Chapter 9 - A Threat Negated
"Happy birthday to me…happy birthday to me…"
Harry was sitting on the garden bench in the back yard of the Dursley's home at Privet Drive. What had the potential to be a great summer between his first and second year at Hogwarts had rapidly gone downhill. Harry was in a pretty bad mood, especially considering it was his birthday. <My last birthday, now that was something to remember, wasn't it? A giant comes and tells me that I am a wizard! Wish something like that would happen again! But no, I have to disappear just so Vernon can kiss up to some rich builder and his wife.>
He thought back on what had gone wrong. Soon after he arrived at Number 4 at the beginning of the summer holiday, he had received two owls within minutes of each other (which fact made Uncle Vernon almost blow a blood vessel in his neck, Harry thought with a snort) and the order that he opened them proved to be, in Harry's current estimation, his downfall. The first owl was from Hogwarts, and it was carrying a letter…from the Headmaster? He opened it first, due mainly to his surprise at receiving a letter from such an unexpected source.
My Dear Mr. Potter,
I hope you had a safe trip back to your family. I also hope you are having a good summer break, although I do understand your unique circumstances. I hope to not make it any more difficult for you, but I ask that you not leave your Aunt's home for any reason, no matter how tempting of an offer you may receive, until further notice this summer. I promise I will explain why I make this request at the appropriate time, but for now, please respect my wishes.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster.
Oh, how he wished now, looking back, that he had opened the other letter first! Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad to go to there, after all. He remembered the beautiful eagle owl <Not as nice as Hedwig, though!> standing there, patiently waiting until Harry removed the parchment from its leg. Hey, Scarhead, the letter began,
…I talked to my father when I got home, and he is VERY interested in meeting you, as is my mum. He said that it would be his honor to have the famous Harry Potter visiting the humble Malfoy manor. Yes, he actually does talk like that, can you believe it? And, don't let him fool you. Our manor is ANYTHING but humble, ha...ha..! Anyway, send me a note, either with our family owl or with your snowy one, Hedwig, right? I think you'll have an eye-opening experience to see what its like to live in a true wizarding home instead of with those…Muggles (ewww - how can you stand living with those…creatures?)
Slytherin Rules! (Even if those Gryffs beat us in the house cup, those prats! If only that Mudblood hadn't got so many points!)
Draco
At the time, Harry remembered, he was actually glad that he had read Dumbledore's letter first. Over the term, while not having a lot of close contact with the Headmaster of Hogwarts, he came to respect him as someone who was not to be trifled with as he learned more about him during his History of Magic studies. So, he honestly had no problem with giving him the benefit of the doubt and following his rather cryptic request. Besides, it gave him a convenient excuse to beg off Draco's invitation.
Harry had dreaded, to that point, having to tell Draco that he'd rather not come visit, but as he reread the letter, he was sure he was doing the right thing. The letter itself, he noticed, insulted not only him <Scarhead - he knows I hate that!>, but also Muggles and a Muggle-born fellow student. Harry had to admit Hermione had done quite well in helping her house secure the cup for Gryffindor. He had talked to her on rare occasions during the year, and found that she really wasn't all that bad of a person the more he got to know her, even if she was a Gryffindor (and, a bit of a know-it-all, at that.) He had even developed a not-so-grudging respect for her, especially when he heard she had the best grades of all the first-year students. He, of course, was not too far behind Miss Granger in total scores based on his outstanding marks in Potions and Charms, with Draco's great Potions mark offset by his lower score in Herbology. ("PLANTS, Potter?" he could remember clearly Draco saying, when he had brought the subject up, "Why would I care about PLANTS? Father says that it is a waste of time to worry about anything taught by a Hufflepuff! Especially since that near-squib Longbottom likes them so much. If he can do it, it must be pretty worthless to learn.")
<So, now I just have to owl "Golden-boy" (Harry's 'retaliatory' name for when Draco called him Scarhead at school), and explain that while I appreciate the offer to visit, Headmaster Dumbledore has asked me to stay here for now. I just wish I could explain why! Maybe I'm tired of putting up with his constant put-downs of anyone not in Slytherin. I just hope the Malfoys will understand.> Harry thought. <I have heard Draco and a few of the other Slytherins calling the headmaster a few uncomplimentary things, but I'm sure that they will honor the Headmaster's request!>
Unfortunately, Harry was mistaken. In fact, he was surprised to see, the morning after he sent his regrets, an unfamiliar owl carrying a red envelope to him at the breakfast table. He had never seen a wizard post like that before, so he was completely caught off guard (as were the Dursleys) when the envelope started smoking at the corners. He carefully slit it open, and heard Draco's magnified voice shake the room.
