"Good afternoon, Adrian," Dumbledore's warm voice came through the enchanted mirror's surface, carrying with it a slight note of curiosity mixed with concern.
His blue eyes magnified slightly by the mirror's magical properties, peered out at Adrian. "I didn't expect you to be the one to contact me first through this. We established this connection for emergencies, so I can only assume something important and likely troubling must have happened?"
"Well... in a sense, yes," Adrian responded, keeping his voice level and controlled despite the corpse lying a few feet away and the lingering traces of dark magic in the air around him. "Harry was attacked at his home. At the Dursleys' residence."
Even through the small surface of the two-way mirror, Adrian could see Dumbledore's expression growing more serious, and he frowned slightly with concern and what might have been a flash of guilt.
"That is rather bad news indeed..." Dumbledore said slowly. "Though I assume, given that you're calm enough to be calling me now, you've already dealt with the threat?"
Adrian nodded. "The situation is contained, yes."
He turned the two-way mirror away from his own face and angled it down toward the body on the ground, giving Dumbledore a clear view of what remained of the attack.
"One Death Eater and several Dementors. Four or five of them, I believe. All eliminated."
Just as Adrian held the mirror steady to give Dumbledore a proper view of lifeless body and the evidence of the battle, an unexpected commotion suddenly arose in the distance, breaking through the silence that had settled over the street.
The gunshot from earlier had apparently attracted considerable attention from the surrounding neighborhood.
Several Muggles had gathered nervously at the far end of the street where it intersected with the next road. They stood in a loose cluster, maintaining a safe distance but looked clearly curious and concerned. They were cautiously peering in the direction of Number Four, whispering among themselves, pointing.
The truly troublesome part, the aspect that made Adrian's jaw tighten with concern, was that he spotted several people among the crowd wearing police uniforms.
Clearly, this neighborhood had fairly good security response and concerned citizens who actually reported suspicious incidents.
"We may need some additional help here, Professor," Adrian said quickly, turning the two-way mirror back to face himself so Dumbledore could see his expression and understand the urgency.
"Some Muggles have noticed what's happening here and they're gathering to investigate. More concerning, there are police present—oh, police are basically like Aurors in the Muggle world."
Through the mirror, Adrian could see Dumbledore's expression shift to one of understanding mixed with concern. The headmaster nodded slightly and his expression remained remarkably calm.
"Police, yes, I'm familiar with the concept, I'll notify the Ministry of Magic immediately. The Obliviator Headquarters will dispatch a team to handle these troubles."
"It might need to be rather quick about it," Adrian added, glancing over his shoulder at the steadily growing crowd.
The Obliviator Headquarters was a specialized department within the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, staffed with highly trained wizards and witches specifically responsible for handling various emergencies involving the magical world's exposure to Muggles. They dealt with everything from accidental magic displays to dragon sightings to situations exactly like this one.
They were experts at damage control, memory modification, evidence removal, and believable cover story creation. If anyone could clean up this mess efficiently, it was them.
About half a minute later—impressively fast response time even by magical standards, several soft popping sounds echoed through the air in rapid series.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Three men wearing long trench coats appeared on the scene.
One of the three new arrivals was an immediately familiar face to Adrian.
It was Remus.
The other two were strangers, both looked to be in their forties, with the kind of unremarkable, forgettable faces that was probably an advantage in their line of work.
Through Remus's quick, efficient introduction as he approached Adrian with swift strides, Adrian learned that the other two men were indeed both senior members of the Obliviator Headquarters, specialists in memory modification and Muggle management.
One of them, a half-bald wizard with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, stepped forward immediately and nodded briskly to Adrian in acknowledgment and greeting.
"Standard procedure, Mr. Westeros," He said in a cut, professional voice, already pulling out an official-looking clipboard and self-inking quill from inside his trench coat.
"We'll need you to provide a basic statement about the incident shortly—just the essential facts, timeline, number of hostiles, any witnesses we should be aware of. But leave the situation to us for now."
He was already scanning the scene, watching the corpse, the scattered Dementor robes, the gathering crowd of Muggles. His companion had already pulled out his wand and was murmuring something under his breath, probably preliminary detection spells to assess the scope of the exposure.
At this point, Remus caught Adrian's eye and winked at him in a reassuring manner, a small smile had appeared at his face despite the seriousness of the situation.
"Relax, Adrian," He said softly. "We're all on the same side here. No one's going to give you trouble about this or file problematic reports. Dumbledore's already explained the basic situation."
'The same side?'
