A/N: As promised this chapter focuses more on the machinations of Dumbledore and Voldemort in response to Harry's disappearance.
Chapter 6: The Best Laid Plans
It was not a good day to be Albus Dumbledore.
After the train with the students had left for the summer, Dumbledore had planned on relaxing for a couple weeks or so before attending another session of the Wizengamot, and then settling in to his summer plans of watching over young Harry and running the Order of the Phoenix. It was going to be a simple, rudimentary summer as far as he was concerned.
And so it was quite to his surprise when he was disturbed from a mid-afternoon nap by a rather loud bang that came from his office. He shook his head in surprise and tried to concentrate. Quickly his eyes went wide as he realized what could cause such a loud bang. Rushing from his private quarters he entered into his office, checking a few of the instruments that had been repaired since Hurricane Harry had blown through a few weeks earlier. To his eternal surprise, none of them were working. All the clicking, buzzing, puffing and whirring that had been his constant companion for many years had stopped and the room was a deadly silence.
Dumbledore had a grim look wash over his face. The first conclusion that popped into his head was unthinkable. He fumbled around in a desk drawer for a moment searching for something, and breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled out a small malachite stone that glowed with power. Whatever had happened, the boy was still alive.
His next thoughts were to try and determine what else had happened. The devices in his office were designed to monitor the numerous wards and protections that surrounded the young Mr. Potter. For them not to work meant that something was wrong with him. He of course had first checked on Harry's life stone....which would have been destroyed had he been killed. Finding that unchanged, he came to an almost equally horrific conclusion.
Whatever had happened....it had taken away those wards at the same time. Fear once again came over the face of Dumbledore for this meant two things for certain: that Harry was no longer at the safety of his aunt and uncle's house and, more frighteningly, he was no longer under Dumbledore's supervision and control.
Albus closed his eyes and counted to ten, attempting to calm himself. He knew that one day this might happen, that Harry might get wise to his plans. But this was not beyond salvageable yet. The boy had proven to be surprisingly thick-headed when it came to the obvious at times, and Albus could always obliviate the knowledge of what had happened from his mind.
It wasn't like it would be the first time he had done it.
Dumbledore sat down and sorted through some papers. He came upon a small piece of parchment that he had received the afternoon previous and re-read it again.
Headmaster
I understand your concerns. I won't be leaving here without an escort. I really have nowhere else to go now anyway. I just hope I can get to the Burrow as soon as possible.
Harry
Of course Dumbledore had no intention on sending the boy to the Burrow, at least not till the very end of the summer. Molly was getting more and more nervous about the promised plan, Arthur was quickly becoming a bit of a nuisance to have to deal with, and the young Ronald was starting to ask too many questions. The boy's relationship with the youngest hadn't even stepped forward to the point where the headmaster would approve, but he could always speed things along in that department should he choose to.
Albus considered the word "Escort" for a moment. he knew none of the Order members would help out Harry without express instructions from him. The only one who would, Remus Lupin, had been kept off the guard watch for that expressed purpose. The other people whom Harry could accept as escorts were his aunt and uncle, and Dumbledore had seen to it that that would never happen.
Hadn't he?
The gears in Dumbledore's mind came to a slow conclusion, piecing together certain events from the day previous and it all came back to him in a rush. About an hour after the train had left Hogsmeade he had heard a slight disturbance in one of the protections on the boy. He had spent the better part of a day trying to fix it, but had eventually given up. He was simply going to reapply the ward at a later date, and he had assumed that Harry had done something when he broke the monitoring devices to disrupt it. But....maybe someone else had actually....
Dumbledore frowned as he realized that someone must have used a cursebreaking spell on Harry and lifted that particular protection inadvertently. He grumbled to himself about meddlesome kids and some such things and sat down at his desk, grabbing a quill as he did so. He had to find Harry....he had to get rid of whatever the nonsense was that had spurred this on in the first place...and he had to reset the status quo.
