A Visit from Dumbledore

Disclaimer: I don't own the HP world.

'Harry, wake up! WAKE UP!' said Kitty, shaking her brother, who was snoring loudly. 'Wake up Harry! We've got a letter from Dumbledore!'

Harry grunted in his sleep and rolled over on his side.

'What is it?' he said, looking at Kitty groggily.

'A letter from Dumbledore,' said Kitty, 'Listen, I'll read it out.

Dear Harry and Kitty,
If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive today at eleven p.m. to escort you both to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays. If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you. Kindly send your answer by return of this owl as soon as possible. Hoping to see you today,
I am yours most sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore.

Harry sat up bold upright. 'Have you sent the answer?'

'Yes,' said Kitty, 'And you'd better get up and start packing, if we are to leave today. It's almost nine in the morning. And do something about your hair, or Uncle Vernon's going to have a fit.'

Harry and Kitty spent the rest of the day, packing all their books and quills. Kitty had a difficult time extracting one of her two way mirror from underneath the bed. Harry had cleaned Hedwig's empty cage and somehow managed to squeeze it in his school trunk.

'What do you think he means when he says "I shall be glad of your assistance", I mean what does he want us to do for him?' Kitty kept asking Harry, every ten minutes.

At about five to eleven at night, Kitty was literally hopping on one foot, waiting impatiently for any sign of someone apparating. Harry was pacing up and down in his room. When the minute hand reached the number twelve, the street lamp opposite the window went out with a click.

Kitty jumped and started dragging her trunk towards the door. Just then, the doorbell rang and Kitty heard Uncle Vernon's voice, 'Who the blazes is calling at this time of the night?'

'Oh my gosh, we didn't tell Uncle Vernon!' said Kitty looking at Harry.

'Come on,' he said opening the bedroom door.

Harry and Kitty ran down the stairs two at a time. In the doorway stood, Albus Dumbledore.

'Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that I was coming,'said Dumbledore pleasantly. 'However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times.'

He stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the front door behind him.

'It is a long time since my last visit,' said Dumbledore, peering down his crooked nose at Uncle Vernon

Uncle Vernon said nothing at all.

'Ah, good evening Harry, Kitty,' said Dumbledore, looking up at him through his half-moon glasses with a most satisfied expression. 'Excellent, excellent. Ah, and this must be Petunia.'

The kitchen door had opened, and there stood Harry's aunt, wearing rubber gloves and a housecoat over her nightdress, clearly halfway through her usual pre-bedtime wipe-down of all the kitchen surfaces. Her rather horsey face registered nothing but shock.

'Albus Dumbledore,' said Dumbledore, when Uncle Vernon failed to effect an introduction. 'We have corresponded, of course. And this must be your son, Dudley?'

Dudley had that moment peered round the living room door, his mouth gaping in astonishment and fear. Dumbledore waited a moment or two, apparently to see whether any of the Dursleys were going to say anything, but as the silence stretched on he smiled.

'Shall we assume that you have invited me into your sitting room?'

'Aren't-aren't we leaving, sir?' Harry asked anxiously.

'Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first,' said Dumbledore. 'And I would prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little longer.'

He drew his wand and with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under all three of the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position.

As he replaced his wand in his pocket, Kitty saw that his hand was blackened and shriveled; it looked as though his flesh had been burned away.

'Sir-what happened to your-?' began Harry.

'Later, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Please sit down.'

'I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshment,' Dumbledore said to Uncle Vernon, 'but the evidence so far suggests that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness.'

A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and six glasses appeared in midair. The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-colored liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each person in the room.

'Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead,' said Dumbledore, raising his glass to Harry, who caught hold of his own and sipped. Kitty had never tasted anything like it before, but enjoyed it immensely. The Dursleys, after quick, scared looks at one another, tried to ignore their glasses completely, a difficult feat, as they were nudging them gently on the sides of their heads.

'Well, Harry,' said Dumbledore, turning toward him, 'a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first of all I must tell you that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago and that he left you everything he owned.'

Over on the sofa, Uncle Vernon's head turned, but Harry did not look at him, nor could he think of anything to say except, 'Oh, right.'

'This is, in the main, fairly straightforward,' Dumbledore went on. 'You add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Gringotts, and you inherit all of Sirius's personal possessions. The slightly problematic part of the legacy—'

'His godfather's dead?' said Uncle Vernon loudly from the sofa. Kitty and Harry both turned to look at him. The glass of mead was now knocking quite insistently on the side of Vernon's head; he attempted to beat it away. 'He's dead? His godfather? '

'Yes,' said Dumbledore.

'And what about hers?' said Uncle Vernon hopefully, motioning to Kitty.

'Remus is not dead,' Kitty replied angrily.

'Our problem,' Dumbledore continued to Harry, as if there had been no interruption, 'is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place.'

'He's been left a house?' said Uncle Vernon greedily, his small eyes narrowing, but nobody answered him.

'You can keep using it as headquarters,' said Harry. 'I don't care. You can have it, I don't really want it.'

'That is generous,' said Dumbledore. 'We have, however, vacated the building temporarily.'

'Why?'

'Well,' said Dumbledore, ignoring the mutterings of Uncle Vernon, who was now being rapped smartly over the head by the persistent glass of mead, 'Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of "Black." Sirius was the very last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were childless. While his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pure-blood. And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange.'

'No,' Harry said.

'Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it either,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position.'

'But how are you going to find out if I'm allowed to own it?'

'Fortunately,' said Dumbledore, 'there is a simple test.'

