Special Delivery
When Harry had ventured the suggestion of sitting on the couch all day and looking at each other, he had meant it as sarcasm. But here he was, two hours later, slumped forlornly on the sofa watching Uncle Vernon read a magazine on drills. It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Uncle Vernon had called into work sick today.
Having nothing else to do (his uncle absolutely forbade him from studying any of his “rubbish books” in the living room), Harry had become quite familiar with the couch. It was immaculately clean with a horrid brown and pink floral pattern that reminded him of vomit. He had spent the last hour playing with a row of gaudy pink tassels sticking out of its side. Aunt Petunia (who sat on a recliner next to Uncle Vernon doing her nails) had been surprisingly quiet the entire morning.
Other than the phone ringing once or twice and the milkman stopping by, it had been a rather uneventful morning. Harry couldn’t think of when he had been more bored in his life. The only thing that kept him going was the memory of Dumbledore’s letter, which had burned to ashes the day before. In it Dumbledore had mentioned sending him “somewhere he would very much like to visit”, and Harry continued to rack his brain trying to figure out where that may be.
Harry wondered what Ron and Hermione were up to, hoping he would be able to see them soon.
Another grueling hour went by. Still no sign from Dumbledore. By this time Harry had moved from playing with the tassels to counting how many of the pictures on the wall were of Dudley holding some sort of food. He had counted 12 when a sudden knock at the door shattered the three hour long silence.
Uncle Vernon looked quickly up from his magazine, glanced shrewdly at Harry, then motioned for him to get the door with a quick jerk of his big head.
Harry rose and walked to the door, keenly aware of his uncle’s eyes on the back of his head. His heart began to race as he placed his hand on the doorknob”he half expected to see Dumbledore on the other side, smiling at him…and pulled it open. Instead a woman in a Royal Mail uniform holding a small brown package stood looking blankly at him.
Harry’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. It was probably some new kitchen appliance Aunt Petunia had ordered off TV, or another gift for Dudley. Harry turned to go back to the couch.
“Package for Mr. Harry Putter,” said the mailwoman.
Harry stopped in his tracks and turned towards the woman. It had to be a mistake. Package? For him?
“Er…I’m Harry Putter…Potter,” replied Harry, examining the delivery woman more carefully than the first time.
She was about his size and probably about 10 years older. Her dark black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and, as Harry looked closer, had a curious tint of blue to it. In one hand she held a clipboard, and in the other the small brown package. She was chewing bubble-gum and didn’t look the least bit interested in Harry, the package, or anything else around her. Although he had never seen the woman in his life, Harry thought there was something oddly familiar about her…
“A package, is it…?” Uncle Vernon rudely pushed Harry to the side and stood in the doorway, eying the woman suspiciously. Harry could see the wheels slowly moving in his thick head, probably trying to determine if the small package could somehow sprout wings and fly Harry out of the house.
“And where is this…package…from, may I ask?” Uncle Vernon questioned the mail woman accusingly.
“Let me check,” The woman replied disinterestedly and looked down at her clipboard. Harry examined her more closely. She had bright blue eyes, a small button nose, and a heart shaped face. He had seen the face before…
Then it registered: Tonks! Could it be? The face looked like her and the black-blue hair was definitely something she would do; the woman’s voice even sounded a like hers. Still, he couldn’t be sure…
The woman looked up from the clipboard.
“Weybridge, Surrey. Probably a recruitment package from Brooklands College. We’ve had a lot of them lately.”
”Ah, of course. Go on then…” Uncle Vernon waved his hand, apparently appeased with the explanation. He left Harry with the woman and started back for the living room and his drill magazine.
“What nutter college would want him I have no idea…” Harry heard him mutter under his breath as he passed.
This was one time Harry had to agree with Uncle Vernon. What college would even know about him?
The delivery woman spoke again:
“Yep, Brooklands College. It’s on a street called ‘Grimmauld Place,” she added, holding out the clipboard for Harry to sign.
Harry started at hearing the name. Looking at the woman’s face he noticed her lips twitch into a small smile.
Harry had to concentrate on the clipboard (which turned out to be just a blank sheet of paper) to keep from laughing out loud. It was definitely Tonks. Luckily for him Tonks had grown up with Muggles and was able to come up with a partially believable explanation. He scribbled his name right in the middle of the clipboard and handed it back.
“Thank you, sir. Here’s your package,” Tonks said ceremoniously, then took the clipboard and handed the small brown parcel to Harry.