No, it was indeed not a good day to be Albus Dumbledore.
/ - / - / - /
They could hear the screams emitting from the throne room. Screams of discomfort and pain as their Dark Lord writhed in agony. In a rush his Inner Circle, or what was left of them anyway, stormed into the throne room, and attempted to offer Lord Voldemort comfort.
For his part, Voldemort sat on his black and red throne, holding his head as a massive migraine was settling over him. Some force....some otherworldly magic was driving back the tendrils of his mind and it was causing him great pain.
None of the Death Eaters dared approach the Dark Lord, for fear of being killed for their insolence. Finally Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the closest to him, leaned forward and attempted to calm him.
"My Lord," she asked, with none of her usual sarcastic singsong voice that she used when tormenting others, "Are you...."
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Voldemort screamed, and a red bolt of energy struck Bellatrix, sending her spinning off the throne and halfway across the lit hall. She got up to her feet, nervous, her eyes awash in fear at the display. Then, just as suddenly as the pain had come, it stopped. The Dark Lord sat on his throne, breathing audibly and sweat dripping down his brow. His snake-like nostrils flared open and shut rapidly. Bellatrix slowly pressed forward, as did the other Death Eaters, approaching cautiously with wide looks on their faces.
"Leave me," Voldemort commanded in a deep growl, "And summon Caliban to me as soon as he arrives." The frightened Death Eaters bowed and did as they were told. As soon as he was alone, Voldemort rubbed his eyes and held onto his head. A popping sound in front of him caused him to reopen his eyes, and in an instant his wand was out, firing a cruciatus at the blonde haired man that had arrived. After several seconds he relinquished the curse.
"Take that as a lesson Caldwell," Voldemort commanded, "never appear before me unannounced again."
"A thousand pardons my lord," Caldwell replied, kneeling both in pain and for forgiveness. "But I have a message to deliver to you."
/ - / - / - /
Dumbledore sat in his office, staring at the three men who were gathered around him. Mundungus Fletcher was simply sitting in a chair, his head hung low, after the verbal thrashing that Dumbledore had given him for letting Harry slip by unnoticed. Sturgis Prodmore was also sitting back, contemplating everything that had happened, not saying much of anything.
The main focus of the room was on Alastor Moody, as he clunked back and forth across the room in a pacing motion, his face curled into a scowl and his mechanical eye rapidly swaying to and fro to take in everything around him. Moody stopped for a moment and took a swig from his hip flask. He grumbled under his breath as he replaced the flask and turned towards Dumbledore with his twinkling eyes regarding him.
"Tell us again Alastor." he asked as calmly as could be expected for a time like this, "Did you find anything in Diagon Alley?"
"I told you already Albus," the ex-Auror screamed in frustration, "I went up and down that alley a hundred times. I even went down Knockturn a couple of times just to be thorough. And I saw nothin!" Alastor continued to scowl at the headmaster, his good eye fiercely blinking at his irksome failure. Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, slowly contemplating everything, before he spoke again.
"It's obvious that's where the boy went," he finally stated, pretty certain in his own mind that he had in fact gone there. What had spurred him to make said journey was beyond Dumbledore's grasp at this point. For all he knew the boy could have just gone a shopping spree at the Quidditch store. But that didn't explain why Moody couldn't find him.
"What makes you so certain," Prodmore interrupted, finally standing up from the small chair he had conjured there. "He might have just hightailed it out of Britain for all we know. The boy's godfather did just die."
In truth Dumbledore had considered such a move on Harry's part, but had dismissed it equally. One thing had not gone wrong with his plan...Harry had far too many connections in the wizarding world to simply disappear. Shaking his head, he reiterated said suspicions to Prodmore, silencing him for the moment. Albus hung his head in frustration slightly when he heard a roar coming from the fireplace. He looked up and saw a pink-haired Auror come stumbling outwards, shaking off her robes as she did.
"I hate floos," Tonks muttered to herself before turning to Dumbledore. "Wotcher Professor," she greeted, never really letting her eyes venture directly at Dumbledore. Albus raised an eyebrow at this.
