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Dislocation	By : LinguaMagus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 2823 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own Harry Potter or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Chapter 13:
Hermione waited patiently for Harry to get dressed, all the while holding something behind her back. When she finally had his attention, she beamed proudly and held out her Prefect’s Badge, shining in red and gold. Of course, he already knew to expect it, but nevertheless he made all the correct supportive noises. She graciously didn’t push him to act surprised, but still she could tell that his joy at her achievement was sincere.
“Ron?” He asked.
She poohed in irritation. “Oh, I showed him downstairs. You know him, though. He just made a joke about how he’s just glad it isn’t him. Honestly, maybe they should have chosen him. A little responsibility might be good for him for once.”
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, but didn’t say anything. Another change. This one might have a more noticeable effect. After all, how many things from his fifth year only happened because he was alone while Ron and Hermione tended to their Prefect duties? Well, not so many, now he came to think about it. But it was still unsettling. Every new change made it harder to predict what was going to happen next.
“Well, congratulations, Hermione. Nobody deserves it more than you.” Harry said, honestly.
“Thank you! I’m really excited. Professor McGonagall must really trust me.” She was ebullient, still fixated on her badge.
“What did Mrs. Weasley say?” Harry asked.
“Oh, she was really sweet. She offered to make me anything I wanted for dinner tonight. We’re going to have cassoulet. She didn’t have a recipe for it, so I’m going to help her cook. Have you ever had it before? It’s delicious.” Hermione rambled happily.
“No, I don’t think I have. I’m sure it will be great.” Harry smiled.
“We’re actually going to go down to the market to pick up what we need. Do you want to come with us?” She asked.
Harry shrugged. “Sure, sounds good. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen the market here.”
“It’s not far. Only a few blocks. Get your shoes on, and we can go.” Hermione said, pushing him toward his trainers.
Harry laughed and pulled his shoes on. He turned to Ariana, but she was asleep on the bed. He kissed her on the forehead and they left. They found Ron and Mrs. Weasley downstairs and set out for the market to pick up the whole wide array of things they were going to need for the complicated French stew. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley chatted about the process and everything they were going to need while they walked. Harry and Ron hung back, chatting and laughing about who the boys’ Prefect would be.
“Maybe they’ll give it to Neville. Poor bloke could use a break.” Ron said, mock sympathetically.
“Heh, I don’t think even McGonagall is that cruel.” Harry replied. “It’s bound to be Dean, right? If it’s not either of us, it won’t be Seamus. I mean, he doesn’t exactly show leadership potential, does he?”
“Probably,” Ron shrugged. “I mean, really, there just aren’t that many options. I’m not trying to be mean, but obviously it won’t be Neville. He’d fall apart the first week. Dean will be alright, though, won’t he? He’s decent enough, and one of the lads, isn’t he?”
Harry nodded, “I’m not worried. I mean, we survived Percy, right?”
Ron laughed. “At least I’m not Prefect. Fred and George would never let me live it down.”
When they got to the market, Mrs. Weasley lined them up like troops before battle. She handed down the list of items she had talked over with Hermione and assigned a few tasks to each of them. Harry and Ron were sent to the butcher to get all the meats while Hermione split away to go grab beans. Ron had to ask Mrs. Weasley to repeat what they needed three times before he felt confident he could remember it all.
“Pork belly, pork shoulder, duck legs, garlic sausage, andouille.” Ron repeated under his breath, over and over. Harry was pretty sure he could remember, but he didn’t interrupt him.
When they got to the butcher counter, Ron told the beefy man in the apron confidently that they needed garlic legs and duck shoulder. When the man just stared at him patronizingly, Ron turned red and held up a finger. He tried a few more combinations, fighting with his memory to pull out what pieces of what animals he needed.
Harry laughed and wandered down the display case, looking at the different meat cuts when he saw someone familiar out of the corner of his eye. Dark hair, regal poise, and an air of polite professionalism. The name clicked into place, followed by a sickening jolt when he remembered the last time he had heard her name. Emmeline Vance.
He abandoned Ron to his argument with the butcher that ducks absolutely had bellies and went to say hello. He wasn’t sure where the compulsion was coming from, other than that he felt slightly guilty for something he couldn’t put a name to. She wasn’t paying him any attention at all, yet. She examined a row of fat brown eggs with painstaking thoroughness, checking for cracks and making sure they were all a reasonable size.
“Hi, Emmeline, right?” Harry asked, slightly more awkwardly than he intended.
