Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Alchemical Reactions
The Mad Hunt for Harry Potter
3 reviewsDumbledore finally decides that the Boy-Who-Lived needs to be checked up on...
0Original
Disclaimer: I wish I wish upon a fish—upon a fish I wish I wish…that I owned Harry Potter, except that since fishes can’t grant wishes I clearly don’t own it, and therefore all credit goes to the brilliant JK Rowling.
Author’s Note:Hope this chapter isn’t too dull… we’ve gone back several years here.
Just a heads-up about the genre of this story—it is AU, though I admit to not having read many stories where Harry is raised by someone else (All at Once by Aurilia and Saving Connor by Lightning on the Wave are the only two I can recall reading, both very good!). Therefore, all of the ideas I’m expressing her are for the most part my own, and I don’t intend to copy anyone else’s idea of Harry growing up differently. I know that there are a lot of them out there, but I really don’t intend for this to be anything like it. If I have taken someone else’s idea, it’s likely pure coincidence and I’m quite sorry. Though, I’ve never read one where Harry was taken in by the Flamels…/]
Alchemical Reactions
Chapter Three
The Mad Hunt for Harry Potter
November, 1981
When Arabella Figg was asked to move from her small home in Brighton to a small house in Little Whinging, she jumped at the chance. Her busy neighbourhood in Brighton held no love for a ‘crazy old cat lady’ as they called her, and she had wanted to move for years. Unfortunately, she had only a small income and moving was unthinkable at the time. When Albus Dumbledore had offered her a steady income simply for keeping an eye on a house in the neighbourhood and the chance to move, she knew that her days as a grocer were over. She packed up the shop, put her cats in carriers, and packed up her house. Two days later the moving van drove off, followed by a rundown car, never to see Brighton again.
Arabella’s assignment involved ensuring that the neighbourhood gossips would gossip to her, and to potentially befriend a member of the target’s household. It had been convenient for Arabella to be the batty old cat lady in Brighton, but now she knew she couldn’t appear to be the same. So, she developed the undercover story of being a cat breeder, knowing that no one would look too closely at the number of cats she had in her home, and if anyone asked for a kitten, she could easily get one through a friend of hers up in Manchester. So, she set up shop as the sympathetic ear of the neighbourhood, eventually drawing in the various housewives who came for a cup of tea, a listening ear, and to complain about the various mundane woes of their lives.
Arabella had been in Little Whinging for months, but she had yet to approach the Dursleys. She didn’t want to seem too nosey, and only took a glance at Number Four Privet Drive when she passed by the house every morning on her daily walk. The Dursleys appeared to be the most disliked family in the neighbourhood—something that didn’t bode well for Harry, but she knew that Dumbledore had chosen them for a reason. It wasn’t her place to question his decisions.
It took Arabella nearly six months, but eventually she had integrated herself in the neighbourhood as a well-meaning, slight dotty old lady. Parents trusted her to watch their children, as she did every so often when they went out or away. It was in late May when Petunia Dursley approached her and requested that she look after her son Dudley while she and Vernon went to a company event. Arabella did not display her glee at accepting this job—instead she took Petunia in for a cup of tea and allowed her to rant about what a terror Dudley was. No mention of one Harry Potter was made.
It was then that Arabella began forming suspicions and theories in the back of her mind. None of the neighbours—each of whom she had talked to at some point in the past several months—had mentioned a second child living with the Dursleys. From this Arabella surmised that several possibilities had occurred. The least likely was that the Dursleys hadn’t received Harry after all, seeing as they should have been given the child by Dumbledore himself. This turned her speculations towards more sinister things. Perhaps the child was being kept out of the public by the Dursleys. She had heard of their fear of abnormality. Worse, what if they were abusing him? Or had sent him from their home entirely? Did they give him away to an orphanage, or just shove him in the hands of some stranger? But, no…she was jumping to conclusions. Petunia had been rather decent so far, if a little full of herself at first. Perhaps the boy had simply been more affected by the Killing Curse than anticipated and had some sort of mental trauma?
