Chapter Three: Heads of the characters hammer through daisies

Note: AU. Not DH-compliant.

Chapter Three: Heads of the characters hammer through daisies

July 1997

Vernon Dursley pounded up the stairs and banged on the closed door at the end of the hall.

"Potter! Get out of there! Some of your freaky friends are here."

There was a shuffling, then Harry opened the door and looked up at his uncle, his eyes dull and blank, betraying no emotion.

"Get down there and get rid of them as soon as possible! Can't have your friends doing anything freaky and unnatural and having the neighbours seeing. So GET RID OF THEM!"

Harry hurried down the stairs, almost tripping on his shoelaces and coming to a sudden halt when he saw who was waiting for him.

"Professor McGonagall! What are you doing here? And what are you doing dressed . . . like that?"

Minerva was carefully dressed in a blue Muggle skirted suit, a classic style, but clearly not of recent purchase, and was carrying a blue handbag. Her companion, standing in the shadows behind her, was wearing a grey fedora and a long, unbuttoned, rumpled, grey raincoat, under which he wore a drab mouse-grey suit, a wrinkled white shirt, and a dull blue tie that seemed to suck up what little light there was in the dimly lit front hall.

"We have come to remove you from this house, from your . . . family home," Minerva said, looking around her with distaste, "a bit early."

"But . . . Professor Dumbledore said someone would come on my birthday, or the night before." Harry took one step back up the stairs, almost bumping into his uncle. He swallowed. Death Eaters couldn't kidnap him from his home while he was underage, but . . . could they impersonate people he trusted and lure him from it?

Minerva smiled, seeming to recognise his difficulty for what it was. Ignoring Vernon Dursley on the stairs behind Harry, and his aunt and cousin, who were now standing in the hallway outside the living room, Minerva popped into her Animagus form. Dudley took a single step forward and peered down at the cat, Petunia pressed herself against the wall, Vernon stepped back up two steps, but Harry came down the stairs, smiling.

Minerva returned to her ordinary form then turned to Petunia and Dudley. "You are ready?"

Petunia nodded and held out a clear plastic bag, her hand trembling. Harry blinked. Hair. He glanced over at Dudley, who had had a recent haircut. A home haircut, which he'd not had since he was four.

The wizard took the bag from her with a nod, then let go of it, letting it float in front of him as he withdrew a dark jar from one of his capacious pockets. He removed the lid, put a pinch of the hair into the jar, and handed it to Harry.

"Drink up, Harry! To your health," the soft-spoken wizard said.

Harry looked into the foaming jar, then up at Professor McGonagall. "Polyjuice?"

"Yes, but before you drink, you need a haircut, as well." She took her wand from her purse and looked over at the wizard standing beside her. "Robbie, the other jars. And Petunia, if you have another bag, an empty one?"

Petunia nodded. She had it ready and held it out. One swish of Minerva's wand, and Harry had a short, spiky haircut, and his trimmings were all neatly deposited in the second bag, which the older wizard took and added evenly to three jars of Polyjuice before recapping them.

"You can follow the directions we gave you?" Minerva asked as the wizard handed the three sealed jars to Petunia and Dudley.

Surprisingly, it was Dudley who answered. "Yes, ma'am. Every fifty minutes to an hour unless I'm someplace where I can't be seen at all. Sleep in Harry's room with the doors and windows locked and the curtains closed. If I get up in the night to use the loo, drink some of this stuff. Never come near a window when I'm not lookin' like him, but let myself be seen as Harry a few times a day, but only through a window or in the back garden close to the house." Dudley looked over at Harry. "Until his birthday. Then we get more instructions."

"And someone will come for us. You said someone would come for us," Petunia said, finding her voice.

"Yes, you will be taken to safety. And then Dudley can return to being himself all of the time," Minerva replied. "We will continue to have someone watching the house, however, and if there is an emergency, you may be moved sooner."

"But . . . but . . ." Harry was flabbergasted.

"Need-to-know, Harry," the older wizard said gently. "We arranged this before you left school. If we hadn't managed this, we would have had to think of a different plan. Possibly kept you away altogether, as unsafe as that might have been. Drink up, now, both you boys."

"Wait just a minute, there!" Vernon Dursley shouted, having recovered from being stunned by Minerva's Animagus performance and his wife and son's apparent perfidy. "You can't go doing freaky things to my son! Making him a freak, like you are! And that's what you are – no offense meant by it," he blustered as he saw Minerva fingering her wand. "But we're nice, normal people here. A normal family, once this one's gone." He gestured at Harry.

"You will be a nice, normal, dead family if you don't do as we say, Dursley," Minerva said, her voice hard and her burr strong. "Do you have a nice, normal family plot? Of course, I do believe that your wife and son may feel differently about it than you do, and choose not to join you in it quite so soon."

