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A Cynical Voice: Chapter 5
🕑 Added 2025-04-12 12:03:01 +0000 UTCHi all,
Here’s the second chapter for the week.
Chapter 5
Harry stared at Hadrian, waiting for his older self to start talking. He wanted some answers.
Hadrian turned slowly. "I'm assuming you're referring to the duel."
"You know bloody well what I'm referring to," Harry said. "You took over my body without permission. One minute I was fighting, and the next I was a passenger in my own body."
"Would you have preferred I let you get hit by that Cruciatus Curse?" Hadrian asked.
"That's not the point!" Harry's voice rose before he caught himself, glancing nervously at the door. He lowered his voice again. "You never mentioned you could do that. You never asked. You just invaded me."
Hadrian sighed, running a hand through his ghostly hair. "You're right. I crossed a line."
"You think?"
"Look, I'm not going to apologise for keeping you alive," Hadrian said, his tone hardening slightly. "That Death Eater would have tortured you if his spell had connected. I did what was necessary."
"Did you know you could do it beforehand?"
When Hadrian didn't immediately answer, Harry demanded, "Tell me the truth."
"Yes," Hadrian admitted after a moment's hesitation. "When I first became aware of where I was, I saw you sleeping on your bed. Knowing something had gone wrong with the ritual, I tried to take over your body."
Harry stared at him, processing this new information. "Did it work?"
"Temporarily. But it takes a lot out of me."
A sudden realisation dawned on Harry. "Are you the reason I had that nightmare, then? The reason I woke up?"
"The latter, for sure," Hadrian said. "I'm not sure about the former. It's possible some of my thoughts or memories bled over into your subconscious."
"So, you might not be a Horcrux?" Harry asked, seizing on this possibility.
Hadrian shrugged. "I don't know."
"What's all this nonsense about not being able to possess me? Were you lying?"
"A half-truth," Hadrian admitted. "I'm sure that now that you're aware of it, you can block me if you tried. I did the same to Voldemort in the future."
"What do you mean it takes a lot out of you?"
"I don't even know how to explain my existence," Hadrian said, frustration evident in his voice. "Do I exist as energy? Or is it being fuelled by magic? All I know is that I can't possess your body for long. Even more so when I'm performing a strenuous task. It takes time for me to recover before I can do it again."
"So, that display of skill at the World Cup could have failed at any time?"
"I didn't have much of a choice," Hadrian said. "There wasn't enough time to train you. Even though I was trying to downplay your skills, some of it wasn’t acting. I found it hard to control your body."
Harry fell silent, trying to determine if he could believe Hadrian's words. The implications of Hadrian being able to take over his body at any moment were deeply unsettling. Could he block Hadrian if he wanted to? If not, what then? Call an exorcist? Harry snorted at the notion.
"You should consider the possibilities," Hadrian said. "If we work on combining together, and both maintaining control, it would be an amazing training tool. For example, I could guide you through the wand movements for a spell."
"Not happening anytime soon," Harry said flatly. He paused, then decided to press on another front. "You have yet to give me a proper explanation about what happens in the future."
"I don't want to bore you with the details," Hadrian said, waving a dismissive hand.
"Don't be flippant," Harry snapped. "This is my future we're talking about. I deserve to know."
Hadrian let out a long breath. "We are trying to change the future. There will be a point where my memories will be useless. Besides, I couldn't tell you everything even if I wanted to."
"What do you mean?"
Hadrian began pacing across the floor. "My memories were seriously fragmented when I returned to the past. While I can remember most people's faces, I can't remember how I will know them in the future. Most of the time, they only conjure an intense emotion and a sense of familiarity. It's only those closest to me that I remember the most."
"So, Pansy was one of those close to you? In the future?" Harry asked, surprised.
Hadrian nodded.
“A romantic relationship?”
“Not really. More like friends with benefits. We were too broken by that point to consider a relationship.”
“Who else do I get together with?”
Hadrian grinned. “Do you really want to know? I slept with a lot of witches. Some at the same time. It started with—”
“Forget it,” Harry interrupted, his cheeks flushing. He organised his thoughts to get the conversation back on track. "You seem to remember a lot about this time period.”