He placed his empty glass on a small table beside his chair, but before he could do anything else, Uncle Vernon shouted, 'Will you get these ruddy things off us?'

Kitty looked around; all three of the Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as their glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, their contents flying everywhere. She fought an urge to laugh.

'Oh, I'm so sorry,' said Dumbledore politely, and he raised his wand again. All three glasses vanished. 'But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know.'

'You see,' Dumbledore said, turning back to Harry and again speaking as though Uncle Vernon had not interrupted, 'if you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited—'

He flicked his wand for a fifth time. There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys' shag carpet and covered in grimy rags. Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek; nothing this filthy had entered her house in living memory. Dudley drew his large, bare, pink feet off the floor and sat with them raised almost above his head, as though he thought the creature might run up his pajama trousers, and Uncle Vernon bellowed, 'What the hell is that?'

'Kreacher,' finished Dumbledore.

'Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't!' croaked the house-elf, quite as loudly as Uncle Vernon, stamping his long, gnarled feet and pulling his ears. 'Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go to the Potter brat, Kreacher won't, won't, won't –'

'As you can see, Harry,' said Dumbledore loudly, over Kreacher's continued croaks, 'Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership.'

'I don't care,' said Harry again, looking with disgust at the writhing, stamping house-elf. 'I don't want him.'

'Won't, won't, won't, won't!'

'You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?'

Harry stared at Dumbledore. He knew that Kreacher could not be permitted to go and live with Bellatrix Lestrange, but the idea of owning him, of having responsibility for the creature that had betrayed Sirius, was repugnant.

'Give him an order,' said Dumbledore. 'If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey. If not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his rightful mistress.'

Kreacher's voice had risen to a scream. Harry could think of nothing to say, except, 'Kreacher, shut up!'

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face forward onto the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) and beat the floor with his hands and feet, giving himself over to a violent, but entirely silent, tantrum.

'Well, that simplifies matters,' said Dumbledore cheerfully. 'It means that Sirius knew what he was doing. Harry, you are the rightful owner of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher.'

'Do I-do I have to keep him with me?' Harry asked, aghast, as Kreacher thrashed around at his feet.

'Not if you don't want to,' said Dumbledore. 'If I might make a suggestion, you could send him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchen there. In that way, the other house-elves could keep an eye on him.'

'Yeah,' said Harry in relief, 'yeah, I'll do that. Er-Kreacher-I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves.'

Kreacher gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, vanished.

'Good,' said Dumbledore. 'There is also the matter of the hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius died, but Buckbeak is yours now, so if you would prefer to make different arrangements—'

'No,' said Harry at once, 'he can stay with Hagrid. I think Buckbeak would prefer that.'

'Hagrid will be delighted,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'He was thrilled to see Buckbeak again. Incidentally, we have decided, in the interests of Buckbeak's safety, to rechristen him 'Witherwings' for the time being, though I doubt that the Ministry would ever guess he is the hippogriff they once sentenced to death. Now, Harry, Kitty are your trunks packed?'

'Yes,' said Harry and Kitty together.

'Good,' said Dumbledore and flicked his wand. Harry's and Kitty's school trunks flew out of their bedrooms and down the stairs. 'Just one last thing, then.' And he turned to speak to the Dursleys once more.

'As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in a year's time…'

'No,' said Aunt Petunia, speaking for the first time since Dumbledore's arrival.

'I'm sorry?' said Dumbledore politely.

'No, he doesn't. He's a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn't turn eighteen until the year after next.'

'Ah,' said Dumbledore pleasantly, 'but in the Wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen.'

Uncle Vernon muttered, 'Preposterous,' but Dumbledore ignored him.

'Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The Wizarding community is currently in a state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents' murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own.'

Dumbledore paused, and although his voice remained light and calm, and he gave no obvious sign of anger, Harry felt a kind of chill emanating from him and noticed that the Dursleys drew very slightly closer together.

'You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that both Harry and Kitty have at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you.'

Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked around instinctively, as though expecting to see someone other than Dudley squeezed between them.

'Us-mistreat Dudders? What d'you-?' began Uncle Vernon furiously, but Dumbledore raised his ringer for silence, a silence which fell as though he had struck Uncle Vernon dumb.

'The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can still call this house 'home.' However miserable he has been here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease to operate the moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time.'

'And, what about her?' said Uncle Vernon, looking at Kitty.

'She won't live with you. We'll see what has to be done once Harry comes of age,' said Dumbledore.

None of the Dursleys said anything. Dudley was frowning slightly, as though he was still trying to work out when he had ever been mistreated. Uncle Vernon looked as though he had something stuck in his throat; Aunt Petunia, however, was oddly flushed.

'Well, Harry, Kitty... time for us to be off,' said Dumbledore at last, standing up and straightening his long black cloak. 'Until we meet again,' he said to the Dursleys, who looked as though that moment could wait forever as far as they were concerned, and after doffing his hat, he swept from the room.

'We do not want to be encumbered by these just now,' he said, looking at Harry's and Kitty's school trunks and pulling out his wand again. 'I shall send them to the Burrow to await us there. However, I would like you to bring your Invisibility Cloak... just in case.'

Harry extracted his cloak from his trunk with some difficulty, trying not to show Dumbledore the mess within. When he had stuffed it into an inside pocket of his jacket, Dumbledore waved his wand and the trunks vanished. Dumbledore then waved his wand again, and the front door opened onto cool, misty darkness.

'And now, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure,' said Dumbledore.

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