Chapter 16: Joyeux anniversaire (Part 3)
So why wasn't this story marked complete years ago?
Because runaway trains are hard to stop. Because I've always wanted to do a Drunk!McGonagall scene where she regresses into a thick brogue. And because there's a small chance these last few chapters will lead into an action/adventure stand-alone sequel.
Scottish translations courtesy of scotranslate-you-know-com. I've since learned that the entries I used were a mishmash of Lowland and Highland dialects, and I'm certain to have buggered up the brogue, though, so apologies in advance. English dialogue written in italics means the character is actually speaking French. French dialogue written in plain text means that I'm testing the limits of Google Translate.
Trigger/tiger alert: There is an innovative mock execution in this chapter, and the NAC spymaster is a nasty bastard who'd feel right at home working within the black sites of his Muggle counterparts.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
oo00OO00oo
4:30pm GMT (5:30pm CET)
Pant-y-felin Road
Pontarddulais, Wales
A chuckle escaped from Mad-Eye Moody's lips as he looked up towards the transformers that were mounted on top of the Muggle power line pole.
"A bit more nasty than naughty, this one," he said to himself. "Can only image what would have happened if a duffer like Dung had been assigned this location."
The retired Auror then took a moment to do just that…to imagine Mundungus Fletcher being electrocuted as he tried to retrieve a tracking-charmed pubic hair from the uninsulated power line.
That thought brought a wide smile to the wizard's lips.
That thought was then interrupted by a message delivered by Fred Weasley's patronus.
"Some of us are gathering at our place for tea, if you're interested," a silvery-white baboon stated, using Fred's voice.
The baboon patronus jumped onto the power line pole and began to climb. Mad-eye kept his one "good" eye firmly fixed on the lingering message. This precaution proved useful when Fred's baboon decided to hurl some silvery-white feces towards the retired Auror.
Thinking that he needed a drink (and also needed to return the favor and hurl a few jinxes towards Fred Weasley), Mad-Eye cast an Accio. He then cast a second spell that incinerated the tracking-charmed short hair in mid-flight, before apparating to Diagon Alley.
oo00OO00oo
Canadian High Commission
MacDonald House, London
The wizard who ran NAC spy operations in Britain was one of the very few people who didn't need to make an appointment with the wizard who ran NAC security operations in Britain. Bucktooth's assistant had left for the day and his office door was ajar; the security chief either didn't know or didn't care that somebody like Hector Gutierrez could hear the tail end of his telephone conversation with his American wardmistress.
The Mexican wizard waited until that conversation ended before he knocked on the door and poked his head through the opening.
"Missing something, Billy?" he teased.
"Yeah, any patience for asses like you," the security chief replied, as he waved Hector inside. "What'cha got for me?"
"Some good news," the spymaster replied, as pulled a bottle of mescal and two glasses from an expanded coat pocket. He poured relatively modest measures of alcohol into each glass, pushed one across Bucktooth's desk, and said, "We found your missing flag."
Billie looked at the drink glass, then looked up at Hector as the Mexican wizard plopped down onto an office chair.
"Okay, so what's the bad news?"
"Must it always be a good news/bad news situation?" Hector asked.
"No, you're right," said Billy. "You usually only bring me bad news."
Hector shrugged his shoulders, and said, "But it's always bad news that you need to hear."
"So?"
The Mexican wizard took a sip from his glass and said, "We found the missing flag in France."
"Shit!" Billy swore. "So our thief was magical."
"Our thief was also a house-elf," Hector added. "Might want to check your ward schemes."
Bucktooth looked down at the mescal in his glass, and made it magically disappear with a few quick swallows.
"Look on the bright side," Hector suggested. "We also know which house-elf infiltrated the embassy, and why."
"And?"
"And he's not a threat. And I'm going to give you access to the agent that obtained that information," Hector replied. He drained his glass, then added, "He should be here within the half-hour."
Bucktooth shook his head and sighed. "That gives me time to meet to my ward monitors, at least."
Hector refilled his colleague's glass and said, "We also found out why Snape tried to break inside the embassy."
"Related to the missing flag?"
Hector nodded his head. "So how is our death-eating friend doing?"
"Haven't checked lately, to be honest," Bucktooth replied. "We were able to swap his arse out for the tiger, but doing the mending and desplinching is pretty low on my priority list right now."
The NAC spymaster's eyes lit up. "You know, I have a few free minutes in my schedule…"
Bucktooth nodded. "He's all yours…and their holding cell is tiger-free now. Throw what's left of him in there, if you think of it?"
Hector smiled. "When have I not cleaned up after play time?" he coyly asked.
oo00OO00oo
Diagon Alley
Practicing what he always preached, Mad-Eye Moody spent the first five minutes within the shadows of Diagon Alley, on the alert for possible threats. The only person who had taken note of that arrival and tracked his movements was the one person who he had wanted and expected to take notice…the wizard who was looking down from his observation post on the rooftop of the Weasley twins' joke shop.
Moody would have awarded George Weasley full marks for his vigilance, were it not for the iced drink that the on-duty wizard appeared to be holding in his hand.
The retired Auror crossed the street and entered the joke shop. George's girlfriend/employee Chastity gave Moody a friendly wave from behind the counter, and told him that everyone else was taking their tea on the roof. After chastising her lack of vigilance, he thanked the young witch for the information, and walked into the back room, where the stairs that led up to the rooftop were located.
He found most of the participants in Dumbledore's wild hair chase gathered on the multipurpose rooftop patio/observation deck. Fred Weasley was standing behind a wet bar, pouring unhealthy measures of gin into an ice-filled pitcher. His girlfriend Verity was sitting on a bar stool, while his brother was on the other side of the roof, sipping a drink as he watched the street below. The other Order members were sitting quietly in between, on outdoor furniture…except for Minerva McGonagall, who was sitting not so quietly.
"Whaur hae ye been, Mad-Eye?" she called out boisterously. "Grab a bevvy an' gie yerself ower haur!"
Moody stared at the Transfiguration professor for a few seconds, then walked over to the wet bar.
"What are you smiling about?" he asked the bartender.
"McGonagall," Fred replied, "The more she drinks, the more her brogue comes out…I've never seen her boozing it up like this." He then thought back on one of their more brilliant pranks, and his smile grew even wider.
"At least not intentionally," he qualified.
Mad-Eye shook his head and said, "You can take the witch out of the Highlands, but you can never take the Highlands out of the witch." He then asked, "I thought the invitation was for teatime?"
Fred shrugged as he held up the gin bottle and grabbed the bottle of mixer in his other hand.
"It was," the red-haired wizard claimed. "We've got both kinds of 'T'…Tanqueray and tonic!"
Moody chuckled at the joke, then instructed Fred not to spoil his spirits with any manner of fruit, ice, or bubbly dilution. He got three thick fingers of straight gin in return.
"Much obliged, son," Mad-Eye said, before draining his glass and pushing it back.
While the younger wizard refilled that glass, Moody did a quick head count. Among those who had been sent on the tracking charm hunt, Arthur Weasley, Dung Fletcher, and Severus Snape were missing.
"So, did I complete your invite list, or are you still waiting on the others?" he asked.
"What do you think?"
Moody didn't bother to give the obvious answer as he carried his second glass of straight "tea" over towards the main group and joined the conversation.
Everyone had completed their assigned tasks, and while they certainly had seen some hairs, nobody had spotted Harry Potter's hide. Or Hermione's, Bill's, or Fleur's hide, for that matter. Some of the destinations had been harder to locate than others simply because the rude-sounding street signs kept getting stolen by cheeky tourists. And then there were the specific locations of the tracking-charmed hairs… all seemingly chosen with an eye for generating a mess, or an inconvenience, or the risk of injury.
There was a fair bit of anger about the situation, but nobody was blaming Harry. They all reasoned that the job would have required apparition skills. Since Fleur wasn't thought to know much about British geography, Bill was considered the most likely suspect, which gave Fred and George one more reason to drink heavily (as they considered the prank to directly challenge their reputations as the jokesters within their family).
The question of how even Bill was able to find so many places with naughty names was answered when Verity ran downstairs to retrieve a copy of their joke map of Muggle Britain. While she was away, Mad-Eye yelled at the others for talking about Order business in front of Fred's girlfriend.
The push back was strong.
"Whit urr thae secrits ye talking aboot, ya pure mad dafty?" a very tipsy Highland witch demanded. "We didnae teel th' lassie anytin oae import… Lik' th' fact that th' heid bummer of th' Order is a bawherr nonce."
Remus leaned towards Tonks and quietly asked, "What's a bawherr nonce?"
The pink-haired Auror shrugged. "If that doesn't mean paedophile, it should."