"That's right. For some reason, my childhood memories are more vivid to me."
"But your memory isn't completely reliable." Harry frowned. "What about your magical knowledge?"
"That seems to be intact, thankfully," Hadrian said. "Listen, Harry. I have a lot of knowledge about magic, including things that haven't been invented yet. It will give you a fighting chance, even when the future isn't predictable. I haven't had time to devise a training regimen, but we’ll get started once we return to Hogwarts."
His future self claimed to remember spells but conveniently forgot people and events, which struck him as suspicious. It was too neat, too convenient a limitation.
He studied Hadrian, searching for any sign of deception. Could he truly be what he claimed? He couldn't deny the results. The capture of Barty Crouch Jr, saving Pansy from attack, and the tracking spell led to more Death Eater arrests—all of these successes stemmed from Hadrian's guidance. If his goal was manipulation, he was taking a roundabout approach.
Harry didn’t trust easily. The Dursleys had taught him early that adults couldn't be relied upon. Hogwarts had reinforced that lesson—teachers dismissed his concerns about the Philosopher's Stone, failed to stop the Chamber of Secrets from opening, and nearly let Sirius receive the Dementor's Kiss.
And now, here was Hadrian, asking for blind faith.
Harry decided on a middle path. He would work with Hadrian, learn from him, and use his knowledge to prepare—but always with a healthy dose of skepticism. He would verify what he could, test what was testable, and keep his guard up for inconsistencies or manipulations.
The possessions would have to stop, though. That was non-negotiable. The feeling of being a passenger in his body, helpless to control his movements or words, had been deeply violating. If Hadrian tried it again without explicit permission, Harry would find a way to expel him.
For now, Harry would play along. After all, what other choice did he have?
"Is that why you had me buy the nutrient potions?" Harry asked.
"Yes. You will be working hard to improve your physique. Stamina is a major part of combat. Sometimes, the difference between winning and losing comes down to who can dodge the longest." Hadrian paused. "There's another reason for taking the nutrient potions. You might have noticed that I'm only about 5'8."
"I noticed."
"Well, that is because my growth was stunted because of malnutrition. I was too late to fix it, but you shouldn't suffer the same consequences."
Harry couldn't argue with the logic. "Fine."
"The next issue we need to fix after that is your eyesight," Hadrian continued.
"Really?" Harry touched his glasses reflexively.
"How do you feel about rituals?"
Harry frowned. "What kind of rituals?"
"Nothing dark," Hadrian assured him quickly. "But not exactly Ministry-approved either. It's a modified ritual that uses runework and a potion to correct vision. It's temporary at first—lasts about a month—but with repeated applications, it becomes permanent."
“If you say so. Do I need to make another trip to Diagon Alley for the ingredients?"
"No," Hadrian replied. "We'll find all the ingredients we need in the Forbidden Forest."
"The one with all the dangerous creatures? The Acromantula? You mean that forest?" Harry said, his voice flat with disbelief.
"Yes," Hadrian smirked. "I'm sure it will be a fun experience."
"You're mental."
Dobby apparated into the room, startling Harry.
"Dobby can be getting the ingredients for Master Harry Potter," the house-elf announced.
Harry sighed. "Right, I need to deal with you."
Dobby immediately collapsed at Harry's feet, clutching the hem of his jeans. "Don't give Dobby clothes!" he wailed, his enormous eyes swimming with tears.
Hadrian grinned. "You absolute monster. For even considering dismissing Dobby."
"Did I say that?" Harry asked, exasperated. "Dobby, get up, please. I'm not going to give you clothes. But we need to go over some ground rules."
Dobby sprang to his feet, recovering quickly. Harry's eyes narrowed. Were those crocodile tears?
"First rule," Harry began, "no punishing yourself. Second, ask for my permission before you try to save my life. Third, if you're ever in danger, get yourself to safety immediately. We can discuss wages later. Understand?"
Dobby nodded eagerly. "Is there anything Dobby could do for Master Harry right now?"
