Chapter 12. It's Coming all Unclued.
Julie Burford and her husband studied the parchment on the desk. Harry had left them with a full transcript of all they had been told by the soldiers and had filled them in on the casualties at the school. Fortunately no one was killed, the cuts were all but healed and the broken bones would be repaired in a few days, but it was going to take time for the two arms and a leg lost to flying glass to re-grow.
John scratched his head, "Problem is love, how do we follow up on an attack on a place that to all intents and purposes, doesn't exist, and Magus Industries is big, really big. They will have corporate lawyers all over this if we so much as hint that we have some dirt on them, they'll close us down in five minutes."
"We have to find another reason to make a few enquiries," said Julie, moving to the computer and calling up the page on Magus Industries. "There must be something, or someone, so innocuous that will get us in." She scrolled down the page listing the staff employed at the head office in London and one name caught her eye. "I wouldn't have believed that," she said in astonishment.
"Believed what?"
"Dudley Dursley, well, well."
"Who is Dudley Dursley when he is at home?" asked John.
Julie looked up and raised her eyebrows, "Only Harry Potter's cousin."
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"How on earth did you remember about Dudley?" Harry asked Julie when they met the next day in the Three Broomsticks. John Burford was gazing around the pub with unashamed fascination, he saw little of the wizarding world normally, this was a feast of the unusual for him.
"You told me so many stories about him when I was at school Harry, so that his name just jumped off the screen. I think it's the one about the ton tongue toffee that really sticks in my mind." She giggled with the memory of it.
"Did I really tell that many?" she nodded. "Perhaps it was my way of getting the Dursleys out of my system, must admit I haven't thought about them for years." He said.
"Err… Harry, did you know that your Uncle is dead?"
"No… I didn't." Harry answered.
"Sorry…. it was about ten years ago, a heart attack at work, it said in the records. I thought you ought to know."
"Don't be sorry Julie, couldn't stand the man." Harry held a thoughtful gaze. "Can't help wondering how Aunt Petunia managed without him though."
"Want to find out?"
"What visit Aunt Petunia so that she can shout at me some more?" said Harry giving Julie a look that suggested that wild hippogriffs wouldn't be able to drag him there. As he considered the idea some more he suddenly burst out laughing. "Yeah, why not." He said. "Might be good for me." He continued to laugh to himself as he watched the antics of the muggle policeman. "You'd better collect John before he gets into any trouble," he told Julie, nodding in the direction of her husband who was in the process of poking what appeared to be a large ball of fur that was sitting on the bar. "If he manages to wake up that dentidumballdus he is going to loose a finger, or maybe more."
"John come here and leave that poor thing alone," called Julie, as if she was talking to a six year old. He recoiled as he was about to poke the ball again and backed off. The infidumbulldus opened its one eye and yawned, showing row upon row of needle pointed teeth in a six inch wide mouth that snapped shut with an audible 'clack' as the teeth came together. John gave Harry and Julie a rather sick smile, as he realised how close he had come to leaving part of his anatomy behind.
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Harry stood at the end of Privet Drive and stared at the house he never thought he would see again. The years had mellowed the estate where he had grown up, and he felt a pang of nostalgia, not for his relations, but for the roads and pathways he had tried to lose himself in when things were going badly at number four.
The house itself looked as if it could do with a coat of paint, but the small front garden was as neat and tidy as it had always been. Harry let John and Julie lead the way, they were here on muggle police business, he was just a hanger on. The door was opened on the second ring, and from the shadows behind his friends Harry had his first glimpse of his Aunt in nearly twenty years.
She would be over seventy now, her face was a thin as ever and was crowned with grey hair held in a tight perm. One thing hadn't changed however, and that was her voice, as waspish as it used to be as she questioned the right of these strange people to be standing on her doorstep. John handed over his warrant card and her demeanour changed, she appeared almost glad to see them, with a little more genuine grace she invited them in and it was at that moment Petunia saw the third figure lurking in the background and realised who it was.
"You!" she cried, and Harry prepared himself for the tirade of abuse he felt sure was coming in his direction. He could see the emotions in her face vying for supremacy, he wasn't sure which one won but her shoulders sagged as if the fight had been too much for her and said, "It's been a long time Harry; you better come in as well."
Harry admitted later that his aunt's reception baffled him, to begin with he had not expected it to be anything like as cordial. However it appeared that Petunia was at her wits end and any familiar face, however unwanted, became something she could fix her hopes on, and to that extent Harry was welcome. Under the gentle probing from John Burford, Harry learned more about his relatives than he ever found out in the eleven years he had called this house his home, and he learned about the circumstances of Vernon's death.