"Ah Tonks....good to see you. Have you checked Grimmauld?" Dumbledore clasped his hands together, hoping for the best.
"Yes," she answered, taking an offered seat from Prodmore. "He's nowhere in sight. If he was there or if he was hiding we certainly couldn't find him." She took another deep breath and let some of the stress of the day ease out.
"We?" Tonks froze up at this as she quickly turned to Dumbledore, guilt ridden on her face.
"Look....Remus knows that house better than I do and..." she trailed off as she saw Dumbledore close his eyes and begin to rub his temples. This was the last thing he needed. Getting Lupin involved was just asking for trouble.
"I don't suppose you mentioned why we were looking for Harry did you?"she slowly nodded and the circular motion on Dumbledore's temples increased slightly. Now things were really starting to spiral out of control. Dumbledore had placed Tonks with Remus to try and encourage the man to seek a life outside of Harry, to try and hold him at bay for the time being at least until the prophecy was fulfilled. It wouldn't do to have a werewolf who could go stark raving mad at a moment's notice in charge of the savior of the wizarding world.
"I'm sorry Professor," Tonks sheepishly replied, leaning her head down again, "I know you want to keep Remus out of the loop but....sometimes it's hard with those amber eyes of his and...."
"I forgive you Nymphadora," Dumbledore replied, offering the best smile he could. She flinched at her given name, but simply nodded in return. "The important thing is that we try to find Harry and get him back to his relatives before we lose him for good. We simply can't have him gallivanting around unprotected."
"Did you check with the Weasley's Albus?" Moody asked, his eye turning slightly toward the ancient wizard. Dumbledore shook his head.
"If he was there Molly would have notified me immediately." Or at least he hoped she would. Actually it might not be a bad idea to check up on them. Dumbledore's thought process was interrupted again by the flash of green flames from his fireplace and this time the voice of a familiar Auror speaking out for him. Excusing himself he walked over to the fireplace and leaned in, observing the floating head of one Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"Kingsley," Albus said, feigning happiness, "Fancy you calling at a time like this. Have you checked on the tracking charms I asked you for." The Auror nodded but his face was more than grim. "What's wrong?" Albus asked, his face immediately turning pale.
"There was a Death Eater attack this afternoon," Albus' throat closed up, "in Kensington." His throat reopened fully. "The victims were the parent's of one of your students...Hermione Granger." Albus raised an eyebrow at this and in the back of his mind, his promise to protect her and her family echoed firmly, nagging against his conscious. Shaking his head he nodded to the Auror who continued.
"There's something strange about this attack though....some things that won't be included in the official report." Albus nodded slightly and raised his eyebrow again.
"Very well, I'll floo to your office immediately and we can apparate to the scene from there." Kingsley nodded and his head vanished from the fireplace. Dumbledore turned around and noticed the four people in the room with him. He hoped they hadn't overheard much.
"Alastor," Dumbledore began to bark out orders before anyone could say anything, "Take Sturgis and try Diagon Alley again. Speak with the goblins this time....he would have had to stop by Gringotts to get money." Dumbledore hoped beyond hope he hadn't done anything else while there. "Mundungus, check with your connections and see if anyone named Potter had checked into a muggle hotel recently. Tonks, go back to HQ and keep Remus there. For heaven's sakes don't let him go looking for the boy. Tell him....anything to get him off the trail." Tonks nodded, a sorrowful look creeping over her face. Dumbledore noted it and filed it away for later use. As the four of them scattered to conduct their assignments, Dumbledore lent against the wall, his face frowning greatly. Things were rapidly getting beyond his control, but they weren't completely sunk yet. If they could just find Harry...everything would be back to normal soon.
The attack on the Grangers entered his mind and he headed off to assess the situation. Shame at the idea of Hermione Granger being dead barely entered his mind.