"I thought I told you not to call me Master."
"I can't comply with that request," Dobby replied solemnly. "Master Harry needs to be called Master."
Harry groaned, and Hadrian laughed.
"I need to write a letter to Sirius before he does something foolish like coming to check up on me. Can you deliver it for me?"
Dobby nodded. "Dobby is familiar with his magical signature."
"How?" Harry asked, baffled.
Dobby stared at him, unblinking. "Dobby is always watching."
The house-elf apparated away before Harry could respond. Harry turned to Hadrian with a horrified expression. “Remind me to add another rule for Dobby not to spy on me.”
"I never noticed he was that obsessed with me," Hadrian said.
"Wow, you were really dumb."
"You just insulted yourself."
Harry shrugged and moved towards Ron's desk, pulling out parchment and a quill. "Come to think of it, where is Hedwig?"
"Hermione borrowed her to write to her parents."
Harry dipped the quill in ink and began writing.
"Harry, there's something else we need to speak about," Hadrian said, his tone serious.
"What is it?"
"Dumbledore is likely to show up on the Weasley doorstep at any moment."
Harry paused mid-sentence, looking up. "How can you be sure?"
"His little pawn was caught in a dangerous situation," Hadrian explained. "He'll want to make sure you're alright."
A shout from downstairs interrupted them, Mrs Weasley's voice calling for Harry.
"That's probably him now," Hadrian said. "When you talk to him, you can't look him in the eyes."
"Why not?"
"Dumbledore knows how to read minds. He can do it without a wand if he stares directly into your eyes. If he finds out about me..."
Harry set down his quill. "That's scary. It can't be legal, surely?"
"How are you going to prove it?" Hadrian asked. "Besides, Dumbledore gets away with a lot, considering his status. I doubt you could do anything even if you could prove it."
Harry nodded, rising from his chair.
"There's a chance that my presence may protect you from your mind being read," Hadrian added, "but I don't want to take the chance."
Harry took a deep breath and headed for the door, mentally preparing himself to face the Headmaster.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=
Harry entered the living room. Dumbledore stood by the fireplace. The Weasleys shuffled out quietly, Mrs Weasley casting a worried glance over her shoulder before closing the door.
Dumbledore waved his wand, conjuring a plush armchair opposite the sofa. Harry sat on the worn cushions, focusing on the Headmaster's beard rather than his eyes.
"I heard you had an eventful night," Dumbledore began.
"I'm used to it," Harry replied.
Dumbledore's fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Perhaps. But some situations are more avoidable than others."
Harry's jaw tightened. "Are you criticising me for saving Pansy Parkinson?"
"No. It was a noble deed," Dumbledore said quickly. "But one must weigh the consequences of their actions. You made enemies today, Harry."
"Are you referring to the Death Eaters?" Harry asked. "I didn't know I was on friendly terms with them before."
"No, but they are not going to let this go easily. You spoiled their fun and got several arrested."
Harry snorted. "Too bad Malfoy wasn't among them."
"You need to take this seriously, Harry."
"Oh, I am."
Dumbledore changed tack, leaning forward slightly. "I was surprised to hear that you battled two Death Eaters and drove them off."
"They were drunk, and I took them by surprise. I got lucky."
"That's not what the Daily Prophet is reporting."
"Are you telling me you take that rag seriously?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, I'm not here to argue. Due to your actions, you must stay with your family for the remainder of the summer."
"You can't be serious," Harry said, sitting up straighter. "There's less than a week before Hogwarts."
"It's important that you are protected."
Hadrian stood beside Harry, his face twisted with anger. "I can't believe Dumbledore would do this. He's punishing you because you didn't behave as he wanted. That does it. I was going to wait longer to enact this plan, but now I'm bringing it forward."
Harry said nothing as Dumbledore told him to pack his things. He would be waiting in the kitchen.
"What plan?" Harry whispered once Dumbledore had left.
"A plan to make sure you never return to the Dursleys."
"What do I have to do?"
Hadrian's lips curled into a smile. "Speak to a nosy little beetle."
