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Disclaimer: I am not now, nor have I ever been Joanne Kathleen Rowling, which is good as I quite like being myself. Unfortunately it means that I don't own the characters or locations in this piece of fiction. A/N: So here's the second half of chapter two, which really doesn'y need much in the way of introduction. So I won't give it one... Chapter Two (Part 2): Confession and Flight Once out the door of number four Privet Drive, Harry immediately wondered where he should go. He could drag his heavy trunk over to Wisteria Walk, but there was no guarantee that Mrs. Figg would be up at this time of night. Harry really didn't want to wake her up, but even if she was awake, she'd probably just tell him to go back to the Dursleys anyway. No, he needed to leave on his own. His eyes settled on the flying motorcycle that was still sitting in the middle of the driveway where it had been left earlier. So Sirius had ridden that thing. Unfortunately, knowing this didn't ease Harry's concern about riding it one bit. In addition, he wasn't certain he really wanted to ride it for other reasons. After all, it had belonged to Sirius. Harry's head bowed at the thought of his deceased godfather. No, he wasn't quite ready for that yet. Just looking at it re-opened the still fresh wound on his heart, and Harry didn't want to consider what flying it might do. That left the Knight Bus, an option which wasn't particularly appealing. Not only was the ride nauseating, but with Ernie and Stan operating it, Harry was certain the whole wizarding world would know precisely where he went in a matter of mere moments. It was, however, the only option he could think of. He dragged his trunk and Hedwig's cage to the curb, and withdrew his wand from his rear pocket so that he could hail the bus. "Psst... 'allo 'arry." Harry turned violently without having lifted his wand to see the shadowy figure of Mundungus Fletcher looking appreciatively at Sirius's motorcycle. "This 'ere's a nice bit o' work, isn' it? Woss it exactly?" he asked, kicking it gently. "What are you doing here Mr. Fletcher?" Harry asked, unhappy at having been discovered and ignoring the question. "Oh yer know, it were a quiet night for business and I just though' I'd check up on me ole mate 'arry Potter. Wotcha' mean wot am I doin' 'ere?" Mundungus looked rather chuffed with himself. "You were assigned to watch me tonight?" asked Harry quietly. But he already knew the answer. "It's rather ironic that the one night I needed you here you weren't, and now that I'd rather you weren't here you show up." Mundungus lowered himself into an overly extravagant bow . "At yer service," he said with a grin. "Wot'cher doin' all packed up, eh, 'arry? Are yer plannin' on gahn somewhere?" He had left the motorcycle behind and was now walking towards the street to join Harry. "Have a fallin' out wiv the misses?" Harry wasn't sure if this was meant as a joke, or if Dung knew more than he was letting on. "No, I-" Harry found himself wondering precisely how much he should tell Mundungus. Sure he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, but he certainly wasn't the most trustworthy of people. "I thought that perhaps it would be best to get out of the house for a while. You know, maybe take a trip to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade or somewhere." He began walking pointedly away from his would be captor, and towards the entrance to Privet Drive. "Oy, wait up," Dung called in a slightly louder voice. Harry was briefly afraid that he'd wake up the neighbors. "I'm afrai' that I can't just let yer wander off. Dumbledore would 'ave me 'ead. Why don' I take yer ter Arabella's 'ouse and the two of yer can figure out wot ter do in the bloody mornin'." Harry stopped walking and turned to look at Mundungus as he trotted to catch up. There was really no way for him to get away. If he called the Knight bus, Mundungus would just get on too. If he tried to run away, Mundugus would be able to catch right up by apparating. Harry didn't see how he had much choice in the situation. "Right then," he said through clenched teeth. He turned back around and started walking towards Wisteria Walk, the trunk dragging along behind him. "Here, let me 'elp yer wiv that," said Mundungus pulling out his wand. "Locomotor trunk." Harry felt the trunk he was dragging become weightless and start to move of its own accord. "Thanks," he said grudgingly. It took them no more than five minutes to reach Wisteria Walk once Harry was free from carrying his trunk. Mundungus attempted several times to start up a conversation while they were walking, but Harry was having none of it. All he wanted at the moment was to be alone so he could think about what he had seen only an hour earlier. Upon turning onto Wisteria Walk, Harry could immediately tell that Mrs. Figg was asleep. There were no lights on in her house at all, and even the cats seemed to be dozing off. There were a few on her front porch that he needed to step over to reach the door. He was therefore not surprised that the door wouldn't open when he tried it. "Looks like we'll have to do something else Mr. Fletcher," he said, not a trace of disappointment in his voice. "Woss this Mr. Fletcher business, then? Just call me Dung. Right. Ev'ryone else does, tho' I'm not sure why," said Mundungus scratching his head. "And don't worry a bit about copping in. I've been thru' me share of locked doors in the past." He pulled out his wand with a flourish, and with far too much ado, cast a charm on the door. It opened