Adrian understood instantly what Remus meant by that phrase—he must be referring to the Order of the Phoenix. These Obliviators, despite being Ministry employees, were apparently also members of Dumbledore's organization.
That made sense. The Order would naturally want members placed in key Ministry positions, especially in departments that dealt with emergencies and had access to sensitive information.
Adrian felt considerably relieved knowing that the cleanup would be handled by allies rather than potentially hostile Ministry bureaucrats who might ask awkward questions about why he'd been present, what spells he'd used, or whether proper procedures had been followed.
He glanced at the two men from the Obliviator Headquarters with new appreciation.
Both were completely unfamiliar faces—he didn't recognize them from any previous Order meeting, as he hadn't seen them at Grimmauld Place during the gathering.
Were they perhaps new members of the Order of the Phoenix, recently recruited? Or maybe they were long-standing members who simply worked in deep cover within the Ministry, maintaining their official positions while secretly reporting to Dumbledore?
That would also make sense.
Either way, having them here was extremely convenient.
Seeing the two professional Obliviators and Remus pull out their wands and head toward the distant cluster of worried Muggles and investigating police officers, Adrian stopped paying close attention to that aspect of the situation.
Dumbledore must have already given them explanation of what had occurred, saving Adrian the trouble of lengthy reports and tedious bureaucratic procedures.
After replanting the small Treant Flick back in the Dursleys' front garden, Adrian straightened up and looked at Harry.
His tone remained light despite everything that had just happened. "Let's go check on Mr. Dursley and his family. They're probably traumatized, and we should make sure they're not doing anything foolish."
Harry rubbed his still-aching arm delicately. He smiled bitterly, his expression carrying genuine guilt and regret. "They must be absolutely terrified. I can only imagine what they're thinking."
Strictly speaking, these Dementors had all been drawn here by him.
The Dursley family was completely caught in undeserved disaster.
The two of them walked up the front path side by side and pushed open the Dursleys' front door.
They entered the living room together and immediately froze at the sight before them.
Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley were squeezed tightly together on the sofa in a trembling, huddled mass of fear and shock. They looked like survivors of a natural disaster, pressed against each other for comfort and safety. All three were pale, eyes wide, breathing in short, rapid gasps that looked like they were on the verge of hyperventilating.
Dudley buried his face in his mother's embrace, his fat shoulders were shaking continuously, looking like a six-foot-tall child.
Vernon jerked his head up sharply at the sound of the door opening and footsteps entering. His hand had been reaching for something but seeing it was only Harry and Adrian rather than more monsters, the naked fear on his flushed face receded slightly, replaced by wary relief.
His voice was hoarse and shaky when he spoke, much smaller than his usual bombastic hollering.
"Is... is it over? Those damned... those things, are they all gone?"
Adrian nodded calmly.
"Yes, Mr. Dursley. Everything's been handled completely and professionally. By tomorrow morning, I can promise you, your life will return to normal—or as normal as it can be under the circumstances. Ministry of Magic staff are currently outside right now, as we speak, modifying the neighbors' memories and creating appropriate cover stories.
No one in this neighborhood will remember what happened here today. They'll have vague recollections of a gas leak scare or a small electrical fire or some other mundane emergency that explains the commotion but involves nothing supernatural. The police will file routine reports and move on. It will be as if none of this ever occurred."
Petunia slowly poked her head out from behind her husband, where she'd been partially hiding, using Vernon's large body as a shield between herself and the door. Her face showed the same terrified, haunted expression when she had just witnessed the Dementors through the living room window.
"What happened? Those... those things in black robes, what were they? Why did they come here?"
She gripped Vernon's arm tightly, staring straight at Adrian, as if she had to have a complete explanation. "We deserve to know what nearly killed us!"
Adrian took a breath and briefly xplained the existence and nature of Dementors, not holding anything back or sugar-coating the danger they represented.
After learning just how extremely dangerous these creatures truly were, Petunia's already pale face took on an even more purple-blue color, like she might faint or be sick.
She continued to press for answers, her voice rose with hysteria. "But why would they attack us specifically? Why our house, our family? Is it because..."
Her gaze swept over Harry with an expression that mixed fear with accusation.
"Because he's here?"
Harry never thought there would be a day when he'd feel guilty toward the Dursley family—though only the tiniest bit.
But standing here, seeing their genuine terror, knowing that Dementors and a Death Eater had indeed come hunting specifically for him and had nearly killed his aunt and uncle and cousin... he couldn't deny the basic truth of Petunia's accusation.
He spoke up. "I'm very sorry, Aunt Petunia. They were indeed coming for me."
