the attack. Somehow it confirmed that this had not been an accident, but magical murderous plot. But she could not think about the implications of Harry's presence leaving such powerfully resistant force without wanting to grab him and run to protect him from the next attack. She did not want to see strength of his magic tested further.
"That part is one we can answer," Fleming replied. "It appears the driver lived on the street and was simply on his way home in his company truck. He was going to cover a route for a fellow worker the next day so, they believe, he planned on leaving for the route first thing instead of going back to the company."
"What do I need to do?" Harry asked, sighing. "Funeral arrangements?"
"Memorial," Fleming answered, making it clear there was nothing of the Dursleys left to be buried. "And paperwork. As the only relative, you'll need to talk with their lawyers. Of course, we needed to meet with you as we are with other families to brief you on what has happened."
"I don't even know where to begin," Harry admitted. "There's no family."
"I believe the Catholic church on Morning Glory Circle is preparing a mass in honor of all the victims. You will all be welcomed there to mourn your loss."
Harry nodded and turned to Professor McGonagall. "Is that appropriate? Can that suffice?"
She placed a care-worn hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure it will be fine. This is such a loss that it seems right for the community to come together to grieve."
There next stop was the Dursley's attorney's office. It was one of many in a large firm in the business district. George Comstock, a middle aged plump man invited Harry and his party into his office to discuss the estate.
"I'm sorry this is so rushed," Harry told him. "My school is in Scotland."
"I understand, son," the laywer told him. "It basically amounts to this. Anything the Dursleys had goes into your trust as the only surviving relative."
"I don't want it," Harry told him immediately. He had decided before he walked in the door of the office that he could not accept anything that was of the Dursley estate.
The man looked stunned, "But, Mr. Potter..."
"Pay off their debts and give the rest to charity. Give it to the other families on Privet Drive, the ones who need medical help and help building new homes. There's got to be some kind of fund set up, right?"
"I don't think there has been yet."
"Then you set it up," Harry directed. "Name it after my Aunt Petunia."
"We're talking about a fair amount of money you're giving up," Comstock expounded as he fidgeted with the files on his desk. "Are you sure you do not want to consider accepting it. It is yours by right."
"Mr. Comstock, the last thing I want is another inheritance. The Dursleys did not even like me. I can assure you they would not want me to have this money by default of being the only one to survive. So, please, take the money and help people who need it."
He nodded. "There's one more thing. Your Aunt Petunia left a letter addressed to you." He handed a small, sealed white envelope to Harry. "I'll draw up the paperwork to distribute the Dursley estate per your instructions. I'm sure your neighbors will be touched by your generosity."
"Can you have the papers ready soon so I can sign them before going back to school?"
"I'll get right on it."
Harry made an appointment to come back in two days after the memorial service, prior to returning to Hogwarts. By the time the second meeting of the day was over, the four of them were tired and decided to stop for lunch.
"I'm proud of you," Hermione told him. "That money will help a lot of people."
Harry shrugged it off. "It's no big deal." He knew the Dursleys would not want him to have inherited anything. He was curious about what the letter from his aunt said, but had decided to wait to read it. He picked at his food.
"Eat, Potter," McGonagall instructed. "Both of you. You've got to keep up your strength."
The older woman was correct. They did need their strength for the days that followed. They arranged to have the Dursley Family memorialized with the other victims through the Catholic church before checking into a nearby hotel. They attended these services which were covered by press from around the world. The only comfort they had was knowing that they were surrounded by members of the Order and aurors from the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore had seen to it that protecting Harry was as much of a concern to both organizations as was recapturing the Death Eaters.
Harry sat numbly through the service. It was a surreal experience to say goodbye to the family. The guilt of knowing that all of these people had died because he had been their neighbor was burning through him. It was not fair that so many innocent lives were taken. Lupin and McGonagall had both sensed Harry's guilt and told him repeatedly that this was not his fault, that Voldemort hated Muggles and that he and his followers had tormented and killed Muggles years ago. It was to be expected that they would continue the practice since he had returned to power.
Hermione, who understood her husband's "saving people thing" more than anyone else respected the weight of his burden. She knew that he believed that if he could have defeated Voldemort by now, if the world did not have to wait for him to fulfill the prophecy, this tragedy would never have occurred. She knew his logic was as sound as their professors' history lessons.
"Hermione!" they heard someone call as they exited the church.
The group of four all turned to the direction from which the voice came to see a little girl with bushy hair waving frantically.
"Julie!" Hermione cried out, running to meet her little sister. "Mom, Dad, Grandma!" She greeted each of her family members with hugs. Harry and the professors joined their family reunion. "What are you doing here?" Hermione asked.
"We came out of respect for Harry," John explained, hugging his son-in-law. "How are you both?"
"Fine," Harry answered, still amazed that this man actually cared about him. "You didn't have to come all this way."
"Of course we did," Jane answered. "We're so sorry about this. We want you to remember that you have family out there with us. I'm so glad Julie saw you." The church had been so crowded that it was nearly impossible to find someone in the crowd.
Harry lowered his voice so no passing Muggles would hear him. "You know who is responsible for this, don't you?" he asked.
"We have our suspicions," Eloise answered. "Pure evil." She stood with her hand protectively on Julie's shoulder.
"It's good that you're here," Lupin interrupted. "Has the Order contacted you?"
John nodded. First, he had received owl post informing him that a member of the Order was coming to visit. Dolly McDoogle, one of the latest recruits, arrived the morning after the attack on Privet Drive, and explained everything that had happened along with extending the invitation for the Grangers to move into Grimauld Place until the threat had passed.
"And is that agreeable with you?"
"I don't believe we have a choice," John answered. He, Jane, and Eloise had discussed the pros and cons thoroughly before making the decision to accept the offer. John and Jane had left word with their patients that there was a family emergency and they would be taking a leave of absence until further notice. They had pulled Julie from school under the guise of sending her to Hawthorne Honors Academy thanks to some handy paperwork provided by McDoogle.
"You're moving?" Hermione asked. "To mine and Harry's place?" She knew better than to use words like headquarters in public.
"Yes, we are," Jane replied. "At least for a few weeks. We hope this will all be over soon." She kept one arm protectively around her oldest daughter.
"That's exactly what we all want," Lupin agreed.
"It will be," Harry told them glumly. "One way or another."