"Minerva does have a point," Hestia Jones noted. "We were all laughing too hard this morning to really challenge Dumbledore about what he did."
Shacklebolt wondered out loud if their Wild Hair Chase that afternoon had actually been consistent with the Order's main mission of supporting and protecting Harry. Lupin thought that it was too late to tell, since they had all collected their assigned targets. Moody disagreed, noting that they there were still several spots left that had been bouncing against the edges of Dumbledore's tracking map.
Tonks jokingly asked if there was a town in France called "Mont Tatas," which earned her some grief from McGonagall.
"Ach, ya heifer…ye speaking French lik a mingin' German," she chided. "Titties are changing tae nénés doon thare."
That their former Head of House had just said the word "titties" in their company caused Fred and George to snicker like the school boys they might still have been.
But the general mood of the others quickly returned to baseline somber after McGonagall's slurred and salty language lesson. Nobody was eager to continue their search out past the edges of Dumbledore's map, and there was even less excitement over being oath-compelled to follow the orders of someone who would place tracking charms on a minor's pubic hairs. They all agreed Voldemort had it out for Harry Potter, and agreed that the boy deserved their support, but they were beginning to doubt that they could provide that support following Dumbledore's orders, and figured that they now had zero credibility with a teenaged wizard who had apparently decided that the safest thing that he could do was to run away from their protection.
Mad-Eye shook his head, let out a deep breath, and rose from his patio chair.
"Enough of this lying around shit," he loudly declared.
"Weel, whit kin we dae, ye moron?" asked McGonagall.
"War's over, Mad-Eye," Shacklebolt agreed. "Dumbledore dropped the big one."
Moody turned towards the bald Auror and barked, "What? Over? Did you say over?"
"Aye, well and truly slecherered," Minerva agreed.
"Bollocks!" Mad-Eye bellowed. "Nothing's over until we decide it is. Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell, no!"
Tonks turned towards Lupin and asked, "Germans?"
Remus shrugged. "Forget it, he's rolling."
"And it ain't over now," Mad-Eye continued. "Cause when the going gets tough... the tough get going! Who's with me? Let's go! Come on!"
Mad-Eye turned on his bad leg and hobbled towards the stairs. He stopped short when his magical eye failed to spot anyone making an effort to follow. Then he turned to face the others and scowled as he slowly walked back.
"What the fuck happened to the Order that I used to know?" he spat. "Where's the spirit? Where's the guts? Huh?"
Moody's magical eye seemed to be directly staring at each Order member at the same time.
"This could be the greatest night of our lives," he declared. "But you're gonna let it be the worst."
The retired Auror walked over to Minerva's side and adopted a whiny, feminine tone of voice.
"Oh, but we're afraid to go with you, Mad-Eye," he mimicked. "We might get in a wee spot of trouble." Moody then switched over to a full-throated roar and shouted, "Well just kiss my arse from now on!"
"Not me! I won't take this! Dumbledore is dead to me! Meddling Molly….Dead to me! Snape?"
"Dead!" George interjected. "Mad-Eye is right. Psychotic…but absolutely right. We've got to make things right with Harry, and make a clean break from the pervy bastard."
"Absolutely," Fred agreed, as he walked up to his brother and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "Now, we could fight with conventional weapons, but that could take years, and cost millions of lives."
George shook his head dismissively, and said, "No, no, no…in this case, I think we have to go all out."
Fred nodded as they jumped into Twinspeak.
"I think this situation absolutely requires…"
"A really futile…
"And stupid gesture..."
"Be done on somebody's part."
The twins turned towards each other and shook hands.
"And we're just the guys to do it!"
oo00OO00oo
US Embassy, London
Severus Snape's focus on the toy tiger was broken when Hector Gutierrez breezed into the interrogation room with a paper-wrapped package under his arm.
"Hey Snape, I've brought something for you," his captor said, as he pushed the toy tiger to one side and placed the package on the table.
The potions master held his tongue as the spymaster casually ripped open the white butcher paper and unwrapped two slightly-chewed buttocks.
"Ewww, smells like potions ingredients past their expiration dates," Hector whined, as he waved his hand in front of his nose. The Mexican wizard arranged the two rump roasts on the table so that Snape was looking down the length of his splinched butt crack. They were no longer mirror images; the left cheek had punctured teeth marks, while the right had a set of bloody claw scrapes down the side.
It was a bit surreal for Snape to look at the open wounds on his disembodied arse, and not feel any associated pain from those wounds.
It was really surreal, though, for Snape to watch Gutierrez as he picked up the toy tiger, and began to play.
The Mexican wizard roared and growled as he marched the miniature tiger along the table, as if toy was going to climb up onto the cheeks and do a little dance. But Hector stopped short, and spat on the slightly-chewed flesh.
"Seventeen," he growled. "Seventeen innocent North American Confederation witches and wizards murdered by Voldemort and putos like you the last time around. And at least twice as many North American Mundanes…how much of their blood did you spill, you stinking pile of shit?"
Snape stared back at the Mexican wizard without reply.
"What's the matter, you fucking bastard?" Hector barked. "Cat got your tongue?"
The NAC spymaster glanced down at the toy tiger and chuckled.
"Here, let me help," he offered.
A spell forced Snape's mouth open wide enough to stuff the toy tiger inside. Gutierrez then conjured a piece of Muggle duct tape, and covered the struggling prisoner's mouth.
Snape's eyes bulged when his captor pointed a wand towards his face. Those eyes closed tightly when Hector started to cast a Finite spell. The potions master mentally prepared for a messy death by expanding tiger.
He was rather surprised, therefore, when the plastic toy expanded not into a six-foot long tiger, but into a six-inch long cylinder that lodged against the back of his throat.
The NAC wizard looked on with disbelief.
"I don't even want to know why you don't have a gag reflex," he muttered.
The Mexican wizard looked up at a wall clock and said, "Oh, look…time flies when you are having fun."
"I must apologize, Senor," Hector continued, as he ripped the duct tape off of Snape's face. "There is not enough time to both heal the ass wounds and reattach your ass…what a shame!"
Snape's eyes narrowed, but he maintained his stoic silence as he worked to dislodge the Muggle felt marker from his throat.
"So I will give you the choice," said Hector. "Do you want me to fix the splinching, or fix the bite and claw marks?"
Snape glared.
Hector shrugged.
"Or, I can wrap it all back up and throw it in the bin," Hector stated. "You are a potions master, no? Can you tell me if they make a Butt-Regro potion?"
Snape considered his options. The bite and claw marks were going to be incredibly painful once the two cheeks were reattached. But at least he would be whole again.
He spat out the marking pen, made his choice, then hissed in pain once he was (relatively) together.
Hector was charitable enough to magically staunch the blood loss, and to levitate Snape's shorts back into place.
Charitable, that is, to anyone else who would have been exposed to the sight of a naked Snape wearing bloodied boxers as he was dragged from the interrogation room into his temporary prison cell.
Snape caged.
Snape enraged.
oo00OO00oo
Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, Diagon Alley
It wasn't immediately clear to the small group of disgruntled Order members how the WWW's latest marketing device was going to help them do something futile or stupid. At least not until Verity opened the promotional calendar's cover and showed them the month of August…and even then the connection was tenuous.
To be fair, it was rather difficult to look for deeper connections when your eyes were focused on the magically-animated image of a blue-skinned naked witch wiggling her arse.
Mad-Eye shook his head in disbelief. "A Wheezes nudie calendar…why am I not surprised?"
McGongall was just as incredulous as the younger witch flipped through the pages. A disparaging comment about the "hing oots" that had modeled for the calendar was half-way off the tip of her alcohol-lubricated tongue before she pulled it back. After all, most of these nude (or nearly nude) witches were former students…and two of the calendar pin-up girls were standing right in front of her. So McGonagall fell back onto a far safer tack and harangued Fred and George.
"Whit wid yer mither think aboot this filth?" she demanded.
George took offense. "It's not filth…it's art!" he insisted.
"Art mah bahookie !" Minerva scoffed. "Ah dinnae wantae be anywhere near ye naughty jimmies whin yer mither's howler arrives."
Tonks laughed. "Then it's a good thing that somebody had the foresight to pinch Molly's stash of howler paper, isn't it?"
Fred and George's comparisons to a Muggle calendar produced by an Italian tire company did little to sway McGonagall's opinion of its propriety. She turned towards Verity and Chastity and asked, "Did thae twa miscreants force ye tae pose naked?"
Verity shook her head. "Not at all, Professor. All of the models were paid…"
"Except for us," her sister noted.