As she left she gave him an enormous wink, and Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting with laughter.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one to see the wink.
“YOU!” Uncle Vernon bellowed. Tonks froze in the doorway. Uncle Vernon’s eyes bulged and he pointed an accusatory finger at her. “YOU’RE ONE OF THEM!” In an instant he had thundered his way back to the door, seized the package from Harry, tossed it out the open doorway, and was barking in Tonks’s face:
“Brooklands College, indeed! You listen here”this, this… miscreant” he gestured at Harry, “isn’t going anywhere until I see Dupeldoor! You tell him that for me!” he yelled, the plump face bright purple and an inch from Tonks’s. “Now, GET OFF MY PROPERTY!” The door slammed so hard that a couple pictures (Dudley had been eating in both, Harry noted) fell off the wall and shattered.
Uncle Vernon then stepped towards him, a satisfied smile on his face. He spoke in a low growl, “Doesn’t look like your little friends are as smart as they think they are, does it boy? Now sit down!”
Defeated, Harry did as he was told and took his previous seat on the brown and pink couch. Uncle Vernon also returned to his spot; a smug, self-satisfied look on his face as if he had just outsmarted the Prime Minister himself. Harry wasn’t impressed: if it hadn’t been for that ridiculous wink, he’d be up in his room opening the package right now.
Harry spent the next hour or so thinking about the package and what it may have held. It hadn’t been very big; probably no larger than a shoe-box. Considering Tonks had delivered it personally, it most likely contained the means for leaving Privet Drive that Dumbledore had mentioned in his letter. Harry guessed it was a port-key of some sort.
Another couple of hours slowly drug by. Aunt Petunia had fallen asleep and was snoring slightly. Uncle Vernon had dispensed with the drill magazine and was now balancing his checkbook when another knock came at the door.
The noise woke Aunt Petunia with a loud snort. Before Harry could even stand (he was anxious for any excuse to get off the couch by now) Uncle Vernon had bolted out of his seat, shoved Harry back into his, and was on his way to the door.
“You stay there,” he growled back at Harry. He had an angry, eager look on his face that reminded Harry of a tiger about to pounce on its prey. The door opened.
“Evn’n sir. We’re from the ‘Lectic Department do’n root’ine checks on yer block. D’you mind if we come in an’ look at yer fuse box fer a secon’?” Harry heard the slow, gravely voice of a man say to Uncle Vernon. The man sounded a bit nervous and unsure.
Watching Uncle Vernon glower back at the man, he could understand why. Anyone would be nervous with Uncle Vernon looking at them like that, Harry thought as he craned his head to get a better look at the man. All he could see from his vantage point on the couch was the hovering end of a rusted gray toolbox. The voice definitely wasn’t Tonks; perhaps it really was the Electric Department…
Uncle Vernon didn’t reply at first, but continued to regard the speaker with a cold and suspicious air before finally speaking.
“The Electric Department, did you say? So that would make you…electricians, wouldn’t it,” Uncle Vernon reasoned quite admirably.
“Er…yessir,” came the man’s confused reply.
Uncle Vernon continued to look back at the man, his eyes squinted judiciously, as if he were buying a used car and was hoping to find a defect in it. Harry heard another voice, this one a woman’s, pipe up:
“We’ve had some trouble with power surges and transformer malfunctions in your area, sir. It won’t take but a few minutes. Or if you’d like us to come back some other time…?” she spoke, sounding much more confident than the man had.
“No, no, not at all. Come on in.” Uncle Vernon removed his massive bulk from the doorway and gestured for the two to enter. “Right then! Go have a look.”
Uncle Vernon sounded unusually polite, Harry noticed.
Harry watched the two electricians enter the house. The first was a husky, middle-aged woman with short, gray hair. She took no notice of Harry or Petunia sitting on the couch as she entered, her attention apparently focused on locating the fuse-box.
The second electrician was far more interesting. He was short and squat; a dumpy little figure crammed into a uniform that looked two sizes too tall and four sizes too thin. His light brown hair was slicked back with some horrible type of grease and he gazed continually around the house with an air of bewilderment and uneasiness. As he looked around the house his eyes fell on Harry and his eyes registered recognition. He stared at Harry for a few seconds, mouth slightly open, before looking hurriedly away and finding his partner.
Harry recognized the man almost immediately. He lowered his face and buried it in his hands so no one would see him quaking with laughter.
There were many wizards who could reasonably pass as a Muggle”Mundungus Fletcher was definitely not one of them.