She looked up sharply, guarded incomprehension written across her face. “I beg your pardon? Have we met?”
Harry froze, unprepared for this most obvious hurdle. “Oh, um, not technically. I’m, uh, Harry. We, uh…” He thought about what Moody would say if he opened his mouth about the Order in public, “know some of the same people.”
She considered him carefully. “You do seem familiar.” Then her eyes flitted up to his forehead, and comprehension dawned on her. “Ahh, Harry. I apologize. I should have known. You are a mirror image of your father. I just wasn’t expecting to see you here.” The last statement had a hook on the end. She clearly wanted to know why Harry Potter had found her at a market in London without warning.
Harry was without any real excuses, so he didn't bother. He just told the truth and let her think he was out of his mind. "I don't actually know why I wanted to talk to you. I was just here with the Weasleys getting ingredients for dinner and I recognized you."
"But how could you have possibly recognized me?" She asked. "We've never met before. I certainly wouldn't forget having met James Potter's son."
He surrendered and just decided to explain everything later. For now, he settled for a half truth. "Mad-Eye once showed me a picture of all the original Order members."
She eyed him suspiciously, but this at least seemed to occupy the same space as sense. "Very well. You must have very sharp eyes. I was only a chit of a girl all those years ago. Barely out of Hogwarts."
"I dunno, I don't think you really look that different." Harry said off-handedly.
She gave him a tight smile and a tighter nod in acknowledgement of the compliment. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. In any case, I appreciate the introduction, but I do have things to be getting on with. If you don't mind."
"Oh, uh, sure. Yeah, I just wanted to say hi. It was, um, nice to meet you." Harry said uncertainly, aware of the awkwardness of the encounter.
She softened from glacial to merely cold. "Yes, it was a pleasure to have met you as well. I'm sure we shall meet again. Thank you."
With that, she turned and was away. Harry went to find Ron and see if the butcher had decided to hang him in the meat locker yet. When he reached the counter, Ron was staring with satisfaction at a pile of paper-wrapped
slabs. The butcher was approaching with one final package, on which was scrolled "And Sau" in thick marker. Ron grinned at him triumphantly, and he and Harry picked up all the wrapped meats and went to find Mrs. Weasley. They eventually spotted her with Hermione, cradling huge bundles of vegetables. Leeks and onions and carrots spilling out of the determined grip.
Mrs. Weasley checked everything they had against the list and nodded in approval. They approached the counter, and she realized in a panic that she wasn't carrying any muggle money. Harry had plenty of gold, but he had no idea where he could go to get it converted outside of Gringotts. Hermione saved the day by pulling out a small stack of pound notes. Harry promised to pay her back later, as it didn't feel fair she should have to pay for her own celebration dinner.
"It always pays to be prepared," she said smugly.
They checked out, she stowed the change, and they loaded everything into sacks to carry home. The walk back was short and quiet, as they all had their hands full and were eager to get back and drop off the food as quickly as possible. With his long stride, Ron reached the door first and wrestled it open. Everyone scuttled inside and they dumped the ingredients on the kitchen table. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione immediately started separating things out and making arrangements to see that it all cooked in order and the next ingredient was ready when they needed it. Ron slipped out of the kitchen before he could be assigned to peel something. Harry approached Hermione to see if there was anything he could do to help.
"It's fine, Harry. The best thing you could do for us right now is clear the kitchen. We're going to be working hard, and we need the space if it's going to be done in time." Hermione said firmly.
"If that's the case, I think I'm going to start planning for a scouting trip to Little Hangleton. We should go tomorrow. We're running out of time before we're back at Hogwarts." Harry said.
"That's a good idea. See if Tonks is here. She can help you get prepared." Hermione recommended.
Harry exited the kitchen just as Mrs. Weasley was spelling a stack of carrots out of their skins in busy spirals. He climbed the stairs two at a time and reached for the knob on the girls' bedroom. He paused, then knocked instead. A pair of voices invited him inside. When the door opened, Ginny and Tonks were sitting across from each other on Ginny's bed, and Ron's pilfered chess set sat between them. Harry was no expert, but it looked liked Ginny lacked Ron's talent. Tonks had already taken her Queen, one Bishop, and both Knights.
"Wotcher, Harry. Got winner?" Tonks asked jovially.
Harry shook his head. "No thanks. I've never been any good at chess. I actually came to talk to you. No hurry, though, you can finish your game."