"Not helping!" Verity hissed. In a more normal tone of voice, she added, "And none of the models were forced to do anything or wearing anything they were uncomfortable with."
"And it was our idea, actually," Chastity added. "The boys didn't have anything to do with this calendar."
"Except for agreeing to the concept and paying the models and the printer," said Verity.
"Ah dinnae hawp ye," Minerva muttered.
"What, you think that we would let our boyfriends be there for the picture taking, or sort through the pictures afterwards?" Chastity asked. "It was a witches-only production."
"For a wand-wanking wizard-only market," Hestia chimed in with a laugh.
Tonks shook her head as she walked up to Chastity and draped an arm over her shoulder. "Oh, I wouldn't say that…I'm no witch's witch but don't you think that Miss August's blue bum is rather fetching?"
"And it's not all that different than a mail-order catalog, either," Verity noted. "That picture showcases one of our Crayola Cremes."
"Crayola Cremes?" Tonks asked.
"They come eight to a box," Fred offered. "Each one changes your skin a different color."
Verity nodded in agreement as she flipped to the February page and pointed towards her own animated image. She was dressed in a pink sheer teddy, clutching a heart-shaped box of chocolates to her ample chest.
"And look at mine," she insisted. "The shield-charmed negligee and milk chocolate mood enhancers are straight out of our WonderWitch catalog!"
McGonagall let out a skeptical snort and said, "Aye Ma Aunt Fannie!"
Shacklebolt cleared his throat to draw attention away from the calendar.
"So what exactly is the futile and stupid gesture that's going to make amends with Potter or express our displeasure with the Headmaster? Send them copies of this calendar?"
Fred snorted. "It'd be a waste to send this to Dumbledore…unless he considered it a prank."
"Why would he think it a prank?" asked Hestia Jones.
George giggled. "Because somebody who enjoys Cockingtake might fancy a different set of models?"
"Not that there's anything wrong with a wizard who likes Cockingtake," Fred was quick to add.
"No, not at all!"
"Still seems rather tame," said Tonks. "And counterproductive if you sent that to Harry…he might enjoy it, but I doubt that Hermione would appreciate the gesture."
"Ah, but there's the rub," said Fred.
"So to speak," added George.
"We think that Harry deserves reciprocity," Fred explained. "And to do that, we'll need to send a slightly modified calendar."
"What kind of reciprocity are we talking about?" asked Remus.
George smiled. "We got to see Harry's short and curlies…seems only fair that he gets to see ours."
"What?" asked Hestia. "So you're proposing a calendar where we are the naked pin-up girls?"
Fred shrugged. "Or naked pin-up gents, depending."
"Noo jist haud on!" McGonagall protested. "Ye'r doolally if ye think that ah wull pose in the scud fur yin o' mah students!"
"Doesn't have to be full-on full-frontal starkers," Fred declared. "I'm sure that Verity and Chastity here will be just as professional and tasteful as they were with the stock calendar."
"But…but…nude photies?" Minerva gasped. "Whit if ithers see thaim? Sacked and fair affronted, a' o' us!"
"You could always claim that you were a polyjuice victim," Mad-Eye noted.
"Or that it was Tonks showing off her stuff," Hestia added.
"Or showing off Minerva's stuff, as it were," the metamorph said with a wink.
Fred and George insisted that the modified calendar could be charmed so that only Harry would be able gain access to the alternative photographs, and for a limited period of time. Verity and Chastity also volunteered to be the sole camera operators, photographic developers and calendar producers.
There was still a fair bit of opposition to the idea, even when the best futile and stupid alternative that anyone could come up with was sending Harry a hairy birthday card. Consensus was only attained after the twins revealed their trump cards…another round of stiff drinks, and a practical demonstration of their mother's Praetego charm.
oo00OO00oo
Chateau Delacour, France
Given time to wash up and dress down before the birthday dinner, Harry leaned back against the closed bedroom door, ran his fingers through his hair, and let out a deep breath. He glanced towards the bed, where his incredibly busy and eventful day had started (in terms of where he woke up, at least). He walked over to that bed and plopped backwards onto it, his mind racing to link his immediate present to places and people and events.
This was the bed he had shared with his girlfriend. He was lying on top of the duvet that Hermione had dived under to hum happy birthday, before dashing through to the hidden door into her bedroom. She was now in that bedroom with her mother, no doubt fending off questions about what they had been up to earlier that afternoon…after the first time that Harry had walked into a bedroom and stripped off the same dress robes that he was about remove for the second time.
Harry placed the sole of his left boot against the heel of his right boot and pushed. It was just as reluctant to slip off as it had been earlier, when his thong-wearing girlfriend had squatted to help pull that boot off his foot. That was right before she pulled off the rest of his clothing…and before they turned back time…and before they turned in their V-cards, and…
And before they put their dress robes back on for a meeting with the NAC attaché that revealed just how turbulent a wake they'd generated during their escape.
Recalling that meeting drew Harry's mind further back in the day, to the meeting with his Gringotts account manager. During that meeting he had accepted his lordship, accepted his liegeman's loyalty oath, and granted that liegeman a boon. These were all actions that successfully resolved the first-order problems that had been revealed soon after his arrival at the Burrow four weeks previous. So that chapter in his pre-Sixth Year Holiday story seemed to be resolved…he had his girl, Bill had his girl, and all four of them were outside of Molly's meddling grasp.
Harry knew that he had no right to expect a "happily ever after" ending to any personal story, so long as Voldemort was still out there (and to a lesser extent Dumbledore, Molly, and Snape). But it would have been nice to have at least enjoyed an intermediary "Happily August After."
Nice…but not any more realistic.
The same bank meeting that had resolved old issues had raised new ones. Dumbledore seemed hell-bent on retrieving that which his meddling lieutenant had lost. The intentions of allies (both old and potentially new) needed to be tested. And Gabby still thought that she was on Harry's hook. And…
And his girlfriend had shagged him silly on his sixteenth birthday.
Harry smiled.
Life was good.
But there were things that he really needed to address if there was any hope of keeping it that way.
The birthday boy slammed his left foot against the heel of his right boot and pushed it loose. The left boot followed, as did the dress robes, tie, and top shirt button. He found ink and blank parchment in the top drawer of the bedroom suite's desk, and sat down to revise his "to-do" list.
oo00OO00oo
Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, Diagon Alley
Mad-Eye scowled as the execution of their futile and stupid gesture started to drag.
"Get on with it, girl!" he barked.
"Aye, annuf of yer muckin' aboot, lassie!" McGonagall agreed.
Fred Weasley's girlfriend mumbled something unintelligible from beneath the big black blanket that hung from the back of the tripod-mounted magical camera.
"We can't hear what you're asking of us, lass!" Moody bellowed.
Verity ducked her head out and shouted, "I need Professor McGonagall to lower the banner," Verity called out. "I can't see her Titty Hills."
Tonks barked out a laugh and quipped, "Now Verity, the correct term is nénés."
"Urr ye certain that mah bits ur covered by th' Molly dots?" McGonagall stated.
"Yes, I'm certain," Verity said.
Fred leaned forward from his place in line and offered his opinion.
"Plenty of side boob, Professor, but your nipples are covered."
"Fred Weasley! Een tae th' front! Dinnae goup at me!"
"Sorry, just trying to help," he said with a sly smile, as he turned away from her.
"Ah steel cannae hawp we ur daein' this," McGonagall muttered.
The elderly witch was quick to drop the banner and reach for her robes once the group photograph was taken. It took another round of drinks and reassurances to keep her from reaching for her emergency portkey when it came time for individual shots.
oo00OO00oo
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts
Dumbledore needed three separate silencing charms to counteract the protesting portraits of his predecessors.
"If only they could accept that it's a temporary measure," he muttered, "and that it's a small sacrifice in the name of the Greater Good."
"Cheep!"
Dumbledore turned towards Fawkes' perch, and chuckled at the recently-reborn chick.
"Thank you for agreeing with me, my friend."
"Cheep!" Fawkes protested. He certainly didn't agree with the old man, and was frustrated by his inability to more clearly vocalize his displeasure (thanks to his currently immature syrinx).
The Headmaster smiled and nodded his head knowingly (or not-so-knowingly, as it turned out). Then he turned back towards the greatly-expanded surveillance device and reviewed what had been accomplished so far. The tracking charm map now stretched from floor to ceiling, and covered two-thirds of the wall (and most of the protesting headmasters' frames). An equivalent percentage of the world was now shown, including all of Asia, Australia, Africa, and Europe. Only the eastern edges of North and South America were depicted, and the fact that there were a handful of dots still pressing against this side of the map meant that he still had some work to do.
