Chapter 14: Joyeux anniversaire (Part 1)
7:00am Central European Time (GMT +1)
Chateau Delacour
Theoule sur Mer, French Riveria
Waking up in one of the nicer guest bedrooms within the Delacour ancestral home would have been far more enjoyable if Harry's bed mate hadn't looked as if she was about to cry.
Pushing his own thoughts and desires to the side, the teen-aged wizard reached out and lovingly touched his girlfriend's cheek.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Sweetheart…go back to sleep."
"Have you gotten any sleep at all?"
Hermione shook her head.
"Not since Bill arrived. Not that it matters…we've got a busy day ahead of us."
Harry propped himself up on an elbow. He pursed his lips, then asked, "Crookshanks?"
Hermione sighed.
"It's not Bill's fault that he didn't bring him…would have had a hard time anyway, given the way that he actually got here, and I'm happy for Crooks…and his harem…or family….it's just that…."
"He's your familiar and also part of your family?"
"Yeah. It just caught me off guard, because kneazles are supposed to be so very loyal…especially when they are a witch's or wizard's familiar."
Harry nodded his head. He thought for a moment before asking, "Maybe he was displaying some of that loyalty when he decided to stay behind?"
Hermione snorted. "Loyalty to whom? To me, or to his harem?"
"Maybe both?" Harry asked. "I'm just thinking…you weren't planning on the last time you saw him being the last time, right?"
"What?"
"We were planning on coming back inside after the meeting with the goblins," Harry explained.
Hermione frowned. "True, but Crookshanks is smart enough to know that plans change…and Bill was quite certain that Crooks understood his intention to bring him along to France."
"Maybe so," said Harry. "Still, what was the last thing that you told Crookshanks to do before you left?"
"Hmmm….to keep an eye out for Molly?"
"So maybe he's still following those instructions?"
"But there's no need, now that we're in France…and he made his reasons for staying behind clear enough to Bill, with that flock of felines showing up at the right moment…"
Harry acknowledged the thought with a head nod, then said, "On the other hand…Crookshanks still hanging around the Burrow could help send Molly and Dumbles off our track. After all, if you went missing and had no intentions of returning to the Burrow, why would you leave your familiar behind?"
"So you're saying that I shouldn't be upset right now?" Hermione asked tersely.
"No, not at all," Harry quickly replied. "Just saying that Crookshanks is a big boy, and he could be helping you right now by choosing to stay back with his harem. Maybe in more ways than one."
"Sounds like you're just a guy, making excuses for another guy's bad behavior," Hermione quipped.
"No, really…think about it," said Harry. "I mean…I love having Crookshanks around as much as you, and it's pretty cool that I can communicate with him almost as well as you can, but sometimes…"
"You aren't jealous of my relationship with my familiar, are you Harry?"
"No, not at all," said Harry. "It'd be pretty hypocritical of me, given that my familiar is female. What I'm trying to say is that…well, I'm a guy, and I'm pretty clueless about certain things, so it really helped a lot when Crookshanks was able to broadcast, and help clue me into how you thought about me, relationship wise, but…might be nice to take a break from the broadcasting."
Hermione thought about this for a moment as she covered an escaping yawn. There was a hint of a smile on her face once she pulled her hand away.
"We don't need Crooks in a different country to get a broadcasting break…just need him to curl up in a different bedroom….it's hard to sleep when you're being bombarded with pervy loads of lust."
"Pervy?" Harry asked. "You make it sound like it's wrong for me to lust after my drop-dead sexy girlfriend."
"No, that's fine…it's the keeping me up while you were rubbing off five times a night that was problematic."
Harry chuckled. "Well, then…it's a good thing that we've solved that problem, isn't it?"
"What?" Hermione asked. "You're thinking that you won't need to…you know…now that we've escaped from Azkaburrow?"
"Hermione! I wouldn't presume such a thing!" Harry said in mock protest. "I was referring to the fact that you won't know when I'm lusting after my sexy girlfriend as long as Crookshanks isn't around to broadcast."
The Muggleborn witch rolled her eyes and quipped, "Oh, woe is me…now I'll just have to figure that out the old-fashioned way."
"How's that?"
Hermione replied to the question by slipping a hand under the covers. She gave his erect todger a playful squeeze through Harry's boxer shorts, then asked, "Broadcasting much, Sweetie?"
Harry grinned, and began to snake his own hand under the duvet. Hermione shook her head and grabbed his wrist.
"What?" Harry asked. "I can't see if you're broadcasting as well?"
"It's not as obvious when you're a girl, Harry."
"Makes it more fun searching for the broadcast signal, don't you think?"
Hermione shook her head as she pulled Harry's hand back above the sheets.
"Not now."
"But I'm the birthday boy…don't I get to unwrap my presents?" Harry whined.
"Not with Daddy across the hall."
"But we went through that fire drill when Bill arrived…and we've got Gabby running interference."
"We've also got Gabby curled up on our doorstep," Hermione replied. "Surprised she hasn't decided to curl up in front of our bed."
Harry couldn't help chuckling as he imagined the scene Hermione had described.
"What?" Hermione challenged.
"I'm just imaging Gabby curling up like a cat," Harry replied. "Hey, there you go…don't need to worry about Crookshanks when you've got Gabby-Cat here, willing to take his place."
"Honestly…the thought of me bonding with Gabrielle as my familiar…"
"Sounds kinky," Harry joked.
The comment earned the teenager a rough push on the shoulder.
"Keep that up, and you won't be opening my presents."
Harry gasped. "Really?"
"Try me!"
"Isn't trying you part of my presents?" Harry quipped.
Hermione was just about to fire off a rejoinder when she paused, and considered their situation.
They had made it to France, and were out from underneath Molly's overbearing presence. Crookshanks was capable of taking care of himself. Meanwhile, she was in bed with her boyfriend, and had already celebrated that achievement a few hours previous with an intense snog while hands were in each other's pants. And it was Harry's birthday, and they were now both above the local age of consent, and she really was planning on giving him her virginity as a birthday present. Which wasn't a big sacrifice, as she'd wanted to jump his bones all Summer. And yeah…her parents were across the hall, but her mum had indirectly stated her intention to run interference for her, and Gabby was running interference, so they could get away with it right then and there. Then again, she had a very special mail-order outfit that she wanted to be wearing when Harry "unwrapped" her, and she was certain she had morning breath, so now was not the time to go all the way.
Hermione being Hermione, that rambling chain of thought took only a few seconds to mentally complete. This gave her more than enough time to come up with an alternative that Harry would enjoy.
Still fearing she had morning breath, the Muggleborn witch gave her boyfriend a quick closed-mouth peck on the lips. This was the first of a series of kisses that trailed down Harry's bare chest.
While Harry wasn't as smart of his brilliant girlfriend, he was certainly smart enough not to question his girlfriend's motives as she rubbed her body down the length of his own, or when her head disappeared underneath the covers.
The phrase "Looking a gift horse in the mouth" popped into the teen-aged wizard's head and stayed there. Certainly not because he thought of Hermione as horse-like…it was because of all the talk about gifts. And because of what Hermione was doing to him with her mouth.
Harry Potter couldn't remember his first birthday, which was the one and only time that he had heard "Happy Birthday to You" sung to him. But he would remember the second time that he heard that song on his birthday for the rest of his life. Because Hermione wasn't singing…she was humming.
Humming the birthday song as she bobbed her head up and down.
Humming the birthday song because her mouth was otherwise occupied.
It was all the birthday boy could do to hold off his release until the middle of the third verse.
oo00OO00oo
In a second bedroom within the Delacour ancestral home, a slightly older naked witch was doing more whining than humming as her fiancé picked his boxer shorts up off the carpet and cast a cleaning charm.
"Why won't you come back to bed? You've been up all night!" Fleur protested. She held her arms towards her bedside boyfriend and added, "Let's celebrate our escape again."
The yawn that escaped Bill's lips didn't influence the response that followed.
"It's a work day, Fleur, and the wards around Harry's new house still need to be tested."
Fleur pouted. "You do not think that we have earned a petite vacation?"
Bill chuckled. "Doesn't matter if I did. You know as well as I do that the word 'vacation' doesn't translate into Gobbledygook."
