This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter 11
"The Pocket Portkey"
Harry and Ron's walk to Froth's took about half an hour. It was useful to have Willard tagging along, otherwise Harry thought they'd get lost in the village and spend days looking for the well hidden tavern even wizards would have a hard time noticing.
"Ah, we're here," said Willard, his back facing against the old cobbled street. Harry and Ron looked around to find any signage with the tavern's name on it, but they only found themselves staring at the part of a building with a solid brick wall flanked by two designer-clothes shops.
"Uh, where?" Harry said, looking at the two shops back and forth. "I see nothing but boarded-up shops."
"Don't you see it?" said Willard, amused. "It's right there - the brick wall. See?"
Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled looks and they both shrugged. Willard laughed.
"Well, that's really a brick wall, of course," he said. "It's actually the entrance to Froth's. Look's small, doesn't it? Wait till you see what's inside…"
To the naked eye, the two shops seemed to be just beside each other, and no one could suspect there might be an establishment in between them. Then Harry got it - Froth's was probably the equivalent of a dodgy muggle pub, thus the inconspicuous entrance. The tavern didn't have a door, but the brick wall for an entrance. A wizard would have to knock on it with his wand to be heard from within. Harry had never been to those muggle joints where one could find hiding felons and/or shady characters, and he had never wished to be in one, either. He shuddered to think what he might find in a wizard version of it. Reading Harry's face again, Willard said, "Just keep close to me and they won't touch you."
"Okay," said Harry, his voice betraying his nervousness. And found out he did as the brick wall opened up in front of them. Hags, goblins, heavily-tattooed wizards - you name every despicable character - Froth's seemed to have all of them at the very moment. The whole tavern was decorated like a cave and it was huge, dark, and the ceiling was full of stagnant cigar smoke. Harry knew in the wizarding world that size didn't matter from outside, and the brick wall about six feet across was actually the whole club. He had seen other objects that looked normal-sized, but had spacious interiors like Mr. Weasley's Ford Anglia and the Quidditch World Cup tents, but Froth's was too much in his point of view.
The noise of the crowd died down as Harry, Ron, and Willard walked their way towards the bar. The silence was nerve-wracking especially for Ron because it suggested that everyone in the whole tavern looked in their direction. Harry saw a glimpse of an old witch who seemed to be considering them as she rubbed her chin and showed off her crooked (and yellow) teeth. This prompted Harry to reach for his wand inside his robes just in case something untoward happened.
"Willard!" called the bartender happily, who was cleaning the bar top with an old rag. "How's life in the Ministry of Magic?" Loud conversation instantly came back to life in the tavern when everybody heard the bartender's question.
Willard winked at Harry and Ron and said, "That always works for them…" They approached the bartender and sat on the empty stools. Ron was looking around nervously at all the customers, but no one was already paying him and Harry much attention anymore.
"Are you really from the Ministry…" Ron started to ask.
"Nope," said Willard at once, grinning.
"Zack, meet Bart and, uh, Homer," Willard told the bartender. "They're my nephews and they've been stranded…" Harry fixed his bangs to cover his scar, hoping Zack hadn't spotted it.
"Oh, nice to meet you, two," said Zack, smiling. "Which one of you is Bart?"
"I am," said Harry and Ron at the same time. "Uh, he's Homer," they both said again in unison. Harry and Ron kicked each other on the foot when Zack gave them a puzzled look.
"They're a bit confused," said Willard quickly. "Never been away from their family, you see. They need to get home immediately, but they're living near London - too far to walk to get there instantly, you know what I mean."
"Ah," said Zack, although equally confused. "So, what is it you need, exactly?"
"We need some floo powder, I think" said Harry. "We ran out of them today."
"Floo powder, I can sell you," replied Zack. "But it doesn't do any good without a fireplace attached to the floo network. Mine got cut off last week."
"Do you know any other place here in town that has one?" asked Ron, disappointed.
Zack shook his head, and looked at Willard, who seemed to be nodding gently as if he was giving Zack a signal or something. Then the bartender bent slightly forward toward Harry and Ron to whisper, "Uhm, but I do have something, uh, better than floo powder but it costs a little more…" He showed them something that resembled a Zippo lighter, but had a dial in it if opened. Harry thought Zack was ripping them off, but was interested on what learning what the object could do.
"It's a pocket Portkey," continued Zack, as softly as possible amid the deafening noise of the tavern. "It's good for three trips, very reliable. All one's got to do is think of the spot you want to land on and roll the dial slowly twice, like a lighter. In six seconds, you'll be whisked away to the place you've thought about, including anyone who might be touching any part of the body of the one operating it."
