LITTLE MISS MUDBLOOD – ACT 2 : SCENE 2 : CHAPTER 82
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It had only been the end of the first week of summer when Professor Dumbledore first visited Grace Manor, bringing with him news of a secret society set to rebel against Voldemort. The Order of the Phoenix, it was called. He'd said Y/N and Anthony's parents, Monica and Alexander Grace, had joined it back when it was first started, and had requested, after the defeat of Voldemort the first time, that Y/N be inducted as a member if Voldemort rose again. Nobody knew why they wanted her to be, but she accepted the membership and represented the Grace family.
So instead of a summer filled with traveling the Wizarding World and meeting important people, Anthony took on that role and Y/N attended meetings with the Order of the Phoenix, which was composed of, mostly, witches and wizards who'd been members of the original Order. But that wasn't all — she also met regularly with Mrs. Malfoy at Malfoy Manor for quiet brunches in the lively gardens, bonding as future in-laws.
The sunny month of July quickly passed, and Harry's birthday came quicker than Y/N expected. She had felt bad about forgetting him and the rest of her friends so quickly, but she was busy — she only had time for about one or two letters to each a week, rather than almost daily. Last summer, she had the same problem too, and the creeping suspicion that they were slowly ditching her found its way between the thoughts that littered her mind in an unorganized mess.
But on the very early morning of July thirty-first, right as the sun broke the sea's horizon, Y/N stood at the gated entrance to the village after crossing the dewy stone path from the castle that weaved through the gardens and lake, past the glass greenhouses, across the beaches, and finally between the agriculture and animal fields. There were several, grand entrances to the village from different points around it, but the one from the castle was by far, her favorite.
Upon entering, the bright colours of the buildings and roofs greeted Y/N brightly as the sun began to shine across them, beaming off of high windows and glimmering in the damp jacket that coated the walls from the morning rain. The jacket soon seemed to fade as the hot summer sun forced its way through the narrow paths of the tightly packed shops that she strolled down, looking through the viewing windows to try to find what to get for her best friend for his birthday.
She finally entered a small clothing shop, remembering how poorly his aunt and uncle treated him, refusing to buy new clothes for him and instead offering Dudley Dursley's oversized clothes, that were three sizes too big on Harry and just overall uncomfortable. Y/N tried picking out clothes that she thought he'd like, from soft flannels to trousers that she estimated would fit him, and trainers that were suitable for running away from Voldemort. Finally, she approached the counter with an armful of clothes, her shoulder purse dropped to the crease of her elbow with the weight.
"That'll be thirty Galleons — oh, hi Miss Grace," the teenager at the counter blushed, folding and placing the clothes in a paper bag neatly. "It's — it's free for you, you know."
"Oh, that's alright," Y/N smiled, placing a small drawstring of forty Galleons on the counter and taking the big bag, looping it around her elbow and turning away. "Keep the change!"
Exiting the shop, Y/N blinked the bright sun out of her eyes and hooked a pair of sunglasses around her face, smiling softly as the morning bustle started. Weaving between the townies, who were fanning themselves from the humid air, Y/N traveled down to the post shop to owl the package off to Harry.
Per usual, at ten o'clock in the morning when Y/N returned from her small shopping spree, Grandmother Gertrude was waiting by the back entrance of the castle, right at the start of the path. Every day, she'd wait for her to come back to Grace Manor so she could apparate her to her best friend, Mrs. Figg, a batty old woman who Y/N had known for the longest time.
"Ready?" she asked Grandmother Gertrude, who raised her bag in warning to say she was late. Y/N frowned, holding out her arm for her to hook her elbow around.
Apparating away with a crack!, it took a split second for Y/N and Grandmother Gertrude to be standing in Mrs. Figg's torn down, scratched, and smelly living room, which was roaming with loud cats, who meowed or purred every five seconds. With a tight smile, Y/N waved to Mrs. Figg, kissed Grandmother Getrude on the cheek, and disapparated away.
The familiar gates of Malfoy Manor appeared before Y/N, tall and dark, with spikes scattered across the top. Despite the dreary entrance, the property within was bustling with House-elves tending to the grounds, moving about the gardens and lawn. Once she was let in they disappeared with a snap, and Mrs. Malfoy was hurrying out to greet her. A bright smile graced her beautifully aged face, which gave Y/N no doubt as to where Draco got his handsome-ness from.
Not that Mr. Malfoy was any ugly, however.
"Y/N dearest, it's good to see you again!" she exclaimed and pulled her into a hug. Grinning, Y/N agreed, embracing the older woman tightly before following her around Malfoy Manor, to the backyard, where the usual brunch table was set up. Sandwiches, tea, fruit . . . it was as though a whole buffet were set up! And that was weekly.
It had only been halfway through their brunch when an owl hurriedly flapped for Y/N, a small envelope stuffed in its yellow beak. Soaring overhead, it dropped the parchment swiftly into Y/N's outstretched palms before gliding away, hooting loudly before disappearing from view.