Dumbledore raised his one good hand, and cast one final expansion charm. The wooden frame and charmed canvas groaned in protest, but grudgingly yielded to the targeted magic and stretched left towards the far corner of the office. The headmaster nodded in satisfaction as more and more of the Western Hemisphere was revealed. The tracking charm dots were dutifully following the map's leading edge, and despite his underlying concern Dumbledore was having great fun attempting to guess where each moving dot might finally come to rest. Most of these dots were tracking across the northern hemisphere, keeping the Headmaster from doing an adequate job of checking the lower frame's path for potential obstacles. So he didn't realize that the map was on a collision course with the wall-mounted shelf where he kept his collection of silver instruments...until that frame corner pushed those mostly-mangled and non-functional instruments onto the floor with a crash.
"Bugger!"
"Cheep!"
Dumbledore didn't bother trying to divine whether Fawkes had just cursed, or was chiding his own cursing…his focus was completely on the silver doo-dads now piled on the floor. He immediately dropped to his knees and fished out the two instruments that he had painstakingly repaired earlier that Summer.
He first pulled out the device charmed to monitor Harry Potter's emotional and physical well-being. He set it upright on his office floor and checked it over for damage. It appeared to be working fine…the sparkle content of the silver was brilliant, and the centerpiece was wobbling clockwise, suggesting that Harry was in tip-top emotional and physical health…perhaps the best shape ever. Dumbledore set the devise on his desk, and fished out the second monitor. Once he found the smoke-ring emitting instrument, he set it down on the desk next to the first…and waited. And waited. And waited some more.
No smoke.
This was worrisome, since this was the device that tracked the relative strength of the wards on Privet Drive. And if there wasn't any smoke, then there weren't any active wards.
Thinking that the instrument must have been damaged during the fall, Dumbledore pinned up his robe sleeve and began the tedious task of trouble-shooting. He soon realized that having half-as-many useful hands meant that it was going to take more than twice as much time to fix the device.
The Headmaster looked back at the wall-sized tracking map, and counted dots. Fixing the silver instrument wouldn't be as much of a priority if he knew that the protections on Privet Drive were fully-charged and operation. And the Dursley's safety was a far lower priority now that Harry was shot of their tender loving care.
Making a decision, Dumbledore rose from his desk, grabbed a pinch of floo powder, and called out Arabella Figg's address.
oo00OO00oo
Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes
Diagon Alley
McGonagall was last in line when Remus Lupin opened the bedroom door and left the hastily converted photographic studio. She didn't care for the sly smile on his face, or for the twinkle in his eye.
"Ready to take it off for the team?" he asked cheekily.
The hiss that escaped from Minerva's lips was ferociously feline.
The former DADA professor responded with a laugh as he headed back to the roof top to join the rest of what Fred and George were now calling "The Calendar Club."
"C'mon in, Professor," someone called from inside the room. "Need to be quick about it."
Minerva reluctantly entered the bedroom and cast two different locking charms on the door. Fred and George's girlfriends were both inside. Verity was swapping out a new photographic plate on the tripod-mounted camera, while her sister was sorting through a small mountain of clothing and half-opened boxes that was piled on the bed.
Chastity pulled her boyfriend's old Gryffindor robe from the pile and held it up. "So what do you think, Professor? Opened school robes and a full monty shot? You could transfigure that chair into your classroom lectern…it'd be brilliant!"
The older witch pursed her lips. "Foremaist aff, young lassie, this insae a situation fur perfaissional titles. Ca' me Minerva."
Her former student smiled. "Sure thing, Minerva!"
"Secondly, thare wull be hee haw her linking me tae th' schuil," McGonagall said sternly. "Dae nae drag Hogwarts intae this fankle."
"Erm…are you saying that nothing in your picture should be school related?"
"That is whit ah said. Urr ye deaf?"
"No Ma'am, I'm English," Chastity replied. "Not used to hearing you speak with that accent."
"It comes oot wi' th' whisky," the older witch admitted. Minerva let out a deep breath and apologized. "Sorry, lassie, ah shouldn't be sae cross wi' ye. Nae yer fault."
"No worries, Profe…Minerva," Chastity said with a smile. She dropped the school robe and fished some red tartan out of the pile. "As long as you're talking like a Highland lass, how about working with this shield-charmed shawl?"
McGonagall's eyes widened. She leaned backwards and said, "Ach, tae suggest sic a thing! Git that oot o' mah sight!"
"What's wrong, Minerva?" Verity teased. "Don't want to drag Scotland into this fankle?"
"Tis th' tartan o' a lowland clan," McGonagall explained. "Mah faither wid caw in his kist if ah wore that."
A quick flick of her wand transfigured the offending pattern into the greens and blues of Clan McGonagall.
"Thare," the older witch declared. "Now ah wullnae break oot intae a rash if ah place that against mah skin."
"Well okay, then," Chastity said. She held out the shawl and asked, "Trade?"
McGonagall stared at the shawl for a second, then let out a deep breath and slipped out of her robe. Now naked save for the Praetego spell's modesty patches, she took the offered shawl and draped it around her torso (that any of them had been able to remove clothing while a Praetego spell was in effect had been achieved by originally applying the spell while the target was naked).
"Oh, no…we can't have that!" the younger witch declared, as she snatched the shawl away and wrapped it around Minerva's neck.
"Bit…..!"
"Yes, bared bits, Minerva," Verity declared. "Everyone one else showed off their black blots." She watched her sister adjust the drape so that the shawl so that it hung to the side of McGongagall's breast, then decided to accessorize. A black shield-charmed pointy hat was pulled from the pile, and a brooch was pinned to keep the shawl in place.
Chastity took McGongall's elbow and guided her towards a full length mirror.
"What do you think?"
The older witch shook her head. "Ah see th' auld witch that a'm."
"Bollocks!" Verity chided. "You look fabulous…I love the cheeky tattoo, and we can only hope to have tits that firm when we're your age."
Minerva ignored the comment about the tabby cat tattoo that was perched on her blacked-out mound and said, "Bit mah legs ur sae pale 'n' skinny-malinky."
"Hmm…I think that they look great," said Charity. "But if you really want…"
McGonagall's eyes were drawn to an unmodified calendar that was sitting on top of a nightstand. She picked it up and flipped through the pages while the two sisters were hunting in the clothes pile.
"Kin ye keep aside fur me th' lest page o' th' calendar?" she asked.
"Now Minerva," said Verity, "you insisted that my sister and I have complete editorial control."
"And you were also the one that made us swear an oath not to alter any of the pictures after they were taken," Chastity added. "Or to allow anyone else in the group to see or touch the calendar once it was created."
"True enough," Minerva admitted.
"Thinking we should save the best for last?" Verity teased.
McGongall snorted. "Na, a'm thinking that thare is a chance that Hermione wull confiscate th' calendar afore Harry gets tae th' end."
"Well that would be a shame," Chastity replied with a laugh. She held up a pair of black silk stockings and suspenders and added, "Wouldn't want him to miss you wearing these, right?"
"A dinnae ken aboot that…" McGongall replied.
"Oh, they would be brilliant!" Verity insisted. "Very sexy, and Harry would still be able to see your pussy...cat."
Minerva rolled her eyes as she declined Chasity's offer to help with the expanded kit. The older witch sat on the edge of the bed, scrunched a stocking, and started to slip it over her toes. Then she stopped, looked at her tabby cat tattoo, and threw the stocking over her shoulder.
"Tae hell wi' it!" she declared. "If ye want tae show off mah pussy, then let's dae this th' proper wey!"
"What?" Verity asked with surprise.
"Ye heard me," McGongall replied. She pulled a green camisole from the pile, threw it towards Chastity and said, "Pat this oan!" The older witch then turned towards Chastity's sister and pointed at her own crotch.
"As fur ye…git rid o' this modesty spell 'n' clear aff th' kip."
"Kip?"
"Th' bed, ye sassenach whelp!" Minerva chided, as she tossed her hat and unpinned her shawl. "That is whaur ah wull stretch oot in a' o' mah glory."
The shocked sisters were quick to comply with their former professor's demands.
oo00OO00oo
Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey
It took very little time for Dumbledore to determine that the protective wards surrounding the Dursley residence were down. And they weren't just drained of strength…they were completely gone.
The implications were dire. The blood warding was designed to protect Harry and his relatives until he reached adulthood, and today was the boy's sixteenth birthday, rather than his seventeenth.
The Hogwarts Headmaster was well aware of how much intent mattered when casting magic. He would have sworn that he had been thinking about the legal age of adulthood within Magical Britain when he established the ward scheme. Those wards, however, were built on a mother's protections, and Lily was a Muggleborn witch. As best as Dumbledore could recall, the age of majority in Muggle Great Britain was either 17 or 18 (even though the age of consent was 16), so that shouldn't have mattered. What might have mattered, though, was a magically-adjudicated age of adulthood, based more on physical and magical maturity than on any one-size-fits-all legislation.