"Wow, never heard of that," said Ron, fascinated. "So how come you seem to be talking to us as if this was kind of a secret?" Harry stared at Ron, not believing he could be this direct. Zack didn't mind, however.
"It's a highly restricted gadget by the Ministry of Magic for general public use, but are issued to Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries," explained Zack quietly. "I designed my Portkeys to look like lighters to make it less interesting. If you click it to light a cigarette, it won't work and anybody would think it's just out of gas. But if you roll the dial slowly twice, you'll be brought to where you want to be."
"That's perfect! So how much is it?" said Harry eagerly after he saw Willard nodding his head in assurance that the object was not bogus.
"Thirty Galleons," said Zack almost instantly.
"Thir-th-thirty…" Ron choked. Harry's shoulders dropped a full inch.
"But we only have four," said Harry pleadingly, feeling the plan wasn't possible anymore. "Can't you lower your price for us?"
"Sorry, but that's the going rate, I'm afraid," said Zack, looking as if he had lost a good prospective buyer.
"Where are we supposed to find that much cash?" groaned Ron.
"That's not my prob…" started Zack, but Willard cut him off, and he whispered something in the bartender's ear. A sudden look of terror then drew on his face as he nodded his head, hearing what Willard had to say. "O-okay, four Galleons, it is." Harry, not believing his luck, didn't want Zack to change his mind and he forked out four gold ones on the bar top almost immediately. Zack hesitantly handed over the Portkey and forced a smile. "Is there something else you need?"
"Uh, yeah," said Harry absentmindedly, examining the pocket portkey. "I have to send someone an owl right away. You have some, I believe."
"That would cost one Knut, Homer," said Zack, this time grumpily, still shaking his head for the money he lost tonight. Harry frantically looked for more money in his pockets, but he found out that he spent everything he had for the Portkey.
"Uh, I think I'm broke," said Harry sheepishly. Ron snapped his head towards him.
"Sorry, no dough, no service," said Zack, and without any further adieu he shifted his attention to his other paying customers. Seeing that they couldn't get anything more from Zack, Willard pulled Harry and Ron off their stools and accompanied them towards the exit. "At least you got the pocket portkey for a real bargain," said Willard when they were back walking out in the street.
"Yeah, I guess," replied Harry. "By the way, what did you tell Zack back there, Willard? Giving us twenty six Galleons off for the Portkey was absolutely a wrench for him, no doubt."
Willard laughed. "He owes me a lot money, to be frank. I told him I could just take over Froth's anytime out of whim and he could do nothing about it." Harry, after hearing this, wanted to laugh but a sudden thought made him feel ashamed.
"What's the matter, Harry?" asked Willard gently, seeing him bite his lower lip.
"Nothing, it's just that you've been very kind with me and Ron," Harry said slowly. "We really don't deserve everything that you have done for us, and we don't know how to repay you…"
Willard smiled. "Like I said, it's been great to have Harry Potter around. I know you're in danger and I can't just do nothing about this. If You-Know-Who got you and kills you because I looked the other way, then I could not forgive myself. I'm not doing this to get something in return, and I'm serious."
Harry and Ron nodded. Willard turned out to be heaven sent after all. "Here, keep these, I don't need the wands," Harry said to Willard and he took them.
"I'll take this as evidence for the Ministry when they come investigating," said Willard. "I'm sure they're still trapped in that little prison you made."
"So, how're we gonna write to Hermione?" Ron asked Harry.
"Well, I just hope Errol's around the Burrow -" thought Harry.
"Errol???" Ron blurted out. "It'll take him ages to reach her. Pig's back in Hogwarts, but maybe we could steal Hermes if Percy's not home…"
"He'll be furious!" exclaimed Harry.
"I don't care if he kills me," said Ron, grinning, "He can look as menacing as he wants, but I know he can't hurt a fly."
"I think we'll just have to find a way when we get to the Burrow," said Harry. "Ready?"
"Yeah, I think so," gulped Ron.
"You don't need to be nervous about this at all," said Willard. "If you've used a Portkey before, it'll be just the same. You just need to concentrate hard on the exact spot somewhere around the world while the timer ticks down from six seconds."
"Uh, okay. What happens if I suddenly think of something else while waiting the six seconds?" asked Harry, his eyes getting round.
"Same as apparating, I reckon," replied Willard, shrugging. "I heard splinching might be possible but it rarely happens. It requires force of mind, but you just need to concentrate hard."
"You do it," said Ron, fearing Harry would ask him to try it out. "Just think of the Burrow. How about my room? You remember what my room looks like, right?"