Tonks shrugged, moved her Rook forward three spaces, then turned back to Harry. "Okay, done."
There was an uproar from Ginny as she tried to find a way out of the checkmate, but she grumpily conceded after checking every angle and realizing that she was completely trapped. Harry laughed and Tonks kissed her on the tip of the nose. "It's okay, hun. You've got other skills that are more important anyway." She winked lasciviously, and Ginny let out a reluctant snort.
"We're going to Little Hangleton tomorrow to scout out the area for something we're trying to find. Do you know anything about it?" Harry asked, getting right to the point.
"A bit," Tonks waved her hand non-committally. "We have to keep our eye on the area because it's important to You-Know-Who. What are you looking for?"
"A shack," Harry said, strictly honestly. "The place where Voldemort's grandfather lived. It would be beat up, broken down, practically invisible probably."
"I thought his grandfather lived in that bloody great mansion down in the village?" Tonks asked.
"His grandfather on the other side." Harry clarified. "His mother's father. Marvolo Gaunt."
“If you say so,” Tonks conceded cheerfully. “I don’t know any shack, though. Can’t imagine it should be too hard to find. There’s only two roads into town, and one of them goes through about ten miles of pasture.”
“Do you have any advice on where I could start, or what I should expect or anything?” Harry asked, clawing for anything that could make things easier.
“Somebody from the Order will be hanging around, you can count on that. They may know more than me. You’re probably going to want to start on the South road. That’s where there’s some overgrowth and woods. If there’s a shack hiding somewhere, that seems most likely. I’d offer to come with you, but I’m in-office for a bit. Old Mad-Eye is getting paranoid that the Death Eaters are going to try something big since Dumbledore hasn’t been seen in a while.” Tonks explained.
Harry rubbed his scar. “It’s fine. It’s probably better that I go alone anyway. Less noticeable that way. If Voldemort catches wind that I’m looking for his grandfather’s shack, there’s going to be trouble.”
“Why are you looking for some old shack anyway? Is there some clue to beating him hidden there?” Ginny asked.
“It’s a long story,” Harry hedged. “It’s just important that I find it without Voldemort knowing I’m looking for it.”
She looked skeptical. “If he’s watching the area like we are, I don’t know how you expect to get in and out without being spotted.”
“Well, if he just has a spy watching, I’ll be under my cloak. Either way, I have to risk it. If he shows up, I’ll just apparate away and hope he doesn’t suspect it was me,” he said.
Ginny still seemed unsure, but Tonks just grinned and started to reset the chess board. “Sometimes you just have to wing it. You’ll do fine, Harry. Send me or Mad-Eye a message if you need some backup.”
Harry sat and watched Ginny and Tonks play two more rounds of chess. The first game, Tonks toyed with her for a while, letting her chase the Queen around the board for a bit before having mercy and closing the game out quick. The second game, Ginny actually managed to take Tonks’s Bishop and one of her Knights and Tonks laughed uproariously at the sudden challenge. They fought back and forth for nearly an hour until finally Tonks got a checkmate with a remaining Knight and a pawn.
He laid out on Hermione’s bed and took a nap. As he was drifting off, he ignored Tonks’s loud stage whisper about what she and Ginny could do to him once he fell asleep. Ginny laughed into her hand. When he woke up, Tonks was standing across from him pulling her top on. Her full, round breasts were pink and livid from enthusiastic attention.
She winked at him. “Oops, guess you missed all the fun. There’s always next time, though.” She licked her lips and Ginny punched her in the arm. She rubbed the spot, cackling.
Harry rolled his eyes and levered himself blearily to his feet. “Is dinner ready?”
“Ginny already ate.” Tonks leered, earning another punch.
“Right, okay.” Harry said. He tried to rub the nap haze out of his eyes and walked heavily to the top of the stairs. There was still a bustle of sound from the kitchen, but he thought he heard Ron’s voice as well. He stumbled down the steps and poked his head in. Mrs. Weasley was breaking up the crust in a dutch oven big enough to hold a pumpkin.
Ron was sitting at the table grumbling. “I don’t understand why we can’t just go ahead and eat it. It smells done already.”
Harry thought he had a point. The smell was incredible, meaty and smoky and rich. Hermione tutted impatiently, though. “Be patient, Ron. Magic is letting us cook in half the time, but we still have to let the crust thicken and the beans soften, or it’s all going to be wasted. It won’t be long now. Just another half hour or so.”