The French witch looked at her clock. "But it is still early, and there's plenty of time to…"
Her fiancé sighed. "As much as I would like to muddle around with you…there's meetings to plan, and two sets of parents that will want a breakfast update on where things stand…"
Fleur closed her eyes and rubbed then with her fingers as she sorted out options. Once she reached a decision, she summoned a family house elf, and asked if she would coordinate a 7:45am meeting of family and guests in the dining room.
Bill arched an eyebrow as he glanced at the clock sitting on a bedside table.
"A half-hour?" he asked. "That's a pretty short nap."
"No, it's long enough for a shower," Fleur decided as she pulled down the covers and slipped out of bed.
Her fiancé snorted, then shook his head as he sniffed an armpit.
"Don't think that I'm all that sweaty," he said.
Fleur pulled Bill into a hug. Without warning she then snatched his boxers out of his hand, and dragged him into the attached bathroom.
They were in the shower when the house elf popped back a few minutes later to confirm the breakfast arrangements. That Fleur kept Bill's head pinned between her thighs as she thanked the servant for her assistance said as much about her nonchalant attitude about oral sex in front of the hired help as it did her need to muddle along with her fiancé.
oo00OO00oo
In a third bedroom within the Delacour ancestral home, Hermione's father strained against the urge to barge into that first bedroom, where he (correctly) suspected that his daughter and her boyfriend were up to no good.
The door to the guest bedroom's en suite bathroom opened behind him and his wife called out his name. Roger rose from the bed and turned towards her. He was a half-step towards the bath, with one foot in the air, when his brain caught up to what his eyes were seeing.
Emily was standing in the opened doorway, dripping wet and completely naked.
Roger stopped short. While his wife was by no means a skittish prude, she was rarely comfortable enough and confident enough to have sex with the lights on, or to casually stand naked in front of her husband.
"Something wrong, Dear?" Emily coyly asked.
"No…not at all!" Roger proclaimed, "I was about to ask the same thing…problems with the shower?"
Emily chuckled. "In a way…yes," she said. "It's a magic shower, and I had to call for that very nice house elf to come show me how to work the controls."
"Oh. So…do we need to call her back with some towels?" Roger asked.
His wife glanced down her front and smiled as she shook her head. "No, no…I just figured that I ought to be the one to show you how the shower works," Emily said. "Unless you'd rather have that very helpful female servant show you?"
Assuming that she already knew the answer to her question, Hermione's mum turned and walked back into the bathroom. Roger followed a few seconds later, after taking time to both appreciate his wife's naked bum and to readjust the erection that was stirring underneath his pajamas.
"The whole system is rather decadent," Emily stated, as she opened the glass shower stall door and stepped inside. "You touch this button thinking about how warm you want the water to be, and where you want the water to spray…you don't even have to stand."
"Really?" Roger asked.
"Yes, really," his wife replied. A breath caught in Roger's throat as she waggled her eyebrows, spread her feet, and squatted. A moment later a miniature geyser erupted up from the tiled shower floor, creating a cascading column of water that stopped just short of Emily's bum. She squatted a bit further, closing the gap between flesh and fountain, and reached out to brace against the sides of the shower stall. The magical spray was solid enough to support Emily's weight, and stimulating enough to elicit a moan from Emily's lips.
"That's…that's amazing," Roger stammered.
"Yes, but do you know what the best part is about this shower chair?" Emily asked.
Roger shook his head.
His wife leaned backwards into the upward magical flow of water. The spray expanded its footprint to support her back, and lifted her completely off the ground. Emily spread her legs, reached down, and opened herself to both her husband's gaze and the pulsating spray.
"It reclines," she purred.
Roger was mesmerized by the pulsating tentacle of water that was attacking his wife's crotch. So focused was his attention that he almost missed the "come hither" look that Emily was giving him.
Almost.
Roger's pajamas hit the floor as he strode towards his wife, erection in hand. The seemingly-sentient base flow of water pushed Emily's hips a foot higher into the air, positioning her entrance at just the right height and angle to accept her husband's advance.
oo00OO00oo
Back in the first bedroom, Hermione ducked out from under the covers and snuggled up against her boyfriend's side.
"That was amazing," Harry whispered. He kissed the top of Hermione's head and asked, "Can I hum too?"
The Muggleborn shook her head. "Just want to cuddle for a moment," she said contentedly.
A Delacour house elf interrupted Harry's advances by popping onto the bed.
"Yikes!" Hermione yipped, as she quickly pulled the covers up towards their chins.
"Pardon me Mademoiselle and Monsieur," the house elf said, "but your presence is requested by Monsieur Weasley and Mademoiselle Fleur in the main dining room in twenty-five minutes' time."
"Will it be just the four of us?" Harry asked.
The house elf shook his head. "Mademoiselle Fleur asked that all family members and guests be at the table."
Hermione's eyes went wide. "Do you know if my parents have been told yet?"
The house elf nodded her head, which sent Hermione's heart racing until she realized that the house elf was responding to the specific question asked.
"Yes, I know," the little servant said.
Harry's interactions with Dobby gave him an edge in getting anywhere in conversations with house elves.
"Have Hermione's parents been informed yet?" he asked.
"No, Monsieur, they have not," the house elf replied. "Mademoiselle Gabrielle instructed me to notify your parents last."
"Whew!" Hermione sighed.
"Thank you," Harry told the house elf.
"You're very welcome, Monsieur Potter," the servant replied.
She then popped away.
"Shite!" Hermione whispered.
"What?"
"Last doesn't mean that we weren't notified next-to-last!" Hermione hissed.
The Muggleborn witch whipped off the covers, retrieved a silk dressing gown from the carpeted floor, and dashed towards the walk-in closet that housed the hidden doorway that connected their two bedrooms.
The door opened into a different walk-in closet. The black turtleneck sweater, trousers and knit cap that she'd worn during their escape from Britain were cleaned, pressed, and hanging on one of the racks. That outfit looked rather plain and lonely, compared with the muggle and magical attire that was now hanging on the opposite side of the closet. Hermione stepped over the threshold and quietly closed the hidden door behind her. She paused in front of the unfamiliar clothing and grabbed a pair of capris and a plain white short-sleeved shirt. The labels confirmed what she had assumed at first glance…they were all her size, and (if not magical knock-offs) all high-end design.
Hermione Granger was not a clothes horse, or some frilly little thing that cared about the names on the labels. But these seemed to perfectly match her style (at least when she was around her parents), and that feeling only grew when she opened a built-in chest of drawers and discovered some lovely silk unmentionables. Dragging her fingers against silk and lace, Hermione smiled to herself and whispered, "Now here's some lovely wrapping paper!"
A door knock dragged Harry's girlfriend out of her pervy plans for presents. She said, "Just a second," and quickly slipped on her dressing gown.
It took a bit of doing for Hermione to convince Gabby that she didn't need help washing her back in the shower or picking out an outfit for the day. It took far less time for the Muggleborn to realize that it would be prudent to tell the younger witch that her boyfriend wouldn't need that kind of help, either.
oo00OO00oo
Gabby couldn't wait to sing Joyeux anniversaire, so she serenaded the birthday boy as she escorted the well-dressed wizard and his well-dressed girlfriend down to breakfast. Harry had to mentally focus on what he needed to accomplish that day in order to keep from linking this version to what his girlfriend had hummed earlier (the last thing he needed was to send out any kind of physical signal that might be misconstrued by the younger part-Veela). Still, it was hard for him not to be in a very, very good mood as they entered the chateau's dining room. And it was just as hard to not notice that this good mood was shared by everyone else as they arrived for breakfast. When he said as much while filling his plate from a side-table buffet, Gabby matter-of-factly linked the good moods to good morning sex (for everyone except for her, she added with a pout). Hermione hushed the younger witch, but then whispered an acknowledgement borne from past observations (at least when it came time to interpret the satisfied grins on her parents' faces).
The breakfast table discussion focused on the day's plan of action. This led to an explanation on why Paul Delacour had two extra springs in his step that morning (as well as why he was so certain that the French magical government would support whatever plans they decided upon).
ooo/ a brief expository interlude \\ooo
The French Ministry of Magic and its system of governance were quite similar to its Muggle counterpart (by design, rather than coincidence, as there was far more interactions between the two governments than in Britain). The Executive Branch was led by two wizards or witches: an elected Head of State (the Magical President) and their designate, a separate Head of Government (the Magical Prime Minister). The President was free to appoint whomever he or she wanted as Prime Minister, and this usually meant that the two leaders were from the same political party. But as the President's term of office was a few years longer than those serving in the legislative branch, there were times when a President was forced to appoint a political opponent to serve as Prime Minister.