Of course, precisely determining why the wards fell was far less important in the short term than determining the best course of action now that they had fallen. And the thing to do was to approach the Dursley residence and warn them of the present danger.
Dumbledore didn't get past the front door before it was slammed in his face.
Harry's aunt and uncle were thrilled to learn that there was no longer any reason for their nephew to live under their roof, and were completely unconcerned about potential threats now that the wards were gone. And they saw no rational reason for them to be attacked so long as that nephew stayed far away from them.
Dumbledore walked away from the property, taking the most logical rejoinder with him. Given Harry's ill treatment over the years, it was unreasonable to expect him to lift a finger in the defense of his "family" (much less lift his wand). Dumbledore knew this to be true, the Dursleys probably expected this to be true…but Voldemort didn't know this truth, and he wouldn't hesitate to attack Privet Drive in the hope that Harry would be drawn into another rescue attempt.
The Headmaster was ready to wash his hands of the matter, and leave the Dursleys to their fate. He had too little time remaining in his own life, and too many things yet to do…things like returning Harry to the fold. Yet…there was a small sense of residual obligation left within Dumbledore's heart. And perhaps showing that he had made some attempt to protect Harry's relatives would bolster the boy's opinion of him (assuming that the boy would feel the same kind of grudging protectiveness that he felt).
Of course, this didn't mean that Dumbledore had to go too far out of his way to protect the Dursleys from themselves…especially when his limited resources were presently spread so thinly. With that consideration in mind, the Headmaster sent a message to Mundugus Fletcher, instructing him to once again take up guard duty on Privet Drive.
Every other Order member was sent a different message…aPatronus that instructed them to meet in his Hogwarts office in ten minutes' time.
oo00OO00oo
Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes
Diagon Alley
Given who posed (and what they weren't wearing), it wouldn't have shocked anyone to have known that the first photograph to be developed was the last photographic image taken.
Verity shook her head as she used a drying charm to finish off the darkroom production of that enlarged image.
"I can't believe you actually posed with McGongall!" she teased, "You're such a slag!"
"Oh, piss off!" Chastity replied, as she slipped Remus Lupin's pin-up photograph into the tray of image-animating potion. "I was wearing more and showing less than I was in my pin-up shot."
"It's not what you were wearing, it's who you were rubbing…and where!" Verity declared. She magically switched the new photograph with the last image of a stock calendar. "What do you think George's reaction will be?"
Chastity looked over her shoulder at the new image above the month of July and snorted. "He's never going to see it, remember? But if he did…so George sees a candid of me in bed with another witch…"
"Yeah, you're right…he'd get off on it," Verity said with a laugh. "Same as Fred…Merlin, our boyfriends are lads!"
"At least they're equal-opportunity pin-up models," Chastity said, as she pulled Lupin's photograph from the animating potion and handed it to her sister.
Verity shook her head. "Not really…'cept for McGonagall's pin-up they were all hiding behind Molly dots."
Chastity giggled as her sister cast a drying charm.
"Too bad, that," she said. "Professor Lupin's dot was hanging two-thirds of the way down to his knees! Makes a witch wonder."
The darkroom's red light masked the deep red blush that broke out on Verity's cheeks as she inspected the second enlargement.
"Oh my fuukin' god!" she hissed.
Chastity turned to see what was wrong, and gasped.
"Wonder no more, sister," Verity whispered. "He's hung like a hippogriff!"
"But how….?"
"Maybe because he's a werewolf?"
"No, not that…how come we can see his bits?" Chastity asked. "Where's the black dot?"
Verity shrugged. "Something in the magic, maybe? We both know those modesty patches were in place during the photo shoot."
"So what do we do now?"
"Now we see how many other bits we can see," Verity decided.
It was hard not to rush through the other developments, but they kept their focus, knowing it was unlikely they'd get another chance if they messed up.
Once all of the photos were developed and dried, they turned on the lights and got explicit confirmation that the Praetego spell's modesty patches hadn't carried over in the photographs. Chastity thought the situation deserved a repeat of her question.
"So what do we do now?"
An evil grin grew on her sister's face.
"We put these in the new calendar…that's what we do," Verity said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, remember our oaths not to magically alter these photographs? And we couldn't even show these pics to the others without breaking our promise."
"But their intent…"
"Their intent was to get on equal footing, and perhaps give Harry a laugh."
"I don't know," said Chastity.
"Look at it this way," her sister offered. "If Fred and George didn't have a problem with us getting naked for the company calendar…"
"Fair is fair?"
Verity giggled, nodded in agreement, and started to cast switching spells.
oo00OO00oo
The foul-tasting sobriety potion cleared the booze in McGonagall's system and the brogue in her diction. It wasn't strong enough to spirit away any lingering doubts or regrets, however, which was why she was so eager to start in on a follow-up bender.
"I'll never be able to look him straight in the eye again," she told Mad-Eye, bringing a fresh drink to her lips.
The retired Auror shrugged as they watched the gift-laden owl lift off from the arm of Fred's grinning girlfriend.
"I expect he'd have as much trouble looking you in the eye," he noted. "The boy will see your picture…but you saw his pubes."
"There were just the four! And they weren't attached at the time!" McGonagall protested.
"Scant comfort, I imagine," said Mad-Eye. "Look, at least it provided the chance to see if Dumbledore had placed any tracking charms on us."
"There's that," Minerva agreed.
"Did you check your pussy?" Mad-Eye asked.
"Alastor!"
"What?" he asked. "You can't place a tracking charm on bare flesh, but you can place one on the ink that is tattooed onto that flesh."
"I am well-aware of that fact," Minerva replied primly. "I'm less aware of how you might have known that I have a tabby cat tattoo."
Moody replied by catching the witch's gaze with his twirling magical eye.
"Oh, right. I try not to think of what you can see with that thing," Minerva replied. "Talk about the inequities of seen and un-seen."
Mad-Eye rolled his good eye. "Boo-fukin'-whoo," he quipped. "Hey, I've got to go take a piss…would you feel any better if I let you watch?"
McGonagall sent the retired Auror off to do his business with a slap on the arm that was not unsimilar to how her favorite Muggleborn student expressed her displeasure with Minerva's favorite Muggle-raised student. Noticing that her drink glass was once again empty, she walked over to the rooftop bar, where Verity and Chastity (and Tonks) were refusing to explain how they filled a twelve-month calendar when there were only eight members of the Calendar Club.
"Another round, Mr. Weasley," Minverva asked, placing her glass on the bar.
"Yes, Ms. McGonagall," Fred replied with a smile.
The elderly witch was too focused on watching the alcohol flow from bottle to glass to take note of the address.
"Mr. Weasley, I'm warning you right now," she said. "There will be hell to pay if you spiked mah drink with any manner of magic that would have lowered my inhibitions…"
"Alright, I confess…I wasn't exactly measuring the gin with a shot glass," Fred said with a laugh. "Aside from that…"
Hestia Jones pursed her lips and said, "Oh, lighten up, Minnie Baby!"
Tonks nodded in agreement.
"Damn straight," she said. "Why would you want to know, Minnie Baby?"
"Know what?" Remus asked.
"Know for certain whether the Weasley Twins gave us a little magical courage to pose for those photographs?" Tonks replied. "More flexibility if we don't know."
Chastity giggled at that comment. "We sell a flexibility potion, don't we Fred?"
"Erm…yes, we do," her boyfriend replied. "Not that I spiked…"
Chastity leaned across the bar so that she could fake-whisper to Tonks. "Only time I've seen Fred and George volunteer to be their own test subjects."
"Really?" Tonks asked. "Any particular reason why?"
"Yeah, 'cause the flexibility potion makes you limber enough to bend down and suck on your own…"
"Okay, Chastity, that falls into TMI territory," her boyfriend announced loudly.
"Oh, lighten up, Freddy Baby!" Minerva said with a laugh. She then lifted her (once again) empty glass and added, "Just for that, the next round is on you!"
The grin on Fred's face as he mixed up another pitcher of gin and tonics had far less to do with being called "Freddie Baby" by his former Head of House, and far more to do with the fact that his former Head of House was finally treating him like an adult colleague.
oo00OO00oo
Mad-Eye was sporting a rather healthy scowl when he returned from the flat-level loo.
"Well that was interesting," he declared. "I got a little visitor while I was doing my business."
When Minerva snorted, he qualified his statement. "That is to say, I got a little message from Dumbledore calling me to a meeting in his office."