"Yeah, I guess," said Harry uncertainly, trying hard to remember where the beds were and everything without ever thinking of being splinched. "I think you know your room better than me, so why don't you…"
"No, it's too cramped, you try the kitchen," Ron quickly said before Harry could finish his sentence.
"Okay, the kitchen." Harry closed his eyes and thought hard about the Weasley's kitchen. He pictured in his mind the spot on the floor between the dining table and the kitchen counter, the walls, and other details. He didn't want to think what if Mrs. Weasley had decided to re-arrange the furniture, but maybe he'd just land on whatever's standing there. Satisfied, Harry opened his eyes once again. "Got it."
"Then, this is goodbye for now," said Willard. "Lots of luck, and take care, you two. Your friend Hermy-won, too."
"That's Her-my-OH-knee," said Harry gently, smiling. "You'll see her soon. Thanks for everything again, Willard."
Ron gripped Harry's shoulder tightly as Harry flipped the lighter-like object open. He thought hard about the kitchen in the Burrow once again. He then turned the dial twice slowly as instructed, trying hard not to think of anything else but "The Burrow, kitchen, the Burrow, kitchen, between the table and counter…"
The six seconds felt like six minutes as Harry resisted the urge to flash other drifting thoughts across his mind. It was very hard to do, until he felt a sharp tug, signaling that the Portkey had already started doing its job. He then lost concentration - his brain was too busy processing to adapt the body with all the motion it's being subjected to. Ron now had both of his hands on Harry's shoulder, positively screaming but not loud enough to be heard. Harry suddenly had horrible thoughts about being stuck in the whirlwind forever because he had lost his concentration. He didn't know if one needed to keep thinking of his destination all the time, even while in the chaos that was ensuing from within the whirlwind, so he closed his eyes again and thought back of the kitchen at the Burrow, hoping it wasn't too late to do so.
Then they landed hard, sprawled down on a hard wooden floor, somewhere dark, but in an increasingly familiar place. They were in the Burrow.
"Harry, you did it! It's the kitchen!" said Ron excitedly, pulling him up from the floor. Before Harry could stand fully upright, Ron ran around the kitchen and the sitting room, calling around for his family. "Mum! Dad! Are you home? It's me, Ron - and Harry!"
They both heard running footsteps up a few floors that seemed to run down to the stairs, and sure enough, Mrs. Weasley, a plump woman with the trademark red hair, appeared with Ginny at the last landing. They were both smiling, as if they have found a long lost relative.
"Oh, Ron, I've been so worried!" Mrs. Weasley cried as she ran and hugged her son very tightly. Ginny was crying with joy; it looked like they both hadn't gotten some sleep for days.
"Aw, Mum," said Ron as Mrs.Weasley's enormous arms squeezed him.
"Don't complain!" she said while pulling Harry towards her and giving him the same suffocating hug. "I thought you were dead…"
Ginny wasn't herself, and hugged Ron and Harry after her mother, though the thought of doing this to Harry will always embarrass her in the next few months to come.
"Mum, I didn't try to kill Dumbledore, I swear - " said Ron. "Harry found out later…"
"I didn't think so, too," Mrs. Weasley said gently. "but I do need to hear the whole story. First you both need to clean yourselves up while I cook you up a late dinner, then you can talk as much as you want, dear. You still have your clothes up in your room, and Harry can borrow some of yours. Up you go, both of you."
"I'll help you Mum," said Ginny quickly, keeping on wiping her tears.
Without saying a word, Harry and Ron ran up the narrow stairs towards Ron's room. They heard Mrs. Weasley taking out some pots and pans down in the kitchen. When they were almost to the door, Ron looked back at Harry and said, "That's unusual for Mum to be so forgiving, I thought I was done for…"
"Strikes one of your fears, Ron," said Harry, smiling. "At least you can tell our story much easier without her breathing fire on you."
"Yeah, but where's everybody else? Dad, Fred and George…"
"I think we'll ask her later…"
***
Meanwhile, Willard walked back to his hotel. He made it a point to give the police a call to arrest the three Death Eaters - trespassers - trapped in one of his hotel rooms. The barrier spell Harry had made in the window on the second floor was still functioning as he looked up from the street to check. Satisfied, he pulled out his key as he stepped on to his front door.
It wasn't locked. He knew he was always absentminded, but he could have sworn he had locked it, but he wasn't sure. Shrugging, he opened it and found the lobby to be empty. He went to the front desk to pull out the phone when he heard the soft ringing of his door chimes. It was Graham.
"How - how did you get out…" said Willard, backing off a few steps, but he felt a blow to his leg from behind him, and he fell to the floor. The two other wizards who came in with Graham began kicking him, and Willard howled in pain. His old bones could not take it, and he heard his rib snap.