On the night that Arabella minded Dudley Dursley, she took great pains to investigate the household after she had put the troublesome child to bed. There was no sign another child even lived there—no pictures (though she supposed he hadn’t been with them long enough for that), no extra bed anywhere, not even an extra set of shoes by the door or in any other place where they would rationally and perhaps even irrationally be. She knew that her suspicions were confirmed and Harry Potter was not where he should be. She had to contact Dumbledore.
**
________________________________________
Albus Dumbledore was busy on most days. A normal morning consisted of paperwork concerning the school. A normal afternoon consisted of paperwork concerning the Wizengamot. A normal evening consisted of miscellaneous things—usually consisting of paperwork. However, this wasn’t a normal evening.
Dumbledore sighed with pleasure as he sunk down into his desk chair. The cushioning charms had been renewed recently, and he was in absolute bliss as he finally allowed himself to relax. He had finished all his paperwork fro the day, held an Order meeting that had confirmed the disappearance of most of the Death Eaters for a long period of time now, and had given his phoenix Fawkes all the attention he deserved. Dumbledore summoned a decent muggle mystery book off his shelf, and began to relax, caught up completely in the fiction that the book represented.
He had just gotten to one of the many climatic and suspenseful moments of the book, when the fire flared. He cursed, pulling his legs down from their resting position on his desk and shoving the muggle book into a drawer. The peace and quiet had been nice, but apparently now he had to get back to work. Arabella Figg’s head appeared in the fireplace, her face lined with concern.
“Arabella,” said Dumbledore in acknowledgement. “How are you?”
“Ablus, something’s happened to Potter!” she cried, ignoring any pleasantries and jumping straight to the point. “He’s not with the Dursleys at all!”
“WHAT?” exclaimed Dumbledore, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Tell me everything.”
“I finally got an in with Petunia Dursley—she asked me to mind her son, Dudley for her. She didn’t mention Potter when she asked, nor did the neighbours when I talked to them in the past. I explored the house as I was minding Dudley, and there was no sign that another child even lived there—not even a cot in that small space under the stairs, if they were disinclined towards their nephew! I don’t want to have to say this, Albus, but I think they might have done something to him. Perhaps they sent him to an orphanage or something, but he’s not there.”
Albus sighed, leaning back in his chair. “This is not good news. I’ll send over Severus to interrogate the Muggles tomorrow. For now, Arabella, relax. We’ll figure this out.” He rubbed his temples with his fingers, gently massaging as he felt a headache building. The child was gone…and he had no idea where he was. His monitoring instruments hadn’t even reacted. “Thank you,” he said to Arabella, dismissing her. She left, the fire flaring green once more before dying down to embers, leaving Albus to his thoughts.
He knew that his mind was racing, that it was predicting every possible negative outcome, and so Albus shoved a Lemon Drop in his mouth to calm himself. Even without the mild calming draught he had placed in it he would have calmed down for that lovely sweet and sour taste. His mind stopped racing, and he quickly ordered his thoughts.
The Boy-Who-Lived was missing, that was the most important point. While there hadn’t been Death Eater activity for months now, Albus knew that he was still in danger from Death Eaters, which was why he wanted to find the boy as quickly as possible. That was step one—finding the boy before Death Eaters would found him first. Step two was ensuring that it wasn’t the Dursleys that had cast him from their home, though Albus did consider it a possibility. If they had, step three was to find Harry another home. If they had to find another home, step three would be to place Harry back at the Dursleys, and putting more in-depth security measures and perhaps to check up on him a bit more often. Of course…if they didn’t succeed in step one Dumbledore didn’t know what they’d do. If they couldn’t find him it left two possibilities: the Death Eaters took him, which is why they were laying so low, or Harry was untraceable wherever he was and therefore neither Dumbledore nor the Death Eaters would be able to find him. Dumbledore certainly hoped that the latter was the case, if they couldn’t find him.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. He hoped that Severus would be able to find some clues at the Dursleys…otherwise he had no idea where he would start on this mad hunt for Harry Potter.
**
________________________________________
Severus Snape scowled at the Muggle neighbourhood as he walked out down the street. The Potter brat wasn’t even at Hogwarts yet and he was already causing trouble. He had been working on a delicate potion, and to be called away for this was an absolute insult. Oh, he knew it was because the Headmaster valued his Legilimency skills, yet, it was quite annoying. He was the Headmaster’s puppet in all but name.