Uncle Vernon glanced shrewdly at Harry, then closed the door and joined the two “electricians”.
“Where could we find the fuse-box, sir?” asked the female, who Harry now realized was Tonks.
“Why, it’s in that cabinet right there, the one under the stairs,” Uncle Vernon replied, again just a little too politely.
The hefty, middle aged Tonks opened the cabinet door, (which had also served as the door to Harry’s living quarters for many years) ducked underneath, and flipped open the fuse-box. Tonks, at least, was doing a decent job of acting like a Muggle, which was more than he could say for Mundungus, who followed Tonks’s heels like a terrified puppy.
Harry had two contrary feelings as he watched the whole spectacle: he felt anxious for the two, as it seemed Uncle Vernon was on to them already; and hilarity at Mundungus’s attempt at posing as an electrician. A plumber probably would have been a better choice...
As Tonks toyed around with the fuse box Uncle Vernon came up behind Mundungus (who was trying very hard not to look at anything but the floor), and placed his hand on his shoulder.
“I say, we’ve been having a little trouble with one of the outlets in the kitchen. Would you mind stepping in and having a look while we’re waiting?”
Harry saw Tonks freeze. Mundungus slowly looked up at Uncle Vernon, hesitated, then replied tremulously, “Er…no prob’em, sir.”
Uncle Vernon led him into the kitchen, where Harry could see him point out a socket against the wall next to the refrigerator.
“That outlet right there. It’s been acting up lately, will you give it a look for me?” Uncle Vernon took a couple of steps back and gazed at Mundungus expectantly.
Harry couldn’t help but feel sorry for Mundungus”he was clearly out of his element. In fact, Harry doubted Mundungus knew what an electrical outlet was anymore than Harry had known what Quidditch was before entering Hogwarts.
Holding the rusted gray toolbox Mundungus took a couple of slow steps towards the kitchen counter and set it down with a loud rattle. He peered warily at the outlet, doing his best to look and sound knowledgable, a task at which he failed spectacularly:
“Of course…out-lick be’n actin strange lately…see ’t all the time, we do…rascally out-licks.”
Harry saw Tonks’s head dart out from under the cabinet door, watching Mundungus in shock. Harry realized the peril of the situation: it was only a matter of seconds before Mundungus made it obvious that he was no electrician, and then Uncle Vernon would undoubtedly throw them out of the house with a few choice words and Harry still wouldn’t have the package. He could see her mind racing furiously, trying desperately to come up with a plan.
“Uh…Sir, I’m just going to check the outlets upstairs, if that’s all right with you,” she said quickly and made for the stairway. Harry saw the package peeking out from her toolbox.
“WAIT RIGHT THERE!” Uncle Vernon yelled from across the kitchen. “You may just as soon as we get this outlet fixed. Now after you sir,” he said, gesturing at Mundungus to continue.
With a last terrified glance at Tonks, Mundungus slowly reached back into his tool-box, fished around for a bit, and pulled out a long flatheaded screwdriver and…a big rubber mallet. Harry winced. It wasn’t that he had chosen the wrong tool so much as the fact that he was holding it by the wrong end.
Mundungus took a quick glance up to check Uncle Vernon’s reaction. Uncle Vernon simply grinned and said nothing.
Heartened by Uncle Vernon’s encouraging manner Mundungus turned towards the outlet”screwdriver in his right hand and the head of the rubber mallet in his left”and did the one thing that made sense to him to do: stuck the flat end of the screwdriver right into the electrical outlet.
“NO”!” “DUNG DON’T…!” Harry and Tonks yelled simultaneously.
A few things happened in the next fraction of a second. First, all the lights in the house went out. Second, a brilliant flash of light filled the room, accompanied by a sizzle and a horrific “GGGRRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!” followed by a loud THUMP in the dark kitchen.
“Dung! Are you all right?!” Tonks and Harry ran into the kitchen where Mundungus lay twitching on the floor. “Let’s get him up Harry.” said Tonks, wrapping an arm underneath his shoulders. Harry grabbed the other arm, and with a little effort the two were able to get Mundungus to his feet.
“W..W…Whollop’n Wombats!” he wheezed “I don’ like thet ‘lectrickity Tonks, you ke’p it away! Ke’p it away Tonks…” he spoke, eyes as big as golf balls and looking like he had just been hit by a truck. Harry had never seen Mundungus look so sober.
“Serves you right, rogue!” bellowed Uncle Vernon. Harry had completely forgotten he had been standing right next to them. “Electric Department, HA! As if your kind had the brains! Now GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!”