"I believe this is mine," said Graham lazily, reaching for his wand inside Willard's coat, who was breathing painfully on the floor. "The spell that amateur wizard Potter subjected on the door was poorly done, and we knew you'd come back in this old hotel of yours - really, you call this a hotel?" Graham shook his head, tutting, while Willard looked up at him insolently.
"They're already gone, Graham," Willard said bravely. "They could be in any place around the world right now…"
"True, true, but I suppose you heard them saying where they wanted to go, haven't you?" said Graham. "You can tell us, or we'll stay here all night breaking every bone of your body if you call that fun."
"What a splendid sudden change of heart," Willard managed to say sarcastically. "I believe you told me you'd kill me if I didn't tell you about Harry Potter just earlier this eve - OW!" He felt another stinging kick on his side.
"Foolish of you to talk that way to your guests, old man," Graham said, laughing. "Show us your best room and we'll have our little chat there, off we go." It would take a few hours after sun-up until Willard finally gave in from all the torture they gave him.
***
Ron, with the help of Harry, told Mrs.Weasley everything they knew what had happened at Hogwarts and why they had to evade capture from the Ministry Wizards. Mrs. Weasley was a good listener (to Ron's disbelief), while Ginny fought sleepiness to catch every word of the story. After that, Mrs. Weasley gave Harry and Ron an overview of what was happening in the Wizard world while they were away. The Ministry had published wanted posters offering a reward of a thousand Galleons for their capture had been pinned on the walls of every well-known wizard place. Thus, getting around casually for the two of them ran the risk of being arrested.
"Despite what's happening, I believe you," said Mrs. Weasley. "You need to tell your Dad your story, Ron. I hope he still has his connections in the Ministry." She bowed her head sadly after she said that.
"Mum, how's Dad?" Ron asked very slowly.
"Oh, he's fine, dear, fine."
"I know he lost his job in the Ministry because of me - "
"It's not entirely your fault - "
"It is!" Ron shouted, slamming his clenched fist on the table, and the dishes on top of it jumped. "If I hadn't made that practical joke on Crabbe, none of this might have happened!"
"Ron, we've talked about this a thousand times, right?" said Harry, feeling tired. "If you did or didn't, Chadron could still have found something to accuse you…"
"I knew that Chadron Head Boy was no good!" said Ginny angrily. "Why don't we just tell Dumbledore and kick him out of there?"
"He's still out cold in the hospital, Ginny," Harry said.
"Oh."
"Where's Dad, Mum?" Ron asked when he finally cooled down.
"Oh, your Dad's out somewhere, looking for a new job," said Mrs. Weasley sadly. "It's been days, and no one seems to be willing to hire him because of the news reports. We're mulling over the idea of selling the house to make ends meet…"
Ginny began to sob upon hearing this from her mother again, and buried her face in her arms. Harry could not stop feeling sorry for the Weasley's when he heard Ginny's muffled cry. He had vivid memories of the happy days when he lived in this house, the only place he called home aside from Hogwarts. The Burrow signified everything about the Weasley family, and he thought it would never be the same anymore if somebody else would own it. Mrs. Weasley stroked Ginny's hair very gently and said, "Now, now, Ginny, I'm sure we'll find a way to take this house back when we're ready," she said, although she then had tears streaming down on her cheeks.
"So Fred and George are asleep upstairs, Mrs. Weasley?" asked Harry, noticing that the twins had not come down.
"They left just today," she replied, wiping her face with her hands. "Thought they'd lessen our burden by living on their own. They were talking about making good of their plans for the joke shop. Pledged all their profits for the family - I don't know where they got their seed money. They refuse to tell me. I hope they weren't stealing…"
"No, they can't do that, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry confidently, not saying that he was the one who gave the thousand Galleons to the twins last year for the joke shop out of his winnings from the Triwizard Tournament.
"Yes, they're really good boys after all, that Fred and George," said Mrs.Weasley. "What do you plan to do next, Harry, now that you and Ron have returned home?"
Harry suddenly slapped his hand on his forehead, sliding his glasses off his nose. "Great Scott, I forgot all about Hermione!" he exclaimed. Harry explained hurriedly to Mrs.Weasley what has happened to her and what they planned to write her when they came to the Burrow.
"We're out of owls right now, unfortunately," said Mrs.Weasley. "Dad took Erroll with him to deliver his resumes, and Percy says he needs Hermes more than us."
"That selfish oaf!!!" snarled Ron.
"He's your brother, Ron," Mrs. Weasley snapped. "It's his owl and he'll do what he wants with it."