He approached Number Four, Privet Drive quickly, all the while sneering at the absolute normality and conformity that the neighbourhood consisted of. He ran the doorbell, leaning up against a post with casual nonchalance. He was dressed in a muggle suit, carrying a seemingly heavy briefcase to give the appearance of a businessman.
The doorbell was answer seconds later by a woman who looked quite a bit like a horse. Severus looked her up and down, restraining himself from sneering at the typical appearance of a house-wife.
“Yes?” she asked, almost snootily. Severus forced himself to be polite.
“Mrs. Dursley?” he asked.
“Yes?” she said again, more curious now.
“I’m here on behalf of Little Whinging. We’re looking for model homes to display in our annual catalogue, and your home was one of the lucky few chosen.” He nearly sneered at his own words, but kept the charade advised by Dumbledore in place.
Petunia appeared flustered. “Oh, come on in then,” she said, leading him into the uncannily clean home. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you,” he said, waiting for her to close the door. The second he heard it click shut he pulled out his wand. “/Legilimens!/” he cast. She didn’t even have a moment to realize what he was doing when he was in her mind.
He sneered at her mundane thoughts, delving through them like they were no more than air. He searched for her memories of Harry Potter, and found none, only an intense hatred directed at Lily and James Potter. She did not even know of their fate. Perplexed, Severus called up her memories of the morning of November first of the previous year, and found nothing. She had gone about her daily routine and taken the milk bottles from the front step as usual, made breakfast, and taken care of her son. Nothing unusual at all. He checked her memories of the night before—she had been awake most of the night, as her husband had been restless, but neither of them had gone outside and she had been the first awake that morning.
The Dursleys had never received Potter.
**
________________________________________
Dumbledore received Severus’s news with the appearance of calm while his mind was panicking. He had been so sure that the Potions Professor would find something, but he hadn’t. He resigned himself into calling in Alastor Moody, to question him. He had, after all, been watching over the boy for the majority of that evening.
Of course, he hadn’t spoken to Alastor in a while. For some odd reason he had ceased attending Order meetings, citing that he had some familial issues to deal with, despite Albus’s knowledge that the Moody family was for the most part dead, except for his sister. Perhaps she was ill? Albus prepared himself to face a slightly-less-rational Moody—as he was quite defensive of his frail sister—when he stuck his head in the fire.
There was no answer. Moody had set up a security system, so that anyone coming through the fireplace could only see a brick wall unless he was there. Albus sighed in frustration and exasperation at the man’s paranoia, and returned to his office. He sent a letter off with Fawkes, hoping that the paranoid old man would not attack the phoenix before he even got the message.
He knew that contacting Moody probably wasn’t as important as he felt it should be—after all, if anyone had tried to kidnap the boy, then Alastor would have stopped whoever it was in a heartbeat. Then where had Harry Potter gone?
It was later that evening when Fawkes arrived in his office, the letter he had sent to Alastor still in his talons. Albus removed it with a sigh, and Fawkes let out a sad trill. He had not been able to find Moody. Dumbledore checked the instruments monitoring Harry’s health once more and found him to be in good condition, before heading off to bed. There wasn’t much more he could do now.
**
________________________________________
A week later Dumbledore held an Order meeting. Considering how recent the last had been, most members feared that Death Eater activity. Instead, they were confronted with a tamer puzzle.
“Albus, why are we here?” asked Dedalus Diggle, after all the usual pleasantries had been gone through. “I’ve heard no reports of Death Eater activity in a while now.”
“It’s not the Death Eaters,” Dumbledore replied. “Something far less sinister, or so I hope.” The Order let out an unconscious sigh of relief at those words.
“What is it then?” asked Minerva McGonagall.
“Harry Potter has gone missing. His relatives never even received him.” Gasps of shock and alarm were heard around the table. “I do not think he is in the hands of the Death Eaters, otherwise they would have been gloating, but he is certainly not in any location we know of. I’d like to ask all of you to take a few hours a week to look for the boy. If we have no progress by this time next year, I’ll be calling off the search.”