Uncle Vernon grabbed the two by their collars and pushed them out of the kitchen; Mundungus still quivering and muttering “ke’p it away…away…no more ‘lectickity” and Tonks doing all she could just to keep him from falling over while getting bulldozed by Uncle Vernon straight out of the house.
“YOU…COUCH…NOW!” he spat at Harry after locking the front door.
Another grueling hour passed. Harry was extremely worried by now”it was 4:30 and he only had a half hour before he was supposed to leave. Tonks was obviously doing all she could to get the package to him, but he couldn’t see any way of getting it now”Uncle Vernon was in such a state that he would probably attack the next person to knock on the door.
Aunt Petunia had just gone to the kitchen to prepare dinner when it came:
“Knock…….Knock…….Knock…….”
Uncle Vernon, who had just started to doze off himself, woke with a start. Harry looked up at the door hopefully, but knew it was no use trying to answer it; he’d have to watch from the couch again.
Uncle Vernon, however, didn’t get up to answer the door. He glared at Harry, then turned his head and glared at the door, apparently thinking the person would go away if he stared nastily enough at the back of the door.
A minute passed. Uncle Vernon had just relaxed back into his seat when it came again:
“Knock…….Knock…….Knock…….”
“Hummph!” Uncle Vernon grunted, then glared back at Harry, who could tell he was debating with himself about answering the door or not. Apparently he had decided not too, fo
Two minutes passed without a knock. Uncle Vernon had just sunk back into the couch, satisfied that the visitor had given up, when…
“KNOCK…KNOCK…KNOCK…”
“THAT’S IT!” he boomed, launching out of his seat and storming over to the door like an angry walrus. “I’m going to have your HEAD!” he growled at the locked door, fumbling with the dead bolt in his anger. It looked like he really was going to attack the person on the other side. Finally he threw it open:
“WHAT NOW…!” Uncle Vernon stopped mid-sentence”no one was there.
He stuck his head out the doorway and darted it left and right. Apparently no one was to be seen, for Uncle Vernon slammed the door, looking more irratated and angry than Harry had ever seen him. Aunt Petunia had come from the kitchen to see what the commotion was and, seeing the angry look on her husband’s face, returned to her cooking without a word. Uncle Vernon had almost made it back to the couch when:
“KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!”
“AARGGH!” Uncle Vernon practically flew to the door this time. In a swift movement he had flung it open, only to find, yet again, an empty porch. He stormed outside onto the front walkway, out of sight to Harry. He was probably all the way to the street by now, Harry figured. He could picture Uncle Vernon huffing like a winded boar, scanning the neighborhood for any sign of the prankster.
It was then that Harry first heard it:
“Cccccrrreeeeaaakkkkk.”
It sounded like the low squeaking sound of a loose floorboard being stepped on. He looked around for the source of the sound: Aunt Petunia was still in the kitchen, humming nervously to herself, and no one else was in the room…
Just then Uncle Vernon came back into the house, a crazy look in his eye, and, for some reason, clutching a heavy red brick. He left the door wide open, grasped one of the living room chairs and slammed it down several yards away from the open door, turning it to face outdoors. Apparently his plan was to wait until Tonks showed up and hurl the brick at her. The muscles on his forehead were twitching and he made strange grunting sounds to himself; the last time Harry had seen Uncle Vernon this crazy had been with the letters at the start of his first year.
Harry was just as bewildered. It seemed that Tonks had given up trying to get the package to Harry and had instead settled for playing tricks on Uncle Vernon. While it was fun to watch, Harry would really have preferred to leave Privet Drive…
“Cccccrrreeeeaaaakkkkk.”
There was the noise again. Having lived under the stairs for the first 10 years of his life, Harry knew exactly what it sounded like when someone tried to sneak up and down them: Dudley had done it hundreds of times. Someone was creeping up the stairs, but how could they get in without Harry seeing them…
Then it all came together: the persistent knocking; no one at the door; creaking floorboards”of course! Tonks had knocked on the door until Uncle Vernon had ran outside, used the opportunity to sneak in, and was now creeping up the stairs to deliver the package to Harry’s room. Brilliant! She had probably borrowed an invisibility cloak from Moody…
He took a quick glance at the clock: 4:53. He could give Tonks a minute or so, make some excuse to Uncle Vernon for going to his room, get the package and be out of Privet Drive!
“Ccccrrrrrreeeaaaakkkk” She had taken another step.
