Dumbledore
The air inside the Burrow was thick with tension, the kind that settled deep in old wood and stale portraits. A long table dominated the kitchen room, lit only by flickering candles and the weak twilight seeping in through the grimy windows. The former Order of the Phoenix was in full attendance.
Minerva McGonagall sat ramrod straight, her expression pinched, lips in a tight line. Beside her, Alastor Moody leaned against the wall, one magical eye whirring in place, always watching, while a pink haired girl was standing beside him.
Arthur and Molly Weasley whispered worriedly between themselves, while Emmeline Vance, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dedalus Diggle, Mundungus Fletcher, Severus Snape and Elphias Doge filled the remaining chairs. All eyes turned to Dumbledore as he stood at the head of the table.
"It's confirmed." Dedalus Diggle said, breaking the silence. "Harry Potter has been writing to his friends. The letter I intercepted was addressed to Miss Granger. He's with Lynne Volant, the problem being we don't know where exactly."
Minerva inhaled sharply, Kingsley straightened and Moody's eye froze for a beat.
"Well, do we know who the girl is staying with?" Emmeline said slowly. "We've discussed that we didn't know her family, other than them being from France originally we have no knowledge of them."
"Yes, we do know now." Dumbledore said quietly. "I have learned the identity of her guardian." he placed a file on the table, and the members gathered moved closer to take a peek.
On its first page, a propaganda picture was attached, the silhouette of a tall man stood, his build lean but not frail, his presence gave this eerie feeling of strength, someone trained, his muscles worked up.
His robes were dark-midnight blues, obsidian black tailored close to his frame, not flamboyant, but refined in the way someone dresses when armor is no longer appropriate.
His hair had faded to a smoky ash color, kept short and swept back in a way that revealed a widow's peak. A fine scar cut across his left temple, hidden in most lights, revealed in only the harshest glare. His beard was a permanent stubble, neither careless nor kept.
One eye was cloudy, a pale ring of old magic damage or possibly a curse-scar that lingered on his face. The other, vivid steely gray, staring at the camera calmly. His expressions were minimal, lips that rarely curled more than slightly, brows that furrowed only when deep in thought.
His stance looked guarded in the picture, his stare dead center. His hands both occupied, one on his cane, the other brandishing his wand.
"Merlin's beard. That's Solan Thorne." muttered Arthur.
That name changed the mood entirely. A sense of wariness, deep and sharp, now sat in all of their faces.
"Thought he was dead." Kingsley said.
"We all did." added Elphias Doge. "He vanished before Voldemort's fall."
"Well, I did say he disappeared too cleanly for his style." Moody grunted. "No known fight. Just gone."
Minerva's voice was firm, but tight. "Are you certain, Albus?"
Dumbledore nodded once. "It is him. I know for certain it's Solan." He let the room fall into silence before he continued.
"I'm sorry, who is he?" muttered the girl next to Moody.
"Sorry I forgot you had not yet graduated." he answered.
"Well, he first appeared in 1975. No known magical lineage, no school records. Out of the blue for most of us actually. Yet, he convinced Minister Minchum to enlist him for the ministry, and he proved himself invaluable in predicting Death Eater movements. Although almost no one knew how, he claimed to be a Divination Master, something I doubt to this day, even if he was correct many times."
Molly frowned. "He worked with the Department of Mysteries, didn't he?"
"Yes." Dumbledore said. "He rose quickly. Too quickly I would say. He gained unprecedented access and it was rumoured that he was conducting dangerous experiments to come up with advantages in the war. He led internal purges, exposed sympathizers in the Ministry. He helped push through the use of Unforgivables before the war's end."
"He helped us win, with his help and that of Crouch." Moody said. "His methods were brutal, but he gave us the edge."
Minerva's mouth was tight. "At what cost?"
Dumbledore inclined his head. "Precisely. He also led the charge and successfully eradicated giants off the English isles. A mass genocide of the entire species, they left none alive." He finished solemnly.
After a pause he continued. "He also tried to push for a similar campaign against Vampires but he was denied by minister Bagnold. They feared that it would push the small number of vampires and werewolves that had not joined Voldemort's side to do so needlessly."
"He was injured multiple times. Famously by Bellatrix Lestrange when he assaulted their manor, after somehow discovering its location. He was blinded in one eye and left with permanent damage to his leg during that attack. The Lestranges ended up escaping and a few people died on both sides."