"Just you?"
"No, all of us, I reckon'."
"So why were you the only one to be notified?" Hestia asked.
Mad-Eye's magical eye rolled wildly before settling on Chastity and Verity.
"Maybe because you've been up here with those two," he explained. "All about the security fail-safe."
"Weren't you the one bitching about talking Order business in front of them?" Tonks asked.
"Bah, barn doors and horses," Mad-Eye replied.
"Well if that's the reason why we didn't get our messages," Fred decided, "then all we need to do is hang out up here with our girls…can't be forced to obey an order that can't be delivered!"
"Planning on sleeping up here tonight?" Shacklebolt asked.
"Wouldn't need to, so long as I'm sharing my bed with the right girl," Fred said with a wink.
"Well I'm going to need to tinkle before too much longer," Hestia added. "Will I need to share the loo with the right girl?"
Moody nodded. "I actually think it'd be best if you all powdered your noses right now."
Fred frowned. "You actually want us all to go hang out with mum and the…what did you call him again, Minny Baby?"
McGonagall snorted. "A bawherr nonce?"
"That's it."
"Actually," said Moody, "I'm far more interested in seeing if any of us are compelled to hang out with the Pervy Bastard and your howler-hurling mum."
Remus seemed to be on the same page. He raised his glass, and loudly declared, "I submit that right now, the best way that any of us can support the Order's main mission of protecting Harry Potter is…to ignore Dumbledore's orders."
Mad-Eye agreed. "Or to at least delay following those orders long enough to see if they're backed by any magical compulsions."
It was easier for Verity and Chastity to leave the rooftop for a few moments than for everyone else to separate from their company. Multiple versions of the same phoenix Patronus message materialized at nearly the same time (given that the Order members were spread out a bit, and hadn't been standing the same distance from the stairwell). The fractional differences in arrival time created a very loud and very dissonant group message, instructing each of them to travel to the Headmaster's Office.
"So now what?" Hestia asked, once the messages dematerialized.
"Anyone feeling compelled to do something?" Mad-Eye asked.
McGonagall scoffed at the question. "Absolutely…I'm feeling compelled tae hae anither dram."
The return of the Scottish witch's brogue brought a smile to Fred's lips.
"Only a dram, Minnie baby?" he asked.
His former professor shrugged as she stepped behind the bar.
"Ah think ah wull pace myself this time."
oo00OO00oo
Chateau Delacour
It was the best birthday party that Harry Potter had ever had…or at least the best that he could remember. Of course, it was also the only birthday party that he could remember, but he was certain that it would have ranked, even had that not been the case. The event was far less over-the-top than any of his cousin's birthday celebrations, and that suited Harry just fine. He didn't at all mind the fact that the dinner was almost as much of a homecoming party for Fleur as a birthday party for himself. There was a cake, and presents, and a birthday song (that Hermione cheekily hummed, rather than sang).
The birthday boy would have been hard-pressed to identify his favorite birthday present (unless you included an unwrapped girlfriend on the list, and he certainly wasn't about to call that experience out in front of her parents). They were mostly new clothes; some Muggle, other Magical. When Fleur and Bill gave him a new set of summer-weight robes adorned with his family crests, Harry reminded them that they had already given him an early birthday present. He then asked if the robes were made of the same fabric as his swim costume, which drew a good laugh from those in the know.
Gabby's gift was very creative (and more than a little cunning); she had cut up parchment and made up thirty-one handwritten coupons. Each coupon was redeemable for a day's worth of French language lessons, with Gabby as tutor and Harry as student. Each coupon was only valid for a specific day, with thirty-one coupons covering the thirty-one days of August. Gabby insisted that Harry needed to redeem each coupon, and decided that meant that he either had to stay with her at Chateau Delacour over the next month, or take her along if he went someplace else. It was a cute (if self-serving) gift that earned the nine-year old witch a chaste kiss on the cheek from Harry, and a bit of a lecture from her mother.
Bill offered up a very popular gift for his liege lord that he insisted was a joint present from himself, Fleur's father and the French clockmaker that owed her father a big favor.
It was Molly's clock, re-purposed.
The working surveillance device at one point in time had housed twelve separate hands. Now there were only four, labeled "Molly," "Arthur," "Ron," and "Ginny." Any concerns that it might be hypocritical for Harry to be able to monitor the locations of these four Weasley family members were mostly negated by the new options available on the clock face.
The only location that Bill hadn't swapped out on the clock was "At Cogfir Inn" (for sentimental reasons, rather than any burning desire to know when his parents or siblings were shagging). Home had been replaced by AzkaBurrow. Bill told Harry that this was now the default location for his meddling mother, unless one of the other spots was temporarily more appropriate (like "Acting like a Little Miss Nosy Bitch," which was printed using a very small font where Work used to sit.)
The clock hand labelled "Ron" kept moving between Sloth and Gluttony, which sat side-by-side where Traveling and Hospital were formerly located.
Ginny's clock hand had its own back-and-forth path, alternating between Denial and A State of Delusion.
Arthur's clock hand, unfortunately, seemed to be permanently parked over Unter dem Pantoffel stehen. It was Fleur's father who had come up with that idea. The direct translation from the original German was "(being) under the slipper," although it was just a long way of saying that someone was henpecked.
Everyone agreed that it was an appropriate clock hand location for Mr. Weasley.
They also agreed that the husband of a fireball-throwing part-Veela had been incredibly brave to have even suggested it.
oo00OO00oo
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts
The painfully-long hour that Dumbledore waited for the Order members to arrive was only made slightly-less painful by the abundance of food. Molly had spread platters across the Headmaster's desk just as easily as she had spread her opinions on how Hogwarts should be run now that the Headmaster had regained his position. Arthur managed to steer clear of this Molly-dominated dialogue by spending most of that time hand-feeding grapes to Dumbledore's chick-stage phoenix.
The excuses that were offered once Mad-Eye Moody and the others finally dragged themselves out of the floo were all nearly the same. They came as soon as they received Dumbledore's message, and those messages must have been delivered late because they were within the presence of Muggles, or amongst witches and wizards who weren't part of the Order. The alibis seemed a bit too convenient, but Dumbledore had enough faith in the compulsive power of their Oaths to discount the possibility of deception.
The late arrivals filled their plates while they waited a few more minutes to see if Snape would arrive (he had actually been alone in his holding cell when his message was delivered, but the Oath-bound compulsion to attend the meeting wasn't any stronger than his baseline desire to escape his incarceration, so it didn't really do much harm). Dung's absence was explained once Dumbledore finally called the meeting to order. He reported that the wards at Privet Drive were down, that the Dursleys had refused to leave, and that he had assigned Fletcher the task of watching over Harry's relatives. The Headmaster took no issue with the side-bar comments about just how safe that left the Dursleys, since he had secretly reached the same conclusions.
Once that agenda item was covered, each of the hair chasers was asked to give a short accounting of their efforts. Dumbledore congratulated them on their successes, even though it hadn't led to Harry's return. He then directed their attention to his wall-sized world map, and noted that there were now only a handful of locations within Britain (including two that were apparently within Hogwarts). Most were now overseas, with the majority of these locations on the Continent. Most were now stationary, although there were a few that were still tracking along long-distance paths. Dumbledore then declared that the search area needed to be expanded, and stated that the Order would need to travel out of the country, perhaps for an extended period of time.
Questions were raised about the ability of the Order members to leave their families and day jobs to undertake this search. Dumbledore acknowledged the burden, but insisted that Harry's safe return was vital to the Order's mission. He did offer to do what he could to smooth over any employer concerns about sudden unexcused absences from work. Somebody asked whether the wages lost during their travel would be covered. Dumbledore expressed his hope that this would be the case, but made no firm promises. He did say that each person would be given a fair bit of money to cover travel costs, and instructed them to save their receipts if there were any out-of-pocket expenses once those funds were exhausted (his guarantee that all travel expenses would be covered being based on the false assumption that he still had access to the Potter trust account).
Logistical issues were covered next. They couldn't, of course, apparate to far flung places like Cairo or Chicago. Portkeys were Ministry controlled, and Dumbledore wanted to keep the need to do this kind of search and recovery operation quiet. Travel would therefore have to be done quietly, and undercover. He then deputized Mad-Eye to take the lead on making travel assignments, given his previous experiences completing undercover assignments within the Continent.
Dumbledore informed the others that he would be making his own independent efforts to identify Harry's location while remaining at Hogwarts. He cited (quite reasonably, at least in his mind) the need for somebody to remain behind to track their progress on the map, and to reassign locations as necessary.
