Tick, tick, tick.
The clock on the wall was loud. It rang in Diana's ears like an echo in a cave, reverberating in her eardrums until all she could hear was the rhythm of her heart and the rushing of her blood in her ears against the incessant ticking of the clock.
Time was a peculiar thing. The thought of time occupied her thoughts; a never ending ticking of a clock, a cracked watch face. The peculiar cuckoo clock in the upstairs room of the Three Broomsticks. Everything she saw reminded her of time. Or lack there of.
She had written many letters over the summer. Some of them she sent, some of them she didn't, but she clutched the latest ones in her fist tightly as she lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the sound of the clock ticking in her head.
"Dear Harry,
I'm sorry."
"Dear Ron,
I'm sorry."
"Dear Hermione,
I'm sorry."
"Dear Neville,
I'm sorry."
"Dear Luna,
"I'm sorry."
"Dear Ginny,
I'm sorry."
"Dear Sirius,
I'm sorry."
"Dear Mother,
I'm sorry."
"Dear Father,
I'm sorry."
She wasn't going to send them. She tucked them away into the inside pocket of her sweatshirt, which contained her wand and now her letters.
At precisely ten fifty-eight, her door swung open, which nearly made her topple off of the bed in fright, but Albus Dumbledore stood tall in the frame, silhouetted by the flickering candles in the hallway behind him, his hand darkened against the brass knob and the Gaunt ring gleaming wickedly. He had an idle smile gracing his lips, an abnormal twinkle in his eye that made him look slightly more lively than he had been.
"Come along, Diana, we have a Professor to seduce."
She furrowed her eyebrows. "What?"
"Horace Slughorn! We must go and fetch Harry and get on our way. I told him I'd pick him up at eleven o'clock."
She stood up from the bed and slung her Extended messenger bag across her body and patted her pocket for her wand. "Are we Apparating?" she asked as she walked to him. In response, he held his arm out, and she grabbed a hold.
The next moment, they were swirling dizzyingly through darkness, but she was unaffected. They landed on Privet Drive gracefully. Dumbledore pulled out his Delumimator and flicked it, and they were plunged into inky darkness.
She followed him up the path through the manicured lawn. The grass was green and the flowers were in full bloom but she couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable in the sterility of it all. Dumbledore reached his hand out and rang the doorbell, and a few moments later the door was forcefully swung open to reveal a rather large and rather mean-looking man.
"Good evening, Mr. Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you I'd be coming for him?"
Diana heard him before she saw him. Footsteps pounded down the stairs and Harry Potter came into view, utterly panicked at the sight of Dumbledore and Diana with Mr. Dursley.
"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you I was coming." Diana broke her eye contact with Harry and resisted snickering at Dumbledore's comment. "However," he continued, "let us assume you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times."
Dumbledore stepped over the threshold in long strides, and Diana followed him, positively reveling in the complete shock of Mr. Dursley.
"It's been a long time since my last visit," said Dumbledore. "I must say, your agapanthus are flourishing."
Vernon Dursley was struck silent, eyes wide and angry yet full of disbelief.
"Ah, good evening Harry," said Dumbledore, looking up at him. "Excellent, excellent." Dumbledore seemed to be as amused and satisfied as Diana was, judging by the expression on his face.
"Hello, Harry," she said, and she gave him a small wave. She turned back to Mr. Dursley and addressed him. "Hello, Vernon. My name is Diana Beauregard." She held her hand out for him to shake, and he gazed at it with utter disbelief. He did not shake it. Using her mother's last name rolled off her tongue uneasily, but she ignored the sensation.
"It's 'Mr. Dursley' to you," he said, recovering slightly from shock, but his face reddened and his mustache bristled.
She smiled. "No, it isn't."
"I don't mean to be rude—" Vernon began in a very rude tone to both Dumbledore and Diana.
"—yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often," Dumbledore finished gravely. "Best to say nothing at all, my dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia."
The kitchen door was open and Petunia Dursley stood wearing rubbergloves and an apron, her face registering nothing but shock.
"Albus Dumbledore," Dumbledore finally introduced himself. "We have corresponded of course. And this must be your son, Dudley?"
Dudley gaped at the group from around the living room door. His eyes landed on Diana, and his face reddened and his face of shock turned to one of embarrassment as he registered that there was a girl in his foyer and he was in striped pajamas.
After many moments of silence, Dumbledore finally spoke up. "Shall we assume that you have invited us into your sitting room?"
Dudley scrambled out of the way when they passed him. Dumbledore settled into a cozy armchair nearest to the fire and Diana settled into one next to him.
"Aren't—aren't we leaving?" Harry asked anxiously from the door.
"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first," Dumbledore replied. "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."
"You will, will you?" asked Vernon rudely. Petunia and Dudley walked in his wake.
"Yes," said Diana indifferently. "We shall. And trust me when I say that I almost don't want to be here as much as you don't want us to be here, but alas, here we are. Care to sit?"
As if awaiting a cue, Dumbledore flicked his wand and the couch zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from underneath all three Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it. With another flick the couch was back in place against the wall. "We may as well be comfortable," he said pleasantly.
"Sir—what happened to your—?"
"Later, Harry," said Dumbledore. Diana and Harry made eye contact, and she sent him a look. Not now. "Please sit down."
Harry took the last chair in the room, and silence over took the room. They had a peculiar, wood-carved clock on the wall above the fireplace. It had a deeper, duller ticking than other clocks. She watched it with interest.