"And then." Kingsley said, "He retaliated by going to France to kill a branch of the Lestrange family that had escaped 3 decades earlier. It was an international scandal but risking an involvement in the war, France decided not to pursue legal options."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. After that he returned home and gave a warning to the Potters and the Longbottoms of the impending danger. We thought they were safe already with the fidelius, and we all know what happened to them in the end."
"Some believe he simply burned out or was killed in the later stages in the war. The ministry wanted to save face and the new management never recognized his achievements. But now it seems he's back. I have no doubts, placing Miss Volant at Hogwarts is part of his plans."
Arthur frowned. "What do we know of her parents?."
"Little." Dumbledore said. "I've found no record of her parents other than the fact that they are dead. No relatives have come forward and the last Volant we know of married to the Lestrange family at the beginning of the century."
Snape grunted. "Thorne is no parent, of that we can be sure. He is using her."
Dumbledore's fingers drummed softly on the table. "Yes. And his plans involve young Harry. But from what I've seen she is very protective of him, I'm just worried they are manipulating him."
"What should be worrying is what Thorne has seen that warrants that protection. What are you not telling us, Albus?" Moody snarled.
Dumbledore was silent for a long moment. "She is a child trained by him, probably for another conflict. I fear he might have created a weapon, enough to fight death eaters again. I didn't want to voice it with everyone, but this year I devised a trap that confirmed my worst fears. The dark lord still lives."
"And you believe Thorne saw that Harry needs protection and placed this child with him." finished Snape.
"If you can believe Thorne devines the future, then it is worrying." Vance muttered.
"He isn't a seer, or at least no one could confirm he was, and multiple people said he didn't have the gift at all." said Kingsley.
Minerva's voice was soft. "Albus, there is more isn't there?"
"Yes. Madam Pomfrey told me the girl is not human. Thus there are grounds to expel her if we need to. I haven't even considered it, now even less so. I ignored Thorne's premonitions too many times in the past, I don't think I want to this time."
He said, closing his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them again his gaze pictured determination.
"That doesn't mean I will let him to his own devices, I will try to get Harry from him as soon as possible. That he now knows where he lives means he cannot go back to his muggle relatives, he will find a way to take him away."
"We can house him for the summer." said Molly.
"What do we do, Albus? Do you want us to prepare to retrieve Harry?" Arthur asked.
Dumbledore's eyes glittered behind his half-moon spectacles. "Not yet, for now we wait."
He turned from the table, staring out the window into the dark fields and growing dusk.
"I hoped I wouldn't have to deal with Thorne ever again." he whispered. "But alas, the world rarely grants us such mercy."
A man who had vanished, one with foresight that he shouldn't have. A girl who shouldn't exist. And Harry, caught between them both.
----0000----
Harry
The courtyard behind the safehouse was still cool from the morning. A thick veil of mist clung low to the grass, catching in the uneven stones beneath Harry's shoes. Pale light filtered through the high trees surrounding the manor, and a distant birdsong laced with the soft hum of magic carried across the breeze.
Lynne stood at the far end of their practicing area. She wore dark robes cinched at the waist, sleeves rolled up just past the curve of her prosthetic arms, both wands strapped into their holsters. Her posture was faultless, feet set in a stance so practiced Harry doubted she even thought about it anymore. Her blonde hair, slightly tousled, caught in the wind but never seemed out of place.
Harry held his own wand loosely. He had been improving his angle and speed with the stinging hex now. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and he was having issues keeping his concentration.
"Again." Lynne said. Her voice was calm, but insistent.
He cast the spell aiming at her head. The spell sizzled through the air and she blocked it with one of her hands. The metallic ring gave him the queue to start a second spell knowing that he hadn't been able to surprise her. Before he could finish it though, a scarlet light hit him and his wand was sent flying.
It was one of those moments where Lynne would get serious, it had caught him by surprise multiple times now, he just wasn't fast enough to think about dodging. Still, she didn't scold him, she just nodded.
"You're thinking too much about hitting me, and where you are aiming. You need to think about how to flow from one spell to the next, which motion can be chained together so that you don't stop from the first spell to the next."
He glanced at her. "Easy to say but I also have to watch out for your attack."