The company had treated them well, given Dudley a job and provided a pension for Petunia, on the understanding that she accepted the verdict of the company coroner and didn't contest the circumstances of Vernon's demise. She had complied and for the last ten years there had been no problems, the pension was adequate which suited her, and Dudley's job was undemanding which suited him. He had stayed with his mother at home, and judging by the photographs on the walls had grown to command the same robust physique as his late father. Then, she told them, a month ago Dudley had moved offices to the company's research site and since then she had not heard from him, and eventually in desperation she had called the police.
She had assumed that John and Julie's visit was a result of that call, and neither had the heart to dissuade her from that thought. It also gave them a reason for Harry's presence, for as her only other living relative it was natural that they would ask him to accompany them when they visited, wouldn't they, and Petunia appeared to accept the story.
"Do they know what you are?" Petunia asked Harry while the others were searching Dudley's room for any clues.
"No," lied Harry, "they think I am normal."
"Are you good at….you know?"
"Magic?" queried Harry, "Yes," he said, not waiting for her to respond, "Very."
"Could you find Dudley by…….?" she twiddled her fingers in a bad imitation of someone casting a spell.
"Possibly," he said, wondering why he was being so polite, then he realised that whatever she had been before, now she was just an old frightened woman and he could not bring it on himself to be nasty to her.
'Proud of you,' Hermione's familiar thoughts washed through his mind.
'Thanks' he sent back, then to his aunt, "Look the police are coming back, they'll want to talk to you again, I'll go and make some tea, and I promise I will do what I can."
As the kitchen door slowly closed behind him the words "Thank-you Harry," spoken softly but sincerely, floated out to him.
Harry listened for a few seconds to the muted conversation through the kitchen door, then while waiting for the kettle to boil wandered out into the hall. The door to the cupboard under the stairs drew him like a magnet and he opened it half expecting his bed and few possessions to still be there. Aunt Petunia was obviously using it for its proper purpose now, as a brush and a mop fell out on him as he opened the door. Closing it as quietly as he could, he continued his tour and climbed the stairs to his old bedroom. The last time he had set foot in this room it was to find that Dumbledore had sent him a portkey to whisk him back to Hogwarts to meet Hermione and Solomon and start the adventure that had changed so many things.
The door opened silently and Harry looked in on a room that hadn't changed in all that time. His aunt, uncle and cousin had probably pretended that once he had left, the room didn't exist at all. The same bed, the same wardrobe and the same desk with the circular mark where Hedwig's cage had sat still visible, they were all as he remembered.
He sat on the bed and stared out of the window, his thoughts raced through all that had happened to him since the last time he had sat here. An intense deep warm scent of vanilla assailed his nostrils, and then he heard a very familiar voice.
"Memories Harry?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah," said Harry, and he held out his hand to the witch that had silently peragated to his side. She took it and sat beside him on the bed, which gave an ominous creak as it sagged under their combined weight. Harry slipped his arm around her waist and their heads touched as Hermione leaned towards him. "So much has happened since I was last here; it's hard to take it all in, and we don't know when it will all end."
Hermione hugged her husband to her, "You're beginning to sound the way I felt, but don't worry, everything will be fine, I promise," she said. "Come on, we've things to do." With that she jumped to her feet and pulled Harry to his, she pushed him out of the door and as he continued towards the stairs she turned, took one last look into the past and drawing her wand spoke two quiet words, all the furniture in Harry's old room vanished, new paint appeared on the walls and a bright new carpet graced the floor. "There," said Hermione brushing her hands together after a job well done. "Ready for a fresh start, …just like me." And she followed her husband down the stairs and out the front door.
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He never had a name, or if he did he had forgotten it, his existence depended on thought, muggle thought, wizard thought, witch thought, it didn't matter. Thoughts discarded without knowledge, on purpose, by failing memory or failing mind, all were sustenance to the Dreamwraith. He never took these thoughts by force; he sort of swept them up before they faded away, but that was not always so. As a Dementor he had ripped the very souls from the bodies of countless victims, and gorged himself on their despair, but the curse that had made him act in that way was broken. He was free from all but his memories and they would never leave him, he would never be pure himself, but others could be. He shaped a thought and another Dreamwraith appeared, he hid his evil past from the newcomer, only the purity of his reborn self did he pass on and he watched as the newcomer produced more of his kind, as did they in their turn, and the re-creation of a race continued.
