Chapter Fourteen

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Glen didn't know what to do after Harry had left. The whole thing had been so sudden. He was still trying to take in what had happened in front of him. Heather was in bed, recovering from her panic attack, Draco Malfoy was on the floor unconscious, and Harry had run off, severing the constant mental connection he had with his son. This left Glen standing in a strange house with people he didn't really know, and no idea where he was. Thinking hard and coming to a decision, he walked out of the house and down the street, looking for any sign of where he was. Harry had apparated the pair of them to the small town, as Glen still couldn't apparate on his own. While his father was teaching him, he couldn't do it alone without splinching himself, and he wasn't very accurate when trying to reach a certain destination. He also had the problem of his English. While it had improved since he had been there, he still couldn't speak it on his own with much competence. Now that he had lost the mental connection with his father, allowing him to use Harry's knowledge of the language, he was practically unable to communicate. Added to this was the fact that the modern Muggle world was vastly different to that of his own time, and naturally he was beginning to panic.

Standing in the street wasn't doing Glen any good, but there wasn't a lot he could do about it. Without knowing where he was, he couldn't make a portkey, and he didn't have an owl to send a letter with. He didn't want to go back to Heather's house, as he didn't know if she was connected to the floo network, and if she was he would likely need to ask her to lift some wards. Heather had good reason to be paranoid, and if she did have a fireplace, it would be heavily guarded against anyone who wasn't supposed to be there. He couldn't walk, for he knew from what Harry had said that they were in southern England, and that was several hundred miles from Hogwarts' Scottish location. Eventually, he realised that standing there wasn't doing him any good, and he had to try something. Coming to a decision, he raised his hand to send sparks up, in the vain hope that a witch or wizard would see and come to investigate. He was slightly worried about what the Muggles would think, but knew from Hermione that they would likely be passed off as something the Muggles called `fireworks'. Just before he cast the spell, there was a loud bang, and a large neon pink blob appeared in the quiet street. Glenadade leapt back in shock, falling onto the ground and staring in awe at the humongous contraption. He was a little concerned when the side appeared to open, and a pink uniformed wizard stepped onto the pavement.

“ Welcome to the Day Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Reggie Macmillan; I will be your conductor this afternoon. Any journey is only eleven sickles, thirteen with a cup of hot chocolate.”

As the Day Bus conductor reeled off his practiced speech, Glen was trying very hard to understand the words. From what he could gather with his limited understanding of English, this was a form of transportation that would take him anywhere he needed to go. Eleven sickles had also been mentioned, so the ancient boy pulled out a small pouch his father had given him and extracted the right amount of money. Handing it over, he strode on the bus and took a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs. Much to his dismay, Reggie followed him.

“ So, where will you be wanting dropped off?”

Glen stared at him blankly, not understanding. Reggie eyed him for a minute before making an observation.

“ You ain't from around here, are you?”

More blank staring started to frustrate the man, and he continued to mutter to himself.

“ Well, he must know some English, or he wouldn't've given me the right money. Maybe he's a foreigner, or summat. I know! Err, how did you say it? Um…right! Yes, I know. What destination? You know, place to go? Erm…Are you going home? Ah, err…Quid domus?” he asked Glen. At the garbled Latin, realisation sparkled in Glen's eyes.

“ Hogwarts, right. So you know Latin, then. That helps. Not that mine's any good. Just remember a bit of it from school. Erm….Dimidium hora….erm…supervenio.”

While Glen realised that this man didn't know much about Latin, he understood what he was trying to say, and appreciated the effort. He smiled as he realised that there was a way he could communicate with the modern wizarding community without the help of his father. Although Latin wasn't used as much in this time as it was in his own, all witches and wizards had a basic knowledge of it, as it was used for the incantations of their spells. He smiled at Reggie and nodded his head, indicating his understanding, before looking out of the window as the countryside sped by. It was a bizarre sight, but he sat back and relaxed, enjoying the ride.

When the Day Bus finally pulled in at the gates of Hogwarts, a relieved Glenadade jumped down onto the ground and thanked Reggie, before making his way up the path to the school. As soon as he entered, he headed up to the headmaster's office, where he found the old man sitting in his chair. When Dumbledore spotted Glen, he knew immediately that something bad had happened.

“ Come in, my boy. Sit down. You look as if you've seen a ghost.”

“ I may as well have,” replied Glen in Latin. Dumbledore looked at him in confusion, before asking in the same language:

“ What happened?”

“ My father's gone.”

“ What do you mean, gone?” Dumbledore said in surprise.

“ I think we should call the others here. It might be easier.”

“ Go ahead then.”

Glen smiled and nodded, thankful that at least Dumbledore was competent in the ancient tongue. Concentrating hard, he created a mind link to anyone he thought this would concern.

~Please come to the headmaster's office immediately. There's something we need to discuss~

A few moments later, Gallatea and Peeves floated through the door together, followed closely by Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Severus. After a few more minutes, the fireplace turned green and Sirius and Remus stepped out, looking around the room at the gathered people in confusion.

“ What's going on?” Sirius asked.

“ I think our young Potter Junior will be explaining that,” turning to Glen, the headmaster addressed him in Latin, “ Glenadade, can you create a mind link with any of us so you can speak English?”

“ I may be able to do it with my mother. I have never had to do it on my own before, only stabalise my father's connection. I can try, though.”

“ Very well. We will wait.”

Glen turned to his mother, and quickly explained what he needed in Anglo-Saxon. Nodding her head, she closed her eyes and waited for her son to do the same. After a few moments, they opened their eyes and Glen turned back to the rest of the room.

“ Did it work?” he asked in English.

“ Indeed,” Sev said with a raised eyebrow. Glen let out a sigh of relief before beginning his explanation. He summarised the trip to Heather's, reluctantly revealing to a shocked Dumbledore that the woman was still alive. He hadn't wanted to do that, but he knew that the old man would eventually get the whole story out of him if he left bits out. Anyway, there was no other way of explaining his father's absence. When he was done, he waited for someone to break the silence.

“ So, he's slipping again,” Ginny said, finally.

“ What do you mean, slipping again?” Sirius asked.

“ Don't you remember what he was like at the start of your fifth year? He was still recovering from our capture, and he was letting his anger get the better of him. After he was bitten by that vampire, he was never the same. Remus had to talk him around last time, because he was becoming depressed.”

“ I remember that,” Remus said, “ He was in a really bad state.”

“ I still think it's all the Dark Arts he uses,” Hermione suggested, “ I mean, he was never like this before we went into the past.”

“ But is it the Dark Arts or the experiences with time travel that have changed him?” Sev asked.

“ What do you mean.”

“ What I'm saying, Mr. Weasley, is that all four of you have been through a lot over the last few years. From what Harry has told me, you had to fight in several wars, take part in battles, suffer capture by the enemy, and have lost a number of people you care deeply about. You have all suffered a lot, and while you three seem to have come out of the experience relatively unscathed, although you have matured way beyond your years, Harry has had a slightly different reaction. He has experienced the same things as you, but with the added emotional strain of learning about his heritage, having a son that he had to leave, parting from a woman he loved, dealing with the weight of the world on his shoulders, facing the deaths of his great grandparents, and being turned into a dark creature. This is sure to have had a profound effect on him.”

“ Yes, but would he really have changed this much if he hadn't been using Dark Magic?”

“ It is difficult to say, Miss Granger, but I believe you can't fully blame the magic he uses. He always told me that magic is magic, and that it is the intent that makes it evil. I have been using it for twenty five years, and while I have changed over that time, I have no aspirations of becoming the next Dark Lord. If Harry is changing, it is of his own accord. Events surrounding him are pushing him to this, not the magic he uses.”

“ So what can we do about it?” Sirius asked, reluctantly accepting his enemy's words. After all, the pair had been inseparable during his fifth year, so Sev was bound to know Sirius' godson better than the man himself. This didn't sit well with the animagus, but he grudgingly accepted the fact.

“ I suggest we do nothing,” Sev concluded.

“ Nothing! We can't sit here and do nothing, Snape!”

“ Black I know this may be difficult for your small brain to comprehend, but I know what I am talking about. Harry has crossed a line, and he knows it. He has realised what he has done, and needs to deal with the consequences in his own time. I think it is best if we leave him to sort through his own feelings on the matter and let him return to Hogwarts in his own time.”

“ I agree with Severus,” Dumbledore intoned, “ Harry needs time and space, and I think it only fair we give it to him. I will tell the school that he has gone to train, or something of the sort, as I doubt the disappearance of Harry Potter will go unnoticed for long.”

“ Headmaster, what about me?” Glen asked.

“ I suggest you carry on as you have been. Go to your lessons, learn English as fast as you can, and hope your father comes to his senses sooner rather than later.”

“ What do I do about the language problem?”

“ I suggest Lady Ravenclaw stays with you as much as possible. I know her status as a ghost reduces her telepathic ability somewhat, but you will have to make do.”

That said, the group stood and made their way to their respective homes, the Marauders taking Glen to Harry's secret room to further interrogate him.