She gave him a smile. "Well, yes. Eventually you will be able to do both. But don't worry about hitting exactly your target if you know your opponent sees it coming. If it can be blocked or dodged then it will happen. With that in mind, try again."
He tried. This time, the hex cracked through the air and she dodged, fast as he could he sent a second one before he was disarmed again.
She gave a nod of approval and stepped back. "Better. If you can manage to up your speed a bit more it will be a great advantage. The purpose is not giving your opponent time to think."
An hour passed. Then another. She pushed him hard, but never unkindly. When he got it right, she told him so. When he got it wrong, she showed him how to fix it. Sometimes with words. Sometimes by demonstrating so quickly and flawlessly it made his stomach turn.
They paused for water, sitting beneath a wide oak tree whose bark twisted into runes. The mist had burned away, replaced by a heavy stillness. Lynne drank deeply, then leaned back, arms on her knees, gaze on the horizon.
Harry found himself watching her. Noticing things. How quiet she could be. How the light made her metal fingers glint like polished glass. How still she sat, like nothing ever crept under her skin.
"Can I ask you something?"
She nodded without turning.
"Why are we training so much in the first place?"
"You have enemies, Harry. It's only natural to prepare." She answered.
"Well yes, but you were training before that, if you were not my friend, you wouldn't even have to worry."
"My mentor trained me to be able to help me. He fought against dark wizards for a long time, he has his fair share of enemies, so he needed to train me, otherwise he wouldn't be able to take care of me."
"What was it like?"
A long pause. Then she spoke, carefully. "Routined. He woke me early. We drilled before breakfast. Every spell had a counter and every mistake had a lesson. There were weeks we didn't leave the training halls."
Harry frowned. "That sounds exhausting."
She glanced at him. "It was, but also it was more than just training."
"More?"
She looked away again. "He taught so many things. To fight without magic. To endure pain without flinching. He tested my limits and then made new ones. He gave me the tools to be able to survive, but also the means to satisfy my desire to help him. He took care of me, so I want to do the same for him."
"Do you like him?"
"I do, I love him."
Harry thought about that. About what it meant to be raised with such purpose in life, for someone you love. But he also felt that she never chose her path and is following whatever his mentor wants. Having no one he loved like that made him feel that he would never fully understand what that is like.
She tilted her head. "He gave me a name, a home, a reason to live. Wouldn't you want to give that favor back?"
He didn't answer. Because he didn't know. If he thought about it, the Dursley gave him a horrible name, they gave him a place to stay but he never felt that it was his home. His reason to live was missing.
He pushed those thoughts out of his mind, he wasn't at the Dursleys anymore. Instead he asked about what he had to endure in her training and she gave him a detailed overview of what sounded like painful years learning magic, how to control her body, how to fight.
A few things unsettled him, she was trained to kill people and she mentioned it like it was nothing. Looking back, he never tried discussing Quirrell's death with her because she looked troubled after everything that happened, but it seemed that wasn't something she considered an issue anymore.
Harry hoped she wasn't trying to train him to kill someone as well.
----0000----
Lynne
"What do you think this is?"
She leaned in, curiosity plain. Harry unwrapped a folded slip of parchment to reveal a doodle he'd drawn of a plane, a stick figure cartoon version of her riding it like a broom.
She blinked at it. "I have no idea. What... is this?"
"A joke… Well, sort of. That's an airplane. It's how muggles get around when they have to travel long distances and obviously can't apparate."
Lynne stared, confused. "Looks like a wiener. With holes on the side."
Harry laughed hard and seemed to have a hard time stopping to explain.
"Yes, but those aren't holes, they are windows. And it flys, it has wings and everything." he said, trying not to burst laughing again.
"Do Muggles ride them like that?" She looked at him.
"No, they just sit inside, they move too fast and too high for that." he answered, chuckling.
"That's… weird." she said as she gave him a disbelieved look.
Harry laughed again, too hard, maybe, but it felt nice to entertain his amusement. "You're not wrong. But it's part of life out there. You want to hear more?"
She nodded, and they spent the next hour trading questions. He told her about cartoons and pencils and how Muggles had crazy devices, he told her about stereos that played music without magic. She asked what television was and why pens leaked ink if you clicked them too much.
When he described a theme park, she looked horrified. "And people willingly go upside down in metal cages with wheels, moving faster than a snitch for fun?"