The first Dreamwraith drifted away from his fellows, the existence of his race was assured now and once again the task that was set before them at the beginning would be carried out. This would not be his future, he had memories to act upon and debts to repay, the evil that had caused so much pain was still abroad, it must be found and it must be stopped. It was not hard for him to find it, power radiated out from its source in all directions, the Dreamwraith followed the beams back and down into the earth. He now stood invisible, next to the wizard that held the evil in his mortal hand, but for the moment he was unable to act against either. The Dreamwraith could not do this by himself, he needed help, and he knew that only those who had released him from his curse could give him that help.
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Draco was elated, the report from the soldiers was one of complete success, all the missiles had found their target, he tried to imagine the destruction, the falling masonry, the pain and death that would have followed. If Harry had survived it would not be long now, and as an added bonus one of the vans had crashed on the slippery roads and lay close to the remains of the school, even if Harry could not follow any of the other clues then the van would eventually bring him here, he only had to wait.
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The Tyr had gathered and with Tonks, Julie and John Burford they were sifting through all the information they had. Solomon sat behind his office desk and watched the activity of Harry and his friends in silence, his thoughts racing around in his head.
He felt that it was a great deal of effort that they were putting in to apprehend one renegade wizard, even if it was Draco Malfoy. He supposed that having muggles on both sides of the equation complicated matters, but deep down he was sure that there was something that they were missing. All the information now pointed to the Magus Industries research station as the place where Draco was hiding. The warehouse the soldiers had used prior to the attack on Hogwarts had proved to be just that, rented on a short lease by the company, but now completely empty.
John, the muggle policeman, was convinced that Draco had murdered the old Professor, seen by the security camera going into the building as Laska and coming out as Draco. This was as Solomon knew, from John's point of view Draco's most serious crime, but for the moment he had not passed that information on to his muggle colleagues so at least there was no hue and cry from that direction to further muddy the waters. Then to top it all Harry's cousin Dudley had gone missing after going to work in the research complex. Solomon could not figure why Draco would kidnap what was apparently one of Harry's least favourite people, perhaps he intended to use him as a human shield, and by all accounts he was certainly big enough.
It was almost as if Draco had laid a trail leading directly to himself, in order to provoke a fight, but he would never best Harry on his own, let alone with the power of the Tyr behind him. Then the thought clicked into place, the attack on Neville, had it succeeded, would have diminished the power of the Tyr, it would have made Harry more vulnerable, and on top of that if Hogwarts had been destroyed Harry could have lost more than just his friends.
'Harry's family', thought Solomon, 'there was another conundrum, Hermione and James, he could understand, but Nat, there was something about that young lady. She was a powerful witch, stronger than her brother and for all that she was hiding her true potential, hiding her true self'. Solomon shook his head. 'Too many thoughts Solomon, what did Dumbledore used to do in these circumstances,…Ah yes.'
"We are going tonight," said Harry to Solomon once the meeting had broken up. "Ron is off to tell Arthur what we are up to and collect a few Aurors to help Tonks cover our backs. John insists on informing his superiors, he feels a discrete muggle police presence is necessary to keep others away from the area if nothing else. I think he said he would tell them there was some sort of industrial accident at the site and they would block the roads." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Can't hurt, I suppose."
"What do you want me to do?" Solomon asked, giving his former pupil a sly grin.
"Hogwarts is your responsibility Solomon, you have to look after the important people," Harry replied.
"OK Harry I understand, but don't let it become too personal, Draco has tried to undermine your strengths, and he may not be all you have to face." Solomon warned, then almost as an afterthought added. "By the way do you still have that pensive Dumbledore gave you?"
Harry smiled, "Yes, gathering dust in my study, never felt the need for its services. Do you want to use it?"
"If you don't mind, I am carrying far more memories than you; and this old man gets confused at times."
Harry didn't believe Solomon for a moment, but before he left he summoned the pensive which appeared on the Headmasters desk.
Harry caught up with Hermione in their common room, both Nat and James were with her and were being read the riot act.
"You can stay here tonight, and you can ask Jennifer to join you if you want, but Dobby will be here as well and you are not to go out of his sight," Hermione was telling them. "Your father and I will be away overnight and back again in the morning, Solomon is staying here as well and he will be keeping his eye on you too, so no monkey business."
"Yes mum," said James.
"OK," said Nat, "but where are you going?"
"Never mind," chipped in Harry, "just do as your mother asks."
"Oh alright," agreed Nat "I was interested that's all." She added quietly.