Exclamations were heard around the table. “Whatever for?” asked Elphias Dodge. “Shouldn’t we keep looking for him as long as possible?”
“If we can’t find him in a year, we can presume that no one else can. That means the Death Eaters too. My monitors suggest he is safe, so there is no need to hurry the search unless his condition suddenly worsens, and the worst case scenario is that we wait until he receives his Hogwarts letter to figure out where he’s been.”
“But that’s years away, Albus!” exclaimed Minerva, shocked at his lax attitude.
“I know, Minerva. However, our chances of finding him are quite slim and it is pointless to waste our resources. If, however, we haven’t had a single lead by December, I shall ask Nicholas Flamel to involve himself.”
“Nicholas Flamel?” gasped one member.
“Yes, though he may not be too agreeable. We shall see.”
With that, Dumbledore dismissed the Order, knowing that he had done what he could to begin the hunt for Harry Potter, and that only time would tell. Or perhaps a development of an instrument that could track Harry alone? Dumbledore walked away from the meeting, contemplating the many ways to find the elusive Harry Potter.
He didn’t dare let his mind even think about his machinations surrounding the boy, nor the fact that if the year went up he’d still continue to look for him. He did not want to reveal any of his plans surrounding the boy, for it could ruin them all. He just hoped that Harry would be just as malleable to his will as he would have been left with the Dursleys. And that Alastor hadn’t interfered. He didn’t want to have to hurt his old friend…but the signs were pointing to more interference than he liked.
**
________________________________________
Three days later found Dumbledore discussing loyalty with Alastor Moody, as Moody had returned home to find that he had been paid a visit while out. Alastor, the Auror most feared by Death Eaters and Order members alike, found himself afraid of Dumbledore’s wrath as the man attempted to interrogate him. Dumbledore did not succeed in finding anything about Harry’s location, and so Alastor was allowed to leave, promising to cut off all communication from Dumbledore due to his actions towards him, Albus’s long-time friend. It was betrayal of the worst sort, and Alastor fervently hoped that Harry had been worth it.
**
________________________________________
A/N:
I know that there appear to be a few inconsistencies in Dumbledore. That’s on purpose, I assure you.
Author’s Note:Hope this chapter isn’t too dull… we’ve gone back several years here.
Just a heads-up about the genre of this story—it is AU, though I admit to not having read many stories where Harry is raised by someone else (All at Once by Aurilia and Saving Connor by Lightning on the Wave are the only two I can recall reading, both very good!). Therefore, all of the ideas I’m expressing her are for the most part my own, and I don’t intend to copy anyone else’s idea of Harry growing up differently. I know that there are a lot of them out there, but I really don’t intend for this to be anything like it. If I have taken someone else’s idea, it’s likely pure coincidence and I’m quite sorry. Though, I’ve never read one where Harry was taken in by the Flamels…/]
Alchemical Reactions
Chapter Three
The Mad Hunt for Harry Potter
November, 1981
When Arabella Figg was asked to move from her small home in Brighton to a small house in Little Whinging, she jumped at the chance. Her busy neighbourhood in Brighton held no love for a ‘crazy old cat lady’ as they called her, and she had wanted to move for years. Unfortunately, she had only a small income and moving was unthinkable at the time. When Albus Dumbledore had offered her a steady income simply for keeping an eye on a house in the neighbourhood and the chance to move, she knew that her days as a grocer were over. She packed up the shop, put her cats in carriers, and packed up her house. Two days later the moving van drove off, followed by a rundown car, never to see Brighton again.
Arabella’s assignment involved ensuring that the neighbourhood gossips would gossip to her, and to potentially befriend a member of the target’s household. It had been convenient for Arabella to be the batty old cat lady in Brighton, but now she knew she couldn’t appear to be the same. So, she developed the undercover story of being a cat breeder, knowing that no one would look too closely at the number of cats she had in her home, and if anyone asked for a kitten, she could easily get one through a friend of hers up in Manchester. So, she set up shop as the sympathetic ear of the neighbourhood, eventually drawing in the various housewives who came for a cup of tea, a listening ear, and to complain about the various mundane woes of their lives.