Petunia's sharp, frightened gaze moved back and forth between Harry and Adrian, her thoughts were incomprehensible behind those frightened eyes.
"Is the magical world always such a dangerous place?" She asked finally.
Adrian opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say the words, a different voice came from behind him.
"Not entirely."
Everyone in the room turned sharply to look toward the living room doorway in surprise, startled by the unexpected new arrival.
There stood Dumbledore, tall and distinguished in his traveling robes. He'd appeared at some unknown moment without any sound of Apparition or door opening.
"Good afternoon, Petunia," He said warmly, walking forward slowly into the room. "I hope you and your family are well, all things considered. I'm terribly sorry about the fright you've had."
Petunia flinched at the sight of the legendary headmaster, pressing herself back against the sofa cushions as if trying to merge with the furniture. She stared at Dumbledore with wide eyes, and her lips began trembling uncontrollably.
She undoubtedly knew of Dumbledore's existence. She had even written to him more than once years ago. Those were not pleasant memories for her, associated with jealousy of her sister and rejection from the magical world she'd desperately wanted to be part of as a child.
"And who are you?" Vernon asked warily.
"I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore introduced himself with a slight, courteous nod. "I apologize for meeting you under such distressing circumstances. I would have preferred our first introduction to be considerably more pleasant."
"Another wizard!" Vernon's voice started to rise automatically, his face was flushing with anger and indignation. "Another fr….. one in my house! I've had enough of this, I've had enough of all of you—"
"Professor Dumbledore," Adrian spoke with slight puzzlement, turning to look at the headmaster with raised eyebrows and curiosity about this unexpected personal visit. "Is there something else you need here?"
Logically speaking, Remus and the Obliviators were more than sufficient to resolve all the problems here. Dumbledore's personal presence really wasn't necessary for cleanup operations.
"To offer some advice and make a suggestion," Dumbledore answered simply, his tone becoming more serious and heavier.
He slowly turned to face the Dursley family directly, giving them his full attention. His expression grew grave, and his twinkling eyes became somber.
"Though this is quite sudden and I wish I had more time to prepare you properly or discuss alternatives, considering what happened here today and what it represents, I must strongly suggest that you relocate temporarily."
The words fell into the room like stones dropping into still water.
Vernon immediately exploded with predictable outrage.
"Relocate?! Leave my house?!" He roared, half-rising from the sofa before thinking better of it and dropping back down.
"Just because of these... these strange occurrences? This is my house! My property! I've worked for thirty years to afford this place! I have a job, responsibilities, a mortgage! We can't just pick up and leave!"
Petunia, however, remained unusually quiet beside him. She didn't echo his objections or add her own complaints or demand explanations. She just sat there, pale and silent and resigned, staring at nothing.
She knew, perhaps better than Vernon, that she couldn't change anything about this situation. She'd grown up with a witch for a sister, had seen enough of the magical world's power to understand the futility of arguing.
Ordinary Muggles like them had virtually no ability to resist wizards or protect themselves from magical threats.
"Harry is simply too special, too important to too many people—for both good and ill," Dumbledore continued in calm voice. His tone made it clear this was not a suggestion or a request but a statement of dangerous fact.
"And as his only living blood relatives, you may be in danger at any time from now on."
Vernon seemed to want to object further, but ultimately he just sat heavily back on the sofa with a dull, defeated thud.
The terrifying feeling of facing those Dementors was still vivid and fresh in his mind. That cold, that suffocating despair, the feeling of death approaching. He'd never experienced anything like it in his life.
Compared to the possibility of encountering those horrible creatures again, well, relocating temporarily didn't seem quite so unbearable after all.
Adrian shrugged casually, trying to lighten the oppressive atmosphere.
"Look on the bright side of the situation—at least you won't die. Maybe in a few years, once Voldemort's been dealt with permanently and this war is over one way or another, you can move back here and resume your normal life. Think of it as an extended, mandatory vacation."
This blunt statement about death and war and dark lords plunged the living room into an eerie, heavy silence.
No one seemed to know how to respond. Dudley's whimpering had stopped. Petunia sat frozen. Vernon stared at the floor.
Death had always been such a heavy, distant topic in the Dursleys' life.
Today was probably the closest Vernon Dursley had ever personally come to death in his entire fifty-something years of living.
That kind of experience changed people.
Adrian, apparently completely unbothered by the heavy atmosphere he'd created and feeling the need to do something normal to break the tension, walked over to the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator door and immediately spotted a familiar red-and-silver can on the middle shelf, and his face brightened slightly.
"Oh, do you mind if I have a Coke?"
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