The Summer Before the War

(August 16, 7:15 pm)

Petunia finished wiping the kitchen table, as Vernon harrumphed into his newspaper. "Idiots!" he muttered to himself, obviously referring to something he was reading. Petunia was a bit more concerned about the noises she was hearing outside the kitchen window. Very odd noises. A swishing noise, then a crackling sound, then a pop. Then back to the swishing noise again. She was half-tempted to look out her window to see just what her neighbors were doing to make such odd noises, but something held her back. Must be some new kind of music, she reasoned, brushing away the uneasy feeling. Honestly, the junk kids listen to nowadays. Thank goodness her Dudley had more sense than to fall for that kind of nonsense.

Speak of the little darling - her Dudley let out a whoop of laughter at one of his favorite television programs. Petunia allowed herself to swell with pride as she looked at her boy, so big - my, he was getting big - and obviously happy. She loved to see Dudley happy.

Swish, crackle, pop. Swish, crackle, pop. Why wouldn't the neighbors give it a rest? This music - if you could call it that - had been going on for at least an hour! Sometimes, when she strained her ears, which she was very good at doing, she could even hear what sounded like a number of men and women mumbling. It was so grating.

Suddenly, there was a loud pounding at the front door. Petunia looked at it, then cast a questioning glance at Vernon. "We're not expecting anybody..." she said, puzzled.

Vernon frowned in annoyance. "Who comes calling in the evening, anybody? Except..." He trailed off, looking more annoyed by the second.

Harry's people. "Just ignore it. They'll go away," Vernon continued as the pounding continued.

Two minutes passed, and the pounding did not stop. Vernon was just about to open the door and tell off whoever was on the other side, when it opened to reveal...

"Mrs. Figg." Petunia said in surprise. "What... how can we help you?" A little abashed at finding a normal person on the other end of the door when she'd been expecting one of Harry's people, she flushed. "Won't you come in?"

"Yes, please," the elderly lady said, before walking into the parlor and closing the door behind her. "I'm afraid I have no time for pleasantries, unfortunately. Petunia, please peek, but only peek, out your kitchen window, but don't stay at the window for long. Vernon, Dudley, I would advise you to stay well away from the windows."

Frowning at these strange instructions, she looked out her kitchen window and gasped. Six figures in dark cloaks were making what appeared to be a light show outside her window. In there hands, unmistakably, were wands. Petunia was just about to yell for Harry to come downstairs and explain just what he thought he was doing, inviting his friends to come and shame them in front of their entire neighborhood with their abnormalities, when Mrs. Figg interrupted her by pulling her away from the window.

She had surprising strength for a woman so old and feeble-seeming.

"Petunia, Vernon, listen to me," she said. Petunia had never heard a voice so commanding in her life. Certainly not from old Mrs. Figg. Petunia shut her mouth instantly, seeing Vernon do the same.

"Those people outside your window are what we call Death Eaters. There are three others, on the other side of the house. They are here to kill Harry. Or kidnap him... we're not quite sure of their intentions." Dudley perked up with interest. "They have already broken through about half of the defenses that we've set up around your house, and they will eventually succeed in breaking through the rest," Mrs. Figg continued in that calm, commanding tone, looking from Petunia, to Vernon, to Dudley, and back to Petunia. "When they break through, if the three of you are still here, they will kill you. For fun. So I am here to guide you to safety. If you wish to survive the night, you must follow my instructions exactly. Do you understand?"

Dudley looked puzzled. Nobody had ever said he was going to be killed before. Vernon seemed torn between fury and terror. He kept opening his mouth as if to exclaim something, then shutting it without a sound.

"Do you understand?" Mrs. Figg repeated urgently. Something in her eyes said that she was deadly serious.

Petunia found her voice. "Yes," she croaked out.

"Good. Then this is what you must do. Vernon, Dudley, come over - "

Before she could continue, another woman suddenly appeared out of thin air with a small pop. Mrs. Figg gave a frightened start, then apparently she recognized the other woman, for she gave a great sigh of relief.

The other woman took no notice of any of them at first. Instead, she bellowed to the ceiling, "HARRY POTTER!"

Then, she turned to Vernon, as said in a normal, calm, but rather stern, voice, "Mr. Dursley. How do you do? I am given to understand that you routinely board up your fireplace. I need to know, is it boarded up now?"

Vernon still couldn't speak. He was still trying to register what Mrs. Figg had said.

"Mr. Dursley, I'm afraid I have no time for any pleasantries. HARRY!" she suddenly bellowed to the ceiling again. "Mr. Dursley, please. Is your fireplace boarded up? Yes or no?"

Vernon was just nodding his head yes, when Harry came running down the stairs. He looked extremely puzzled. "Professor McGonagall??" Harry asked in an incredulous voice.