He grinned. "You're terrifying on a broom, but roller coasters scare you?"
"They sound ridiculous."
"Well, I've never been to one but I would like to go someday."
He smiled and she smiled back at him. "I would like to see one too."
For a long time, they kept sharing parts of the world the other one didn't know, Harry seemed amused at the different magical creatures that they could find in the world, and Lynne was finding the Muggle world quite strange but exciting as well.
When the sun dipped lower, and the shadows stretched long, Lynne stood. "We have two hours of light left. Back to training."
Harry groaned but stood. He looked sore and tired, but his face was calmed and seemed lighter than earlier. As they faced each other once more in the dueling ring, Lynne raised her wand, her stance perfect, drilled by her mentor.
"Ready?"
He nodded.
"Tomorrow we can rest and spend the day flying if you manage to hit me a few times."
"Oh, it's on." he said grinning.
----0000----
Virgil
The owl came just after breakfast. Virgil Fowler sat by the open window of his family's study, quill in hand and parchment untouched. The morning sun filtered through gauzy curtains, casting soft gold across the ink-stained desk. Outside, the garden buzzed faintly with summer insects, but inside the room, everything was quiet.
He blinked, not recognizing the owl. It wasn't the rich, sandy barn owls from the school post, nor the common brown of the school's delivery birds. This one was sleek, mottled like ash and steel, with wings that barely made a sound as it landed beside his plate. Its eyes were bright, intelligent, and oddly… sharp.
It looked at him like it had something to say.
A small scroll of parchment was tied carefully to its leg, sealed with dark wax. Not Hogwarts wax. He hesitated, fingers brushing the edges before untying it. The owl remained, watching him with an eerie kind of stillness.
Fowler,
I should have said something before the end of term, but there was no right moment. I should have expressed my gratitude to you then. Your choice to help us came at the right moment.
I don't want to think how using a second wand would have changed the outcome of what happened at the end of the year.
I'm not good with words, and even less with feelings, but you helped me at a time when you were needed. You didn't ask for anything in return either. That matters more than I can explain.
So thank you. I hope your summer holidays are going smoothly.
Be well.
Lynne Volant.
Virgil read it twice, slowly. He couldn't believe that small girlie was a first-year at all the way she wrote.
On the contents themselves... He hadn't thought she'd remember. The whole thing had been chaotic, reckless even. Sneaking her wand back into her hands felt like a small thing at the moment. A calculated gesture in the gravity of the situation that the younger students presented his head of house at the time.
Now, alone in the stillness of his family study, he couldn't stop replaying the look on her face at the end-of-year feast. She had just sat still while students clapped and cheered, looking lost and spooked.
He folded the parchment carefully, tucking it into the inside of his robes. The owl, which had been silently watching, gave a soft hoot and spread its wings. It lifted off without another sound, disappearing into the morning sky.
Virgil leaned back slightly, gaze drifting to the sky beyond the window. It was nearly the end of the summer holidays. His final year loomed ahead like a thin thread in the air, one that felt suddenly real.
He was going to miss Hogwarts, although he still had to sit his Newts exams first before that. Even with all the bad things that had happened, it was still a safe home, away from his family troubles.
He smiled faintly, pulling his quill from the desk and began writing a reply.
----0000----
Harry
The day was warm and cloudless when Lynne and Harry emerged from the Floo into the Leaky Cauldron. The sudden brightness after the green swirl of fire made Harry blink twice. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams that filtered through the warped glass, and behind the bar, Tom gave them both a nod without asking any questions. Harry appreciated his silence and discretion, and Lynne, as always, carried herself like an enigma draped in school robes.
Thorne had allowed them to go without his supervision, saying he trusted Lynne to keep both of them safe. They had written to Hermione as well to meet with her and her parents so they were going to be with adults soon anyway.
They crossed into Diagon Alley after tapping the bricks, the wall folding inward to reveal the bustling street. Merchants cried out about discounted cauldrons and unicorn hair for wands, children ran ahead of their parents to press their noses to the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and somewhere above them, an owl swooped overhead carrying a parcel tightly bound in brown paper.
Harry felt a rush of nostalgia. It had only been a year since he first stood here, overwhelmed and wide-eyed, but now he knew the rhythm of the place, the sounds, the smells, the chaotic beauty. It felt like coming home.