There was a lot of grumbling about what they were being asked to do. Molly had little sympathy for these complaints and was quick to say so. Of course, she hadn't been asked to travel since she still had two underage children to care for at home. Mad-Eye had a low tolerance for Molly's comments, and that daily threshold had been surpassed during their earlier meeting. He therefore was quick to take the lead and call the meeting to an end, instructing anyone with a travel assignment to meet at the joke shop in one hour's time.
oo00OO00oo
Chateau Delacour
The party had spilled out onto the grounds to watch the sunset. While the Delacour's ancestral home was located on a promontory better situated to watch the sunrise, the sailboats and buildings on the far side of the harbor still offered a pretty sight as they picked up the warm red and orange rays of the setting sun.
As dusk fell, house elves applied insect-repelling charms and fairies gathered to illuminate the veranda. Roger and Emily Granger were delighted by the fairies' appearance; Hermione had described them in her letters home, and used them as an example of how "real" magical beasts and beings differed from their depictions in Muggle folklore and fairytales. Her parents were now being given the opportunity to make that comparison first hand.
Talk about how wonderful it was to witness more of the wizarding world spilled over into Roger and Emily's desire to actually see their daughter use magic. Hermione hadn't found time to do her daily therapeutic spell casting, so this was the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Gabrielle decided it would be even more perfect if her father served as Hermione's practice target, freeing up Harry, Bill and Fleur to play party games. The normally invisible body guards who were on protection detail did not think it perfect to have an English witch hurl jinxes and mild hexes towards the Magical Prime Minister of France, but given the situation their opinions mattered far less to Paul Delacour than his daughter's.
Gabby-cat's opinion on the perfect party game also was a bit unusual. It wasn't a piñata, or "Pin the tail on the Centaur"…it was the French version of a popular Muggle board game called "Pretty Pretty Princess." She asked a house elf set up a card table and chairs while she ran off to retrieve the board game from her room.
It was a ridiculously delightful situation for Harry and his liegeman to be playing a Muggle game that required them to wear brightly colored plastic earrings, plastic rings, and plastic necklaces (Bill's dragon tooth earring looked especially rugged by comparison). The sixteen-year old smiled when Gabrielle insisted on pictures to document the moment. He wasn't at all upset by the situation (or the potential blackmail material). It was actually pretty fun, and innocent, and amazingly age-appropriate for a nine-year-old girl. The easiest way to decide "it could be worse" was for Harry to imagine what kind of party he would be having if they were all still back at the Burrow, worrying over how well his regimen of neutralizing potions was holding up against a love potion-infused layer cake.
They were close to completing their third game when a post owl glided unabated through the chateau's wards and landed on Bill's shoulder. Recognizing the owl, the curse-breaker asked, "I wonder what Fred and George have to report from back home?"
"Are you sure that it's a report, and not a prank?" Harry asked.
"Can't be too nasty, or the Chateau's wards would have caught it," Fleur reasoned.
Gabby grabbed her sister's sleeve and said (in French), "It's your turn!"
"Be patient, my little princess!" Fleur chided, as she watched her fiancé untie a large envelope from the owl's leg.
The thin package inside this envelope was tied up with ribbons and covered in magically-animated wrapping paper. When Bill spotted some writing on the package, he handed it to Harry and said, "It's for you."
"Fleur, it's still your turn!"
Bill's fiancée ignored her little sister and asked, "A birthday gift? But why not send it directly to Harry?"
"They might have reasoned that it would be easier to deliver something addressed to me, rather than to him," Bill replied. "Probably also correctly figured that I'd be close enough to Harry to hand deliver it."
"That makes sense," Harry said.
Gabrielle pleaded (in French) for her sister to take her turn, then pleaded (in broken English) for Harry to unwrap his present. The little princess got her way.
"What is it?" Bill asked the younger wizard.
Harry looked at the calendar cover, and its image of Fred and George in front of their shop. He read the cover text, and reported that it was a twelve-month academic year calendar promoting the joke shop. But knowing who had sent and (presumably) created that calendar, Harry set it on the card table next to the game board and asked Bill to confirm that fact with some diagnostic spell work.
Bill did so…right after he acceded to Gabrielle's demand that he take his turn.
A few spells and one moved game marker later, Bill told Harry, "I can't be certain that it's a calendar, but I am pretty certain that you won't get jinxed or hexed if you open it up to see for yourself."
The birthday boy trusted his liegeman's curse-breaking skills, but still thought it prudent to ask Bill to cover him with a shield spell while he opened the calendar.
Gabrielle's squeal of delight when she landed on a board space that allowed her to recover the Princess's crown was more than loud enough to drown out the gasp that escaped from Harry's mouth when he opened the calendar.
"Are you okay?" Bill asked, as Harry quickly closed the cover.
"Yeah, I think…no harm done. Just surprised me," the younger wizard replied.
While Gabrielle triumphantly grabbed the game crown from her sister's head, Harry called for a house elf, and quietly asked him to bring the calendar up to his bedroom.
Once the house elf popped away with the gift, Fleur asked, "What did you see that was so surprising?"
The messy-haired wizard nervously glanced over to where his girlfriend was still showing off lower-year spell work to her parents. He turned back to Bill and Fleur, leaned forward, and quietly replied, "Looks like their version of a naughty pin-up calendar."
Fleur asked, "How naughty?" at the same time that Bill asked, "See anyone you know?"
Harry chuckled, and shook his head. "First page wasn't too naughty…at least not by French beach standards. There was a blue-skinned nude woman, dancing with her back turned, so I couldn't tell if I knew her or not."
"A blue nude?" Fleur asked. "Why didn't you let us see her?"
Harry nodded towards Gabrielle. "Not exactly age-appropriate."
Fleur decided some teasing was in order. "But your eyes…they were drawn towards Hermione rather than my sister…I think that you are more worried about what your girlfriend will think of the gift."
Gabby saved Harry from providing an immediate response when she touched his arm and said, "C'est ton tour, bien-aimé."
The birthday boy turned towards the young witch and asked, "What was that?"
Gabby smiled sweetly and said, "I give a French lesson, Harry. Répétez après moi…. C'est ton tour, bien-aimé."
Harry chuckled. "Okay…say tun tour, bien ah may."
Gabrielle's eyes lit with delight. "Vraiment?" she asked. She leaned over, placed a chaste kiss on Harry's cheek, and added, "Merci, Cherie!"
"What just happened?" Harry asked, as the little princess spun the board game's spinner.
"I think that she just tricked you into giving her your turn," Fleur said with a laugh.
Bill added, "She also tricked you into calling her your beloved."
His liegelord shrugged it off as Gabrielle moved her playing piece the indicated number of spaces.
"She has you wrapped around her little finger, doesn't she?" Bill asked.
Harry chuckled, and quietly replied, "Better than having her wrapped around my hook."
oo00OO00oo
Diagon Alley
The Calendar Club plus Arthur had gathered on the joke shop's rooftop to receive travel instructions. The gin bottle had been tucked away and replaced by an ever-full, ever-hot kettle to help take the edge off a cool night. Verity and Chastity had taken charge of the tea service, working alongside their boyfriend's father. Their friendly conversations and some of Arthur's off-handed comments about the flat made it clear to the others that he knew about (and at least tacitly accepted) the shared living arrangements.
Mad-Eye hobbled up the stairs and barked out the obligatory complaint about lack of vigilance. He then pulled a small envelope out of his robe pocket and handed it to Arthur.
"I'm giving you a chance to satisfy your dearest wish," Moody told the Ministry official. "And more than enough time to satisfy it!"
"What's that, then?" Fred asked.
"A round-trip Muggle airplane ticket to Australia," Mad-Eye explained. He turned towards Arthur and asked, "You have a valid Muggle passport, right?"
"Valid enough," Arthur replied.
"Right then, I tossed in a fair bit of Muggle money to cover your expenses. Flight leaves Heathrow Airport in the morning…there's a stop in Singapore along the way."
"Sounds like a long trip," said Tonks.
"Twenty-two hours, one-way," Mad-Eye noted.
"Almost an entire day?" Fred asked. "Crikey!"
Fred's father didn't seem to mind. "Like Alastor said, son…that gives me all the more time to figure out how airplanes stay up in the air!"
"Have fun with that," said Hestia.
"Right then, Arthur…off you go!" said Mad-Eye. "Might as well head back home and tell Molly that you'll be gone the better part of a week. And if she starts to whine, remind her that it's all in the name of …"
"THE GREATER GOOD!" everyone shouted in unison.
After assuring Mad-Eye that he was capable of getting to the Muggle airport without assistance, Arthur said his goodbyes and headed back to the Burrow.