"Thank you," the woman said to Vernon, before turning to Harry. "Harry, you must leave this house immediately. Put on your school robes. Bring everything you cannot spare or replace - you will not be coming back. But bring only what you cannot spare - you must travel very light. Leave your school things; they can be replaced. But be sure to bring your broomstick and your wand - you may need them later."

Harry nodded, and was just about to run back up the stairs, when Mrs. Figg interjected. "Harry, after you come back down, give your owl to me."

Harry stopped in his tracks and stared at Mrs. Figg incredulously. "Mrs. FIGG??"

"Yes, Harry," Mrs. Figg said impatiently, then continued, "When you come back down, bring your owl down and give her to me. I will release her when it's safe. This is very important, though - you must tell her that when I release her, she must not return to you. She might be followed. She must instead go directly to the Hogwarts owlery, and she must never again accept any mail orders from anybody other than Professor Dumbledore and yourself. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, and with one last puzzled look at Mrs. Figg, whom they apparently all thought was a nice, normal person, he turned and ran back up the stairs.

Mrs. Figg turned back to Vernon and Dudley, and continued where she'd left off. "Please come over here," she said. Vernon obeyed, stunned, and Dudley copied him. Petunia watched as the other woman swept over to the fireplace, put the hand holding her wand into the fireplace, with the wand pointing up. She said something, and there was a great crack as all of the boards broke away and fell into the fireplace. She then backed away, pointed her wand into the fire, and cried, "Incendio!" A fire roared to life.

"Petunia, pay attention!" Mrs. Figg snapped. Petunia snapped her attention back to Mrs. Figg immediately, and noticed that she was holding a box of tissues.

"All three of you, gather around this, and hold on to it. Or at least touch it. It will transport you to a safe location."

"A box of tissues?" Dudley asked, echoing Petunia's thoughts.

"Yes, Dudley. Any object can become a Portkey, particularly if it's to be a time-activated one. This is what I had on hand when the emergency presented itself. Please take a hold of it. Now."

Petunia woodenly reached out and grabbed the underside of the box of tissues, still trying to figure out why she was obeying these people. Part of her was still screaming that if their lives were in danger, they should go to the police like normal people.

She was just about to say something to that effect when she felt a pulling sensation. Suddenly, she was yanked forward, and saw a swirl of bright colors. She closed her eyes, and the sensation shortly stopped, to be replaced by the feeling of being dropped on the ground. She opened her eyes and sat up, and saw that she was in a very dark passageway - no, not passageway - cavern.

Vernon was the first to find his voice. "Where in the hell are we?" he asked indignantly. No answer. Petunia looked around and realized to her horror that they were alone. Poor Dudley was whimpering in fear, Vernon was looking around with growing horror as he, too, realized that they were completely alone.

"Mrs. Figg?" she asked tremulously, then louder. Vernon joined her as they began to panic. Suddenly, they heard a loud rumbling noise, echoing against the cavern walls. It grew closer, and the three of them fell into a terrified silence. Closer, closer... then further, further as, apparently, it passed them. Petunia breathed a quiet sigh of relief, which seemed a bit premature when the rumbling began again. And again. The third time, it didn't pass them. Instead, it got closer and closer, until a vehicle of some sort came racing to a sudden stop directly in front of them.

In the front of the vehicle was a short sort of... creature... with long fingers and pointed ears. Next to... it... was Mrs. Figg. Petunia's eyes were starting to adjust to the dark enough to notice that Mrs. Figg was now carrying Harry's owl.

Petunia and Vernon had both opened their mouths to demand to know exactly where they were, when the short creature got out of the vehicle, and passed them, not seeming to notice when Petunia recoiled from it in horror. The thing passed its finger over the wall behind him, and suddenly a hole opened in the wall, to reveal a room behind.

"You're in one of the lower caverns of Gringotts," Mrs. Figg explained shortly. She got out of the vehicle and strode up to them. Petunia was just about to ask what "Gringotts" was when Mrs. Figg interrupted. "This is one of the safest places you can be. You will stay here until the danger has passed. I have brought you food and drink enough for a few days, after which, if I'm not able to come back, the goblins have agreed to let you out of this vault and guide you out of the caverns so you won't starve." Petunia stared at her in horror. Without appearing to notice, Mrs. Figg continued, "Please enter the vault now."

"I will not!" Vernon exclaimed. "Now listen he--" he cut of suddenly at the look Mrs. Figg shot him.

"No, Vernon, I have no time to listen. As I have stated before, I am here to save your lives. These instructions have one purpose - to save your lives. You have no idea of the danger you are in - of the danger we all are in. I have no time to sit and explain it to you; I must return to join the fight back at your house before any of the Death Eaters realize that none of you are in the house any longer. The longer we can hold them off from discovering that the house is empty, the more time Harry will have to hide. The survival of all of us, including yourselves, depends on Harry's survival. You have no idea just how important your nephew is," she continued with a stern look at Vernon's attempt to interrupt. "I must therefore get back. And you must not delay me any longer. Please enter the vault. Now. And trust me when I say that it is the safest place you can be."