/ - / - / - /
There was a palpable silence in the Great Hall of Riddle Manor. The old house had been renovated to look more like a castle fortress than a large home over the years, if for no other reason than to match the outer attitudes and inner desires of its owner. The Great Hall was almost as large as the one at Hogwarts, was constantly dark save for the few torches that hung on the supports along the side and was almost constantly filled with a creeping mist that could suck the joy right out of you. It was into this environment that the large elm doors swung open and a large man came stalking through.
His solid black robes billowed at behind him not unlike a certain Hogwarts potions master, though at this man's side was a small belt that had a dagger sheath at the right side. His long gray hair flowed behind him as well, and his face was heavily scarred from battles long since over with. He kept his gaze forward, deep blue eyes glistening in the torchlight, as he made his way forward to the end of the hall, where a large black throne carved out of onyx and studded with rubies and other precious gems sat. Sitting in it, was Lord Voldemort. The man knelt forward as he approached his master, closing his eyes as he did.
Voldemort regarded the man for a moment before his face let a wry smile escape. "Ah Caliban," he began in a whispered tone, "You have returned to me. I trust your latest prey was....dealt with?" Caliban looked up at his master and stood to his feet, respect having been shown. He reached into his robes and pulled out a pale white arm, blood dripping from the end. He turned it palm up, revealing the Dark Mark still burned into the skin, and threw it to the side.
"The blood traitor Igor Karkaroff is no more, my lord," Caliban replied, his voice raspy and filled with venom. Voldemort smiled again.
"You have done well Caliban. I shall not forget it. Now....I have a new mission for you. Please, have a seat." Voldemort grabbed his wand and conjured a chair for Caliban to sit in. The wizard obliged, taking a goblet of liquid when it was offered from a cowering House Elf. Voldemort did the same, his eyes never leaving Caliban.
"You might remember the one quarry you never found for me," Caliban grimaced at the mention. He didn't like talking about his failures, especially in front of the Dark Lord. "Well he has gone missing again." Caliban raised an eyebrow but remained silent.
"For quite some time now I have been aware of a special bond between my enemy and myself. It seems that the curse that resulted in my unfortunate absence some fourteen years ago had an interesting after effect. I can sense him, sense what he is thinking, and in turn he can feel my emotions and sense my presence." He paused and closed his eyes. "However today I was racked by a great pain in my head. When it had subsided I felt out for young Harry, and could not sense him. The link had been destroyed." He opened his eyes again, the piercing red gaze glancing out at no one in particular. "This is ancient magic at work. No magic that the boy or his worthless protectors possess would be able to destroy the link utterly." He took a sip of his drink and continued, Caliban just continuing to listen.
"I want you to find him Caliban and bring him to me. If I cannot torture him through our shared minds, then I shall torture him in person." The anger hidden in his voice even made Caliban pause. If it had been any other person Caliban would have told him he was wasting his time with a fifteen year old boy. If it had been any other person Caliban likely wouldn't have given them the time of day. But this wasn't any other person.
"Very well my lord," Caliban replied, setting his goblet aside. "I shall find this Harry Potter and bring him before you....alive." He motioned to take his leave but Voldemort lowered his hand.
"There is more," Voldemort replied, his face slightly cross. Caliban nodded and sat back down. "Would you like to hear a story Caliban?" Not waiting for an answer he motioned for another Death Eater standing there to come forward. "Bring me Caldwell," he commanded, and the Death Eater obliged quickly.
A side door was opened and a half-bloodied man in tattered robes was thrown at the feet of the Dark Lord and his servant. Caliban had met Jonas Caldwell once or twice, and was frankly unimpressed with the posturing Death Eater. Caldwell's beaten violet eyes gazed up at the Dark Lord and at Caliban, fear outlining each side of them.
"Caldwell," Voldemort hissed, "Tell our guest the story you told me."
"We---we were sent on a raid to a house in Kensington," he began, his voice shaky as he figured what was coming as soon as his tale was over, "We killed some parents of a mudblood friend of Potter's. She escaped and we went looking for her." He paused, his throat raw from telling the tale. Voldemort grimaced at him and pulled out his wand.