This was one of those times, and Paul Delacour was the opposition party's Prime Minister. He won that appointment after his party had soundly thrashed their opponents and regained control of the Magical National Assembly. New presidential elections were less than a year away, and there was every reason to believe that Fleur's father would both run for that office and win.
Every reason but one, that is (as Fleur was quick to point out).
To say that relations between the Magical governments of France and Britain were strained would be putting things mildly. Each considered the other far more of an adversary than an ally, and those sentiments were shared by their respective citizenries (While Molly's disdain for all things French has heavily influenced by her son's choice of fiancées, it still reflected the "on the street" attitude of many British witches and wizards).
Paul Delacour was a politician who loved his eldest daughter very, very much. He would have never forced her to break off her engagement with an English wizard…even though there was a political price to be paid for that relationship. He was the leader of a relatively progressive political party that was amenable to thawing the icy relationship with the British Ministry of Magic. This left a political opening for their more conservative opponents and (according to magical pollsters) boosted Delacour's "unfavorable" rating by three or four percentage points. This percentage might have easily doubled should it become a focus of attack in the upcoming Presidential election.
So aside from the joy of having his daughter home safe and sound (and on French territory), there was a political reason for Fleur's father to be so happy that morning. And that happy feeling was shared when the agreed-upon order of the day required a few secure owl posts to be sent out to key allies within the French government.
oo00OO00oo
8:30am CET (7:30am GMT)
Ministère des Affaires gobelin
Ministère Français De La Magie, Paris
The French wizard in charge of governmental relations with Gringotts and the Goblin Nation was also in a very good mood that morning, and it showed…from the smile on his face as he walked into the office, to the way that he thanked his secretary when she delivered a tray of coffee and croissants. The gleam in the Minister's eyes might have caught a less-experienced goblin by surprise, but the Director of Gringotts operations in France had more than fifty years of human interactions under his war belt, and twenty years of experience dealing with politicians. The goblin executive therefore took his counterpart's jovial mood in stride as the two met for a hastily arranged meeting in the Minister's office.
"Well, my friend, you appeared to have woken up on the right side of the bed today," the Gringotts manager noted. "I would ask whose bed that was, but I suspect that I already know the answer."
The Frenchman laughed. "Ah, Monsieur Gambit, you know this old wizard's foibles all too well…or is it time for me to upgrade the privacy wards surrounding my mistress's apartment?"
"Remy, you wound me…I oversaw the construction of those wards myself!"
"Exactly, my friend…exactly," the Minister quipped. "But no, my good mood has nothing to do with the exquisite things that my Marie can do with her tongue. It is a much happier situation that I find myself in today."
"So Marie's sister is in town as well?" the Gringotts manager asked with a wink.
The wizard chuckled and shook his head. "What is that Goblin saying that you love to share with me? That good profits are always more satisfying than a good fuck?"
"Ah, so this is about politics," the goblin replied.
"Exactly," the wizard replied. "Our long political nightmare is over."
"Really?" the manager asked. "So your party has finally reached an accord with the President's party?"
"No, no…much better," the Minister replied. He looked towards the closed office door, then leaned forward and whispered, "The prodigal daughter has returned."
The cup of espresso in the goblin's hand stopped just short of his lips, as his gaze darted to meet his counterpart's.
"You seem surprised?" the wizard asked, as he leaned back into his chair. "For the first time, I know something of mutual importance before you do? Or are you just being polite?"
The knowing smile and acknowledging head nod was offered by the head of Gringotts French operations not as a response, but as a delaying tactic while the implications of what had just been shared with him settled into his brain.
"Bon," the wizard said. "There is more to do here this morning than share a bit of political gossip." He reached into a robe pocket, and pulled out a wax-sealed scroll.
"This is from….?"
"By the daughter's father himself, as you can see," the Minister said, as he nodded towards the mark within the wax seal. "We have need for an arbitrated meeting in the Treaty Room."
"Which parties will be involved?" the goblin asked, confirming for himself that the document had been sealed by the Prime Minister.
"Haven't a clue," the wizard admitted. He waved a hand towards the scroll and added, "I suspect you will have more of one, once you read the message."
The Gringotts Director nodded in agreement as he slipped a sharpened nail under the parchment's edge and broke the seal. It took most of his decades of experience and training not to react visibly to the handwritten text. He scanned the message a second time to confirm his first reading, then rolled up the scroll and rose from his chair.
"Please inform your Prime Minister that I will arrange for the requested participant on our end to be in the Treaty Room for a 2pm meeting," the goblin stated. "I will confirm my ability to satisfy both my intentions and his request in writing no later than noon."
The wizard Minister arched an eyebrow. "I will do as you've requested," he replied. "Shall we discuss arbiter selection?"
The goblin waved his hand dismissively. "One of yours will do fine…now if you will excuse me?"
The wizard snorted as he rose from his desk and escorted his guest out of his office. "Yes, yes…time is galleons, and all that. Shall we expect your return this afternoon, then?"
Gambit the bank director shook his head, and replied, "I very much doubt it."
oo00OO00oo
8:59am CET (8:59am GMT)
Gringotts (Marseilles Branch)
Not completely certain how they would be received at work after the previous night's encounters with the goblins, Bill and Fleur thought it prudent to floo to the most popular restaurant within Marseilles' smallish magical district. Fleur's father also thought it would be prudent to have the couple trailed by a well-trained team of French hit-wizards, just in case (not that Bill and Fleur were aware of this extra step). From there, the couple walked to the front entrance of the local Gringotts branch. Their wands were at the ready and their heads were on swivels, but the only suspicious things spotted were the toothy grins worn by the halberd-wielding hobgoblins that guarded the reinforced wooden doors.
The smile on the face of the one-armed wizard that was waiting just inside those doors was far less threatening (but far more intriguing).
"Morning, mate!"
Bill's eyes widened as he watched the bartender at the Curse Breakers' canteen extend his only hand.
"Morning, Nick," he replied, shaking the other wizard's hand. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"
"Gringotts business," the older curse-breaker replied. "They posted me here thinking you might respond better to a friendly face."
"Did they, now?" Bill asked. He nodded towards Fleur and said, "Nick, you remember my fiancée Fleur Delacour?"
Nick turned towards the French witch, kissed the back of her hand, and said, "Enchanté."
"So what's going on, then?" Bill asked.
The other wizard shrugged. "There's rumors floating around that you stirred up a real hornet's nest last night. Boss got me outta bed early this morning…said that I was to report here to see if you showed up for work. If you did, then I'm supposed to escort you to your job site. Otherwise, they wanted me to be the one to put your ward scheme to the test."
Fleur frowned. "And you knew enough to stand by the public entrance, rather than the floo?"
The one-armed curse-breaker smiled, and shook his head. "While I'd never want to underestimate their surveillance skills…they posted another friendly face there…so to speak."
"Who?"
"The Potter account manager's secretary."
"Malice?" asked Bill. When Nick nodded, the red-haired wizard chuckled, and added, "Hence the need to qualify that her face was friendly."
"Absolutely," the retired curse-breaker agreed. He nodded towards Fleur and said, "And a great reason why I'm so glad that you're both here."
"Why's that?"
"Because the goblins want wanted a female's perspective on whether the repair and remodeling effort inside the house would meet with the future Lady Potter's approval," Nick explained to Fleur. "If you hadn't shown up today, it would have been Malice offering that perspective."
The idea of Chokebar's foul-mouthed sex-positive goblin secretary signing off on the interior decorating caused Bill to laugh out loud. This wasn't exactly the best first impression to give as the three magicals were approached by both the Marseilles branch manager and the head of all of Gringott's operations within all of France, but it didn't stop the two goblins from being over-the-top courteous and deferential as a portkey was offered that whisked the entire group out to Bill's work site.
oo00OO00oo
9:15am GMT (10:15am CET)
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts
A sigh of resignation escaped from Albus Dumbledore's lips as he wandlessly pulled his chair back from his office desk and sat down. He had been away for two weeks and was now facing a small mountain of administrative paperwork that had built up during his secret trip to the Orient. The Headmaster's sigh was quickly followed by a yawn as he was still struggling with portkey lag. And while there was a potion that reset body clocks and adjusted for time-zone differences, the effectiveness of this brew diminished as the age of the body clock increased. And Dumbledore's body clock had been ticking for a very, very long time.