"Vernon, he's my blood, and he's Dudley's, too," Petunia interjected. "It's the right thing to do, finally. And even if . . . if I didn't want to for his sake, they'll be after us. You-know-who will come for us, and don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. He killed Lily and her husband, and he'll kill us and have an easier time of it. He'll do it whether Harry is here or not. So we are helping Harry, then we are going wherever they take us where we will be safe."

Vernon spluttered, but Dudley turned to Harry and raised his jar.

"Cheers, Harry, and good luck." Dudley took a swallow of the potion. For a moment, he looked as though he would spit it back out, but he gamely took another swallow, then shoved the jar at his mother who took it and watched, somewhat horrified, as her son's skin began to writhe and his bones began to remould themselves beneath his flesh. A moment later, two Harrys stood in the front hall.

Harry laughed, looking at his cousin. "You don't even need to change clothes, Dursley." He looked at him appraisingly. "My old glasses are in my underwear drawer. You should probably wear them when you're me."

Dudley was trying to hold his pants up. Harry took off his belt altogether, handed it to his cousin, and swallowed down the noxious potion. Eyes widening, he looked at Minerva, who took the jar from him just in time. Harry turned and threw up at his uncle's feet, whose complexion shifted from crimson to purple, but the potion worked, and within moments, his baggy clothing fit him, even a little tightly, and he was the exact image of his cousin Dudley. Harry removed his glasses and handed them to Robert, who put them in his pocket, then he pulled off his trainers and traded them for his cousin's.

"But . . . but . . . Dudders is supposed to go on a special course! He can't stay here, looking like a freak for the next week!" Vernon shouted.

"We are the special course, Mr Dursley," the rumpled-looking wizard explained patiently. He smiled at the blotchy-faced man. "We are taking Dudley away – or Harry, as Dudley – which is why he cannot be seen for the next week. Then, your son will be returned, supposedly, and you three will all go out . . . and not return. But you cannot bring anything with you. A few small trinkets, perhaps, but otherwise . . . it must appear to anyone who enters the house looking for you as though you just stepped out for an evening."

"But I have a job!"

"You need to have a life to keep a job," Minerva said bluntly. "Come, we are wasting time." She glanced once more at Petunia. "Lily would finally be pleased with you, Petunia."

"Hey, Harry," Dudley said.

Harry turned.

"Good luck, mate." Dudley nodded with Harry's head.

Harry nodded back. He hesitated and then asked, "Why?"

Dudley shrugged. "That thing. That thing you saved me from, I guess."

A car horn tooted impatiently, and Robert opened the door.

"Wait, what about my things? What about Hedwig? And my broom?" Harry asked. "And . . . and my photographs! Photos of my parents . . ."

Minerva shook her head. "You can't bring anything with you, Harry – but Hedwig, of course. And your wand. You have that, I see," she said, glancing at the end of a dark stick emerging from one of his trouser pockets. "We don't want anyone else to see it, though. Put it under your shirt, Potter." She turned to Robert. "Run up and let the bird out. Tell her to go to Hogwarts Owlery and that Harry will be along later."

The grey-eyed wizard slipped past Vernon Dursley without even looking at the man, then he turned, looking back at Harry. "Where are the photos, Harry?"

"Under a loose floorboard in my room. In an album," Harry replied.

Minerva sighed, but said nothing as the wizard disappeared up the stairs.

Petunia shoved a knapsack and jacket at Harry. "Here. Sandwiches and a few other things. And Dudley's best jacket. Better put it on."

Harry put on the navy blue jacket, smoothed his hair down, and followed Minerva out the door to the waiting car, a small blue Mercedes.

"You get in back, Dudley," Minerva instructed, her voice clear and carrying. She opened the passenger door and sat beside the driver.

"What took you so long?" the woman asked. "And where's – oh, there he is."

"Muggles," Minerva said under her breath.

"Watch what you say about Muggles, Minerva," the curly-haired woman replied, waiting as Robert got in beside Harry, then backing out of the drive and heading down Privet Drive away from the Dursleys'.

"Melina, this is Harry Potter, looking like his cousin, Dudley, at the moment," Minerva said. Melina gave Harry a friendly wave, glancing back at him briefly. "Mr Potter, this is my niece, Healer Melina O'Donald."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he just said, "Hello."

The dishevelled wizard reached into one of his capacious raincoat pockets and pulled out a small item. He drew his wand from the other pocket, tapped the object and unshrunk it.

"Your photo album, Harry."

"Thanks, Professor." Harry smiled and stuffed it into his knapsack, then turned to look out the window, watching the signs as they drove.

"We will try to collect a few more of your things when we come for your aunt's family next week," the wizard replied.