Arabella had been in Little Whinging for months, but she had yet to approach the Dursleys. She didn’t want to seem too nosey, and only took a glance at Number Four Privet Drive when she passed by the house every morning on her daily walk. The Dursleys appeared to be the most disliked family in the neighbourhood—something that didn’t bode well for Harry, but she knew that Dumbledore had chosen them for a reason. It wasn’t her place to question his decisions.
It took Arabella nearly six months, but eventually she had integrated herself in the neighbourhood as a well-meaning, slight dotty old lady. Parents trusted her to watch their children, as she did every so often when they went out or away. It was in late May when Petunia Dursley approached her and requested that she look after her son Dudley while she and Vernon went to a company event. Arabella did not display her glee at accepting this job—instead she took Petunia in for a cup of tea and allowed her to rant about what a terror Dudley was. No mention of one Harry Potter was made.
It was then that Arabella began forming suspicions and theories in the back of her mind. None of the neighbours—each of whom she had talked to at some point in the past several months—had mentioned a second child living with the Dursleys. From this Arabella surmised that several possibilities had occurred. The least likely was that the Dursleys hadn’t received Harry after all, seeing as they should have been given the child by Dumbledore himself. This turned her speculations towards more sinister things. Perhaps the child was being kept out of the public by the Dursleys. She had heard of their fear of abnormality. Worse, what if they were abusing him? Or had sent him from their home entirely? Did they give him away to an orphanage, or just shove him in the hands of some stranger? But, no…she was jumping to conclusions. Petunia had been rather decent so far, if a little full of herself at first. Perhaps the boy had simply been more affected by the Killing Curse than anticipated and had some sort of mental trauma?
On the night that Arabella minded Dudley Dursley, she took great pains to investigate the household after she had put the troublesome child to bed. There was no sign another child even lived there—no pictures (though she supposed he hadn’t been with them long enough for that), no extra bed anywhere, not even an extra set of shoes by the door or in any other place where they would rationally and perhaps even irrationally be. She knew that her suspicions were confirmed and Harry Potter was not where he should be. She had to contact Dumbledore.
**
________________________________________
Albus Dumbledore was busy on most days. A normal morning consisted of paperwork concerning the school. A normal afternoon consisted of paperwork concerning the Wizengamot. A normal evening consisted of miscellaneous things—usually consisting of paperwork. However, this wasn’t a normal evening.
Dumbledore sighed with pleasure as he sunk down into his desk chair. The cushioning charms had been renewed recently, and he was in absolute bliss as he finally allowed himself to relax. He had finished all his paperwork fro the day, held an Order meeting that had confirmed the disappearance of most of the Death Eaters for a long period of time now, and had given his phoenix Fawkes all the attention he deserved. Dumbledore summoned a decent muggle mystery book off his shelf, and began to relax, caught up completely in the fiction that the book represented.
He had just gotten to one of the many climatic and suspenseful moments of the book, when the fire flared. He cursed, pulling his legs down from their resting position on his desk and shoving the muggle book into a drawer. The peace and quiet had been nice, but apparently now he had to get back to work. Arabella Figg’s head appeared in the fireplace, her face lined with concern.
“Arabella,” said Dumbledore in acknowledgement. “How are you?”
“Ablus, something’s happened to Potter!” she cried, ignoring any pleasantries and jumping straight to the point. “He’s not with the Dursleys at all!”
“WHAT?” exclaimed Dumbledore, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Tell me everything.”
“I finally got an in with Petunia Dursley—she asked me to mind her son, Dudley for her. She didn’t mention Potter when she asked, nor did the neighbours when I talked to them in the past. I explored the house as I was minding Dudley, and there was no sign that another child even lived there—not even a cot in that small space under the stairs, if they were disinclined towards their nephew! I don’t want to have to say this, Albus, but I think they might have done something to him. Perhaps they sent him to an orphanage or something, but he’s not there.”