That his body clock would stop ticking within the year was something that the ancient wizard had finally come to accept during his convalescent visit to Japan. He'd been in the denial phase of grief for most of the Summer holiday, ever since that fateful night when he'd foolishly abandoned all common sense and slipped the Voldemort-cursed ring onto his finger. Severus Snape had pronounced the curse to be terminal, but he was a Potions Master, not a Healer. Albus had been quite confident that a proper curse-breaking specialist would be able to counter the curse and reverse the death sentence (and it had been that confidence that had allowed him to act so serenely when he picked Harry Potter up from his relatives).
Of course, given the tenuous political situation within Britain, a visit to St. Mungo's had been out of the question; too much of a chance that word of his affliction (and how it was obtained) would leak out to the wrong people. So he had used his ICW connections to book a two week-long visit to a remote magical hot spring resort high in the Japanese Alps. Unfortunately, the healers working at that onsen had confirmed Snape's amateur diagnosis. In their professional opinion, Dumbledore's fate was sealed the moment the curse was activated, and the short delay before he sought out Snape's aid hadn't kept a cure from being applied. Having used the balance of his visit to progress through the stages of grief from denial to acceptance, the Headmaster now chose to believe that Snape's misguided opinion had been offered out of ignorance, rather than spite.
There had been some comfort in knowing that delaying his overseas diagnosis and treatment hadn't made a difference. It would have been impossible to leave the country until after Harry Potter had recharged the wards at Privet Drive and then been delivered into the arms of a trusted lieutenant behind a robust ward scheme. Molly Weasley had proven her ability to ride herd on Harry and his friends at Grimmauld Place during the previous holiday, and there had been no reason to suspect that her monitoring skills would slip after her return to the remodeled Burrow.
No reason to suspect…until a frantic floo call from Arthur Weasley interrupted his musing on overbearing mothers and his own mortality.
It took a few moments to calm the normally even-keeled wizard down enough to understand the situation.
It was bad news.
But just how bad the news was didn't become clear to the Headmaster until after he ended his conversation with Arthur with a promise to arrive at the Burrow in short order.
Magic made the more than sixty headmaster portraits hanging on the walls of Dumbledore's office all roughly the same size (thanks to the efforts of a Seventeenth-Century headmaster who had grown tired of the cross-wall whining over whose frame was bigger). There was nothing that magic could do, however, to make the advice offered by each former headmaster equally useful. There were three or four portraits whose suggestions were particularly annoying to Dumbledore (mostly due to their counsel against blind obedience to the so-called "Greater Good"). His work-around for these critics was a powerful silencing charm that could have been used to quiet Sirius Black's mother (had Dumbledore not seen the "Greater Good" benefits for her haranguing). But not wanting to put good wall space to waste, Dumbledore had gone one step further and found other ways to make use of these recalcitrant portraits.
One of these steps came into play when the Headmaster walked up to the portrait of Quinten Trimble and tapped on the wooden frame with his wand in precisely the opposite sequence of taps used to enter Diagon Alley from the Leakey Cauldron. Once the last tap was made, the silent portrait's scowling face was replaced by a hand-drawn magical map of the British Isles.
The normally serene headmaster voiced a not-so-serene expletive when he spotted the wide distribution of bright red dots across the parchment.
If the map was to be believed, Harry Potter was at dozens of different places all at the same time. And not just within Britain and Ireland…more than a few of the red dots were bouncing off the edge of the parchment, suggesting that the Boy-Who-Lived was no longer within Magical Britain. Dots were located over land and over sea, some dots were stationary while others were moving along curvilinear tracts. And with all of that, there was still at least one dot hovering over the Burrow's West Country locale, and at least one hovering over Hogwarts.
Not yet ready to come to grips with this information, Dumbledore rushed over the trinket shelf that Harry Potter had destroyed at last term's end. While most of the mangled doo-dads were still broken, the two charmed devices that the Headmaster had taken great pains to fix were operational. One device monitored the strength of the wards that he had placed on Privet Drive, while the second monitored Harry Potter's emotional and physical state. Curiously, neither had raised the alarm; the wards surrounding the Dursley residence were operating at full strength, and Harry Potter had never been happier or healthier (if the readings were to be believed).
Seeing the need to bring the wayward teenage wizard back under heel as quickly as possible, Dumbledore spun towards Fawkes's perch and asked him to provide transportation to Harry Potter's present location. The phoenix, who had been monitoring both the situation and the Headmaster's intentions, finally decided that enough was enough and burst into flames two weeks shy of his normal molting schedule.
Dumbledore scowled at the reborn chick that emerged from the ashes. It would be two or three days before the phoenix was mature enough to provide fire-transport anywhere, much less to Harry Potter's unknown location.
With too much contradictory evidence to sort out and too little time and travel options available to him, the Headmaster sent a patronus message out to Alastor Moody, ordering the retired Auror to meeting him at the Burrow as soon as possible. He then threw a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace, and reluctantly called out his destination.
oo00OO00oo
11:00am CET
Chateau Delacour
Hermione Granger considered her boyfriend's fidgeting both exasperating and endearing as she tried to make him look presentable.
"Oh, for Heaven's sake, if you don't stand still I'll never get this tie straight," she gently chided.
"Sorry, I'm just…"
"Nervous?"
"Anxious, is more like it," Harry decided. "So much to do today, so little time…"
"Do we need the time turner just to get your tie straight?" Hermione teased.
Harry leaned his head away from his girlfriend's ministrations.
"Should be good enough…this is supposed to be the easiest meeting of the day, right?"
Hermione held her hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright…up to you if want to look mussed up for the pictures."
"Pictures?" Harry asked. "I didn't hear anybody say anything about pictures!"
"Well, just an idea that I had," Hermione explained.
A house elf popped up to announce that their guest had arrived. Harry thanked the servant and asked that they be shown into the room. Once the house elf popped away, the teen-aged wizard turned to Hermione and hissed, "What's this idea, then?"
"Sending a big picture of you to Dumbledore," Hermione replied. "It'd show you shaking the attaché's hand as he presents your new passport."
"I like it," Harry said with a grin. He took a glance around the room that Fleur's mum had offered for his meeting and asked, "Maybe we should conjure up a big Canadian flag to use as a backdrop?"
Hermione giggled. "I was thinking more about a big sign that said "Take off, you Hoser!"
"What's a hoser?"
Someone called out, "It's what a kid from Toronto calls his brother when his mother won't let him swear!"
Harry and Hermione both spun around to face a man dressed in a tailored Muggle business suit. The house elf standing by his side introduced the man as the North American Confederation liaison who was serving as a magical attaché within Muggle Canada's Embassy to France. A blushing teen-aged witch stammered out an apology as they introduced themselves. The Canadian wizard let out a hearty laugh.
"No harm done, eh?" he asked (laying on a thick accent). "I'm surprised that the reach of the McKenzie brothers extended as far as Magical Britain."
"I'm Muggleborn, Sir," Hermione explained. "And my father loved SCTV almost as much as he loves Python."
The attaché chuckled. "Charming, attractive, and raised in a culturally-enriched household? Would you like to hear my emigration sales pitch, Miss Granger?"
Hermione blushed a little more deeply. She gestured towards a set of chairs in front of the room's fireplace and replied, "I'm sure that we'd find your presentation fascinating, but perhaps…another time?"
"Of course, of course…I understand you two are on a rather tight schedule today," the attaché replied.
One magical blood test, two photographs, and ten minutes' time later, the meeting ended with everybody getting something. Harry got a real Canadian/NAC passport that proved his dual-citizenship, the magical diplomat got a press release-bound picture of Harry (the one in front of the NAC flag, rather than the one taunting Dumbledore), and Hermione got a really thick packet of information on the North American Confederation's emigration and naturalization policies.
oo00OO00oo
11:30am CET (10:30am GMT)
Cortex Gaztelua
Pyrenees Orientales, France
Fleur's work assignment as stand-in for the future Lady of the estate required whirlwind inspections and sign-offs on the remodeling, repair, and refurbishment of what would soon be Lord Potter's rental property. Most of her time had been spent indoors, offering suggestions to a small army of house elves as they rushed to convert what had been a gutted small fortress into a comfortable home.