Lynne walked beside him, eyes scanning each storefront not with curiosity but with the trained awareness, she looked like a bodyguard. She seemed to catalogue every person they passed, noting who looked too long, who stepped too close. She remained silent, but her posture alone made others step aside.
"We should get our books first." Harry offered, trying to break the tension. "Flourish and Blotts?"
She nodded.
"Did Hermione say where she would meet us?"
"I think knowing her, she will be there already."
The shop was, surprisingly, even more packed than usual. As they reached the steps, they found a sign mounted on a brass stand. It advertised for a man called Gilderoy Lockhart, who was signing copies of his books.
Harry groaned. "Of course it had to be today of all days."
Inside, the place was madness. Lynne shoved a few people away as they moved, trying to find Hermione. Witches in expensive robes jostled for position, waving books and squealing. Lockhart sat atop a velvet-draped table near the back, his perfect white teeth gleaming as he signed a copy of Wandering With Werewolves with a dramatic flourish.
"Oh no..." Harry muttered. "He saw me."
Before he could move, Lockhart's voice rang out over the crowd. "Harry Potter! Just the young man I wanted to see!"
The crowd turned as one. Lynne stiffened beside him, but Harry sighed and stepped forward reluctantly.
"Come, come!" Lockhart beamed, grabbing Harry by the shoulder. "A perfect photo opportunity. The savior of the wizarding world, and the champion of dark creature rights, together at last!"
Flashbulbs erupted like fireworks. Lynne had moved to stand behind Harry, her arms crossed. Harry was sure she was calculating how many seconds it would take to incapacitate everyone in the shop.
"Nice big smile, Harry, together you and I deserve the front page!" he said.
Lockhart held up the seven-volume set of his collected works.
"Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is! When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts this morning to purchase my autobiography Magical Me...which, incidentally, is currently celebrating its twenty-seventh week atop the Daily Prophet bestseller list, he had no idea that he would, in fact, be leaving with my entire collected works free of charge."
As the crowd cheered, Harry saw Hermione and just wanted to bolt out of his grasp but apparently he wasn't done talking.
"And perhaps to your friend as well?"
"No." Lynne said flatly. "Let's go, Harry."
They gave him a stack of books and with Lynne's help they stored them in an expendable pouch Throne had given him.
Harry escaped soon after, dragging Lynne with him. "I think I saw Hermione waiting for us outside."
As they were exiting the store Draco Malfoy was outside looking at Harry with disdain.
"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter? Famous Harry Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
"If you don't want to go missing inside a trunk, you will step aside, Mr Malfoy." Lynne said as she stood in front of Harry.
Draco paled instantly, clearly having ignored Harry's friend's presence until now. Thankfully his father this time was there to come to the blonde's aid.
"Now, now, Draco. Behave, please. Mr. Potter." He said as he extended his hand for a handshake. "Lucius Malfoy. We meet at last." He was about to close the distance but a cold hand stopped him.
"You must be Volant." He said with disdain and clear annoyance. "You are quite bold." He said while stepping back and gripping his cane. Harry thought that he wanted to hit her, his intentions clear in his furious glare.
"Not as bold as using a 7th year student to do your dirty work. I'd be careful if I were you." she said.
While Harry's head was spinning with the implications of what his friend just said, Lynne took a step further and whispered something that sounded quite like a threat. Malfoy looked even more infuriated but gave no reply. Instead he turned and marched to the side where the Weasley family was seemingly waiting.
"What did you mean, Lynne? You made it sound like he was the one responsible for Rowle attacking us."
"Not now, Harry." She said simply.
After a moment she followed the Malfoy pair and Harry hurried behind her, he didn't like where this was going. As they approached the group, Malfoy seemed to be antagonizing the red heads for some reason.
After criticizing their choice of buying second hand books to their appearances, apparently he went too far at an underhand comment and it all escalated quickly. The one who Harry assumed was the father of the Weasley family, enraged, attacked Malfoy with nothing but his fists.
They were separated shortly after, and the Malfoy family departed quickly after that. He lamented their antics, it was clear now to him that Lynne's warning about them being enemies last year proved to be correct. They were still animus and openly hostile even if they hardly knew each other.