Harry grabbed a seat at the table and turned to Hermione. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Thank you, Harry. No. It’s just cooking now. We’ve got it from here. What did you and Tonks figure out for your scouting trip?” Hermione asked abruptly.
Harry shrugged. “Not much, honestly. I’m going to go alone, in my invisibility cloak. There’s going to be someone from the Order keeping an eye on the village, and most likely a spy for the Death Eaters as well. I’m going to try and spot the person from the Order and ask them if they know where the shack is, and avoid the spy. If I can’t, and Voldemort shows up, I’m going to apparate away in a hurry and hope he doesn’t guess why I was there.”
Hermione nodded. “That’s probably our best bet.”
Ron balked. “Alone in the middle of the nowhere trying to hide from a Death Eater you won’t even know or recognize? Yeah, I’m sure it will go great.”
“Don’t be negative, Ronald. Harry will have his cloak, and he knows to apparate away if things get dangerous. We can’t expect to make any progress if we’re afraid to take any risks at all.” Hermione snapped.
“Right, because you’ll be taking a big risk waiting here for him to get back.” Ron retorted. Hermione turned pink, stung.
She opened her mouth to continue the argument when Harry interrupted. “It will be fine, you guys. It’s not worth fighting about. Somebody from the Order will be nearby, and I’ll just send a patronus to Moody if things get really bad.”
“I’m just saying, mate. Sounds an awful lot like you’re walking into a trap.” Ron finished.
“Maybe, but it needs to be done. The more people go with me, the more likely Voldemort takes it seriously and thinks we know about the you-know-what.” Harry said quietly, trying not to draw Mrs. Weasley’s attention.
Ron shrugged and they moved on to talking about Hermione’s Prefect badge. She spent the next several minutes lecturing them on her new responsibilities, all the while Ron rolled his eyes and Harry tried to stifle a laugh. Before they knew it, dinner was ready. Everyone piled into the kitchen, and there was a round of applause for Hermione. The cassoulet was a resounding success, everyone choosing to go back for seconds, and in a few cases even thirds.
The night wore on with an energetic, celebratory air. Fred and George relayed story after story of prefects past that had tried to trip them up for various infractions, the implied message unspoken. Also unspoken was a particular prefect absent from the family, whom they diplomatically pretended had never existed. Mrs. Weasley became quite brittle when the conversation came close to mentioning him, but someone would always steer it away.
When it was time to go to bed, everyone waddled away from the kitchen in dozy digestion. On their way up the stairs, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ariana, Tonks, and Ginny formed a slow-moving train, leaning on each other and holding each other up to reach their beds without passing out. On the landing outside the girls’ room, Ron broke away and continued upwards. Harry helped Hermione to the door, and she pulled him into a warm good-night kiss.
“Hey, are you giving those away free?” Tonks asked, then pulled him into a ravenous smooch before he could answer. Hermione huffed in exasperation, but didn’t say anything. Ginny snuck in right behind Tonks and pulled him into yet another passionate kiss, stroking the back of his teeth with her tongue. When she broke away, he stood gaping and bemused until Ariana gave him a quick peck on the chin. They all filed into their room, and Harry stumbled up to the room he shared with Ron, chewing on the last thirty seconds.
He hit his bed and was out like a light. When he woke up, Ron was snoring like trucks down-shifting on the freeway. He slipped his clothes on and snuck out without disturbing him. He poked his head into the girls’ room and saw everyone still asleep there as well, with the exception of Tonks, whom apparently had already left for work. He crept downstairs, stole a scone from the kitchen, and then out the front door. Pulling the front door shut behind him, he took a bite out of the scone and turned on the spot, vanishing with a crack.
He appeared at the playground at Privet Drive. He paused and stared around, waiting for anyone to turn up. When no one did, he turned again and popped out of sight. From the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, he went into the tavern and looked around for anyone showing interest in him. Apart from the barman, no one did. He strode out into the streets of London and called for the Knight Bus.
When they were still a stop away from Little Hangleton, he pulled on his invisibility cloak. They screeched to a stop outside The Hanged Man, and while Stan hunted for Harry among the seats, he sidled past and ducked out the open door without a word. He was up close with a town he had only seen from a distance and never as a point of focus. It felt odd, like visiting a movie set.