Dumbledore summoned six glasses and a bottle of mead from the Three Broomsticks. An even amount was poured into each glass mid-air and distributed to everyone. Diana downed hers in one gulp immediately, and Harry drank his as well. Dumbledore sipped on his pleasantly, but the Dursleys tried to completely ignore the glasses as they nudged their heads impatiently.
"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, "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."
"Oh. Right," said Harry, avoiding the eyes of the Dursleys.
"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward," Dumbledore continued. "You add a reasonable amount of gold into you account at Gringott's, and you inherit all of Sirius' personal possessions. The slightly problematic part of the legacy—"
"His godfather's dead?" Vernon Dursley said loudly. The glasses of mead continued knocking their heads insistently. "He's dead? His godfather?"
"He is," Diana confirmed, but her eyes were narrowed. Vernon shut his mouth.
"Our problem," continued Dumbledore, "is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place."
"He's been left a house?" Vernon said eagerly. Everyone ignored him.
"You can keep using it as headquarters," Harry said. "I don't care. You can have it, I really don't want it."
"That is generous," said Dumbledore. "We have, however, vacated he building temporarily."
"Why? Where has Diana been staying, then?"
"I've been staying at the Hog's Head," she told him quietly.
"Well," said Dumbledore, "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 pureblood."
"I bet there has," said Harry.
"Quite," Dumbledore said. "And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely passed to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."
Harry sprang to his feet in anger. "No."
"Obviously, we prefer she wouldn't get it," said Diana, watching him seethe. "It's complicated. Since Dumbledore had made it Unplottable, we don't know whether it will stay that way now that the ownership has passed. Bellatrix could arrive at Grimmauld Place any time for all we know."
"But how are we going to find out if I'm allowed to own it?"
"Fortunately," said Dumbledore, "there is a simple test."
He placed his glass on the table beside him, and Vernon hissed, "Will you get these ruddy things off us?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know." The glasses disappeared with a flick of his wand.
"You see," said Dumbledore, "if you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited—"
He flicked his wand again. With a loud crack, Kreacher appeared with bloodshot eyes and a very sad and angry expression. All three Dursleys shrieked, and Petunia whimpered at the sight of the dirty creature standing on her newly-vacuumed rug.
"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't!" the house-elf wailed, stomping his feet and pulling at 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," Dumbledore said loudly over Kreacher's wails, "Kreacher is showing a certain apprehension to pass into your ownership."
"I don't care," said Harry bitterly, watching the house-elf with disgust. "I don't want him."
"Give him an order," Diana told him. "It's the only way we can know for sure."
"Kreacher, shut up!"
Kreahcer looked as if he was choking, his mouth still working furiously and eyes bulging, but no sound came from it.
"Well, that simplifies matters," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "It seems that Sirius knew what he was doing. You are the rightful owner of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher."
"Do I—do I have to keep him with me?"
"Not if you don't want to," Diana told him. "He could go work in the Hogwarts kitchens if you'd rather."
"Yeah," said Harry, looking very relieved. "Kreacher, er, I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves."
Kreacher, with one last look of burning hatred and disappeared with another loud crack.
"Good," said Dumbledore. "There is also the matter of the hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius died, but—"
"No, he can stay with Hagrid," Harry cut in immediately. "I think Buckbeak would prefer that, anyway."
"Hagrid will be delighted," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Now, Harry, is your trunk packed?"
"Erm..."
"Doubtful that I would turn up?" Dumbledore supplied.
"I'll just go and—er—finish off," he said.
"Diana, go with," Dumbledore said, and she followed Harry up the stairs uncomfortably.
Harry started extracting things from random places once they entered, and she stood awkwardly.
"Look, Harry—"
"Diana," he said with a small smile, "if you apologize one more time, I'll hex you. I told you, it's okay. I forgive you."
She sighed in relief and smiled, but it faltered at once. "Have you heard from the others? You know, about...erm..."
"Yeah," he said after she trailed off. "Neville said he's kind of frightened, but he said he understands and that he isn't mad. I haven't heard from Luna, but I heard from the Weasleys. Apparently, the twins found out as well from Ron and Ginny. Ron is still angry, but he'll cool off. I think he's more mad that you didn't tell us. Ginny says she forgives you, as do the twins. Fred even said he suspected it, but he could just be saying that to sound smart. Hermione is disappointed that you didn't tell her, but she isn't angry. She understands too. If you haven't heard from them, they probably just needed time."
It was like the weight of the earth was lifted from her shoulders. Only Ron was mad, but she had a few chocolate frogs that she thought she'd be able to use to get him to forgive her. She felt instantly lighter and less anxious, and she smiled widely. Upon seeing Harry's completely packed trunk, she gingerly helped him heave it down the stairs.
Dumbledore, upon seeing them, stood and walked to the foyer. The Dursleys followed quickly behind him.
"Now," he said, "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. The room seemed to have grown darker with the heavier subject.
"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 he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you."
"Us—mistreat Dudders? What d'you—?" began Vernon furiously, but Dumbledore raised a finger for silence.
"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."
None of the Dursleys said anything.
"Well, Harry," Dumbledore finally said. "Until we meet again," he said to the Dursleys. Diana said nothing to them a passed them on her way to the door.
"Bye," said Harry hastily to the Dursleys and heaved his trunk and Hedwig's cage to the door.
"We do not want to be encumbered by these just now," Dumbledore said, pulling out his wand. "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 the trunk and stuck it in the pocket of his jacket. The trunk and cage with Hedwig vanished and the door opened with a wave of his wand.
"And now, you two, let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."