noiselessly. "Jus' a simple alohomora, lad, any thief worth their salt knows tha' one. After yer then," he said as he held open the door for Harry to pass through. The living room of Mrs. Figg's house smelled of cabbage, just as always, but for the moment it was thankfully cat free. Harry plopped down on the couch and winced as the plastic it was covered in let off a rather embarrassing noise. Much to his relief, Mundungus didn't seem to hear. "Righ' then. I'll jus' be off ter - well, ter take care o' some business. I trus' that' you'll be alrigh' here until mornin'," he said with a grin. "Don' be doin' nothing tha' I wouldn't do." "You're just going to leave me here?" Harry asked incredulously. He wasn't certain how someone like Mundungus Fletcher had ever been allowed to do guard duty. "Tha's the plan, have a good nigh'," he said as he slipped back out the door and over the still sleeping cats. Harry took stock of the room around him. There was the couch and a few chairs, a rather large fire in the fireplace, some booksh - Harry's eyes jerked back to the fireplace. If it was hooked up to the Floo Network, he'd be able to get to 12 Grimmauld Place tonight, where he might be able to talk to Lupin or Dumbledore and ask them about what he'd seen. He began searching for Floo Powder in all the corners of the room. He never remembered seeing a bowl with dust in it when he came over for tea, but he supposed that Mrs. Figg would probably hide such a thing to avoid uncomfortable questions from Muggle houseguests. When he finally found the bowl, he nearly let out a triumphant shout. It had been hiding underneath a cookbook in one of the bookshelves' drawers. He grabbed a handful, dragged his trunk to the fireplace, and placed Hedwig's cage under his arm. He tossed the Floo Powder into the flames and covered his eyes with his free hand as the flames flashed a brilliant green. He picked up the trunk again, climbed into the fireplace, and very clearly (he didn't want to get stuck in Nocturn Alley again) said, "12 Grimmauld Place." He soon found himself whirling through darkness, fireplace opening after fireplace opening passing him by. When he stopped, he found that he had come out in the drawing room where the old Black family tapestry hung on the wall. Looking at it brought back memories of the last few times that Harry had been with Sirius while he was alive. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here. The room was dark, and the entire house was quiet, it being the middle of the night. Harry retrieved his trunk and dragged it out into the middle of the room and placed Hedwig's cage on top of it. He needed to find somebody to let them know that he was here, but most everyone was probably asleep. Unless they had a guard up, he found himself thinking. Hoping that there was indeed a guard on duty, Harry made his way downstairs to the entrance hall, noting with anger that Kreacher's head had not yet taken its place on the wall with his ancestors. Harry didn't want to think about what their first meeting was going to be like. Unfortunately for Harry, Kreacher chose just that instant to walk past the bottom of the flight of stairs mumbling. Harry immediately drew his wand and began to run down the stairs and after the house elf that had mislead him into believing Sirius was in trouble. "Hey!" he shouted, coming dangerously close to breaking his neck on the stairs. "I see the Potter boy has come back," Kreacher mumbled as he froze in his tracks. "But there's no one left for him here, now that the vile master is dead. Yes, Mistress, it's just you and I now." The house elf rubbed his hands together and reached out for the draw that controlled the curtain covering the portrait of Sirius's mother. Just as he began to pull down, Harry reached him and put his hands around his neck, wand long forgotten. "How could you?" he cried. "Blood traitor! Infidel! Mogrel freak!" "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL'S GOING ON IN HERE?" Harry's head snapped around at the sound of this new voice, but Sirius's mother went right on with her insults. A wizard with gray wiry hair approached the two of them slowly with his wand out. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" the wizard demanded. He looked familiar to Harry, though he couldn't place his finger on where he knew him from. "And get your hands off of that house elf." Harry let his hands fall. Kreacher gasped for breath and then with a pop disappeared from view. "I'm Harry Potter," the wizard's eyes narrowed slightly, "and I'm here to talk to someone in the Order," said Harry with confidence. "Order? What order? This is the house of deceased felon Sirius Black, and you are now trespassing on Ministry of Magic property! If you do not leave at once I will be forced to take extreme measures." Harry's memory clicked into place. The wizard was Dawlish, the auror who had tried to single handedly stand up to Dumbledore the previous year. But what was he doing here? "You don't understand, I'm Harry Po-" "Yeah, and I'm the ruddy Queen of England..." the tough looking wizard interjected. "Look Mr.... Potter was it? I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with me." He bent over and picked up Harry's discarded wand, walked the rest of the distance to where Harry was standing, and placed his own wand in the small of Harry's back. "Get a move on," he snarled. Harry didn't have any choice but to follow Dawlish's orders, and together they left the hall to a chorus of Mrs. Black's frightful screams.

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