"HOW DARE YOU REFUSE OUR INVITATION, SCARHEAD? YOU'VE GOT QUITE SOME NERVE USING THAT PATHETIC MUDBLOOD-LOVING HEADMASTER OF OURS AS AN EXCUSE! YOU HAVE INSULTED MY FAMILY AND ME! I THOUGHT YOU WERE A FELLOW SLYTHERIN, AND MY FRIEND! WE TRY TO SHOW A HALF-BLOOD LIKE YOURSELF A LITTLE COURTESY, AND YOU THROW IT BACK IN OUR FACES! WHO CARES IF HE DOESN'T WANT YOU TO LEAVE! I SWEAR, POTTER, IF YOU'D RATHER STAY WITH YOUR MUGGLE-KIN, I DON'T KNOW IF I WANT TO BE SEEN WITH YOU ANY MORE! DON'T BOTHER TO WRITE BACK!"
Harry, who had dropped the Howler as soon as it started screaming, was even more surprised when it burst into flames. This, unfortunately, had set Petunia's favorite tablecloth on fire. By the time they were able to put it out, it was damaged beyond repair and there was also a big scorch mark on the dining table. Everyone was dripping wet from when Dudley had thrown a pitcher of water on the fire, and breakfast was ruined. The end result was that Vernon's dislike for Harry grew each time they sat down at a meal from then on.
By the time of his birthday, then, Harry wasn't in too good of a humor, feeling pretty well ignored and friendless, and singing Happy Birthday to himself. After a while, he noticed Dudley approaching. He had just thought he had seen something in the hedge <big …eyes? No, that couldn't have been… > when Dudley started teasing him about no one remembering his birthday. Harry had successfully scared him off with his pretend magic spells, but the punishment from Petunia did nothing to improve his mood. <Why, oh why, couldn't have I just gone to the Malfoy's? I bet I wouldn't be spreading manure on flowers if I were there!>
Before too long, he was being chased upstairs in preparation for the Mason's visit, where he met the strangest creature he had ever seen, sitting on his bed -.
**************
Eighteen days later, Harry was sitting on his bed, still locked in his room. He had already had his evening escort to the loo by a sniggering Dudley, so he was in for the night. The time hadn't been all that bad, actually, for the simple reason that he didn't have to deal with his relatives much at all. As he heard the sounds of what could be mistaken for three buzz-saws coming from two different bedrooms, Harry had gone over the events of that horrible night for the thousand and first time. <Why would a house-elf, on my birthday, try to warn me against going back to Hogwarts, drop a pudding on Mrs. Mason, and get me in trouble with some lady named Hopkirk that I've never even heard of before? Not to mention the trouble I've been in with Vernon since then? And now, here I am, locked in a room with Hedwig, the next term at Hogwarts getting ready to start, and no way to get out of here. If I don't think of something soon, I won't be able to buy my supplies for next year tomorrow or get back to school at all. I wonder if anyone will notice I'm gone!> he thought sadly. <Well, Potter, you're a Slytherin; looks like you need to use some of that cunning and ingenuity to get out of here! Let's see, maybe if I used magic, someone from that Improper Use of Magic office would come get me out…but that would also get me expelled, so scratch that idea. Hmm, how about…?>
As he had done many times since the incident with Dobby, he dreamed up a number of outlandish schemes, involving the craziest escapes he had ever seen on Muggle television dramas, but, as usual, none of them seemed too feasible. As he was thinking, he glanced over at the door to see the answer he sought. <Well, so much for cunning and ingenuity," he grinned. "My idiot cousin didn't pull the door all the way shut. For once, I'm really glad that he IS a stupid git! And here I was trying to think of some spectacular way to escape, like, maybe even that flying car I can't get out of my head, and the door is not even locked.>Harry had been having his old dream of flying since he had been locked in the room. When he was younger, the dream had always involved a motorcycle, but now it was of a flying car. The dream was very realistic to him, almost as if he were remembering actually flying all the way to Hogwarts in one. <That's just crazy,> he reminded himself, <Cars can't be made to fly! It would attract too much attention from the Muggles! Oh, well, guess I'd better get packing and take advantage of this opportunity before someone wakes up and locks me in again.>
Harry loaded up his trunk and Hedwig's cage, and snuck quietly out onto the front drive. Before he left, he had "borrowed" some of Uncle Vernon's tools and cracked open the lock on Hedwig's cage. "Sorry, girl, but you can't fly out just yet, and you have to keep quiet or else they'll hear us," he whispered. "I promise, I'll let you out as soon as we get to London."
Since it was getting late, he wasn't sure how he was going to get into London, honestly. Fortunately, as he was walking towards the park, he saw a taxi driver heading back to London from a late night fare to Surrey. Harry, having learned some Slytherin techniques in the last year, had "liberated" some Muggle money from the Dursley's emergency cash, so he was able to flag down the driver and hire him for the trip in. The driver wasn't too happy at first about picking up someone so late at night, especially carrying a snowy owl, but when Harry flashed a 10 pound note "for your trouble, kind sir" he was more than willing to get a fare-paying trip back to London.
Since the driver had never even heard of a place called the Leaky Cauldron, ('Blimey, mate, I don't think that place is part of The Knowledge!', he said as he scratched his head, 'I'm almost done studying for my All London test now, I should know!') Harry gave him directions as best he could to get him within walking distance of the entrance to Diagon Alley. He paid the fare and the 10 pound tip and that pretty well depleted his Muggle money reserves. "Well, better head to Gringotts first thing tomorrow. I guess I should repay the Dursleys for their 'unintended' generosity, so I'll convert some Galleons to Pounds and send it to them. Just have to keep it quiet, if a few of my Slytherin housemates hear that I returned the money, I'll never live it down."