"CRUCIO!" The jagged red bolt of energy struck Caldwell square in the chest, and the younger Death Eater screamed in agony as he withered away under its power. After several seconds Voldemort removed the curse. "Finish the tale!" he commanded.
"When we came back downstairs," Caldwell continued, still breathing heavily, "We found this...other man. He used a flesh eating curse on Goyle...and a disemboweling curse on Crabbe. He left me alive....and gave me a message for my master. He said that the true heir of Slytherin had returned, and that he would not tolerate my master's temper tantrums any longer." Caliban scowled at the disrespect for his master, but surprisingly Voldemort had a smile on his face.
"Thank you Jonas. That was a wonderful story...and you tell it so well." He picked up his wand and tapped it on his chin, as if deep in thought. "Now...I know the muggles have a saying....something about don't shoot the messenger..." Hate quickly flashed over his features. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" The killing curse shot out of his wand quickly and suddenly, engulfing Caldwell in its cold lifeless embrace. Caldwell slumped forward, his eyes glazed over with the sweet release of death. Voldemort simply replaced his wand and looked back to Caliban.
"I want you to find this...imposter heir of Slytherin. Find him and bring him before me, so that I may show him the true power of Salazar Slytherin, Greatest of the Founders Four." Caliban nodded and stood, before kneeling down before his master.
"I shall do as you ask. You shall have them both before you, and they shall writhe in agony at your feet. None of them shall ever question the power of Lord Voldemort again." Voldemort smiled and almost let out a slight laugh.
"There is one more thing," Voldemort said as he motioned off to the side. A shorter, fully clad Death Eater came forward, thought he looked to only be a teen. His gray eyes stared ahead, in awe of everything going on before him. He too knelt down in front of his master as Caliban stood up to take him in.
"This is Draco Malfoy, Caliban," Voldemort began, "Lucius' son. He is a little wet behind the ears but our young dragon has the makings of a superb Death Eater. I want you to take him under your capable wing on this mission. Show what is required of those who take my mark." Caliban gazed down at the boy and simply nodded to his master.
"I shall do as you ask," Voldemort smiled again.
"Of course you will Caliban." He turned back to Malfoy, who kept in a kneeling position. "You will follow this man's orders as if your life depended on it, for it truly does. Do you understand me young dragon."
"Yes my lord," came the curt reply from the younger Malfoy. Voldemort nodded to them both and waved his hand in dismissal. Caliban backed away slowly from Voldemort before turning and taking his dramatic leave, Malfoy tottering closely behind trying to keep up.
Neither spoke to one another for several minutes as they headed out of the Great Hall and down a flight of stairs to a small armory. Caliban threw open the doors and began to search about the table for various items. Malfoy entered in slowly, a bit out of breath from the harried pace that his counterpart kept up with. He shut the doors and looked upon the man, his telltale sneer quickly drawing across his face.
"They tell me you're a tracker," Draco began, slowly stalking behind Caliban who did not halt his search to listen. "They say you're no better than the Dark Lord's pet bloodhound." Malfoy snickered. He kept his nose firmly planted up in the air, trying to pry himself under the skin of his new mentor. "I am heir to one of the most respected and feared pureblood families in the world. I expect you to show me the respect that is mine by right." Caliban looked up and stared at Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. A small smile appeared on the man's face, followed by a slight laughter. "Why are you laughing," Malfoy demanded to know.
In no short order Caliban had Draco pinned against the wall, with his wand pointed firmly at the prodigal son's quickly gulping throat. Draco's eyes went wide and fear quickly etched across his face. Caliban maintained his smile, but his overall countenance took on a much more sinister aura. "I will show you exactly the respect you deserve," he spat out, continuing to hold the boy with unseen force to the wall. "That is to say....none at all. I don't give a damn who your father is or who the hell you think you are. To me, you're nothing but a sniveling whelp who has a long way to go before you earn any of my respect.