It didn’t take long to spot the only two ways out of town. The village sat in a broad valley between rolling hills, and one lane stretched away to the North, while another rounded into a dense cluster of hedgerows and disappeared to the South. Trying to keep his steps on the cobblestones, Harry trotted between some houses and headed for the South road. His shortcut trapped him in a narrow alcove where thick hedges butted up against the back of a dairy. Checking around to see if anyone was watching, he pulled out his wand and whispered “Diffindo.”
A stripe of hedge was cut away, and he slipped through. As he had his back pressed to the dairy wall, he saw a lone storm cloud scud across the sky. He wondered if the invisibility cloak was waterproof. He had never before had cause to find out. He hurried on, not wanting to get caught in a sudden rain. The streets were mostly empty, so avoiding attention wasn’t especially hard.
Stepping out onto the main road to pass between the hedgerows leaving town, a chill stole down his spine and his heart sank into his stomach. Knowing what he would see before he even shifted his weight, he turned and saw the heavy, ragged cloaks drifting toward him like the shadows of dead leaves. A horrible rattle echoed between the buildings and the Dementors moved without urgency toward their prey.
Harry ran. Clutching the invisibility cloak tight around him, he knew it was no defense against their dreadful coldness, but if it at least kept additional problems away, it was worth staying hidden. He tore and tumbled down the lane between the hedgerows. Rounding a corner, he had only a fraction of a second to register dark hair and statuesque poise before he was bowling her over.
She had seen nothing at all, of course. Her wand launched from her hand and skittered across the cobbles. Harry tried to tilt into his hips to keep from colliding with the ground on top of her, but the fall still left them both sprawling and winded. Struggling to gain his feet with the clumsy cloak tangled around him, Harry caught a blow to the ribs as an elbow fought him off viciously. He did an awkward somersault backward and landed on his bottom.
He caught his breath and tried to see whom he had tackled. He was startled to find that it was Emmeline Vance. After such a bad first impression, he wasn’t overjoyed to make this his second impression. Still, any help was going to be essential. He threw off the cloak and let her see him. She processed his face in a series of increasingly confused and irritated expressions.
Finally, she managed a word. “Potter?!” Her frustrated bewilderment was palpable, but Harry didn’t have time to explain anything. The next second, Dementors were filling every thought with icy dread and a distant wail echoed in his head. He realized in a panic that Emmeline didn’t have her wand. She appeared to realize this in the same instant and scrabbled to her hands and knees.
Harry thrust an arm across her chest and threw her back into a dense corner of vegetation. He angled himself in front of her, blocking the Dementors out unless they removed him first. He struggled to focus, summoning up the happiest memory he could find. I love you, Hermione whispered in his mind. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
The great silver stag erupted from the tip of his wand and cantered down the narrow lane, driving the hideous creatures before it and withering their insidious influence. He sagged in relief and warmth oozed into his veins. Emmeline cleared her throat politely and he realized that he still had her pinned against a bush. He hastily stepped away.
“Sorry about that. I just didn’t want you to get hurt. It’s my fault you didn’t have your wand.” Harry said apologetically.
She stared at him in silence for a moment, then, “I am grateful for your assistance. Facing Dementors was not something I had anticipated for this morning. One prefers not to be unprepared for such things, but here we are.” She brushed twigs and dirt from her robes tidily. “That was quite a powerful Patronus, incidentally. Particularly for a student. Did Albus teach you personally?”
Harry looked up in surprise. “My Patronus? Uh, no. Actually, Lupin taught me that in third year. I, uh, have always sort of had a problem with Dementors.”
“Indeed? Third year? I see. Well, that’s quite impressive, I must admit. Remus’s tutelage notwithstanding.” With a tug, she straightened her robes and looked presentable again. “I must ask, however. What brings you to Little Hangleton this morning with two Dementors on your trail? We’re a long way from London.”
Harry measured how much he wanted to explain. “Um, yeah. Actually, I’m looking for something. I don’t know where the Dementors came from. Suddenly they were just on top of me, and I took off running. I’m actually looking for the shack where Voldemort’s grandfather used to live.”
Emmeline let out a hissing little exhalation when Harry said the name. “Well, there have been rumors that Albus was preparing you for a final confrontation. I admit that I never credited them much personally. What advantage do you believe you shall find at this shack?”
“Oh, uh, actually, this isn’t really a final confrontation thing. Not exactly. It’s all a bit complicated, but basically there’s something that Voldemort really doesn’t want us to find, and the last I heard, it was hidden in his grandfather’s old house. The problem is, if he finds out we’re looking for it, he’ll almost definitely move it someplace more secure. Even worse, he might even create more.” Harry explained.
