DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!
The days at Privet Drive had passed pleasantly enough. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were avoiding the trio as though they could catch a mysterious illness from simply being near them. Dudley remained strangely silent around the house and was only near Harry when Hermione happened to be about, peering at them around corners. They had made no headway into where the next Horcrux may be located, although Hermione had some insightful contributions.
“Well, if Voldemort hid the locket in the cave, it’s logical to believe he would hide the others in places where he felt the most powerful,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly.
“How is it logical to assume that?” Ron asked, a triumphant grin replacing his flustered look as his knight sent bits of Harry’s queen littering the board.
“He felt powerful there because he could use his magic to intimidate his peers,” Hermione replied with exasperation. “Maybe even for the first time…” Hermione added thoughtfully, clearing away the left over dinner debris.
“And the ring, at the Gaunt house,” Harry started slowly, jumping up to help Hermione clean the dinner mess, “Voldemort hid it there because that was the location that enabled him to end his Muggle lineage!”
“Exactly,” Hermione validated gravely.
“But, why not hide it in the Riddle house?” Ron asked, yawning while placing his feet on the recently cleared table and stretching his arms over his head. “Isn’t that where he actually killed his dad?”
“I expect he was afraid the Riddle house would be too public, or stripped after a will was read. No one would want to go near the Gaunt house again,” Hermione answered, smacking Ron’s feet off the table and handing him a dishtowel.
“Besides, the Gaunt house was as much a part of his lineage as the Riddle house was,” Harry added. “And, he was proud of his Slytherin side.”
“OK, but, You-Know-Who has felt powerful all over the place,” Ron groaned, wiping the table clean. “How are we supposed to figure out where he felt the most powerful?”
“By finding out as much about him as possible,” Harry responded quietly. “That’s what Dumbledore was doing; that’s why he showed me those memories.” The trio fell into silence, as they had done on so many nights, each contemplating the next step.
~*~
“Ron!” Hermione squealed. “Let him go!”
“No worries, Hermione,” Ron replied gruffly, casting a look around the Dursleys’ backyard. “The Ministry only takes notice if you use magic on a Muggle.” Ron had Dudley in a wrestling style headlock, one Harry was sure his brothers had used on him many times in his youth.
“Geroffme,” Dudley sputtered from under Ron’s lanky arm.
“Ron!” Hermione stamped her foot in frustration. “I’m not going to say it again!”
“But…” Ron began, but Hermione cast Ron a look not to be questioned. “Fine!” he huffed as Dudley squirmed out of his grip and ran off to the house. “And don’t let me catch you doing that ever again!” Ron roared off after him.
“Honestly, Ronald!” Hermione muttered, though her face was still a considerable shade of red. “I can handle myself…..”
“Sure looked that way,” Ron retorted. “His hands all over you,” Ron mumbled in an undertone.
“Whose hands were where?” Harry, his brow furrowed, had just caught the last of his friend’s argument whiling exiting the kitchen bearing fresh drinks in hand.
“That pig cousin of yours!” Ron began heatedly. “Had his hands, trying to pinch,” Ron face was growing redder by the minute.
“It was nothing, Harry, “Hermione interrupted quickly, reaching for her drink. “Dudley tried to….” she trailed off, unsure of how to word it, “Ronald handled it a little too roughly.”
“He was lucky that’s all I did,” Ron grumbled.
“Wait, my cousin?” Harry asked, stunned. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he added quickly at the look on Ron’s face, “it’s just, I wish I could have seen Ron’s reaction!” Harry laughed in spite of himself.
Ron sputtered angrily, his face growing so red it was likely to shade purple.
“Are you alright?” Harry asked his friend, amused but also definitely concerned.
“It was nothing,” Hermione muttered, embarrassed.
“What did he try?” Harry asked, curiosity enabling him to control his laughter.
“Pinching...her...” but Ron’s anger prevented him from finishing the sentence. Instead, he pointed at the area on Hermione that Dudley had tried to insult. Hermione turned beet red and cast around for a change of subject.
“So, it being your birthday today,” she addressed Harry, “should we schedule a trip to the Ministry for your Apparition Licenses?”
This question quickly sobered both Ron and Harry.
~*~
“Urgh!” Hermione muttered, after landing roughly on the Ministry of Magic’s lobby floor, having just used Mrs. Figg’s fireplace to Floo to the Ministry. “I can’t wait until we never have to do that again!”
“I can’t tell which is more uncomfortable, I still hate Apparating,” Harry was dusting himself off. “But, you could have Apparated, you have your license,” Harry added with a teasing undertone.