Glancing briefly to Mrs. Malfoy, who had been stacking dirty dishes for the house-elves to take, Y/N pried open the envelope, ignoring the familiar, scarlet wax seal that bore Dumbledore's mark. She took out the first piece of parchment, curious as a red howler sat behind it. She didn't think that you could send howlers via other people, but Dumbledore had a weird way of going about things.
Y/N,
Go to the Dursleys' and give Petunia the howler. Make sure Harry stays there until I say. He won't listen until he sees someone he trusts. Arthur and Sirius have already sent letters but they're not sure that is enough. Go, before he leaves.
A.P.W.B.D.
Confusion found Y/N. Why would she need to go to the Dursleys'? What would make Harry run away and ignore both Arthur and Sirius? Her confusion multiplied with each passing moment as she excused herself from Malfoy Manor, telling Mrs. Malfoy that her Grandmother Gertrude needed her back home before apparating away.
She landed in the middle of the Dursley's kitchen, interrupting a conversation the Dursley family and Harry were having.
"Y/N?" said Harry in surprise, but she wasn't looking at him. Instead, she was turned to Mrs. Dursley, holding out the howler with little interest.
"What is that?" she said meanly, but her eyes were wide with fear. With a hard stare from Y/N, she took it, but it burst into flames before she could open it.
Mrs. Dursley screamed and dropped it onto the floor. An awful voice filled the kitchen, echoing in the confined space, issuing from the burning letter on the table.
"REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA."
Mrs. Dursley looked as though she might faint. She sank into the chair beside Dudley, her face in her hands. The remains of the envelopes moldered into ash in the silence. Harry turned to Y/N, but Mr. Dursley spoke before he could say anything.
"What is this?" Mr. Dursley said hoarsely. "What — I don't — Petunia?"
Mrs. Dursley said nothing. Dudley was staring stupidly at his mother, his mouth hanging open. The silence spiraled horribly. Though Y/N didn't understand a speck of what was going on, her face stayed neutral, watching as the scene folded out.
"Petunia, dear?" said Mr. Dursley timidly. "P-Petunia?"
She raised her head. She was still trembling. She swallowed.
"The boy — the boy will have to stay, Vernon," she said weakly, hesitantly glancing at Y/N. She nodded.
"W-what?"
"He stays," she said, and got to her feet again.
"He . . . but Petunia . . ."
"If we throw him out, the neighbors will talk," she said, and Y/N prepared to leave. Her work here was done. "They'll ask awkward questions, they'll want to know where he's gone. We'll have to keep him."
"See you soon, Harry," Y/N whispered to her best friend as he stared at Mrs. Dursley, longing to hug him. He barely turned to her before she was out of the house, taking the steps to the pavement and briskly marching down the street to Mrs. Figg's home.
Y/N knocked. In no less than a second was the door answered by a frazzled Mrs. Figg, Grandmother Gertrude close behind her, both bearing identical, horrified looks. Mrs. Figg ushered her in, her rain-splattered poncho creaking with her movements.
"What's going on?" Y/N questioned, waving her wand over her drenched sundress to dry it. Mrs. Figg sat on the battered sofa with Y/N as Grandmother Gertrude took the only non-smelly armchair, a cup of tea shaking in her hands.
"Harry and Dudley were attacked by dementors and the Ministry want to expel him," Mrs. Figg explained in a hushed whisper. A dark feeling passed through Y/N, and her lips pulled into a frown. "Mundungus was supposed to be following them, but the bloke left them completely without cover when I warned him —"
"What about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery?" Y/N questioned, remembering it very well after studying the trials that used it in History of Magic. "And besides, Dudley knows Harry's a wizard —"
An owl fluttered through the backdoor's cat flap and dropped an envelope in Y/N's lap, swooping back out into the night. She tore it open, barely catching Dumbledore's wax seal.
Y/N,
The cottage in the middle of nowhere. You know where it is.
A.P.W.B.D.
Frowning, Y/N stood and excused herself, apparating away to the cottage she visited frequently. She knew exactly where it was, despite it called being 'in the middle of nowhere', and soon found herself knocking on the redwood front door, standing on a stone surrounded by distasteful mud.
Rolling valleys surrounded the tiny, unnoticeable cottage. An oversized lake sat in a ring around the moss green building, which was soon welcoming Y/N in, and a very stoic Dumbledore sat at a tattered, wooden dining table, slowly sipping a very red, very mushy drink.
"Strawberry juice?" he offered as Y/N sat across from him. She refused. "You're wondering what happened."
"Of course," Y/N almost scoffed, sitting back as a hole in the roof shone bright sunlight directly in her eye.
Dumbledore explained what had happened in Little Whinging — and in more detail, she might add — and how he convinced the Ministry to only suspend, not expel, him until his hearing on the 12th of August. She'd been about to ask why the Ministry was being so difficult until he answered that, too —
"They're scared," he said lowly, his once-twinkling blue eyes now dull. "They don't want to believe Voldemort's back, and they'll do everything in their power to keep the truth from the public."
Y/N scoffed and said, "Even if it means making The Boy Who Lived out to be a liar?"
With a grim look he nodded, and the worst feeling since summer started passed through Y/N.