When they were able to exit the situation finally, Hermione surprised Harry with a crushing hug. Apparently she was close and had spotted them first. Then another one for Lynne who gave her a small smile. Of course off she went into her usual non stop chatter, talking about her summer to Harry who patiently listened.
"Greetings, Mr and Mrs Granger." Lynne said with a small bow, breaking her rant.
"OH! Right, Mom, Dad. These are my friends."
"We have heard so much about you both, you must be Harry." said Mr. Granger, extending a hand to Harry first. He was tall, thin, with a receding hairline and kind eyes. The sort that belonged to someone more used to giving gentle advice than stern orders. His handshake was firm but careful.
Harry smiled, a little unsure. "Nice to meet you, sir."
"And you must be Lynne." Mrs. Granger added, turning to the blonde girl. She was shorter than her husband, with dark brown hair pulled neatly into a clip and the same intelligent spark behind her eyes that Hermione had when she was about to correct someone.
She looked Lynne up and down with quiet curiosity. "You didn't lie hun, she does look like a very pretty doll."
"Mom!" yelped Hermione, embarrassed.
"Yes, it's a pleasure." Lynne said, her voice polite and controlled.
"Hermione's tales were always full of your names. It's nice to put faces to the stories."
"Mom." Hermione hissed slightly, her cheeks still blushed.
"I only meant the good stories of course." Mrs. Granger teased, clearly delighted to see her daughter so flustered.
"Well, you can't expect us to not be curious." Mr. Granger added with a chuckle.
It was odd, seeing muggles walk so calmly through Diagon Alley as if it wasn't strange at all. As if the talking mirrors and self-sorting inkpots didn't make their heads spin. But then again, maybe they were just very good at pretending, for their daughter's sake.
The rest of the trip passed without incident, they went hopping from shop to shop, having a nice time. Overall, Harry felt that the trip was quite fun. Lynne carried herself calmly, but Harry noticed her eyes drifted more often to the people around them.
Several people are following us, Harry. We might have to use plan C to get back.
Harry was again startled by the sudden voice in his head. He quickly placed a hand in his pocket and gently activated his watch.
We could use my cloak to lose them. He replied.
Lynne looked conflicted but didn't voice a reply instantly, thinking it over. As they waved the Grangers goodbye and Hermione gave them another hug for parting gift, his heart was beating fast.
I already know who they are, don't worry, plan C is better.
Harry nodded slowly.
"Zicky."
In a swirl, Harry's world was turned upside down and put back again as he was apparated to Thorne's manor. All of his supplies safely tucked away and they were essentially ready to go back to Hogwarts come September.
----0000----
Alastor
"Lost them."
The words were sour in Moody's mouth even before Kingsley said them aloud.
He stood near the front steps of Quality Quidditch Supplies, his magical eye whirling in frantic circles beneath his bowler hat. Around him, Diagon Alley bustled like a stirred beehive, parents shouting prices, children dragging pets, and owls flapping overhead with parchment and squawk.
But no sign of them. They were keeping a close eye up until that moment. As Moody thought about it, he came to the conclusion they had either gone invisible with Potter's famous cloak or apparated outside of Diagon Alley.
No flash of blonde hair, no dark-haired boy with a lightning scar. The girl moved like a ghost when she wanted. The boy... well, he was harder to hide, but they'd done it somehow. Probably right out of the bloody heart of wizarding London already.
"Damn it." Moody growled, turning away from the crowd. "We were right on them."
Tonks arrived next, winded and red in the face. "Did they vanish again?"
"They bloody well did." Kingsley said, more composed but clearly annoyed. "One second, they were waving goodbye to Hermione's parents, and the next they were not there anymore."
"Gone." Moody spat again, as if the word offended him personally. "Not even a shimmer. And I couldn't find them either with my eye. We are not sure that the cloak Dumbledore mentioned counters it, but I certainly didn't see them anymore."
They stood in an alley between Flourish and Blotts and the old Apothecary, where the flow of foot traffic was thinner. Nymphadora looked almost as frustrated as he felt right now.
"I thought they were going to stay with the Grangers longer." she said sheepishly. "What should we do now?"
"You thought?" Moody barked. "You were supposed to be tailing them now."