"I can't believe you're saying that Mum! If it weren't for you and Dad, he wouldn't have Hermes, would he? Doesn't he even stop to think about what's happening to us right now?"
"I can't tell you what he thinks about all of this without making you hate him more than ever, Ron," warned Mrs. Weasley.
"You don't have to, Mum, I think I do already!"
"Uh, I guess we can't do anything about this tonight," Harry accepted. "We'll have to find a way to contact Hermione first thing in the morning, at least."
"You're right, Harry," agreed Mrs. Weasley. "You need some rest. You can go up with Ron to his room while I clean up - no, I can do it myself, thanks." She stood up and began collecting the dirty dishes as Ron and Harry stood up to walk up the stairs. Ginny had stopped crying, but her eyes were still full of tears.
"Wake up anytime you want," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'll be leaving some breakfast on the table tomorrow because I'll be out until the afternoon looking for a job to help Dad. Good night."
"Thank you and Good night, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, pulling a grumpy Ron. "Good night, Ginny, and thanks, too." Ginny managed to smile amid her sobs, not knowing exactly why she was feeling a little flattered.
"I gotta fix this mess up if that's the last thing I'll ever do!" Ron growled as he and Harry plopped down their made-up beds.
"That's the whole plan from the very start, right?" said Harry, hoping to calm Ron down.
"I can't believe Percy's still that selfish! What's he doing now in the Ministry if he hadn't been shunted to another department already? Making up rules about how many twigs a broomstick should have?" Harry managed to laugh at Ron's crazy idea, recalling Percy's pre-occupation on cauldron thickness. Silence fell between them for a few minutes while they left each other to their own thoughts.
"Do you think we're creating trouble with the Ministry for your Dad and Mum?" Harry asked. "I mean, if the Ministry found us here, would they be guilty of aiding fugitives?"
"Honestly, I never thought about that, Harry," said Ron, frowning. "But that's a good point. I wouldn't want to give my folks more trouble than I've already caused. Then you say we don't have to stay here indefinitely?" Harry nodded. "Then where do you think we'll go after this?"
Harry didn't exactly know the answer to that. He felt they had already gone to the last familiar place he ever knew, and he didn't even wish to consider Privet Drive.
"I'm gonna miss this place, Harry," Ron said, tears welling in his eyes for the first time tonight. "I can't believe this is happening to us, aside from being poor all my life." Ron then faced Harry. "What did we do to deserve this? Please tell me Harry."
"None," said Harry, standing upright on his bed. "Your family is special - you're just victims of a well planned conspiracy, I believe. I remember the letter sent to Chadron about the effect on your Dad's career if you were blamed of trying to kill Dumbledore. It all seems to be working. Now who do you think has got a real grudge with your Dad?"
"I'm not sure," Ron said slowly. "With his line of work, Dad can make lots of enemies. But…I'm willing to bet it's Malfoy!"
"Uh-huh, but we don't have proof of that yet, so we'll make it a point to find out."
"I hope it's him, and we could return the favor," Ron said determinedly. "Harry, it's amazing, though. They seem to have made a lot of damage with just a single plan. Dumbledore's almost dead, McGonagall, too. Without Dumbledore, Hogwarts is severely weakened. Dad's out of the Ministry and my family's a wreck. I'm a branded criminal, and you're out of Hogwarts - out of the relative safety of the school, a perfect opportunity for You-Know-Who to get you."
"Yeah, nice thinking, Ron," Harry said. "It'd probably be the end of the wizarding world as we know it if You-Know-Who gets what he wants. Do you think reporting Chadron would make any more good after all what's happening?"
"It's a start, I guess," Ron thought deeply. "The Ministry might act favorably for us when they find something new about that moron. The problem is, the Ministry is against us this time. I hope it would change soon."
"Then we must get all the proof to the Ministry as soon as possible, do you reckon?"
"Like we talked about back in Willard's. Whatever it takes," Ron said, gritting his teeth.
"Then it's imperative we contact Hermione soon," declared Harry. "She has the note, and we could bring it to Olga in the Ministry. First we need to find out where the Ministry is."
"Okay, but don't forget the wanted posters stuck everywhere. I think we better get some sleep, Harry. We'll start laying out our plans tomorrow over breakfast. Arrghh. If only Percy let us use Hermes we could cut the time to contact Hermione…"
They both didn't talk further after that. It was already past three in the morning. Although they felt tired from all the action tonight, anxiety ruled over them as they laid down on bed deep in their own individual thoughts. The possibility of being found by either Ministry wizards and Death Eaters while asleep in the Burrow was very high, making it very difficult for them to find their much needed rest. So this is how it felt when one lived dangerously, like Sirius, Harry thought.