Dudley was in tears. Petunia felt tears threatening, herself. Why was this happening to them? All she ever wanted was to have a nice, pleasant, normal life! She looked from Vernon to Dudley - and suddenly realized something for the first time. No matter how she felt about these people, if she could do something to help save Dudley's life, then she would do it.

"Come on, Dudley," she said tremulously, and took his shoulder, leading him into the vault. Poor Dudley was in such a state that he was obviously willing to follow any lead his parents would give him, and he followed her meekly into the vault. Vernon stared after them, looking as if he were about to protest, but then he saw her look, looked back at Mrs. Figg's stern face, and followed Petunia and Dudley into the vault without another word.

The vault was exactly what it appeared to be from the outside. A very small room. With, Petunia realized with a dim and very strange sense of panic, no bathroom. Mrs. Figg was dropping a bag of food and water bottles into the room, saying, "This will last you for several days, assuming you limit the amount Dudley eats. Be sure you do, because there is no more. Someone will return for you when it is safe." Petunia was just about to protest about the lack of bathroom, when Mrs. Figg suddenly stepped back outside the vault. The thing (goblin?) stepped forward again, smirked at them, and waved his finger at the doorway. In a moment, the door was gone. They were alone.

Dudley let out a wail. In the dim light illuminating the vault, Petunia looked at where the door had been, then she looked at Vernon's horrified face. Blind panic seized her chest, darkness closed around her, and she passed out cold.

(August 16, 7:15 pm - same time)

Harry frowned over Transfiguration - Level 5. He couldn't believe how much homework his professors had given him this summer - it must be double what he'd gotten the previous three summers - combined! The reason the professors gave was that they were all due to take their O.W.L.s at the end of that year. But Harry couldn't help noticing that he seemed to have much more work than any of his friends. He wasn't quite sure how that happened, unless it was a makeup for not having to study for his exams last year because of the tournament.

The tournament. Harry shook his head at the inevitable wave of complex emotion that passed over him every time he thought about the tournament, or trophies, or dragons, or Moody, or mermaids, or even Dobby. Those thoughts always led to the same place - Voldemort, and Cedric. He avoided thinking about that whenever possible.

So, anyway, because of all the homework, he'd spent every spare moment he had over the summer, upstairs in his room, trying to get it all finished by the end of the summer. His aunt and uncle, thankfully, didn't seem to mind. In fact, they seemed to prefer it this way - it made it easier for them to pretend he didn't exist, when he spent all his time writing papers in his room. They'd probably mind if his homework involved actual magic, but it didn't, so as long as he stayed quiet and invisible, they ignored him.

For a pair of glasses to become an hourglass, what things must be changed? He didn't have the slightest idea, even though he knew this to be an easy question. He was so tired. He actually had been sleeping poorly all summer - every night, he would get a few hours of sleep, then wake up screaming and/or crying. If he was screaming, he usually awoke to Uncle Vernon bellowing his anger that Harry had awoken the entire house.

Oddly, Harry rarely seemed to remember what he was dreaming about, anymore. A few times, he had a feeling he'd been dreaming about Cedric, particularly when he had woken up crying. A few times, he had the feeling he'd been dreaming specifically about Voldemort killing Cedric, but he never remembered anything specific. Only once did he wake up remembering exactly what he had been dreaming - Voldemort's voice had said "Kill the spare," just as he had done in real life. Wormtail's wand went up, and there was a flash of green light, just as there had been in real life. And Harry looked down in shock, just as he had in real life, and saw... Ron.

That was when he'd earned his one and only beating for "waking the entire neighborhood at 3 AM with his bloody screaming."

Harry sighed. He really needed to concentrate. Summer was almost over. He'd finished all his Potions homework (thankfully), as well as his Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination homework, but he still needed to finish his Transfiguration and History of Magic homework. He could almost hear Professor McGonagall's voice yelling at him for not finishing his homework.

He blinked. He WAS hearing Professor McGonagall's voice! But that was impossible - the idea of Professor McGonagall here, at the Dursley's, was almost as absurd as the idea of Voldemort here!

But there was her voice again. "HARRY!" He jumped up and ran down the stairs. Sure enough, there she was, large as life.

"Professor McGonagall??" he asked incredulously.

Professor McGonagall was speaking to Uncle Vernon. "Thank you," she said to him, while Harry grew more and more puzzled. She turned to Harry. "Harry, you must leave this house immediately. Put on your school robes. Bring everything you cannot spare or replace - you will not be coming back. But bring only what you cannot spare - you must travel very light. Leave your school things; they can be replaced. But be sure to bring your broomstick and your wand - you may need them later."