Both the fortress and the grounds that that fortress protected were known as "Cortex Gaztelua." The name was a mash-up of Latin and Basque, and roughly meant "Cork Fort" (which was also what it was sometimes called in English). The estate sat two-thirds of the way up the eastern face of a small mountain. More importantly (and strategically), it sat on an intersection of three different magical ley lines, and enjoyed just the right altitude and microclimate for cultivating cork trees. It had been the wizards of the Roman Empire who had first discovered the location; the first structure built on the grounds garrisoned a small cohort of Roman hit-wizards. These magical soldiers guarded the cork trees that the Roman wizards had planted there, and maintained that vigil as those trees grew to become the best source within the (then) known world for magically-resistant potion bottle stoppers.
The designation didn't change as the Roman Empire expanded, and its wizards traveled to the four corners of the earth.
The current fortress had been built in the Twelfth Century on the ruins of the original Roman fort. The buttressed stone structure extended over an archway that housed the gates that controlled access to the magical cork grove. Not that there was much for those gates to protect, after the previous owner (in a futile effort to cover his debts) had decimated the grove by callously harvesting anything and everything that he could cut down, regardless of the long-term damage he was causing.
The stone archway divided the first level of the building into separate sections. Fleur was in the larger ground-level section, signing-off on the restorative work that had been done to the main entrance. The goblin who had demanded that signature grunted as he rolled up the contract. The six house-elves who had been working under that overseer's watchful eye (and whip) correctly interpreted that grunt and popped away before Fleur could thank them for their efforts. Not at all happy with how the goblin had treated his staff during the time she'd spent on the estate, the French witch had no intention of thanking him as he grabbed a bit of floo powder and walked into the flames of the fortress's two-way floo connection to the Marseilles office of Gringotts.
Fleur walked up the stairs to the next level, where large eastern-facing windows were high enough to look out beyond the rows of grape vines that were planted in front of the fortress. The view was expansive enough for her to see all the way down to the coastline, but Fleur's focus was on the ward line that sat in between the small vineyard and the sea. The cohort of hobgoblins that had been guarding the property since repossession was on the inside of the wards, watching as her Bill and his one-armed colleague Nick hurled one spell after another towards the ward line. Fleur could almost see the smile on her fiancé's face as his curses were all reflected away.
And then the bright white light of Albus Dumbledore's message patronus got in the way of Fleur seeing anything else for a few moments.
She felt no compelling urge to obey the orders conveyed by the phoenix patronus. This was very reassuring. And exciting. And not the least bit inconvenient.
Fleur returned downstairs and walked out onto the grounds, heading towards the ward line with the intention of comparing notes (and the lack of compulsions) with her fiancé. She was met halfway by the cohort of hobgoblins, who were marching in formation back towards the main house. Bill and the other curse-breaker were walking at a more leisurely pace behind the warriors. Declaring his work assignments to be done, Nick the one-armed bartender kissed the French witch on both cheeks then continued on towards the fortress.
Bill was giving Fleur a much stronger kiss on the lips when a second patronus message arrived, and delivered the same summons to an emergency Order meeting that Fleur had received earlier. They then paused for a few moments to see if this message was any more compelling for Bill. While he waited, Bill told Fleur that his ward scheme testing had been successful. Once they shut down the estate's floo connection (after Nick and the hobgoblins had departed) they could cross the property line and apparate back to Chateau Delacour. Fleur's work day would be done, while Bill's only other assigned task from Gringotts was to ensure that Harry made it to the meeting with his account manager at the French Ministry.
The couple then strolled arm-in-arm back to the fortress. As Bill shut down the floo connection, Fleur used a Tempus charm to determine that Harry's meeting was more than two hours away. She then grabbed Bill's hand and started to drag him towards the stairs.
"Come with me," she said. "Your work may be done, but I have one more task to complete before we leave."
"What's that, Luv?"
Fleur smiled, as she guided her fiancé towards the master bedroom suite.
"I was charged with ensuring that all of the facilities would be to the Lady of the Estate's satisfaction, no?" she asked.
"Well, yes, but…"
"Then I need to determine that the master bath will satisfy Hermione," said Fleur.
Concern flooded Bill's mind as his French fiancée walked into the master bedroom's en suite, bent over the oversized tub, and reached for the faucet knobs.
"Erm, Fleur…I don't think that we should…"
As water began to fill the tub the French witch turned to face her lover and unfastened the top button on the front of her robes.
"You do not want me to do a good job?" she pouted, as she unfastened the second button and exposed some lovely cleavage.
"Of course I do…it's just that we're still on the clock."
"What does your mother's clock have to do with my work assignments?"
The third button came undone, opening the front of Fleur's robe wide enough to show that it was the only thing covering her torso
"It's just a saying," Bill said. "I just don't think it's a good idea for you to bathe on company time…especially when the company's managers adorn their office walls with short swords and battle axes."
The last button came undone, allowing Fleur to slip her robe off of her shoulders and drop to the marble-tiled floor. Now wearing only a pair of skimpy black knickers, she then asked, "What about sex?"
"What?"
Fleur turned towards the tub and bent down to test the water temperature. Nodding to herself, she then turned off the water supply and said, "I want to determine whether it is large enough for two people to shag comfortably."
Bill's eyes darted from Fleur's bum towards the tub.
"Why do…it's just as large as the shower we used this morning?"
"Are you certain?" Fleur asked. She stood up straight and pushed her knickers down low enough to step out of them.
"But the goblins…."
Fleur stepped into the tub and sat, allowing the water level to rise up to kiss the bottom of her breasts when she leaned her head back against the edge.
"The goblins will never know so long as your ward scheme is working as designed, no?" Fleur noted. She then spread her legs and lifted them out of the water so that her heels rested on the edges. Looking up towards her still clothed fiancé, Fleur dragged her fingernails up her inner thigh and declared, "So let this be an additional test."
Bill let out a whimper as his resolve crumbled.
"Oh, this is a test, alright," he whined.
oo00OO00oo
11:00am GMT (noon CET)
Headmaster's Office
Hogwarts
Fred and George Weasley, who were subject to the oath-driven compulsions attached to their patronus messages, dawdled as much as possible before reluctantly floo-traveling to Hogwarts for the emergency Order meeting. They fully expected to get an earful from their mother and to be yanked around by their ears for whatever role she assumed they had played in whatever she was upset about at that particular moment. The twins were therefore shocked when almost the exact opposite occurred when they stepped out of the fireplace within Dumbledore's office.
"Oh, Fred! George! I'm so happy that you two are here and healthy!" Molly bawled, as she pulled her two sons into a combined hug.
Fred cocked an eyebrow as he pulled his face away from Molly's chest and asked, "Are you feeling okay, Mum?"
"Of course I'm okay. Nothing at all wrong with me," Molly said defensively.
The blush that formed on her cheeks and the way that she clamped her knees together suggested otherwise. Neither Fred nor George were going to press for details, however…especially once their father stepped up with a plausible explanation.
"Something is off with the family clock," he said. "Your mother doesn't trust what it's telling her."
Fred and George both leaned forward, hoping to steal a glimpse of the clock face that was tucked underneath one of Molly's arms. Dumbledore started the meeting before those hopes were realized.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," the Headmaster said. "Some of you have heard only partial accounts of what has transpired over the last few hours, and our investigation is ongoing, so I would ask that Alastor provide all of us with a short summary of the situation."
The peg-legged wizard stood and hobbled to the front of the group. "To sum up…Potter, Granger, Bill Weasley and his French bird have done a runner, covered their tracks, and messed with our ability to track them down. Oh, and Diggle is dead."
Dumbledore needed to cast a mild Sonorus to be heard over the uproar.
"A few more details might be warranted, Alastor," he then said.
Moody nodded, and waited for the other Order members to quiet themselves before speaking again.
"Dedalus Diggle arrived for his overnight sentry duty at the Burrow at 6:00pm last night, relieving Shack and taking custody of Potter's invisibility cloak for the duration of his shift."
"At some point between 10:30 in the evening and 8:50am this morning, Potter, Hermione Granger, Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour ventured out beyond the Burrow's ward line. Within that same time frame, Molly Weasley's surveillance device was swapped out for a non-functional duplicate…"
"It's not a surveillance device, it's the Weasley family clock!" Molly insisted.