Harry watched in dismay as Uncle Vernon’s mustache twitched and his head cocked to one side. Had he heard the noise? He didn’t seem in any state of mind to perceive a small sound like the stairs creaking, but by this point Harry expected the worst.
“Ccccrrrrrreeeaaaakkkk.”
There it was again. Uncle Vernon definitely heard it this time. He looked around wildly. Harry began to feel hot panic creep up his neck: so close! She was so close…
An idea suddenly sprang to his head. He had to say something, anything to cover the sound of the floor creaking:
“Er…Uncle Vernon, I don’t think Dumbledore will be coming today, and seeing as I’m not going anywhere, I think I should get started on my daily chores so…”
“QUIET BOY!” Uncle Vernon snapped, listening intently for another sound.
Harry felt his insides clench. It was up to Tonks now; all he could do was hope she got up the rest of the stairs quietly. Unfortunately, Tonks had never been known for her stealth…
As if a result of that very thought, Harry then heard a short “ccreeeaak”, a muffled grunt, then a sudden, startled, “DAMN!”, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body rolling down the stairs:
“Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom…CRASH!”
Harry looked up to see the half-visible upper torso of Tonks lying at the foot of the stairs, a small brown package resting on the floor nearby.
She opened her eyes to find an enraged Uncle Vernon gasping in disbelief at her. Somehow Tonks managed a weak laugh.
“Uhhh…Hello there Mr. Dursley…”
Uncle Vernon was positively furious. He was now standing, glowering at the visible portion of Tonks with his face turning rapidly purple, like a volcano about to explode. With an angry bellow he charged at Tonks, brick in hand.
“AAAAAARRRRRRGGHHHHHH!!!!”
Harry could see annoyance on Tonks’s face just before it disappeared under the cloak”along with the package.
The brick went smashing into the ground just where Tonks had been seconds before. Uncle Vernon continued to bellow like an angry bull.
“EEERRRGGHH! Get out here! PETUNIA! BURGLAR! CALL THE POLICE”
Harry could hear Tonks swishing around the living room, although he couldn’t see her.
“Dursley you git! You stupid GIT!” Harry heard Tonks say, sounding every bit as fed up as his uncle’s.
Uncle Vernon swung around to face the voice.
Harry heard a soft mutter from over to his right, followed by a few soft pops: “I didn’t want to do this, but…” Apparently Tonks was now in the middle of the living room, just feet from Harry.
She threw off the invisibility cloak. Harry gasped.
He was looking straight into the face of another Uncle Vernon.
“You couldn’t just let Harry go, could you!” the second Uncle Vernon yelled at the first, who had fallen to the ground in astonishment. “No, you’ve got to do it the hard way don’t you, you great sweaty Muggle…”
Just then Aunt Petunia walked into the living room, and, seeing one husband on the floor and another husband in the living room staring angrily at her, fainted.
“PETUNIA!” the real Uncle Vernon hopped up and ran to his wife. “It’s me! Vernon!”
Seizing the opportunity, Tonks spun towards Harry.
“Harry, we only have a couple of minutes! Take the package and go upstairs! Don’t worry about your things, we’ll get them later. GO!” she said brusquely. Harry understood, but couldn't help noting how odd it was to hear Uncle Vernon speaking with a woman’s voice.
Uncle Vernon had by this time risen to his feet and stood looking at his double with a mix of terror and anger. Petunia had regained consciousness and glanced at the two in amazement, not quite sure if she was dreaming.
With a glance at his aunt and uncle, Harry grabbed the package and made for the stairs.
“IMPOSTER!” he heard the real Uncle Vernon shout, pointing at Tonks.
“NO! YOU’RE THE IMPOSTER!” the other Vernon shouted back.
The last glance Harry had before sprinting up the stairs was of the fake Uncle Vernon dancing spasmodically around with bright pink hair while his aunt and real uncle watched on in astonishment. Whatever she was doing, Tonks seemed to be enjoying herself.
Harry flew into his room and ripped open the package, finding a stuffed toy lion. Careful not to touch it, Harry grabbed his wand from out of the open trunk and looked around for anything else he might need. Finding nothing, he placed his hand on the stuffed lion and felt the sharp tug just under his navel as the room around him disappeared in swirl of color.
The rushing sensation stopped in an instant, and Harry suddenly found himself on the ground in a small clearing of trees, a gentle breeze caressing his face. Before he could take in his new surroundings, Harry heard a calm, serene voice:
“Hello Harry. Welcome to Godric’s Hollow.”