"In my care you will learn everything you need to know. You will learn the ruthlessness and the cunning necessary to be a Death Eater. Your raw talents, numerous they might be, are as of yet unrefined, and until they are you are more of a liability to me than anything. Were it not for the Dark Lord's personal interest in your training, I would just as soon leave you abandoned at the roadside." Draco was quickly getting more and more fearful of the man, who tilted his head sideways.
"What's the matter Malfoy? No snide comebacks? No trademark Malfoy sneer? Pity....I thought you'd have more backbone than your father." Caliban waved his wand forward and Malfoy shot from the wall, landing in a heap on the floor in front of a table.
"You're nothing but a worthless worm Malfoy. A sniveling coward who will go to the other side whenever it suits him. You aren't worthy of the name Death Eater, and unless you do exactly as I say you never will be. Follow my instructions and you shall be rewarded....by not being punished. The Dark Lord grants me wide berths on these training exercises....and I can be very creative with my curses." He let this linger for a moment, letting the dread settle over Malfoy a little longer. Once he had finished, Caliban sheathed his wand and handed a bundle of clothing to Malfoy.
"Put these on, they're different from your regular robes." Before Draco could question him further, Caliban stormed out of the room, locking the door as he went.
/ - / - / - /
Kingsley Shacklebolt sat at his desk, patiently looking over some paperwork that had just been handed to him. Apparently Igor Karkaroff, former headmaster of the Drumstrang Institute and former Death Eater had been found dead, his body washed up on shore, his left arm cut off. The method of his murder led to only one conclusion.
Caliban de Montesquieu.
Caliban was one of the most ferocious Death Eaters that the Dark Lord had at his disposal. He was a tracker, capable seemingly of hunting down anyone anywhere, and when he was instructed to kill someone, he spared no expense of his wrath. Little was known about the man other than he emerged as one of the first followers of the Dark Lord during the first war. No one even knew his real name. It had been thought he might have been a friend of the Dark Lord before he became Voldemort, but this like many other legends of Voldemort's past was pure speculation at best.
Kingsley shook his head and set aside the man's file. It wouldn't do to dwell on such horrific thoughts at a time like this. He had to keep his mind clear for Dumbledore. As if on cue the small fireplace inside his office lit up with a green hue and Dumbledore came out of the flames, his face drawn and his eyes devoid of their characteristic twinkle. Shacklebolt stood up and shook the man's hand, his face equally drawn.
"Thank you for coming Albus. Any news on..." Dumbledore shook his head.
"We've seen neither hide nor hair of the boy Kingsley," Dumbledore replied, trying to sound as worried as possible. "He's out there on his own. We have to find him soon." Kingsley frowned again, causing Dumbledore to look at him suspiciously.
"I think I can help with that," Kingsley replied. "Let's go to the scene. The house is 15 Harold Street in Kensington." Dumbledore nodded and in no short order they had both apparated out of the office.
They arrived in front of the abandoned house near sundown. Dumbledore noticed how in place it looked with the rest of the neighborhood, and sensed the muggle repelling charms around the house proper that would turn people away from its gaze so that they wouldn't notice the partially unhinged door.
"Ok," Kingsley began, slowly walking up to the door, "The official story is that three death eaters apparated into the living room of Muggle-born witch Hermione Granger. Miss Granger attempted to fight back but was disarmed, and made to watch her parents tortured and killed. Then she used some bit of accidental magic to get away and hide in one of those panic rooms some muggle houses have. The Death Eaters then argued amongst themselves at the scene, causing one of them, Jonas Caldwell, to kill the other two, Gregory Goyle Sr. and Vincent Crabbe Sr., before firing up the dark mark and apparating out. Miss Granger apparently also got to her things and her whereabouts are currently unknown." Kingsley stopped as they approached the door, and let out a deep sigh.
"I assume the reality of it is far more interesting?" Dumbledore asked, though in truth he already knew what the answer was.