"Well that was a very convenient assignment," snickered Tonks.
"Somebody had to make the trip," said Shacklebolt. "Nicely done, Alastor."
"Thank you," Mad-Eye replied. "Now that it's down to just us malcontents…everyone meet back here at seven in the morning. Only Muggle clothing, and make it look like you're going on a beach holiday. Anyone who messes up and arrives in temperature-charmed clothing gets to wear what I pick out for them."
"Now there's some incentive," McGonagall joked.
"No magical jewelry, no wizard money, no emergency portkeys, no magically-expanded billfolds or magically-enhanced female sanitary products…carry nothing magical aside from your wands and holsters. We're traveling Muggle, and we're going to damn well look the part!"
"Where will be heading?" asked Hestia.
Mad-Eye glared at the witch.
"Never mind," she sighed.
oo00OO00oo
Chateau Delacour
Harry was in bed, finding it hard to get past the lovely month of May. That page of Fred and George's calendar featured Jessica "Boom-Boom" Walton, the Seventh-Year Hufflepuff that had made every male ickle firsty strobe his robes (as soon as the onset of puberty made such a response possible). The buxom blonde had drawn just as many stares and hallway comments as Harry had that first year of school, and there had been rumors of their being a rather large fan boy club. And that was based almost entirely on how well she filled out her school robes. Harry wondered just what kind of response she would generate from the male population at Hogwarts once this picture was in circulation, and the calendar was posted on dormitory walls. Jessica was stretched out naked on a bed, and in the middle of an erotic dream while a box of Patented Daydream Charms lay open beside her. An arm draped across her chest hid her nipples, but left most of her massive breasts exposed. The duvet was artfully arranged to conceal her crotch, but there was nothing hiding what she was supposedly doing within that daydream, given the way that she was curling her toes and thrusting her hips.
The birthday boy was startled by a scratch against a section of wall next to the far-side nightstand. He quickly slammed the calendar shut, pulled down the covers, slipped out of bed, and tossed the calendar towards the gift pile on his desk. He checked the front of his shorts, and readjusted himself into a not-so-obvious profile. He tried to press his hair down, then wondered why he really needed to press his hair down. He walked over to the concealed doorway and pushed down on the right piece of molding. The door swung open, and his girlfriend entered his room wearing a dressing gown.
"Sorry," she said. "Took longer than I thought to get rid of Mum."
"No worries," Harry replied.
Hermione looked at the pile of gifts stacked up on the desk and asked, "Did you double-check your thank-you list to make sure that I got everybody?"
"Yeah, the list was good," said Harry. "Unless you wanted me to write a thank-you note for your time-turned present?"
His girlfriend shook her head as she pulled Harry into a kiss. "I'm expecting you to show me how much you liked that present by unwrapping it on a regular basis."
"On a regular basis, huh?" Harry asked. "Sounds like something destined for your planner."
"Oh, you!" Hermione chided, pushing against his chest. "So it was a good list…but not good enough to motivate you to start in on actually writing your thank-yous?"
"Well…"
Hermione vocalized a "Hmmph!" and walked over to the desk. She picked up the thrown calendar and asked, "I missed this one, though...didn't I?"
"Yeah, it arrived while you were showing your parents your magic," said Harry. He quickly added, "But I added Fred and George to the thank-you list."
"Yes, Fleur told me about this gift," Hermione said slyly. "Did you flip through the entire year, or are you going to resist temptation and make each new month a surprise?"
"Hermione, I wasn't about to look at it while Gabby was sitting there…"
"How about when you were sitting in bed just now?" Hermione teased. Knowing her boyfriend well enough to correctly interpret the dilation of his pupils, she smiled and tossed the calendar towards him.
"Oh, relax," she said, "and bring that to bed. I want to see for myself how badly I should hex Fred and George for corrupting my boyfriend."
Harry snorted. "Are we talking about the same two lads who corrupted my girlfriend with a vibrating chicken?"
Hermione shook her head as she turned and walked into her boyfriend's closet. She reemerged with one of Harry's t-shirts and headed towards his en suite lavatory.
"Sorry, need to pee," she explained.
"No worries," Harry replied.
He paused to consider the fact that his girlfriend didn't bother to close the door as she disappeared into the lavatory, then shrugged and slipped into bed, sitting up against the headboard and pulling up the covers in case he needed to conceal any embarrassing reactions.
Harry thought it best to quickly flip through the calendar pages and double-check if there were any hidden land mines to worry about. He paused for only a moment to admire "Boom-Boom's" baps, before checking out Miss June (a former Slytherin, if his memory was correct!) and Miss July (a very pretty witch who seemed a bit too old to have overlapped at Hogwarts). Harry then turned to the back cover, which featured a rather innocent storefront picture. He wondered how Fred and George had managed to convince their models to pose, and what their plans were for the calendar's distribution.
Some fine print in the lower corner of the back cover caught Harry's eye. The phrase "Special Unrated Marauder's Edition" was just barely visible, which seemed counterproductive. Usually, that kind of enticing specification was plastered for marketing purposes on the top front of a video box cover, and in big bold letters…it was almost the same as boldly proclaiming "Now with 300% More Naughty Bits!"
Not that there were more than a handful of people alive other than him who could make sense of that cryptic message. Lupin, Fred and George knew the map's password, as did Ron, and Hermione…
"Could that be the reason?" Harry thought to himself. "The Twins wanted me to know that there was hidden content within the calendar, but didn't necessarily want Hermione to easily determine that fact?"
Curiosity killed the cat, and caused Harry to place his wand tip against the calendar with scant regard for any form of vigilance.
"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," he whispered.
The calendar was enveloped in momentary bluish glow, suggesting that the magic words had activated some kind of magic. But there weren't any immediate changes to the back cover photo…no naked witches cavorting in the storefront window, or secret maps revealed.
"Huh," Harry said, as he turned the calendar over.
The full-frontal nudity generated a full-throated "Oh, shite!"
"What's wrong?" Hermione called out from the lav.
"Nothing," her boyfriend reassured her. "Just got pranked by Fred and George."
"By that naughty calendar?"
"Yeah."
"What happened…did it punch you in the face?"
Harry risked another look at the cover and laughed.
"Not yet," he replied.
Naked!Fred and Naked!George were now waving (and swaying) at him, and Harry was imagining their todgers leaping off the page and poking him in both eyes. It was a funny idea that was just plausible enough to warrant holding the calendar at arm's length.
Hermione emerged from the lav wearing a loosely-tied dressing gown over Harry's t-shirt.
"Let me see," she asked.
Harry turned the calendar around so that it faced Hermione.
"Ackkkkk!"
"See what I mean?" Harry asked.
His girlfriend drew her wand out from her Gringotts-issue concealed holster and cautiously approached the calendar cover.
"Expecting it to bite?" Harry asked.
"Expecting it to blow up in my face," she replied.
Hermione stopped a foot short of the calendar. She waited a few seconds before breaking out into giggles.
Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure that's a reaction that either of them would have hoped for."
"No, it's not that," Hermione insisted. "It's just…I never realized until now that they weren't identical twins."
"What?" Harry asked. He flipped the calendar back around and reexamined the photograph. "They look the same to me…same, erm…"
"Same length?" Hermione teased, as she untied her gown and let it slip to the floor. She smiled when her boyfriend's eyes were immediately drawn towards her skimpy knickers, which were barely covered by her t-shirt.
"Nice to know you're more interested in my bits than theirs," she said, as she pulled down the duvet and slipped into bed alongside Harry.
"Course I am!" Harry protested. "Still curious though…why don't you think they're twins?"
"Oh, they're twins, alright," Hermione replied. "They just aren't identical…more like mirror images." She risked bringing her finger close to (but not touching) the cover and added, "Their penises are hanging in opposite directions. Fred dresses left, George dresses right."
Harry squinted even harder at the image…enough to realize that his girlfriend was right (as usual).
"You were awful quick to spot those differences," he teased. "It's almost as if your gaze went immediately to their bits."
"Oh, honestly, Harry…are you saying that your eyes weren't immediately drawn to the pin-up girls' bits when you flipped though this calendar?"
Harry shrugged. "Not at all."
"Is that so?" Hermione asked. A smile formed on her lips as she took the calendar out of Harry's hands and asked, "So what color eyes did Miss March have?"
"What?"
"I'm sure that you carefully reviewed each month of the year," Hermione replied. "What was Miss March's eye color?"
"March?" Harry asked. "Let's see…if it starts in August, then March was the…five months to end the year, so eighth month overall…geez, I don't even remember who she was."
"Sure you don't," Hermione teased. "Well then, how about Miss August…the first one? Surely you can remember what color eyes she had?"