Harry and Hermione left the children to meet the others late that afternoon, Nat had collected Jennifer from the Gryffindor Common Room as she was now curled up on the sofa with James. This early in the year it was dark by five o'clock and Dobby busied himself lighting the lamps, stoking the fire and clearing away the tea things. Nat, sitting alone in the armchair, let her mind roam around the school she always searched for the same person, but never let him know that she was there when she found him. He was in his office and his mind was unusually calm, Nat would have to be very careful if she didn't want to be caught fishing. She loved the feeling of his mind, knowing her past existences; it was the part of her that was still Gwen that revelled in the familiarity of the pattern of his thoughts. Nat wondered if one day her three personalities would become one, it sometimes felt quite crowded in her mind and a little confusing. Quite suddenly she sensed Solomon's mind cry out in recognition, frightened that it was her presence he felt, she withdrew but before she was completely disengaged he disappeared and she realised that he was no longer in the castle.
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Solomon had spent the afternoon pulling thoughts out of his head and placing them in the pensive. He would place a finger at his temple and draw a silver strand from it and feed it down into the swirling contents of the shallow stone bowl. From time to time he would stop and allow the memories to settle, and as if pushed up from below to break the surface, an image would appear. He would examine it and when he was done wave his hand over the bowl set the thoughts moving again. Many images rose before him, but then Solomon had a great deal of memories to place in the pensive, and as time passed he began to think that perhaps he was wrong, there was nothing that they had missed after all. He was about to give up when the motion ceased one more time and from the centre of the bowl the image of a wand emerged from the silvery surface of his memories, but this was not any wand, this was a yew wand thirteen inches long. Solomon had watched its previous owner turn to ash under the fire from Harry Potter's own wand, but they had already considered Draco having the wand, there must be something else. Then, as he watched, Solomon saw something twisting and turning inside the wand itself, it was tantalisingly familiar, it was just that he couldn't put a name to it. Then he remembered something his father had told him and he knew why there was no name to put with what he was seeing. Now he knew exactly what they were facing. Harry, Hermione and the rest were in terrible danger.
He waved his hand irritably over the pensive and searching with his mind for Harry and Hermione he vanished from the room. The silvery contents of the pensive swirled once more, slowed then stopped, the figure that rose out of it this time was that of a golden haired woman, she reached out as if she was trying to hold on to something that was slipping through her fingers, but failed. The image didn't fade as the others had done, but it changed to that of a small girl with blonde curls and large blue eyes that were full of innocence. She stretched up her arms in the manner of a child asking to be picked up, but she was too small and could not reach what she was trying to get hold of. The image changed for a third time and a black haired green eyed girl appeared but there was no reaching or grasping hands trying to hold the intangible, simply an outstretched palm inviting a hand to be given in turn. A draught of air slipped into the Headmasters office, down the chimney, over the unlit fire and wafted over the surface of the pensive. The image of the girl shattered into thousands of sparkling fragments and slowly settled back down into the unmoving memories contained in the bowl.
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Nat had hardly recovered from the suddenness of Solomon's departure when she was presented with an equally unexpected arrival. She sat up and rubbed her eyes to make sure what she was seeing was in fact real. A tenuous form had drifted through the wall and was floating in the centre of the room. This would not disturb most Hogwarts students, familiar as they were with the comings and goings of the castle ghosts, but some may have recognised that this spectre was not one of the usual compliment and that would have caused concern. Although this was the case with Nat, she was not worried for she had seen this particular vaporous being before, Dobby hadn't and with a shriek ran to hide behind Harry's desk. Nat stood and giving James a poke to get his attention as she passed, moved to stand in front of the Dreamwraith.
"Miss Natalie must not talk to ghost," Dobby said in a quavering voice. "She will be in much trouble if she does, her mother will be very cross." He gave another shriek as the Dreamwraith turned in his direction.
"Do not be afraid, I will not hurt these children or you, I have come because I need your help, there is a great evil and it must be destroyed."
Dobby was eventually coaxed out from his hiding place and the Dreamwraith explained what he had found to the three youngsters and the house elf.
"We's must tell Master Solomon," Dobby insisted, "he will knows what to do."
"Yes I agree," said James, and made to go for the door.
"He isn't here," said Nat, she looked down at the floor embarrassed at being caught out. "I felt him leave about ten minutes ago."
"You've been fishing again, haven't you?" James accused her.
"So." Nat retorted, pouting like a five year old.
"Never mind," James gave way. "So what are we going to do?"
"Something I hope we will live to regret, if I know you two," said Jennifer.
"Simple," said Nat, "Mum and Dad think they are fighting an ordinary dark wizard, they might know about the wand but they don't know about what it contains, if the Dreamwraith thinks he can destroy it with our help then we must give it to him."
"But Miss Natalie you is not to be out of Dobby's sight," the house elf protested.
"That's OK Dobby, we won't be, you're coming with us." With that, Nat grabbed Dobby's hand and one of her brother's who was hanging on to Jennifer. Nat concentrated on the image in what passed for the Dreamwraiths mind and all of them disappeared without a sound.