"I was! But the Grangers were talking to some clerk about flossing charms and-"
"Silence." Moody raised a hand. His magical eye locked for a beat on a shadow between two passing witches with floating cauldrons. Just a man in a dark coat. He was quite sure that Thorne had not even set foot on Diagon Alley, which spoke volumes of his trust on the girl he probably trained. He exhaled through his nose, rough and gravelly.
Emmeline Vance staggered into view also looking out of breath, earning her a glare from Kingsley.
"You tellin' me they gave us the slip?" Vince said, blinking.
"No, I'm telling you they bloody evaporated." Moody snarled. "And they did it right under our noses."
"Well if they had the cloak, I didn't see it with them." Tonks frowned. "You can't Apparate in the middle of Diagon Alley."
"We don't know yet how. But the girl knew we were following them." Kingsley mused.
"Well, I can only think of two possibilities. A portkey or...Perhaps they had help." Moody added grimly. "A house-elf could be involved. We barely know what resources Thorne could have acquired. You think a creature like that couldn't walk through a Ministry ward with his eyes shut?"
"Well, that thought has merit. House-elfs could swoop in and take them to their manor, as long as they are employed at the location they apparate to." said Kingsley. "It would also be quick enough for us to miss it."
A beat passed between them. The sound of a street musician's flute floated through the summer air. Children laughed in the distance. Somewhere a spell exploded in green sparks and no one even flinched.
"Alastor." Vance said quietly, "if they can slip past all of us, even within Diagon Alley, what else can we do?"
"I don't know but for one I am glad that school will soon start." Moody said flatly. "I don't want to imagine what more time in Thorne's presence could do to him." He said.
"That girl's eyes don't scan a room like a child's. She's always searching for escape routes, she is too aware and always in a defensive stance. The moment anything feels off, she will probably not even ask questions."
"She's dangerous." Kingsley agreed, folding his arms. "And we still don't know how far Thorne taught her to go."
"And Harry trusts her." Tonks murmured, troubled. "He's just a boy, they might already be manipulating him."
Moody's magical eye flicked toward the upper windows of Madam Malkin's. "That's what worries me. If she's dangerous… and he trusts her, what would happen if we act against her?"
No one spoke. A few seconds later, Elphias Doge arrived with a small scroll in his hand. "Dumbledore wants a report tonight. He's calling a meeting with the rest of the order. Said there's new information on Thorne."
Moody's good eye narrowed. "Then maybe it's time we stopped chasing shadows and do something productive for once." He turned on his heel, pulling the collar of his cloak higher against the sunlight. "Come on. Let's tell the old man how close we got."
He didn't say how furious it made him, to be so close to the boy and yet so far. Even if they'd had them right there, they might escape either way.
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Luna
She walked three steps behind her father, as always. It let her watch the world properly. Diagon Alley was busy, bubbling with chatter and footfalls, but she floated through it, barefoot in her mind and gently humming under her breath.
Her shoes made little squeaks every time she paused, which was often. There were so many things to look at. A woman selling enchanted feathers waved as she passed. A group of students arguing about cauldron polish nearly tripped over a Kneazle cage.
Looking around pleased with so many colors, she saw a strange girl. One blonde like her, with a sharp gaze, the sun reflecting on her hands at times.
Luna stopped walking. Her father kept going. The girl moved like water under glass. Fluid but robust at the same time. Her hair was clean and tidily tied back, and her sleeves were too long, almost like they were hiding something.
Next to her walked a boy with untidy hair and glasses, one who Luna recognized instantly. She was quite sure everyone did, although in the busy street no one was stopping for him. Harry Potter.
But it wasn't him she focused on, the girl was far more interesting. She had no creatures following her. No Blibbering Humdingers floating near her ears. No teasing Nargles clinging to her braid. No Puffpaws curling around her ankles. Nothing. Even the light, that strange hum of magic that lingered around everyone, didn't wrap around her the same. It pulled away from her like she was a stone in the river.
And yet, she was full of magic. Stuffed with it, knotted up in the chest. Luna tilted her head. The girl smiled at something Harry said, but there was no laugh.
Her eyes scanned the crowd as they moved, always darting, always distant. A walking contradiction, she thought. On one hand, she looked devoid of life, on the other, full of it.
Her father's voice broke her thoughts. "Luna? Come along, darling, we're going to miss the owl post rush." She gave one last glance over her shoulder. The girl with no creatures was disappearing into the crowd.