Albus sighed, leaning back in his chair. “This is not good news. I’ll send over Severus to interrogate the Muggles tomorrow. For now, Arabella, relax. We’ll figure this out.” He rubbed his temples with his fingers, gently massaging as he felt a headache building. The child was gone…and he had no idea where he was. His monitoring instruments hadn’t even reacted. “Thank you,” he said to Arabella, dismissing her. She left, the fire flaring green once more before dying down to embers, leaving Albus to his thoughts.
He knew that his mind was racing, that it was predicting every possible negative outcome, and so Albus shoved a Lemon Drop in his mouth to calm himself. Even without the mild calming draught he had placed in it he would have calmed down for that lovely sweet and sour taste. His mind stopped racing, and he quickly ordered his thoughts.
The Boy-Who-Lived was missing, that was the most important point. While there hadn’t been Death Eater activity for months now, Albus knew that he was still in danger from Death Eaters, which was why he wanted to find the boy as quickly as possible. That was step one—finding the boy before Death Eaters would found him first. Step two was ensuring that it wasn’t the Dursleys that had cast him from their home, though Albus did consider it a possibility. If they had, step three was to find Harry another home. If they had to find another home, step three would be to place Harry back at the Dursleys, and putting more in-depth security measures and perhaps to check up on him a bit more often. Of course…if they didn’t succeed in step one Dumbledore didn’t know what they’d do. If they couldn’t find him it left two possibilities: the Death Eaters took him, which is why they were laying so low, or Harry was untraceable wherever he was and therefore neither Dumbledore nor the Death Eaters would be able to find him. Dumbledore certainly hoped that the latter was the case, if they couldn’t find him.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. He hoped that Severus would be able to find some clues at the Dursleys…otherwise he had no idea where he would start on this mad hunt for Harry Potter.
**
________________________________________
Severus Snape scowled at the Muggle neighbourhood as he walked out down the street. The Potter brat wasn’t even at Hogwarts yet and he was already causing trouble. He had been working on a delicate potion, and to be called away for this was an absolute insult. Oh, he knew it was because the Headmaster valued his Legilimency skills, yet, it was quite annoying. He was the Headmaster’s puppet in all but name.
He approached Number Four, Privet Drive quickly, all the while sneering at the absolute normality and conformity that the neighbourhood consisted of. He ran the doorbell, leaning up against a post with casual nonchalance. He was dressed in a muggle suit, carrying a seemingly heavy briefcase to give the appearance of a businessman.
The doorbell was answer seconds later by a woman who looked quite a bit like a horse. Severus looked her up and down, restraining himself from sneering at the typical appearance of a house-wife.
“Yes?” she asked, almost snootily. Severus forced himself to be polite.
“Mrs. Dursley?” he asked.
“Yes?” she said again, more curious now.
“I’m here on behalf of Little Whinging. We’re looking for model homes to display in our annual catalogue, and your home was one of the lucky few chosen.” He nearly sneered at his own words, but kept the charade advised by Dumbledore in place.
Petunia appeared flustered. “Oh, come on in then,” she said, leading him into the uncannily clean home. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you,” he said, waiting for her to close the door. The second he heard it click shut he pulled out his wand. “/Legilimens!/” he cast. She didn’t even have a moment to realize what he was doing when he was in her mind.
He sneered at her mundane thoughts, delving through them like they were no more than air. He searched for her memories of Harry Potter, and found none, only an intense hatred directed at Lily and James Potter. She did not even know of their fate. Perplexed, Severus called up her memories of the morning of November first of the previous year, and found nothing. She had gone about her daily routine and taken the milk bottles from the front step as usual, made breakfast, and taken care of her son. Nothing unusual at all. He checked her memories of the night before—she had been awake most of the night, as her husband had been restless, but neither of them had gone outside and she had been the first awake that morning.
The Dursleys had never received Potter.
**
________________________________________
Dumbledore received Severus’s news with the appearance of calm while his mind was panicking. He had been so sure that the Potions Professor would find something, but he hadn’t. He resigned himself into calling in Alastor Moody, to question him. He had, after all, been watching over the boy for the majority of that evening.