"Tomato, Tomatoh," Made-Eye quipped. "Someone also emptied out her howler stash."
Fred and George both looked as if Yule had come early, with a broken clock, pilfered howler paper, and their brother's escape tucked underneath the tree, all waiting to be unwrapped. They each began to mentally rehearse the supplications that would be offered to their older brother, the next time that they saw him.
Mad-Eye snorted when he spotted the twins' glee. Setting aside a snide comment, he continued with his narrative.
"Now Dung should have relieved Diggle and started his shift at 6am," the retired Auror noted. "At that point, Diggle should have brought the invisibility cloak back to the Burrow, and left it there for the next guard that Potter doesn't understandably mistrust."
"Hey, there!" Dung complained. "I still say that I showed up at 6am, right on time!"
"If that's the case, then why didn't you raise the alarm when you couldn't find Diggle and let him know of that rather miraculous degree of promptness?" McGonagal snapped.
Mundungus shrugged. "I reckon'ed he just fell asleep under that cloak, and that's why I couldn't see him on the ward line when I showed up."
Mad-eye rolled his eyes (one clockwise, the other counter-clockwise).
"Bit of projection, Dung?" he asked. "Decided that it was a trend worth following, and that's why I found you curled up under that apple tree, dead to the world?"
The disheveled wizard shrugged.
"So where is Diggle, anyway?" he said.
"He's dead, you idiot…didn't you hear Mad-Eye just say that?" Tonks whined. "Maybe you got too many tobacco leaves stuffed up your ears?"
Dumbledore raised his voice. "Now, now, my friends…at this moment of crisis it is critical that we all pull together and work together to bring young Mister Potter back into the fold."
Severus Snape scowled, and shook his head in disgust. "I wonder where The-Boy-Who-Murdered dumped Diggle's body?"
"Please, Severus," said Dumbledore. "I ask that nobody leap to any premature conclusions about what transpired last night."
A low-pitched growl escaped from Remus Lupin's mouth as he glared at Snape and asked, "So, Headmaster…what's your attitude towards premature accusations?"
"Enough from the both of you," Molly snapped. "Nobody murdered anyone last night, right Alastor?"
The peg-legged wizard nodded his head. "I found Diggle dead in his bed this morning," he stated. "There was no sign of foul play, other than the fact that there was also no sign of Potter's cloak."
"So Potter killed Diggle for the cloak, then dumped the body in Diggle's flat," Snape reasoned.
"Of course he did," Tonks sneered. "And how exactly did Harry know where Diggle lived?"
Snape shrugged. "Okay, fine. Potter tortured Diggle until he gave up his home address, and then killed the stupid bastard."
"Torture?" Arthur asked. "What part of 'no sign of foul play' didn't you understand?"
"Where's the cloak, then?"
"Our focus must be on the location of Harry Potter, rather than his cloak," Dumbledore argued.
"That's easy," said Snape. "Potter is too inept to successfully run away on his own…he's wherever that Granger bint, the Veela and Bill Weasley brought him."
Dumbledore raised his voice above the protests.
"I would like to point out that none of the four appear to have packed for travel, as they left behind wardrobes filled with clothing."
"New robes can be bought easily enough," Snape countered.
"I also note that Miss Granger's familiar was spotted this morning at the Burrow. Any suggestion that she left without an intention to return would have to explain why she abandoned the half-kneazle."
"Where's the brat's owl, then?"
Dumbledore shrugged. "Delivering a letter, perhaps? Regardless, it is difficult for me to believe that William and Fleur actively supported Mr. Potter's escape…if, indeed, this is an escape attempt."
"Escape?" Fred asked George.
"Well at least he's calling it like it really is," the twin whispered.
"Why do you think that Fleur and Bill weren't involved?" Shacklebolt asked.
"Because of the oaths that they took when they formally joined the Order earlier this year," Dumbledore explained. "They swore on their magic to support the Order's goals and mission, and our main mission for these past several months has been to secure young Mr. Potter's safety."
Arthur nodded in agreement. "After all of the additions and improvements made to the Burrow's wards…the only place safer for Harry would be here at Hogwarts."
"Or Gringotts," Shacklebolt reasoned. "After all, that's where Bill and Fleur work, right?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Remember their oaths to the Order, as well as the fact that we have yet to determine which side the Goblin Nation has taken."
Kingsley shook his head. "Aren't those the same oaths that would have compelled them to at least contact you once this meeting was announced?"
"They may have not been in a position to respond…or even to receive the message," Dumbledore replied. "Recall that a fail-safe delay was added to the oaths to avoid Severus from receiving a patronus message at an inopportune time."
"Yeah, like when he's kissing the Dark Lord's arse," Fred whispered into George's ear.
"Could be that they can't respond because they're dead or worse…captured by Death Eaters," Mad-Eye noted.
Molly gasped at the suggestion and reflexively glanced at her clock. And then she remembered that she couldn't trust what the clock was showing and she cried twice as loudly as she would have otherwise.
Kingsley shook his head and asked, "So what do you think happened, Albus?"
Dumbledore stroked his beard as he considered the completeness of his response.
"I think that at present time, Mr. Potter is in good health and within a safe location, wherever that may be."
"How can you be so sure?" Molly asked.
The Headmaster held up his one good hand to ward off her verbal challenge.
"I know this to be true because I have devices that monitor those conditions, the same way that your family clock keeps you informed of your family's health and well-being."
"Yeah, but she said her clock doesn't work anymore," Dung noted.
"Nevertheless, my devices are working just fine, and they are beyond the reach of anyone wishing to meddle with their functions," said Dumbledore. "I can also report that the wards that protect Harry's family on Privet Drive are still at full strength, which would not be the case had Mr. Potter passed on."
Snape sneered, "So the brat is fat, happy and alive. I say we leave him that way and wash our hands of the bother."
"That will not be happening," said Dumbledore.
"So how does Harry's present health and well-being figure into your idea of what happened last night?" asked Lupin.
"Yes, yes…I was coming to that," Dumbledore said. "My preferred hypothesis, which I must say could well change as more information becomes available, is this…I suspect that Mr. Potter very recently discovered, quite probably with Miss Granger's assistance, that there were tracking charms placed on his person. Working under the mistaken assumption that these tracking charms had been applied by his enemies, Mr. Potter feared that his presence at the Burrow would put his friends and adopted family in harm's way. Harry and Miss Granger therefore decided to address the situation by removing the tracking charms from his person, then distributing these charms to various locations across Britain and beyond."
Kingsley scratched his bald head as he considered this proposal. He then asked, "So how do Diggle, Bill and Fleur fit into all of that?"
"Ah, well…I understand that poor Dedalus was found with an opened flask of heart medicine by his bedside. I suspect that he experienced a heart attack while on sentry duty. Once he realized that he needed that medication, Dedalus apparated home, but unfortunately died before either he could take the medication or before the medication could take effect. It goes without saying that Mr. Potter and Miss Granger would have had a far easier time crossing the ward line without an Order member monitoring that boundary."
"And Bill and Fleur?" Molly asked.
Dumbedore nodded.
"Fleur shared a bedroom with Miss Granger, did she not?" he asked. "It stands to reason that she was the one who discovered that the two teens had left the Burrow. She then woke Bill and the two of them went off in search of Mr. Potter and his friend."
"Why wouldn't they have let us know before they took off?" Arthur wondered.
The Headmaster replied, "You mentioned earlier today that Bill and Fleur have become good friends with Harry and Hermione…they may have wanted to bring them back home on their own, so as to limit any repercussions. There was, after all, a birthday party planned for today? Or perhaps they felt that time was of the essence."
"There wasn't enough time to wake Arthur and me, but there was time enough to empty my stationery cabinet?" Molly asked.
"That could have been Harry and Hermione's doing," offered Tonks. "Wasn't she on the receiving end of at least one of your howlers?"
Molly scoffed, "I doubt that they could have gotten past my security charms."
"I don't know…those two are pretty resourceful," said Lupin.
"I suppose they meddled with the clock as well, then?"
Arthur suggested, "Maybe Bill or Fleur altered the clock on their own, before they discovered that Harry and Hermione were missing. You know that neither was all that pleased with your latest changes."
Fred Weasley, who had been very busy trying not to smirk at all of the back-and-forth, spoke out about something that he did take issue with.