"You don't know the half of it," Kingsley responded, opening the slightly ajar door all the way. Dumbledore stepped inside and immediately stopped.
Dead in front of him were the corpses of the Granger parents. Though Dumbledore had only met them once or twice, they seemed to be highly sensible people. He could easily ascertain that they had been tortured and killed as Kingsley stated, their faces were carved statues of someone who had been suffering under the cruciatus. He glanced over and internally grimaced at the next scene. Off in the distance were the bones and flesh of what Dumbledore assumed to be a death eater given the state of his robes. Obviously he hadn't lasted very long there. The man closer to him, a man he recognized as Crabbe the elder, was also very much deceased, his intestines having spilled out halfway from his abdomen onto the floor. The smell was rather overwhelming, and Dumbledore waved his wand, casting a charm to make it smell faintly of blueberries.
"So far this seems in line with your tale Kingsley," Dumbledore stated, stepping further in and making sure to avoid the Granger's bodies. "Frankly I don't understand what the problem is."
"The problem is," Kingsley replied, "that there's more to it then the official report.
"The first part happened just like I told you, far as we know. But there's a bit more there. Seems that once Miss Granger made her way to the panic room she got a message out."
"A message?" Albus' mind was working quickly to try and figure all this out, "To Whom?"
"We aren't certain," Kingsley admitted, "But I have my own suspicions about that I'll get to in a moment. Regardless whoever got the message was the one who apparated here, and the one who did this." He pointed to the two Death Eaters. "We actually found Caldwell here, alive but under a deep sleeping charm. He had his memory wiped, but kept saying something about delivering a message to his master. He managed to get away....somehow." Dumbledore nodded with a frown. Caldwell had once been a star student at Hogwarts...a pity it had gone for naught.
"What makes you think that someone else killed Crabbe and Goyle?"
"Because we checked their wands. None of them fired off any spells of that type. We even think that this mystery person was the one who sent up the Dark Mark."
"And Miss Granger?"
"We think she left with this mystery person or ran off on her own. The Panic Room was open when we got here so she did leave. We checked her room too. Her school trunk and several books are gone."
"Remember those tracking charms you wanted on the boy's owl?" Dumbledore nodded. "Well, they took affect the minute the bird arrived at Harry's home. Almost immediately after arriving the owl flew here, to this house, stayed for a while, and then left again. The time in which it left almost directly coincides with the time that the attack would have taken place near as we can tell. The bird then went to just outside Diagon Alley in muggle London, where suddenly it vanished."
"It vanished," Dumbledore turned astounded. There's only a few things that could erase the Ministry's tracking of an owl....and Dumbledore couldn't think of any viable ones right now. Kingsley simply nodded. Dumbledore paced slowly through the living room, his mind uneasy with what was happening. He had already arrived at his conclusion, even if heart didn't want to believe it. Kingsley sighed and walked back to his friend.
"Albus--I think Harry might have done this." Dumbledore nodded and said nothing else, motioning for Kingsley to leave. Shacklebolt held up for a second, placing small devices on the four bodies in the room. "This will mark them for pickup relatively soon," he explained, "I wanted you to see the scene first hand." They both walked outside, unaware of the instant apparitions going on behind them by the Magic Reversal Department.
"Thank you old friend," Albus said, keeping his distance from the Auror as he seemed to stare off into nothing.
"Albus," Kingsley replied, sounding very grim, "If Harry did this I have to know. And we have to find him. We can't have a vigilante on our hands killing Death Eaters on his own whim." Dumbledore nodded and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I don't think we should dwell on this for too long Kingsley. After all....the official report is just as good for now." Kingsley stared at him blankly for a moment....
...before his eyes glazed over from the memory charm being placed on him almost immediately. Kingsley began to shake his head and Dumbledore grabbed him by the cuff of his robes, apparating back to the Aurors office, leaving 15 Harold Street in the first real peace it had seen in quite sometime.