Of course, he hadn’t spoken to Alastor in a while. For some odd reason he had ceased attending Order meetings, citing that he had some familial issues to deal with, despite Albus’s knowledge that the Moody family was for the most part dead, except for his sister. Perhaps she was ill? Albus prepared himself to face a slightly-less-rational Moody—as he was quite defensive of his frail sister—when he stuck his head in the fire.
There was no answer. Moody had set up a security system, so that anyone coming through the fireplace could only see a brick wall unless he was there. Albus sighed in frustration and exasperation at the man’s paranoia, and returned to his office. He sent a letter off with Fawkes, hoping that the paranoid old man would not attack the phoenix before he even got the message.
He knew that contacting Moody probably wasn’t as important as he felt it should be—after all, if anyone had tried to kidnap the boy, then Alastor would have stopped whoever it was in a heartbeat. Then where had Harry Potter gone?
It was later that evening when Fawkes arrived in his office, the letter he had sent to Alastor still in his talons. Albus removed it with a sigh, and Fawkes let out a sad trill. He had not been able to find Moody. Dumbledore checked the instruments monitoring Harry’s health once more and found him to be in good condition, before heading off to bed. There wasn’t much more he could do now.
**
________________________________________
A week later Dumbledore held an Order meeting. Considering how recent the last had been, most members feared that Death Eater activity. Instead, they were confronted with a tamer puzzle.
“Albus, why are we here?” asked Dedalus Diggle, after all the usual pleasantries had been gone through. “I’ve heard no reports of Death Eater activity in a while now.”
“It’s not the Death Eaters,” Dumbledore replied. “Something far less sinister, or so I hope.” The Order let out an unconscious sigh of relief at those words.
“What is it then?” asked Minerva McGonagall.
“Harry Potter has gone missing. His relatives never even received him.” Gasps of shock and alarm were heard around the table. “I do not think he is in the hands of the Death Eaters, otherwise they would have been gloating, but he is certainly not in any location we know of. I’d like to ask all of you to take a few hours a week to look for the boy. If we have no progress by this time next year, I’ll be calling off the search.”
Exclamations were heard around the table. “Whatever for?” asked Elphias Dodge. “Shouldn’t we keep looking for him as long as possible?”
“If we can’t find him in a year, we can presume that no one else can. That means the Death Eaters too. My monitors suggest he is safe, so there is no need to hurry the search unless his condition suddenly worsens, and the worst case scenario is that we wait until he receives his Hogwarts letter to figure out where he’s been.”
“But that’s years away, Albus!” exclaimed Minerva, shocked at his lax attitude.
“I know, Minerva. However, our chances of finding him are quite slim and it is pointless to waste our resources. If, however, we haven’t had a single lead by December, I shall ask Nicholas Flamel to involve himself.”
“Nicholas Flamel?” gasped one member.
“Yes, though he may not be too agreeable. We shall see.”
With that, Dumbledore dismissed the Order, knowing that he had done what he could to begin the hunt for Harry Potter, and that only time would tell. Or perhaps a development of an instrument that could track Harry alone? Dumbledore walked away from the meeting, contemplating the many ways to find the elusive Harry Potter.
He didn’t dare let his mind even think about his machinations surrounding the boy, nor the fact that if the year went up he’d still continue to look for him. He did not want to reveal any of his plans surrounding the boy, for it could ruin them all. He just hoped that Harry would be just as malleable to his will as he would have been left with the Dursleys. And that Alastor hadn’t interfered. He didn’t want to have to hurt his old friend…but the signs were pointing to more interference than he liked.
**
________________________________________
Three days later found Dumbledore discussing loyalty with Alastor Moody, as Moody had returned home to find that he had been paid a visit while out. Alastor, the Auror most feared by Death Eaters and Order members alike, found himself afraid of Dumbledore’s wrath as the man attempted to interrogate him. Dumbledore did not succeed in finding anything about Harry’s location, and so Alastor was allowed to leave, promising to cut off all communication from Dumbledore due to his actions towards him, Albus’s long-time friend. It was betrayal of the worst sort, and Alastor fervently hoped that Harry had been worth it.
**
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A/N:
I know that there appear to be a few inconsistencies in Dumbledore. That’s on purpose, I assure you.
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