Upstairs, Ron and Hermione burst into the room as Harry threw his belongings into his trunk.
"What's going on?" Hermione demanded.
"Dumbledore's making me go back to the Dursleys for the rest of the summer," Harry said, slamming his books into the trunk.
"That's mental!" Ron exclaimed. "Why?"
"For my protection."
Even Hermione looked troubled. "That doesn't make sense. You’re perfectly safe here with the Weasleys.”
Harry shrugged. "Try telling him that."
Downstairs, Mrs Weasley's voice carried through the kitchen door, her tone sharp with anger. When Harry entered, he found her red-faced, jabbing a finger at Dumbledore, who maintained a serene expression.
"Are you ready?" Dumbledore asked, turning to Harry.
Harry grinned. "More than ready."
Dumbledore looked disconcerted by Harry's response but said nothing. After Mrs Weasley gave him a crushing hug, Harry stepped outside with Dumbledore. Hadrian faded back into his scar.
The side apparition felt like being squeezed through a rubber tube. When they arrived at Privet Drive, Harry's stomach heaved. He made no effort to turn away as he vomited spectacularly over Dumbledore's polished boots.
Dumbledore's mouth tightened with annoyance as he vanished the mess with a flick of his wand. Without another word, he spun on his heel and disappeared with a crack.
Hadrian emerged, eyebrows raised. "You deliberately aimed for his shoes."
Harry shrugged. "I couldn't help throwing up. Someone should have warned me about the side effects."
He hoisted his trunk toward the house. "So, what's this about a beetle?"
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
26th August
Harry got off the Knight Bus at the Leaky Cauldron, his legs still wobbly from the erratic journey. He pulled his hat lower over his forehead, concealing his scar to avoid attention.
"Why did we have to take the Knight Bus?" Harry asked. "Couldn't Dobby have apparated me here?"
Hadrian materialised beside him. "House-elves cannot side-apparate people like wizards can."
"Why not?"
"Probably because it's a major security risk," Hadrian explained. "Take this as an example: Crouch Senior is sitting in a cell in the Ministry. What if he called Winky and had her help him escape?"
Harry considered this as he walked toward the pub's entrance. "Is that why Winky didn't apparate away with Crouch Junior during the attack?"
"That's right."
Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron and nodded at Tom, who was polishing glasses behind the bar. The barman gave him a toothless smile, not recognising him. Harry moved through the pub and out the back, tapping the brick wall with his wand to open the passageway to Diagon Alley.
As they made their way down the cobblestone street, Harry continued the conversation in hushed tones.
"You talk as if house-elves were purposely created without specific abilities."
"Not much is known about house-elves' origins," Hadrian said. "But there are ancient texts that suggest they were created, or changed, to have certain traits to serve wizards. No one knows the magic involved, so the house-elves can't be changed back. Not that anyone wants them to, including the house-elves themselves."
Harry frowned. "There's a flaw in your logic. House-elves can apparate anywhere, even through the most powerful wards. Are you telling me that was a deliberate design?"
"Who knows? Maybe their creator made a mistake." Hadrian shrugged. "In fact, we're going to use their short-sightedness in my plan. Did you know house-elves are good at illusion magic?"
"No. What are you going to make Dobby do?"
"Wait and see."
They reached the Daily Prophet offices, a tall, narrow building with enchanted printing presses visible through large windows on the ground floor. Harry pushed open the heavy oak door and approached the reception desk.
A thin witch with rectangular spectacles glanced up from her paperwork. "Can I help you?"
"I'd like to see Rita Skeeter," Harry said.
"Do you have an appointment?" Her eyebrows arched over her frames.
"No."
"You have to make an appointment. Miss Skeeter is a busy woman."
Harry removed his hat, revealing his scar. "Tell her Harry Potter is here to see her. I'm sure she can find the time."
The receptionist's eyes widened. "One moment," she said, rising from her seat.
She crossed to a door marked 'Special Correspondent' and knocked twice before poking her head inside. After a brief exchange, she beckoned Harry forward.
"Miss Skeeter will see you now."
Rita Skeeter's office was cluttered with stacks of parchment and photographs. The walls were plastered with her most famous front-page headlines. Rita sat behind a large desk, her acid-green quill already hovering over a notepad.
"Harry Potter!" she exclaimed, her heavily jewelled fingers gesturing to the chair opposite her desk. "What an unexpected pleasure. Seeking more publicity after your heroics at the World Cup, are we?"
"Actually," Harry said, settling into the chair, "I came to discuss your rather unique talent, Rita. Or should I say, your beetle form?"
The quill froze mid-air. Rita's smile faltered, then disappeared entirely. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't you? An unregistered Animagus form would earn you a nice, long stay in Azkaban, I believe."
Rita's hand moved toward her handbag on the desk, but Harry was faster. With a swift motion, he drew his wand.
"Accio wand!" The slender wood flew from her bag into his free hand.
Rita's face had gone pale beneath her heavy makeup. "What do you want?"
"I want you to write an article about me."
She frowned in confusion. "You burst in here, threaten me, and then ask for what I already do?"
"Not for the Prophet," Harry clarified. "I want a unique article that won't be printed in the newspaper, but I want it to look like it was. I have a purpose for it."
Understanding dawned in Rita's eyes. "And if I do this, you won't tell anyone about my secret?"
"As long as you don't go after me and my friends."
"So, I can't write about you at all?" Rita pouted. "A pity, as I will be visiting Hogwarts a lot this year."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"You don't know?" Rita looked genuinely surprised. "The Triwizard Tournament is happening this year."
She rummaged through the mess on her desk before extracting a half-finished piece of parchment, which she handed to Harry. It was an announcement article explaining the tournament and its rules. Harry scanned it quickly.
"It will be announced on the second of September, right after the students learn about it," Rita said, watching Harry's reaction closely. "Isn't it exciting?"
"Riveting," Harry replied dryly.
He glanced at Hadrian, who was deliberately looking away. Harry felt a surge of suspicion that the tournament was what Hadrian had been hiding from him.
"So," Rita said, reaching for her quill, "what is this article you want written?"
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=
Back at Privet Drive, Harry sat on his bed, reviewing the fake newspaper article Rita had produced. The enchanted photograph showed Number Four from the outside, with Aunt Petunia repeatedly pulling back the curtains to peer suspiciously at the street.
The headline read: 'HARRY POTTER'S HOME REVEALED! THE BOY-WHO-IS-ABUSED.'
The article detailed years of mistreatment—cupboards, starvation, verbal abuse—but what made it perfect was the final paragraph calling for the magical community to "take action against these Muggle abusers who dare mistreat our saviour."
Harry folded the paper. "Dobby!"
The house-elf appeared with a crack. "Dobby is ready to deceive Master Harry's nasty relatives."
"Good. Have you taken care of Mrs Figg?”
“She won’t be waking up anytime soon. Dobby made sure of it.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. That sounded slightly ominous. In any case, without Mrs. Figg spying on them, their plan had a better chance of success.
“Just wait for the signal and make your entrance."
Dobby nodded eagerly and popped away.
Harry glanced at Hedwig in her cage. "We won't be here much longer. Get ready to leave."
Hedwig hooted softly in response.
Checking his watch, Harry noted that Uncle Vernon would have just returned from work—the perfect time to catch him tired and irritable. Harry grabbed the newspaper and thundered down the stairs, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"UNCLE VERNON! AUNT PETUNIA! LOOK WHAT'S HAPPENED!"
He burst into the kitchen where Uncle Vernon sat red-faced at the table, loosening his tie, while Aunt Petunia hovered near the stove.
"What is all this racket, boy?" Vernon bellowed, slamming his meaty fist on the table. "I've had a long day, and I'll not have you—"
"They know!" Harry thrust the newspaper at them. "The wizarding world knows about you—about everything!"
"What are you on about?" Petunia snapped, but her voice faltered as her eyes caught the moving photograph of their house.
Vernon snatched the paper, his face paling as he read the headline. His eyes bulged as he scanned the article, each word causing the vein in his temple to throb more violently.
"This... this is..." Vernon sputtered.
"Listen to this part," Harry said, pointing to the final paragraph. "'The wizarding community must respond to these vile Muggles who have mistreated Harry Potter. We call upon all concerned witches and wizards to make their displeasure known.'"
"But Dumbledore said we'd be protected," Petunia whispered, her bony fingers clutching at her throat. "He said as long as you lived in this house—"
At that precise moment, Dobby appeared, though the Dursleys saw only a wild-eyed wizard with tangled hair and dirty robes, brandishing what appeared to be a wand.
"Dursleys!" Dobby shrieked, his voice deeper than usual but still maintaining his characteristic speech pattern. "Dobby has come to punish the Muggles who hurt Harry Potter!"
"Who the devil are you?" Vernon attempted to sound brave, but his voice came out as a squeak.
"Dobby is a wizard who reads the Prophet! Dobby is seeing what you did to the Boy-Who-Lived!"
Dobby sent the dining room chairs flying with a flick of his wand. Another flick, and the cabinets burst open, plates and glasses hovering menacingly in the air.
Petunia screamed as a soup tureen emptied itself over Vernon's head.
"Please!" Harry stepped forward, placing himself between Dobby and the Dursleys. "Don't hurt them—they're still my family!"
"Family does not treat family like this!" Dobby waved his fake wand, causing the refrigerator door to fling open and eggs to pelt Vernon and Petunia.
Vernon cowered behind his wife. "What do you want from us? Money?"
"Dobby does not want Muggle money!" the disguised house-elf declared. "Dobby wants justice for Harry Potter!"
"Please," Harry said to Dobby, his voice pleading, "tell me what they can do to make this right. There must be something that would satisfy the wizarding world."
Dobby paused his rampage, pretending to consider. "There is one thing," he said finally. "The Dursleys must pack their belongings and leave this country. No, leave Britain. Never to return while Harry Potter lives!"
"What?" Vernon gasped.
"If you stay, Dobby will return with more wizards! Dobby will turn all Dursleys into swine! Permanently!"
"Vernon," Petunia clutched her husband's arm, "we have to go. We have no choice."
"Listen to your wife, fat Muggle man!" Dobby sent a chair skidding across the floor.
"Alright!" Vernon bellowed. "Alright, we'll go! Just stop destroying our house!"
The Dursleys fled upstairs, leaving Harry alone with Dobby, who dropped the illusion with a snap of his fingers.
"You were brilliant," Harry grinned.
"Dobby enjoys helping Master Harry Potter," the elf replied, bowing low.
Hadrian materialised, looking thoroughly amused. "Well, that went better than expected."
Back in his room, Harry began packing his trunk. He didn't know if the Dursleys would stick to their decision, but he doubted they would allow him to stay with them ever again.
Tomorrow, he would return to the Weasleys with a story about a wizard attacking their home and driving the Dursleys away. But he'd wait until tomorrow afternoon to give his relatives time to leave—and to prevent Dumbledore from interfering.
As Harry closed his trunk, he couldn't help but smile. He would never have to return to Privet Drive again.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
1st September
Harry arrived at King's Cross with the Weasleys in their usual frantic rush, everyone piling out of Ministry cars with barely fifteen minutes to spare before the Hogwarts Express departed.
Harry and Ron charged through the barrier together, emerging onto Platform 9¾ where the scarlet steam engine waited. The platform was crowded with families saying their goodbyes.
After hasty farewells to Mr and Mrs Weasley, Harry and Ron boarded the train, dragging their trunks down the corridor in search of a compartment. They found Hermione waiting in one near the middle of the train, already changed into her school robes and engrossed in a book.
She looked up as they entered, closing her book with a smile. "There you are! I was beginning to think you'd miss the train."
"Nearly did," Ron huffed, heaving his trunk onto the overhead rack. "Dad's Ministry cars got held up."
Once they'd stowed their luggage, they collapsed onto the seats. The train whistle blew, and with a lurch, they were off, steam billowing past the windows as they pulled away from the platform.
Ron wasted no time launching into the story of the Dursleys' disappearance for Hermione, who'd missed the drama after returning home.
"You should have seen Harry when he turned up at our house," Ron said excitedly. "Burst out of the fireplace, covered in soot, saying some nutter wizard had attacked his house and the Dursleys had fled the country!"
Hermione's eyes widened. "Are you all right, Harry?"
"I'm fine," Harry shrugged. "The wizard wasn't threatening me. He was after the Dursleys."
"But it could have been different," Hermione said anxiously. "Your house is supposed to be protected."
"Yeah, it's strange," Harry replied. "It sent Dumbledore into a frenzy, trying to figure out what happened."
Something in his tone must have alerted her because she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing," Harry said, perhaps a bit too quickly.
"Yeah. Stop being paranoid, Hermione," Ron chimed in.
Harry leaned back in his seat, allowing his friends to bicker as he recalled how Hadrian's plan had gone off without a hitch. As soon as he'd flooed to the Weasleys, he'd explained the situation, and they'd quickly contacted Dumbledore. The Headmaster had rushed to Privet Drive to investigate and started gathering people to search for the Dursleys, but they had already left the country by then.
Harry realised that the Dursleys couldn't just abandon their home and lives in England, as there were too many legal issues. But he had contacted Sirius, who had been proud of Harry for playing such a prank. Sirius had gotten in touch with the goblins, who would discreetly look for the Dursleys and help them with any matters to help them settle down in their new country.
Dumbledore had to let Harry stay with the Weasleys for the rest of the summer, as he had no idea where to put him. He kept questioning Harry about the intruder, but Harry had kept his story simple to avoid being caught in a lie.
Hadrian was certain that Dumbledore had tried to read Harry's mind, but he had felt nothing. It looked like Hadrian was correct and acted as a natural defence against Legilimency.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Sorry, what?"
"I asked if you've heard anything more about the Death Eaters who were arrested."
"Mr Weasley told us what's happening," Harry replied. "Crouch Junior has returned to Azkaban, and Crouch Senior and the Death Eaters are awaiting trial. Fudge is trying to delay the proceedings, but Madam Bones is on the warpath."
"Dad says Madam Bones won't let them get off easy," Ron added. "Fudge won't be able to protect the Death Eaters for long before it starts affecting his reputation."
"Have you heard more about your Order of Merlin, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Not really. I'm hoping they forget about it."
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. The compartment slid open to reveal Pansy Parkinson standing in the corridor, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.
"Can I sit here?" she asked.
Harry gestured her in, and Hadrian materialised as she sat down.
"Aren't you afraid of causing trouble with Draco?" Harry asked as she settled opposite him.
Pansy's lip curled slightly. "I'm sick of pretending to be his hanger-on. My father isn't afraid of Lucius' power anymore. After the Quidditch World Cup, he wants nothing to do with him. He knows Lucius was one of them under those masks."
"Good for him," Ron said, surprising everyone with his lack of hostility towards the Slytherin. "Anyone who doesn't like the Malfoys is alright in my book."
Hermione rolled her eyes. She retrieved her wand, casting a locking charm and a notice-me-not charm on the door. "There. Less chance of anyone disturbing us."
Harry suddenly noticed something about Pansy's face. It had lost the pug-like appearance, making her look more beautiful.
"What happened to your face?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.
"What do you mean?" Pansy asked, her hand flying to her cheek.
The moment she did, her features changed, returning to her original look. Or was this the disguise?
"Blimey," Ron gaped.
"How did you do that?" Harry asked.
"I'm a Metamorphmagus," Pansy replied.
"Really?" Hermione perked up with interest. "I heard they are rare."
Pansy shrugged. "There was one at Hogwarts during our first year, so I wouldn't consider us rare. The ability is handy, though, as I can make myself look ugly so Draco doesn't get any ideas."
Harry glanced at Hadrian. Had he known Pansy was a Metamorphagus?
Hadrian winked at him.
So, what do you think? I changed it so house-elves can’t side-apparate others in this story, as the ability is too broken. If they can go anywhere, they should be able to break into Azkaban, which has massive implications.
Thanks for reading.