"Headmaster, you say that you suspect that Harry found tracking charms and assumed the worst…what specifically do you suspect? That there were tracking charms, or that Harry discovered the tracking charms that you know for a fact existed?"
"Fred Weasley!" Molly barked. "You will show the Headmaster proper respect!"
Dumbledore raised his one good hand as if to ward off Molly's volume.
"Now, now…it is a perfectly reasonable question to ask," he insisted. He turned towards Fred and said, "The latter is a more accurate characterization."
"You placed tracking charms on Harry?" George asked.
"I'm sure that he had a perfectly valid reason for doing so!" Molly snapped.
George Weasley was skeptical when Dumbledore announced his need for Order support in tracking down Harry's location.
"Wouldn't it be easier for whoever cast the tracking charm to track it down themselves?" he asked. "Thought that was how the bloody spell worked."
"Language!" Molly chided.
"It is nevertheless a valid observation," said Dumbledore. "The specific wand that is used to cast a tracking charm can be used to guide the spell caster's apparition to the targeted location. Unfortunately, this only works when there is a single charm to track down."
Mad-Eye Moody barked out a laugh. "No, it still works when more than one tracking charm is cast…only becomes a problem when the tracking charms are in different locations."
"Why's that?" Dung asked.
McGonagal let out a sigh. "Because the wand would guide you to two places at the same time and you'd splinch yourself, you daft git!"
"I assume that you've cast more than one tracking charm on the boy, Headmaster?" Kingsley asked.
Dumbledore nodded. "More than seventy, actually."
"SEVENTY?" several Order members exclaimed.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Tonks asked.
"Language, Nymphadora!" Molly barked.
"Oh, mind your own business," Tonks barked. "Not like you've got a hand with my name on it spinning around your surveillance device!"
"It's a clock, not a surveillance device!"
"If we can get back on point?" Kingsley asked. He turned to Dumbledore and said, "I think we're all interested in the logic behind that many trackers, Albus."
The Headmaster stroked his beard as he weighed the appropriate level of clarity in his response. His reluctant conclusion was that he would have to be far more straightforward than he wanted to be.
"It is fairly common knowledge that tracking charms can't be applied on living flesh," he eventually explained. "That knowledge is typically applied when a witch or wizard suspects that they might have been the target of a tracking charm."
"Yes, yes…we all know that it's standard policy to strip down naked to clear yourself of tracking charms," Mad-Eye said with a sigh. "It's a right pain in the arse to pop out my eye and unfasten my leg, but…."
"CONSTANT VIGILENCE!" Fred and George shouted in tandem.
"Damn right!" the retired auror said. "Of course, most witches and wizard are too stupid to do a complete check." Made-Eye turned to Dumbledore and asked, "More than seventy means you did more than his fingernails and toenails…you charmed his hair as well?"
The Headmaster shook his head. "Only hair, actually."
"You charmed his hair seventy different times?" Molly asked.
"No, I charmed seventy different strands of hair one time each," Dumbledore replied. "One needs to account for losses due to shedding…this, for example, explains the locations of the four tracking-charmed hairs that Arthur and I discovered this morning at the Burrow."
"What…the brat forgot to pack his hair brush?" Snape quipped.
"Not likely to find one of these on a hair brush," the Weasley Patriarch muttered.
"Arthur?" the Headmaster asked warily.
"What?" the red-haired wizard replied. "You think that they aren't going to figure it out for themselves if you're about to send us off to hunt these tracking charms down?"
"Oh, shite! He didn't!" George muttered.
"LANGUAGE!" Molly shouted.
"No, I think that accurately sums up this entire fiasco," Arthur told his wife.
"Oh my God!" Tonks gasped. "Please don't tell me that all of these charmed hairs are shorter and curlier than the ones growing out of Harry's head!"
Arthur snorted. "Would you rather hear that we found one hair buried under his bed linens, and another inside a pair of boxer shorts in his laundry bin?"
"What about the other two?" Fred asked.
"Never you mind, young man!" Molly hissed (not eager to disclose that a black hair had also been discovered within a small hidden shrine in her daughter's bedroom).
"Enough!" Dumbledore shouted. "These distracting conversations aren't helping us at all!"
"Unless anyone is interested in the truth," Remus muttered.
"And why do you doubt that the Headmaster wouldn't have told us that truth in regular order?" Molly spat.
"Past experience?" Tonks offered.
"I WILL HAVE ORDER!" Dumbledore thundered.
He waited a few seconds to ensure that he had everyone's complete attention.
"Harry Potter's safety is an end that justified these means!" he declared. "Yes, I applied more than seventy tracking charms to Mr. Potter's pubic hairs. But there were perfectly valid reasons for these decisions!"
The office sat silent for a few seconds, before Remus dared question the Headmaster.
"Are you going to share those reasons with us, Albus?" he asked. "Or are we to once again trust your infallibility?"
The Headmaster gritted his teeth, then gritted them some more when he realized that he needed the Order's cooperation more than their blind obedience.
"As Alastor already intimated, the fact that fingernails and strands of hair can hold a tracking charm is often overlooked. Clothes may be discarded, and a wand taken away, but Harry's hair and nails are going to stay with him."
"Right up to the point where he trims his nails or gets a haircut," Kingsley noted.
"Which is exactly why I avoided charming his fingernails or the hairs on his head," Dumbledore retorted. "According to my research, pubic hairs have a two to four-year average lifetime, which is much longer than other types of body hair."
Fred drew a laugh from his brother when he whispered into his ear.
"Something to share with the rest of us?" Molly asked.
Fred just shook his head. "Sorry, Mum, just asking George if he had ever had a talk with Harry about manscaping."
"What in Merlin's name is manscaping?" Arthur asked.
"You really don't want to know, Arthur," Tonks quipped.
Dumbledore walked over to the wall of headmaster portraits and pulled down his tracking charm map. He quickly explained what the map did, and the meaning of the dots that were bounding against its edges. He noted the absence of a spot hovering over Hermione Granger's hometown of Weybridge, then outlined his plan to dispatch members of the Order to each of the marked locations that were still within Magical Britain. Their goal was to search for any evidence that might lead them to Harry Potter's location.
"Kingsley?"
"Yes, Headmaster?"
"I want you to focus on the Midlands...there's a tracking charm in Worcestershire, and two more in Staffordshire."
"Where, specifically?" the Auror asked.
Dumbledore pressed the Elder Wand's tip against three dots on the map, and leaned forward so that he could read the fine print within the text boxes that popped up. He nodded to himself as he read out, "Flash Bottom, North Piddle, and Cockintake."
The laughter that erupted from the Order's ranks was echoed by the amused portraits hanging against the wall.
"You're having me on!" Tonks declared.
"I assure you that I am not," Dumbledore replied. "These are the locations of three of the trackers."
"But they can't be real places, can they Headmaster?" asked Molly.
"Of course they can, my good lady," Albus reassured her. "I once spent a delightful afternoon in Cockintake."
"A little too much information," Remus snickered.
Fred nodded. "I bet the locals bent over backwards to ensure that the visit was delightful."
"More likely bent forward," George quipped.
"I don't understand your meaning," said the Headmaster.
Shacklebolt shook his head dismissively. "I think what they're suggesting that Potter might be having a joke at our expense."
"How so?"
"By…well, let's see where are these other dots are located?"
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Mundungus, why don't you take care of the three tracking charms that have found homes in Ireland?" he suggested. The Headmaster then pressed his wand tip against those mapped dots and said, "That would be… the villages of Drumahoe, Ballsbridge, and Bastardstown."
"HA HA HA HA HA!"
Even Snape was finding it difficult not to snicker like a primary school lad.
"More evidence that the arrogant brat is trying to play with us," he declared.
Albus ignored his minion's opinion and pressed on.
"Fred and George?"
"Absolutely not!" Molly interjected. "I'm not letting either of my boys out of my sight until I get my clock sorted out."
"My apologies, Molly, but we are short members at the moment, and the Order's needs must take priority over your understandable concerns," Dumbledore declared.
"No!"
"I am afraid so," Albus replied. He turned towards Fred and George and said, "I need one of you to return to your new storefront in Diagon Alley, in case Mr. Potter tries to contact you there."
"And the other?" asked Arthur.