"Robbie, don't make promises you may not be able to keep," McGonagall admonished from the front seat.

"That's all right, Professor. I'll understand if you can't. But if you can . . . there are a few things at the bottom of my trunk. And my broom – "

"I don't think we will be able to manage your broom, Harry, but I will see what I can do, otherwise," the quiet wizard said. "You can buy new things."

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Harry glanced back over at the wizard beside him. "We're going to London, Professor?" he asked.

"That is our destination, yes," Robert responded softly.

"We are going to London and staying the night at Grimmauld Place," McGonagall said. "Then tomorrow, we are proceeding to the Weasleys via Portkey. I am as yet undecided whether you are to come with us or await our return. I dislike the idea of leaving you there on your own. For your safety, not because we do not trust you."

Harry nodded. "But what about the wedding? Bill and Fleur . . . they already postponed it twice. That's next week. Everyone will be there."

Minerva looked back at the older wizard, who nodded at her.

"Everyone will not be there, Mr Potter – and before you interrupt with protests, allow me to inform you that the bride and groom will also not be in attendance. Apart from Robert and myself, only Arthur and Molly Weasley are currently aware of this, so you are not to share this information with anyone, do you understand, Potter?"

Harry nodded, and Minerva continued. "Last week, Bill and Fleur were married in a very small Muggle ceremony at a registry office. There will be no large wedding, for them or any other Order members, until after Voldemort is defeated. The wedding will appear to continue as scheduled, but the guests will all be whisked back to their homes, and it will be . . . a surprise for any uninvited guests, shall we say." Minerva turned to Melina. "Aren't you driving too fast?"

Melina laughed as she changed lanes, overtaking a lorry. "You always say that, Auntie Min."

Minerva ignored her and looked out the window.

Harry looked back over at Robert. "Are you going to be teaching Transfiguration again, sir?"

Robert shook his head.

"Oh. Do you know who will be?"

"One of my cousins," the wizard said softly. "My cousin's son, Alroy MacAirt."

"Oh." Harry looked out the window. The name meant nothing to him.

"I will be at the school, however," the older wizard said, "in a different capacity."

Harry looked over at him quizzically.

"The announcement has yet to be made public, Potter," Professor McGonagall said. "Robbie, don't tease the boy."

Robert laughed lightly. "What about those sandwiches, Harry? I am a mite peckish. And you can put your glasses in your bag."

"You clean up the crumbs, Robert!" Melina said, reaching over and turning on some music. A Golden Oldies station.

The rest of the trip was spent eating surprisingly good sandwiches and drinking sodas, Harry washing down another dose of Polyjuice with a coke. Melina dropped them all off at the grimy little park across from Grimmauld Place.

"Good luck, Har – er, Dudley! I'll see you, Min, Robert. I'm on a double yellow, so I can't stay. Take care of yourselves!"

Robert turned to Minerva. "I will return in about an hour." He nodded to Harry, then strode over to a tree and walked around it, out of view of the road. A moment later, there was a crack of Disapparition.

"Come on, now," Minerva said to Harry. "You and I are going in, while he sees if he can't find someone to stay at Grimmauld Place with you while we go to the Weasleys tomorrow. If not, you will come with us. Either way, not a word of what we told you in the car. Even about Hogwarts. The letters will be out soon enough."

Harry nodded and followed Minerva across the street, where number twelve Grimmauld Place emerged as he thought of the location of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Inside, Minerva dismissed him. "You can use the bedroom you usually do, Potter. I have some work to do. I will be in the library. You are welcome to do whatever you wish, as long as you remain within the house." She looked him up and down, a slight curl to her lip. "And do let the Polyjuice wear off – but don't discard what's left! I have more hair and more Polyjuice base, and although I don't anticipate your having to walk around like that again, if for some reason we have to move you before the first of September, it would be best to do so while you bear the appearance of another. And that one . . . may not be the most pleasant appearance, but it is convenient."

Thus, Harry began the final weeks of his summer holiday, lying on a lumpy bed in Grimmauld Place, waiting for the Polyjuice to wear off, and hoping that when Professor McGonagall returned from the Weasleys, she brought Ron with her. And maybe Hermione. She had been going to do something to ensure the safety of her parents, and it had all sounded quite complicated to him. But the three of them were going to have to make plans, decide how to proceed.

Harry stared up at the ceiling, watching dust motes float through the air, remembering Albus Dumbledore, and going over in his mind all that the old wizard had told him and all the memories he had shown him in the last few months before he died, thinking of Horcruxes, magical objects, and a long path ahead, a path he would have to take without Dumbledore and without his godfather.

Tears drying on his cheeks, Harry fell asleep and dreamed of the dead.