“I see. And do you know what the building you’re searching for looks like?” She asked crisply.
“Sort of. I saw it in a memory, so I know what it looked like seventy years ago. It belonged to wizards, so there’s no telling what it looks like now.” Harry held out his hands in surrender.
“Mm. You say you saw it in a memory, yes? So then, you should at least recognize the portion of road, correct?” She ventured.
Harry brightened. “Yeah, probably. I know what the town looks like from that part of the road at least.”
Emmeline retrieved her wand from a rut in the lane and polished it with a leaf. “Very well, then let’s proceed. If you could see the town, then it must be a short way up the road, toward the top of the hill.”
For the first half mile, it was clear they weren’t in the right place yet. Harry kept looking around, but the hedgerows were too dense to see anything at all beyond the next turn in the road. Then they started to climb the side of the hill, and Harry would close his eyes and picture what he had seen and compare it to the angle from each new spot. Near the top, he was sure that they were close, but he couldn’t find the turn-off down the dirt path. They continued on, but a short walk later and they came to the sign showing Little Hangleton 1 Mile. Harry knew it was closer to town than this, so they turned back and he kept investigating any gap in the hedgerows.
It struck him that this was probably the easiest concealment to create. Hedgerows could be grown magically in seconds. The dirt path had probably long ago been hidden behind a few bushes. He started to think about it differently. He looked for any patch of hedges that was out of place in some way. When they got back to the place he had previously thought was correct, something caught his eye. The lane was dark, and the hedges blocked much of the light. However, there was one segment, only a few feet wide, where no light at all passed through. The brush was so thick as to be impenetrable.
Harry pulled on his cloak again, and Emmeline patiently stared at the open air. “Okay, I think this is the spot. I don’t want to disturb the bushes, or they’ll know we were here. Can you lift me up over them, so I can get a better view?”
Emmeline nodded shortly. She pointed her wand at a space directly in front of her. “Stand right here.” Harry shuffled over and gave an ‘okay’. She swished her wand, “Wingardium Leviosa.”
With a lurching feeling, Harry felt suddenly weightless. She twitched her wand a bit and he rose foot by foot until he was peering over the high hedges. From this vantage, he confirmed his suspicions. Not only were the hedges here particularly thick and dense, but there was a clear, if overgrown path that curved away into a dense copse. Without getting closer, he couldn’t be completely sure, but he was confident that he saw a glimpse of old, wooden slats through the branches not more than a few hundred yards away.
“Okay, go ahead and bring me down,” he hissed under his breath. Emmeline lowered him to his feet and he lifted off his cloak.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” She asked.
“Yes,” Harry answered with grim satisfaction. “Now we just need to come back more prepared to face whatever traps he has hidden inside.”
“Well enough. Do you believe you can locate this place again without assistance?” She asked.
“Absolutely. We shouldn’t leave any indication that we know this place is different or special. If one of his Death Eaters starts poking around, they could catch on that we know something before we’re ready. Come on, let’s head back. I don’t even want to be spotted this far down the road.”
“Your caution is commendable, but unnecessary. Today’s patrol is Avery. He stays by the graveyard and only comes into town to bewitch the barman at the Hanged Man for free drinks.” She said sourly.
Harry was pleased with their success, and the walk back to town went quickly. He was a little concerned that the Dementors had discovered him here, but chalked it up to misfortune. When they were close, he pulled his cloak back on. They trotted into town and Harry thanked Emmeline for her help.
“You should come by Grimmauld Place. I’m sure some of the others would be happy to see you. Tonks practically lives there with us at this point, and Sirius always appreciates different company.” Harry offered.
“I am grateful for the invitation.” Emmeline said in a measured tone. “I will consider it. I would like to say thank you again for… saving me. I am sure that had you not been ready to protect me, the situation likely could have been much worse. You have my gratitude.” Her voice was stiff, but sincere. Harry got the distinct impression that she was not a person used to relying on others for help.
Emmeline called the Knight Bus and Harry slipped on while she explained to Stan that she would like him to stop at the Leaky Cauldron, even though she would not be aboard. He came to the conclusion that he wasn’t being paid to understand weirdos and agreed as long as she understood the rate would be the same. Harry gave her the necessary gold for the fare, which she handed him.
The trip back to London was brief, but Harry spent much of it deep in thought.
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Dislocation

Chapter 13: