Harry Potter - Hellion!

 

After the hour-long lunch, the Queen returned to her axe, and the mages left the room.

"Leave the candles on. They do not seem to ‘burn’ and produce any smoke, and We might have to meet more often than even We anticipate. If progress is made, send a message. If not, We expect you back at 20:00 for lunch. By then, We should have made a small dent in the number of heads that need a new set of legs. Leave Neville at the nursery. He will be protected. Our instructions to anyone unknown popping in the nursery were to the point: shoot first, ask questions later. Other members of the government may be joining you for the search, you will be notified."

"A small dent?"

"I am dealing with Azkaban inmates this afternoon. We heard there is a huge collection of Death-eaters in the lot. Tomorrow, We plan to finish the Azkaban clean-up, and undertake the Ministry’s in-depth overhaul. By the way, Bagnold refused to swear fealty and got a new hair-cut. I wonder what is wrong with you people: self-preservation seems to have taken a leave of absence. One of my men, a muggle-born, said it sweetly: ‘One half of their brain got lost, and the other half went off in search of it.’ You are in need of a new minister, a new DMLA head, a new head of Unspeakable, and We just skimmed what We thought were priority posts for security."

They reached the ground floor and separated, the mages heading for the front door and the Queen for the Throne Room which she considered renaming the Room of Requirement, as a way to hit the magical world in the balls. After all, to survive that room, a person was required to swear fealty to the Throne. As she eyed the cast-iron fence, she thought she might need to order it doubled so as not to run out of pikes for heads.

Remus, Sirius, Frank, and Alice made their way to the entrance hall, to be met by a cacophony of yells, threats of all sorts, and questions hollered in total disarray.

"And we thought we were better," muttered Alice.

"The illusion of grandeur," replied her husband. "Hey, that is Shaun Turnpike! How come he’s alone here? He’s barely four. Poor kid! Hey Shawn! Turnpike! Hey, Turnpike!"

A little blond boy, eyes wet with tears, turned around, looking for whom was calling his name. After a few seconds, he spotted Frank. He took off at a run, diving between the legs of a couple of guards that tried to intercept him, and launched himself at Frank.

"Unkl Bottom! Unkl Bottom! I is so glad to see you!" the little tyke yelled between sobs.

Frank caught the living missile and spun around a couple of times to burn off the inertia. After materializing a tissue and clearing the boy’s nose and eyes, he looked at the relieved but sad figure.

"Hey, what are you doing here, Shawn?"

"Some bad men came to our house this morning, and I saw them kill mama with that ugly green light, then another group came in the house and there was that huge battle, and... and... And they blew up the house, and they took me here."

"Okay. Let’s get this right: who blew the house up the first group or the second group?"

"The ones with the masks. Those that killed mama." Another burst of tears came out with hiccups.

Frank hugged the boy tightly, and got him another tissue. "Did you get hurt?"

"No, but the nasty ones told mama they would enjoy me bum before cutting me to tiny whinie pieces. I donna want my whinie cut! That must hurt lots!"

"When the house got blown, did anyone get hurt?"

"Lots of men in black, but without those ugly white mask, and me think the one that sent that red light in the fire line."

Frank had to think this out. Fire line... Oh, the Turnpike flat was heated by natural gas, and the range and water heater were both gas-driven. So, the death-eater had fired an incendio spell in the gas line rather than abandon his target. They must be getting desperate. What to do? He looked at Alice, as a soldier, an officer from the looks of his uniform, made his way toward the group of mages, temper tantrum on his face clear as noon-day sun.

"Who are you to be out of line? Get back in line, now! And put that slime-bag back on his feet!"

That was too much for Sirius! He punched the officer in the face, breaking his nose, and pulled his wand out, placing it at the officer’s neck. "You or anyone moves, and your head will be joining those on the pikes outside!" he said in a cold voice that produced a snow-storm in Hell. "And before throwing your weigh around, asshole, you should at least ask questions."

"To be lied to? Not on my watch!"

"Your watch got terminated, Sergeant. Return to barracks and consider yourself under house arrest!" said the Chamberlain of the Queen, that had made his way to the hall to check on the commotion.

"You have no..."

BANG! And a Sergeant retired by bullet hole was left on the tiles of the hall, with the Chamberlain holding a PKK 9 mm smoking at the nozzle.

"I do have authority, as we are now under direct rule. Anyone else wants to play piss-off with me had better think twice. I’m MI5, on lease to the Royal Household on protective detail. James overrated the PKK. I don’t like the recoil. As for these gentlemen, they are to be helped, not hindered, by order of the Queen. Is that clear?"

"James?" whispered Sirius.

"Bond, one of our best."

"Thanks. I was getting ready to behead the bastard," commented Sirius.

"A bullet hole is less bloody."

"But less educative."

A snort later, the Chamberlain looked at the wide-eyed Shawn, who was clinging to Frank like a drowning man to a buoy.

"Come with me, young sir. We have an inspection of the Royal kitchen to undertake. After all, someone has to make sure the cookies are fresh and tasty, and we do need a specialist. Do you know where we could find one? Grandma Elizabeth has tooth problems, so they need to be soft, hot, fresh and chewy so her dentures don’t stay stuck in them."

Right then, Shawn’s tummy released an ominous growl. "Me hungry. Did not have breakfast. Me really hurting down there."

"Are you sure it’s not a pride of lions eating you from the inside? From the sound of it, these aren’t kittens! Come along, now, cookie monster!"

Shawn released Frank and transferred to the Chamberlain, as his tummy continued to complain. The Chamberlain turned to look at the officers.

"Feed these people! Priority to kids! If I don’t see a buffet when I’m back you will be joining that cold cut!" he said, pointing on the floor at the deceased officer, now laying in a pool of his own blood.

As they left the castle, Sirius kept scratching his head.

"Caught fleas at the dog pound, Sirius?" snickered Remus.

"No. They put a flea collar. They were talking about a flea bath when you rescued me."

"Before or after being nutted?"

"GRR!"

After updating Frank and Alice on Sirius’ adventures at the dog pound, and giving the Longbottom time to recover their breath after a serious (pun intended) bout of uncontrollable laughter and numerous growls from a purple-faced Sirius, they made their way to a back-alley.

"First stop, four Privet Drive. I got the Queen’s search writ in my pocket, so we should not have issues with the authorities," said Sirius. "Nonetheless, wands out. We won’t always have a chamberlain at our disposal and we might end up in a raging battle. I’ve been there, so we’ll go straight into the living room. Form a square."

Shortly, four pops were heard and the back alley stood empty.

---

In Sherwood forest, a group of soldiers made their way through the sparse under-bush, leafs cracking underfoot.

"If that dragon has good hearing, we might as well send a visiting card!" said a soldier, as another branch cracked from behind him.

"Try walking in that cover, or, more to the point, lack thereof. Now I understand why Robin Hood took to the deepest range during winter: a bunch of ever-green walking men would stand out like gold on a tax assessor’s desk!"

"Be quiet! Cracks in a forest are normal, voices are not!" commented the Captain leading the platoon.

"Harrier in sight, sir."

"We are getting close. Let’s make it to the clearing without being roasted. It must be hungry by now. Radio?"

"DS-9 reports no apparent move in the forest. We are three miles due west of the hole it dug. We should be coming on it from the forest’s edge, hidden from view, according to the pilot. He says there is a trail about a quarter-click from our position that goes there, on our left."

"We’ll take it. A trail is more open, thus with less branches likely to break."

The platoon made it to the trail and progressed a bit more quickly. Suddenly, there was a howl.

"What the fuck! That howl would wake up the dead. If the dragon didn’t hear it, it’s deaf! Wonder what makes that bone-chilling howl?"

"A wolf sir. Heard it while visiting a national park in Canada."

"A wolf? There hasn’t been a single certified sighting of a wolf on the Island since 1850!"

"And how many certified sightings of Megalodons or Dragons were there since 1850? The last sighting for a dragon until last night was St-George! As for Megalodons, none whatsoever, except in the form of teeth in the cliffs of Dover."

The others looked at the exchange with mounting angst. They were willing to put up with Dragons, but wolves? If there was one, there might be a pack of them!

"Move forward! Be quiet! Spot?"

"The pilot says we are one click off target."

They made slow, careful, progress, and emerged right on top of the Dragon nest. They could see huge three-fingered paw prints in the dirt, and marks of claws along the rocky side of the cliff where the Dragon had dug in to build its bed, but, of the Dragon, no sight!

"Ask the spotter if we are on target?"

"He confirms, sir."

"Radio base, tell them the Dragon gave us the slip during the night. Then we move down to examine the nest. DS-8 and DS-7 will get a trainload of hot shit dumped on them. I don’t want to be in their shoes. How can you let that vanish? Might as well vanish the Ark Royal while it’s in its berth!"

As the platoon made their way down a narrow ravine, they heard the wolf howl from above and saw it look on them with some disdain. One guy took a series of pictures. He was a wolf maniac, and documenting a roaming wolf had been his dream since he had read Red Riding Hood!

The men looked everywhere: they found incoming paw prints, but no exiting ones.

"It can fly, take off vertically, but nowhere in the Dragon manual is it said it can vanish in thin air!" exclaimed the frustrated Captain.

"What do we have?" asked the thinker of the group, not the Captain, it seemed.

"One – a dragon nest; two – incoming dragon paw prints coming from that clearing; three – no exiting paw prints; four – enough dragon dung to supply the Royal Botanical Garden with fertilizer for a year and producing enough methane to drill a hole in the ozone layer. What else?" replied the captain.

"There are other prints, dog prints, and some fur, there, caught in that bush."

"Ya, so?"

"Remember how that Megalodon took a holiday?"

"Ya, it became Mr flying beasty. So..."

"I see it that way sir: Megalodon becomes dragon which becomes dog, or maybe wolf? There is no reason to prevent this from happening except our own limitations."

"You are trying to convince me the wolf is the dragon?"

"Do you need convincing?"

"That means tracking has become a lot more difficult. A dragon can not hide under a tree stump. A wolf will find it natural. And where is it? In a wild, if small, forest, where hiding will be a breeze, food plentiful, shelter from unwanted attention a given. Radio! Get me SC!"

"Search Central. Report!"

"Bad news: We are now looking for a canine, wolf-like, like a Grey Wolf or a timber wolf."

"Explain!"

"Incoming dragon track, no outgoing; no incoming wolf tracks, but outgoing. Wolf seen rather up close... Huge, far bigger than an adult Timber Wolf, yet acting like a pup. Did not show aggressive behavior of adult Timber; shy, evasive, but not running away. Scary. Request additional platoons. We need tracking dogs."

"Sir!!! No!!! No tracking dogs!"

"And why not?"

"If things continue the way they are, we might find ourselves hunting a dog that matches one of ours to the hair! At least, we know it is alone and unique! It seems to be able to change shape at will! Do you want to give it additional models?"

"Oh. Shit! Didn’t think of that. So, no dogs. We need human trackers, only human trackers. Do you read, Search Central?"

"We copy. We will gather a dozen teams. Try to keep track of the wolf."

"Acknowledged. Timmy, smart ass, you lead the tracking. You seem to know what you are doing, contrary to us..."

As they made their way out of the ‘nest’ back up from where they came, they heard the wolf howl not far ahead of them.

---

"So, that is number four, Privet Drive... The house seems to be a carbon copy of the others. Do muggles use duplicating charms for their houses?" asked Frank.

"I don’t think so," replied Remus.

"Let’s go in. I see a muggle auror at the gate leading to the front yard. Sirius, get your Royal Search Writ. We’ll need it."

The four made their way along the side-walk, earning suspicious glares from everyone, and especially the police officer.

"Officer? Read this, please?" said Sirius, tending the writ to the muggle.

The constable eyed the four strangely-dressed individuals in front of him, and unrolled the scroll displaying the House of Windsor seal. After reading it slowly and glancing at the four, he pulled his radio, and got in contact with his comptroller.

"Sir, I have a Royal writ here, dated today, no. 18-100-02, allowing four individuals access to the property my team and I are guarding. I’m asking for a verification. Access number 505-ROYAL. Waiting... It verifies? And we are to assist to the best of our capacity? Classified Omega-One? BRR! Fine. Thank you. Out."

the officer turned to the four mages and looked at them with wide eyes. "I wonder who you are to warrant an Omega-One classification level. You could piss on the Prime Minister and she would have to drink it. I’ve never, ever, seen such a level of clearance."

"You would need a Prime Minister for that to occur," replied Sirius, retaking the writ, rolling it back and putting the ring of the House of Windsor around it to keep it rolled tight. "Follow us."

The officer moved with Sirius through the devastated entry hall, and led them to the kitchen.

"I did smell Harry," whispered Remus to Sirius. "I can recognize the smell of my pup anywhere."

"So did I, but there is a strong smell coming from that direction!" replied Sirius, leading them to the long hallway. "It’s stronger that way!"

The two virtual canines made their way to the blood-soaked carpet and wall.

"It smells of Harry, pee, and blood. Lots of his blood!" growled Remus as the hair on his head and back stood up. At the same time, a growl escaped Sirius, who shape-shifted to his Grimm shape, and began sniffing on the ground, all the while his dog hair sticking out like steel rods and making his appearance, already huge, triple in size.

"What’s going on?" muttered a white-faced police officer.

"That ‘dog’, Sirius, is the embodiment of a Grimm, the Death Dog. It is his animagus form. The other one is a wolf." No use scaring them to death by introducing the werewolf side of Remus. They already have wet themselves. "They are in tracking mode. Sirius found the smell of Lord Harry James Potter in that blood. It is much faster than genetic mapping."

"I need to inform the Queen! We are instructed to keep her informed the moment a development occurs. May I be excused?"

"Sure, but do not go too far, this is only the first step in the tracking. Ah, Sirius has begun tracking the blood path."

Sirius was indeed sniffing every blood drop, visible or not, from the blood pool, out through the front door, and then to the garage, where he was stumped. Returning to his human form, he reported his findings.

"The blood goes from the pool on the carpet, down the hallway, and out to the entrance, then through the grass, to that place, where it disappears."

"The garage sir. Reports say a car left the area rather noisily two days ago. If your nose is true, the boy was put in the car and taken away. The car was found on a marina parking lot, along with its owner, a certain Vernon Dursley. I hope this can help you."

"Yes. Was the car searched?"

"Yes. No trace of a baby was found, and no blood either, so far. It’s impounded at the London Secure Vehicle Pound, where vehicles used in criminal activity are kept. One-five-five Arena Road."

"Thanks. Where was it found?"

"The car? On the Upper Whey River Marina, eighty miles from here."

"Got a map of the area?"

"Yes, in my patrol car. Take it. I shall get a new one at the office tonight."

"So, where first?" asked Frank.

"I wish we had a way to know the path taken by Vernon. He might have dumped the body in the ditch."

"Sir, he was bitten while submerging a package in the river where his car got picked; it is therefore unlikely he ditched anything along the way. But Scotland Yard has been busy rebuilding the road travelled. You might get some information from them."

"Good idea, we’ll do that. We visit the car pound, and check for Harry’s smell or blood. Then we go to that marina, whatever that is."

"It’s a place where boats can be found, stored, put and taken out of the water for winter, or maintenance, Sir. There are docks, ramps and other facilities. If you want, I can point it on the map, page one hundred and thirty-two of the British Road Guide, which you have at hand."

A few minutes later, the shortest, straightest, path was set, and Remus told the others, "Four jumps. We could do it in one, but adjusting for altitude change might prove challenging. First stop, that wooded area, twenty miles off. See you there," and he popped off, followed by the others.

"I wish we could do that. Imagine the speed of police interventions on crime scenes!" said one officer, with a tone of envy. "Four jumps, eight seconds, eighty miles. That is unbeatable."

"Why didn’t we go to the pound to check the car?" asked Sirius.

"I thought you had your fill of pounds, Sirius," replied Remus, smirking. "Maybe you do need to be neutered to get your brain out of the gutter."

"I will never get out of that one!"

"Nope!" replied the three others in harmony.

"Next jump, that way, twenty-five miles. Be careful, we’re popping in a round-about," said Remus.

---

The next three jumps quickly brought them to the marina, and they made their way to the docks and parking lot. The marina was still closed, and some officers looked up at the four walking toward them from the woods. No one said a thing, as to get there they would have had to cross at least four tightly monitored lines of officers.

"Remus?" asked Frank as Sirius changed while hidden by a bush.

"That side, right side of that square marked by yellow tape. Blood on the pavement. Matches."

Sirius made his way out of the busy, lifted a leg and sprayed a tree. He made his way down to blood spot, sniffed, followed the tiny blood drops to the water’s edge and wailed.

"Padfoot found the trail, guys. It confirms Harry was here. Let’s talk to that guy. Sirius, the bush and come back normal. We have been lucky so far, but I don’t want a nervous mundane to go ballistic."

The dog made his way in the woods, and Sirius came back out, sort of confounding the officers.

"That pee felt good. Padfoot is going back to the car. He’ll wait for us."

The four mages continued to progress toward a group of official-looking individuals.

"May we help you?" asked an officer.

"Report! What have you found so far?" asked Frank.

"There is a trail of blood from the car to the river. According to the reporting officers, the guy, Vernon Dursley, who got bit by a shark was seen submerging a package, but dredging has not found anything."

"The dog traced a trail from the box marking the car’s parking spot there to the water’s edge. It matches our target, one Harry James Potter. Was anything found on the shores?"

"No, sir. The dog?"

"Is telepathic." Mislead, mislead, thought Frank.

"Sir, my brother was at Hogwarts... Telepathic my ass! He described a dog matching him perfectly and he remembered McDonnagall's little demonstration the first day of class. That ‘dog’ is an animagus. Before trying to mislead, sir, get your facts straight."

Frank became red from having been caught.

"Err. Okay. Sirius? What do you suggest? Tracking a smell on water is impossible."

"No idea."

"Sir, there were numerous strange events on the river, way until it merged with the Thames. The last one was in the lower river bed of the Whir, where a shark became a dragon. It got escorted by the RAF. Maybe you could get information at the RAF base near here?"

"Can you point it on the map?"

"Sure. It’s here."

"Hey, that is close to the round-about we jumped to!" said Remus.

"I did see a panel saying Standish RAF 502^nd Harrier Fighting Group. That must be where we need to go!" said Alice.

"Off we go. Single jump, the round-about. Thanks sir."

The four jumped to the round-about and took to jumping by sight toward the air base.

"These muggles are very useful and well-organized. We fools totally misjudged their capacities," said Frank.

"Yes. We’re here, next jump: that small thing, there. A guard house, I think," said Remus.