“Well, it’s a matter of...we should stick together,” Hermione finished lamely, a flush creeping into her face. Harry knew she had Flooed to the Ministry in an attempt to bolster Ron’s spirits.
Ron stood stock still, covered in ash. He looked as though he had just inadvertently cast another slug-belching spell on himself.
“Ron,” Hermione addressed him gently as she began dusting his shoulders free of ash, “you’ll be great. I know you will.”
Ron smiled weakly as he allowed Hermione to pin a visitor’s badge to his chest, which had just popped out of a slot near the visitor fireplace.
Apparition Testing Hopeful
Hermione smiled as she and Harry began to steer Ron to the wand registration desk. A young wizard Harry had never seen before reached for their wands without looking up.
“Wands please,” he stated in a bored voice, indicating that the trio should place their wands in the hand he was extending towards them.
“Ten inches, dragon heartstring core, been in use six years,” he handed Hermione back her wand after a brass instrument resembling a scale had measured it. “ Fourteen inches, unicorn tail hair, been in use four years,” he handed Ron his wand, impaling both his an Hermione’s wand receipts on a brass spike. “What did you do to the first one? Bad spell?” the wizard looked up with mild interest at Ron but his eyes soon strayed to Harry’s forehead. “Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use six years,” he handed over the last wand as his eyes traveled to Harry’s name badge. “The Apparition Test Center is located on the sixth level.”
“Right, thanks,” Harry responded politely, subconsciously ruffling his hair over his scar while making his way towards the elevators.
“Wait,” the wizard called nervously, “can I get you a map, or a personal guide perhaps?”
“No, we’ll be fine. Er, thanks,” Harry mumbled. But the reason for the wizard sudden attention became obvious the second the trio turned from the wand registration desk, a hoard of photographers and reporters were rushing through the lobby. The wizard at the desk must have summoned them after realizing who Harry was.
“Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!”
“Over here, Mr. Potter!”
“What are your feelings regarding the recent Ministry arrests?”
“Why are you at the Ministry this morning, Mr. Potter?”
“Are you here to confer with the Minister?”
“Any new girlfriends on the horizon?” asked one cheeky blonde reporter, winking in Harry’s direction.
“No comment, Apparition Testing only, absolutely not, and NO!” Harry stated forcefully, taking both Ron and Hermione by the arm and steering them through the crowd.
“How dare they!” Hermione blustered once safely tucked away in the elevator. “After everything the media has done to you, how dare they!” Hermione was seething.
“I’d bet anything Scrimgeour had them on high alert,” Ron added hotly, at least the confrontation in the lobby seemed to take the edge off Ron. “He must’ve known you’d be of age today and in to get your license.”
“He probably hoped I’d be flustered into saying something that would put the Ministry in good light,” Harry responded. “Fat chance,” he added darkly. The elevator stopped and a singsong voice wailed out “Level six, Department of Magical Transport, Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Experimental International Boating Transport, Portkey Office, and Apparition Test Center.” *
“Experimental International Boating Transport,” Hermione mused, as she walked Harry and Ron into the testing center, “Viktor had written about……” but she broke off with a quick look from Harry. Ron, thankfully, hadn’t heard as both Harry and he approached the testing desk to register.
The room beyond the Apparition Test Centers’ main desk was nothing short of ordinary. The paint was peeling in the small and cramped room and posters displaying the famous three D’s of Apparition were plastered over the more unfortunate sections of the wall. There were six rings set up in a row each about ten feet from platforms placed directly across from them. An old and grumpy wizard, with a mustache like a walrus, directed Harry and Ron to their own platforms.
“When you’re ready,” he began in a bored voice, “you’re to Apparate inside the ring directly across from you,” the wizard indicated the rings directly across from Harry and Ron. “Apparating into a ring that is not directly across from you,” the wizard indicated rings that were not directly across from Harry and Ron, Harry could hear Ron gulp, “will result in failure of your Apparition Test. You will be eligible to re-take the test in one month’s time.” Ron shifted uncomfortably. “Whenever you’re ready,” the wizard waved a hand in their direction and turned to sit behind a small desk, located on the other side of the room.
“Want to go first?” Harry tentatively asked Ron.
Ron shook his head in response, looking as though he were about to be sick.
Harry nodded his head, turned on the spot and, with a little pop, appeared in the ring directly across from him with a wide smile on his face.
“Congratulations,” The older wizard said, in a very non-excited voice. “Next,” he indicated Ron.