Dumbledore replied, "Out of deference to Molly's concerns, the other son will be assigned those locations closest to home, as it were." The aging wizard then found three dots located within the West Country and added, "Those locations being Shitterton, Scratchy Bottom and Crapstone."
Fred and George giggled the entire time that they tried to establish who got to pick their assignment with a game of rock-parchment-wand.
"Enough of these English audacities," McGonagall announced. "Just give me the Scottish locations and I'll be off."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Fair enough, Minerva…fair enough." He then turned towards the map, touched the four stationary dots located north of Hadrian's Line, and smiled.
"Off you go, then…to Barefolds, Boghead, and Bladda. And if he's not in any of those locations, then check out Orkney's Twatt."
And there was much laughing, and snickering, and frivolities.
The laughter only got louder when Tonks was sent off to Lick Fold, Titty Hill, and Nether Wallop, followed by Remus Lupin's dispatching to Fanny Barks, Bloody Bush, and Wet Wang. While Molly was allowed to return home in case Harry and Hermione did return there, Arthur was tasked with visiting Clap Hill, Pratt's Bottom and Thong. Mad-Eye volunteered to visit the Welsh locations (Pontarddulais, Llanfrynach, and Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobw) that weren't as funny-sounding, but far less pronounceable. Snape insisted on being assigned the three locations that appeared to be the most likely to be Harry Potter's location, given that they were all in "normal" locations within Metropolitan London.
Aside from the dots that were bouncing against the map edges, the only remaining places to investigate were Hogwarts and Heathrow. Dumbledore suggested that Harry would at least be safe if he was hiding within Hogwarts, so he moved their present location to the bottom of a prioritized list. He told the others that he would find the four separate tracking charms in Heathrow, then (if need be) return to Hogwarts and work on expanding the margins of his Anglo-centric map.
A decision was made for the Order to reconvene later in the day to compare notes and take on new assignments. Molly volunteered to host that meeting at the Burrow. Most of the Order members had already been planning to be there to attend Harry's birthday party. While "the very naughty boy" wouldn't be getting his party after what he'd done (even if he was brought "home"), Molly had already bought the food and drink, and didn't want it to go to waste.
Fred and George thought their mum's comments about naughty Harry not getting his cake were funnier than any of the place names that were part of the Wild Hair Chase.
oo00OO00oo
12:55pm CET (11:55am CET)
Cortex Gaztelua
Bill was doing a poor job of trying to beat down the content grin that was tugging at the corners of his lips.
"I can't believe that we just did that," he whined, as Fleur and he walked out the fortress's front door.
"And I can't believe that you are complaining about having fabulous sex with your fiancée," she countered.
"But the goblins…"
"The risk of being caught by them was just as thrilling as the thought of being caught by your mother, no?" Fleur asked.
"It's not that I am complaining, mind you," said Bill. "It's just…I'm more afraid of their halberds than her howlers. And what's up with the water shags, by the way?"
"Is that a complaint?"
"Of course not," Bill countered. "Just curious, after getting our knees dirtied during yesterday's outdoor shags..."
Fleur giggled. "We are making the tour of elemental sex," she decided. "Yesterday was Earth Day, today is Water Day…"
"So tomorrow it's Air Day and broomstick sex?" Bill joked.
Fleur shook her head. "I do not wish to risk the splinters."
Bill let out a laugh as the couple crossed the ward line.
"You managed to avoid splinters last night, and if you ask me it sounds a lot safer than having sex on Fire Day."
Fleur squeezed her fiance's hand. "Really? You do know that I am a part-Veela, right?"
"I thought you only hurled fireballs when you are angry?" Bill asked.
The French witch gave her lover's hand another squeeze. "So the solution is for you not to anger me in bed, n'est-ce pas?"
Bill responded to what he was going to assume was just a joke with some nervous laughter. That laughter carried into the ethereal plane as the couple apparated to Chateau Delacour.
oo00OO00oo
12:05pm GMT (1:05pm CET)
Charing Cross Road, London
Severus Snape put a London cabbie's knowledge of "The Knowledge" to the test when he flagged down a taxi travelling down Charing Cross and climbed inside.
"Take me to Eric Clarke Lane," the potions master instructed.
"Eric Clarke Lane, Sir?" the cab driver asked politely. "Do you mean Clark Street in White Chapel?"
Snape glanced down at the piece of parchment in his hand and scowled.
"I meant exactly what I said, driver…Eric Clarke Lane."
"Sorry, Gov'nor…it's just that there isn't much call for that destination."
"Are you capable of transporting me to that street or not?"
"Certainly, Sir…it's a bit of a drive from here, but I'll get you there straightaway."
The Hogwarts potions master nodded curtly, then leaned back into the seat as the cab began to wind his way towards East London.
Most every other member of the Order of the Phoenix had flagged down the Knight Bus in Hogsmeade and bombarded Stan Shunpike with their odd and off-beat destinations. Severus Snape had no desire to suffer their company, and no stomach for the Knight Bus's mad-cap careening as it rocketed from one destination to the next. What he did have, however, was passing familiarity with Muggle methods of transportation, and a large roll of pound notes (courtesy of the headmaster's school slush fund). Which was why he had chosen to floo to the Leakey Cauldron, exit out the Muggle side onto Charing Cross road, and hail a Muggle taxi cab.
Snape knew that the taxi would be driven by a driver who was required to memorize the locations of 25,000 different streets within Metropolitan London, just to get his hack license. Eric Clarke Lane was located within the electoral area of Beckton in East London, and was one of the 25,000 street locations included within "The Knowledge," so after a half-hour long journey that covered roughly 15km the taxi driver turned off Royal Docks Road and politely asked his passenger where he would like to be dropped off.
Snape looked out the windows and rolled his eyes. The narrow two-lane paved road was bordered on either side by metal fences and unkempt vegetation. Looking through the gaps between the fence slats, the wizard saw ugly metal and concrete industrial buildings, electric lines, networks of above-ground metal pipes, and surface parking lots. But there were no breaks in the fencing, or visible points of access to these structures from the road that they were now on.
Lacking any more detailed location information from Dumbledore's tracking map, Snape ordered the driver to keep driving. The views didn't change over the next few hundred meters, until the lane ended at a T and the driver informed his passenger that they had just covered the entire length of Eric Clarke Lane.
Snape nodded, then cast the Confundus charm that allowed him to skip out on paying the cab fare. It was a little risky to use magic in such a non-magical area, but the potions master reasoned that he would still need to use magic to track down Potter's pubes. And the Ministry's monitors were no more likely to dispatch aurors to investigate a handful of low-powered spells than they were to investigate just the one.
There was a rank smell in the air…a stench that was pungent even in comparison with some of the more noisome potions ingredients that Snape dealt with on a daily basis. So he didn't even wait for the taxi cab to turn the corner before he cast the detection charm that better refined the location of Harry Potter's pubic hair. Snape's wand tip jerked south, through a metal fence, and towards a low-walled partially-buried storage tank. With little thought or caution the Half-Blood Prince apparated towards the tank.
The magical tracking map that Albus Dumbledore had created to monitor Harry Potter's location was charmed to identify the closest Muggle street address. It was magical enough to keep track of new street constructions and street name changes, but not magical enough to know whether the closest Muggle street location was actually the most appropriate street location. Had it been, the map would have directed Snape to the front entrance of the Beckon Sewage Works, rather than to his present location on the far side of the 250-acre facility. Had Snape been directed towards the main entrance of the largest sewage treatment plant in Britain, he might have recognized the facility for what it was (and what it did), and been a bit more cautious about where he chose to use line-of-sight apparition. He also might have been a little more cautious about using apparition in the first place.
The apparition spell was developed with a certain number of built-in safety precautions. The spell wouldn't work, for example, if the landing zone was over water, or inside solid rock. But there were limits to the magical fail-safe mechanisms…while the spell wouldn't deposit a witch or wizard into the middle of a full coal car, it would allow that witch or wizard to apparate into the direct path of the locomotive that was pulling a coal-filled car down the tracks. The spell also wasn't smart enough to know whether the solid ground at the target site was solid enough to support a witch or wizard's weight. And this proved to be Snape's undoing when he apparated into one of the sewage plant's many settling tanks. This one tank was filled with 94% solids. But the solids were shite, and the shite wasn't nearly compact or dense enough to hold firm when the potions master popped onto the top of the pile.
Snape sank.