Harry processed this in a hurry. Voldemort must be on his way here. His heart sped up and he nodded mutely, about to race back up the stairs, when he heard another familiar voice. "Harry, after you come back down, give your owl to me."

He stopped in his tracks and looked back into the living room, not quite sure if he understood what was going on. "Mrs. FIGG??" But that couldn't be - Mrs. Figg was... she was Mrs. Figg! He'd grown up knowing her. She was of Privet Drive - she belonged to the Muggle world. What was she doing behaving like a witch?

"Yes, Harry," Mrs. Figg said impatiently, and continued, "When you come back down, bring your owl down and give her to me. I will release her when it's safe. This is very important, though - you must tell her that when I release her, she must not return to you. She might be followed. She must instead go directly to the Hogwarts owlery, and she must never again accept any mail orders from anybody other than Professor Dumbledore and yourself. Do you understand?"

Obviously, she was a witch. Harry took a moment to process this, and to process her instructions, before nodding and returning upstairs.

He ran into his room, thinking fast. Obviously, he wasn't going to be able to bring his trunk wherever he was going. "Only what you cannot spare," Professor McGonagall had said. So what couldn't he spare?

Well, that was easy, really. Just the things that couldn't be replaced. Wand, broomstick, Invisibility Cloak. Oh, and his Marauder's Map. And his Gringotts key; he might need that. He opened his trunk and grabbed his school robes, and was just about to get his Invisibility Cloak out when he saw the photo album Hagrid had given him his first year. Something else he couldn't replace - he grabbed it and stuffed it into one of the pockets of his cloak, before grabbing the other things he needed.

He looked around for anything he might have forgotten. He dearly would have loved to take all the homework he had done, since Professor McGonagall had said he wouldn't be coming back. He was going to have to do it all again! He was never going to get it all finished in time! Assuming he made it to the beginning of the school year, of course.

Yes, of course - always assuming that.

Calling Hedwig into her cage, he repeated Mrs. Figg's instructions to her. He stroked her through the doors of her cage for a moment, wondering just when he was going to see her again. She nipped at his finger rather sadly. He closed the door to her cage, and ran back downstairs. That wasn't easy while carrying his broomstick, Hedwig's cage, and his Invisibility Cloak, none of which, of course, would fit in his pockets.

He got downstairs just in time to see Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley (who had all been clutching a flowered tissue box with confused looks, which would have been amusing if it weren't so serious) disappear with a slight sucking noise. He ran into the living room, and with a quick final goodbye to Hedwig, handed her to Mrs. Figg. "You gave her the instructions?" When Harry nodded, she asked, "What's her name?"

"Hedwig," said Harry and Professor McGonagall in unison.

Mrs. Figg nodded and turned to Hedwig. "Hello, Hedwig. I'm Arabella. I'll take good care of her, Harry," she promised him, then held up her wand. "I should get to your family, they are safe, but likely panicking right about now." Harry rolled his eyes. Yes, that would be just like them. They were probably dragged kicking and screaming to safety, and once they were safe, then they'd probably start panicking.

"Apparat!" Mrs. Figg said suddenly, and disappeared with Hedwig, with a small pop. Harry blinked, still trying to figure out how Mrs. Figg could be a witch, when she'd been his babysitter long before he'd found out about Hogwarts. Logically, he knew that witches and wizards existed before he knew about them, but it still seemed strange.

"Harry," Professor McGonagall said, instantly demanding his attention. "This is what you need to know; please listen carefully. There are nine Death Eaters outside, working on the protective wards Professor Dumbledore set up here 14 years ago. Our goal is to get you hidden as effectively as possible before they get into the house. Towards that end, Professor Dumbledore has set up a journey of sorts. On each step of your journey, there will be a different guide. Each of us knows only enough to guide you to the next point in your journey. The idea is that if we are cap- ah... that is, we cannot reveal more than we know." Her eyes flicked downward, and Harry could have sworn he saw fear there for a moment. She cleared her throat. "So, Harry, I am given to understand that you have traveled by Floo powder before, on two occasions?"

Harry nodded, and was just about to elaborate for her, when she continued, "Here is the powder. I've already started a fire for you. After I leave, you must return to the place that is not Diagon Alley. Do you understand what you need to do? Tell me yes or no, nothing more."

Harry nodded; he understood. She nodded, and smiled at him, her lips shaking slightly. "Good luck, Harry," she said, before holding up her wand. "Apparat!" she said, and disappeared, leaving Harry alone.

Harry looked into the fire and sighed in resignation to the danger he was facing. Taking a pinch of the powder from the small box she'd handed to him, he threw it into the fire. He then put the box into one of his pockets, grabbed his broomstick, and walked into the fire, yelling, "The Burrow!"