The next few weeks were rather bizarre for Glenadade. He moved from class to class as if in a daze. His grades went down, and his concentration span was minimal. Hermione, Ginny and Ron were getting worried about him, but they each had their own feelings to deal with. Ron and Hermione were worried sick, but at least they had each other. Ginny, on the other hand, had lost her boyfriend, and she didn't have any idea what to do about it. She felt lost and alone; unable to help the person she loved more than anyone in the world. The weeks blurred together, with still no word from the Boy-Who-Lived.

By the time the middle of October rolled around, everyone was starting to lost hope. Harry had been missing for nearly a month, and there hadn't been any contact with him in all that time. They knew he wasn't in Domus Corvus Corax, as that had been one of the first places they had looked after they started becoming concerned by his absence. Dumbledore had decided after three weeks that Harry had had long enough, and needed to come back to school. They couldn't trace him, though. His house was empty, his vault at Gringotts was untouched, and even the Dursleys hadn't heard from him. Ginny had reluctantly contacted Heather, who claimed she hadn't heard anything from him since he had left her house.

The day of the 20th October brought memories for everyone involved. It was getting close to Hallow'een, and Harry's absence made his friends think of the things that had happened on All Hallows Eve in years past. For Ron and Hermione, it reminded them of the troll incident in their first year. For Ginny, it brought back memories of the Chamber of Secrets first being reopened. Glen thought of home, and the day he would spend with his friends and grandmother. Sev remembered the Hallow'een of his fifth year, when Harry had fought at the battle to save St Mungo's.

The day was disrupted at lunch time when a large black eagle owl flew into the Great Hall, a large rolled up piece of parchment in its grasp. Most of the students and teachers watched it as is soared over their heads and landed in front of Dumbledore. It was unusual for anyone to get post at that time of day, so naturally the owl's arrival was causing quite a stir. Albus hesitantly took the parchment from the owl, which promptly flew off, and unrolled it. A short message was written on it in nondescript handwriting, and remained unsigned.

Diagon Alley. 1 o'clock. Half arsenal.

Dumbledore looked over to the other end of the Head Table, where his Potions Master's seat remained empty. With a deep sigh, he looked over to Glenadade, who was watching him intently. Getting the message, the telepath opened a mental link to the headmaster.

~Glenadade, I need a favour~

~What can I do for you, Headmaster?~

~I need you to tell Hermione, Ron and Ginny to come to my office as soon as lunch finishes. Can you do that?~

~Of course Headmaster. Am I invited?~

Glen closed the connection and whispered to his friends, and Dumbledore watched as they nodded. As soon as lunch ended at 12:30, the five headed up to the office. Once there, they seated themselves, and Dumbledore cleared his throat, a grave look on his face.

“ I have some bad news.”

“ Was that what the owl was about?” Hermione asked.

“ Yes, it was. It was a letter from Severus, informing me that the Death Eaters are going to attack Diagon Alley at 1 o'clock. The trouble is, we can't fight them on our own. I have a few of the Order members I have kept in contact with to call upon, but the rest of them have been away for a long time. I can't call a full Order meeting until I have had more time to prepare. I want to ask if you would be willing to help us in the coming battle.”

“ Sure,” Ron said.

“ I'm in,” Glen agreed.

“ Me too,” Ginny said, her face set.

“ What are we up against?” Hermione asked, “ I mean, how many Death Eaters will be there?”

“ Well, Severus said there would be half arsenal, which means that half of Voldemort's followers will be there, but not the man himself. He will most likely have Lucius Malfoy lead the raid.”

“ Yes, but how many Death Eaters?”

“ Shouldn't be too hard,” Ron said, “ I mean, we've been faced with worse odds than this before.”

“ Yes, at the battle in Paris,” Ginny muttered under her breath.

“ Who are the other Order members?” Hermione asked.

“ A couple of Aurors, including Alastor Moody, and a Metamorphmagus by the name of Nymphadora Tonks.”

“ Nymphadora?” Ron asked in disbelief.

“ Ah, yes, she goes by Tonks.”

“ I can see why,” Ginny added.

“ We need to head out there,” Dumbledore continued, “ The Death Eaters will start arriving soon.”

“ How are we getting there?” Glen asked.

“ By portkey. I'll just make one.”

They watched as the elderly headmaster took out his wand and conjured a piece of parchment, muttering various spells over it to turn it into a portkey. When he was finished, he touched his Order mark and called everyone available. Within minutes, people started coming out of his fireplace, having travelled via Domus Corvus Corax and Harry's secret room. Once everyone was there, Dumbledore made quick introductions and explained the situation. At ten minutes to one o'clock, everyone pressed their hands to the piece of parchment and disappeared from the office.