But, first, he needed a place to stay for the night. Fortunately, Tom the bartender was just finishing cleaning up the bar when Harry came in, and was glad to rent him a room for the night. "Surely, Mr. Potter! It would be an honor to have you in our establishment for the evening. I'll put you in Room 12; I hope it will be satisfactory."
The next morning, Harry went into Diagon Alley to pick up the supplies he would need for his second year. (Vernon had thought it especially funny at the time when the owl delivered the mail while Harry was locked in his room. "Boy, here's your list of …things you need for that unnatural stuff you get up to at that school. Well, enjoy reading it, because you're sure not going there this year! They'll kick you out, boy, and then we'll see what's what!) After he left Gringott's, money bag replenished, he noticed that there was a large crowd of people gathered around Flourish and Blotts that day. For some reason, the crowd tended towards younger witches, and they seemed to be all dressed up in nicer than usual robes. <Wonder what's going on there?>, he thought. <Maybe everyone's trying to buy all those books on my list that that Lockhart bloke wrote. Well, I'll just have to wait till the crowd thins out a bit.> As he walked across the street on his way to buy some treats for Hedwig at Eeylops Owl Emporium, he didn't even notice the commotion caused by a fight between the head of a well-bred Wizarding family and a junior member of the Ministry of Magic.
*******
There was, however, someone that was VERY interested in watching that battle. Miss Puckle, who had intentionally blended in with the group of giggling Lockhart fans (including, she noticed with a grimace, her younger self) who were fawning on every word he said, had kept one eye on the family of redheads and a giant gathering near the entrance, while trying to ignore Gilderoy's increasingly obvious attempts to catch her eye. <What did I ever see in that …that…phony hero?> she wondered.
When she noticed Lucius Malfoy, along with his son, move towards the group, she casually headed in that direction, pretending to be interested in a leather-bound set of The Compleat Encyclopedia of Charms that was on display in the window. She listened carefully for her cue. "Here, girl," Malfoy sneered, "take your book - it's the best your father can give you -"
As Malfoy left the shop with Draco, Harmony moved in. She had planned this moment for quite some time. So, it was with practiced ease she said to a small redheaded girl, "Why, you must be Ginevra Weasley! I'm so glad to make your acquaintance. Let me introduce myself, although your brothers may have mentioned me. I am Miss Puckle, Assistant Professor of Charms at Hogwarts, with a special assignment to work with all first-year students. Do you prefer Ginevra, or Ginny?"
Ginny was caught off guard by this rather forward witch. Yes, her brothers, especially Fred and George, had told her many times about the "pretty young Charms professor" and how they were going to sweep her off her feet as soon as they were of age and out of Hogwarts. As to which of the twins was going to do this, she wasn't sure, but she was sure she probably didn't want to know. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Puckle. My brothers have mentioned you, of course," she said with a giggle. "I think they are right, you are a very pretty witch! And, it's Ginny if you please, Miss. How did you know my real name?"
Harmony didn't even blush at this (since she had long since learned to ignore the flirtations from the students at Hogwarts), but said, "Why, thank you! Aren't you the polite one? As I mentioned, I am responsible for working with first-years, so I already have a list. Purchasing your textbooks, I see? Do you mind if I have a look at them?"
Ginny blushed, because she knew that the books were second-hand and was a little ashamed, to be honest.
"Oh, don't worry, dear," Miss Puckle continued in a knowing manner, "the condition of the cover isn't as important as what is inside, eh?" I see you've got Switch's transfiguration book, and, oh, look, here's the one that I'll be teaching you out of - Waffling's Magical Theory text." She continued to look through the books in Ginny's cauldron, making a few comments about each one. None of the Weasleys noticed the deft sleight-of-hand move that allowed her to switch a very, very old diary from Vauxhall Road for a nice, new leather-bound diary she had purchased previously.
(A/N - Another shorter chapter, but I wanted to reassure everyone that Harry wasn't going to be taken in by Malfoy for too long. If you don't get the reference to the London Black Cab Knowledge test, just Google it, or go to http://www.taxiknowledge.co.uk/how.html#KNOW Thanks also to HP-Lexicon.org (http://www.hp-lexicon.org/atlas/britain/atlas-b-diagon.html for the map of Diagon Alley I used.
I know it's not really all that exciting, but the next chapters should start picking up the action a little. Harmony's going to have a 'little chat' with Gilderoy, for one thing!. Oh, and before anyone says anything about my spelling, like my beta did! -
com•pleat (From Answers.com)
adj.
1. Of or characterized by a highly developed or wide-ranging skill or proficiency: "The compleat speechwriter … comes to anonymity from Harvard Law" (Israel Shenker).
2. Being an outstanding example of a kind; quintessential: "Here was the compleat modern misfit: the very air appeared to poison him; his every step looked treacherous and hard won" (Stephen Schiff). [Variant of COMPLETE.] )