~*~
“I knew you could do it!” a formerly nervous looking Hermione exclaimed, as she raced to throw her arms around both of their necks. An extremely pleased Harry and Ron had just walked through the testing room doors and were brandishing their new Apparition Licenses.
“Look,” Ron exclaimed happily, “both eyebrows!”
Hermione beamed.
“Hey,” Harry suddenly had an idea, “why don’t we go see your dad and show him your license?” he asked Ron.
“Can’t mate, he won’t be there, he’s setting up for-”
“Why don’t we go back to Privet Drive and help you pack,” Hermione cut him off with a sharp look. “Now that your seventeen, your of age to move out.”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Harry responded, slightly confused. If Ron’s dad were helping to set up for the wedding, why couldn’t Ron tell him that and why would Hermione cut him off?
After Apparating back to Privet Drive, which Ron was now completely comfortable doing, the trio began the task of packing Harry’s belongings. Hermione also took it upon herself to assist Harry in ridding himself of any unnecessary baggage.
“Really, Harry, these socks are disgusting,” Hermione was pointing to a particularly nasty pair of Uncle Vernon’s hand-me-down socks. She already had a rather large pile of clothing she deemed ‘un-wearable.’
“Hermione, I’ll have no clothes left after this,” Harry stated with hints of both exasperation and amusement.
“Well, we’ll just have to go shopping,” Hermione replied, wrinkling her nose at some of Harry’s old tee shirts.
Hermione had just finished disposing of most of Harry’s clothing, while packing the sparse remainder of items, when a timid Aunt Petunia poked her head into his room.
“Ahem,” she cleared her throat to make her presence known. “Harry, you told us you’d be leaving today. Before you go, I’d like a private word.” Harry had never heard his aunt address him like this before; her tone was neither harsh nor demanding. It was definitely a request, rather than a command. It was almost as though she wanted a proper good-bye.
“Sure,” Harry responded, slightly confused. “I’ll meet you guys downstairs,” he said to Ron and Hermione who responded with a nod of their heads and levitated his luggage to the stairs, leaving behind only a few stray knick-knacks that Harry was placing into his backpack.
Aunt Petunia watched them leave and then glanced around the nearly empty room. “You look so very much like him, like James,” she whispered. Harry never heard his aunt refer to his father by his name before. “But, you definitely have her eyes,” she continued fondly, looking up at Harry. “You have Lily’s eyes,” tears sprang up in Aunt Petunia’s eyes as she mentioned her only sister. “We haven’t treated you as we should, and part of that is my fault. I hated your father,” Harry felt his insides recoil, but thought it best to let her continue, “I have always blamed him for my sister’s death. I always felt he took her from my family and put her in harm’s way. Deep down, I know my sister would have fought the war regardless. It was easier to blame James,” Aunt Petunia’s eyes sought Harry’s. “I have always seen him in you, and part of me hated you for that. I’m sorry,” a single tear streaked Aunt Petunia’s bony cheek. Harry felt a lump begin to rise in his throat. “I know you are leaving us today and I understand. But,” Aunt Petunia looked intently at Harry, who met her eyes, “I will always be your family; you will always have a home with me, if you should ever need one.” Aunt Petunia found herself at a loss for words, as did Harry. She glanced once again around the room, her eyes settling on the last picture left to pack. The picture showed Harry and Ginny, standing by the lake, enjoying happier times together. Harry heard a small intake of breath from Aunt Petunia. “Who is this?” she asked unsteadily, reaching for the photograph.
“That was my girlfriend, Ginny” Harry responded truthfully, though he couldn’t explain why. “But, we broke up, what with…” Harry trailed off, with a pang in his chest; it was still too painful to talk about.
Aunt Petunia laughed softly. “So did Lily and James. Only for a while,” she added at Harry’s bewildered look. “She cried her eyes out, said he was being a noble git, if I remember correctly. It was right before she joined him in the war,” Aunt Petunia’s face screwed up at the memory. “If you love her, go back to her,” she said softly to Harry. And then, almost to herself, she whispered, “You look so like James, and she looks so like…..” She trailed off as she turned to leave the room. “Oh, and Harry,” she turned to face him, “Happy Birthday.”
Aunt Petunia left the room as Harry visually scanned it one last time. Blank walls and empty drawers stared back at him. He was leaving a house that was never his home. But without it, he truly was homeless. Harry sighed, heaved his backpack onto his back and descended the stairs of Privet Drive for the last time.
* With the exception of the “Experimental International Boating Transport”, the other departments mentioned in this line are excerpts from J.K. Rowlings Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, page 129, United States Edition.