Megan Potter - A Saga of the Heart - Book 6 - Dark Temptation-

Chapter 3 - Evening call

Even though she had hoped he would come and she trusted Dumbledore, she felt very awkward indeed walking down a Muggle street with him. She'd never had a conversation with Dumbledore outside Hogwarts, and even then, they had never been exactly casual as they were almost always related to Megan or Voldemort, or else the dangers lurking around the school.

"Wand at the ready, Megan." he said.

"But I'm not allowed to use magic, I already –"

"If there is an attack, you have my permission to perform any spell you can think of. Although I don't think you need to worry about an attack tonight."

"Why not, sir?"

"You are with me. Let us stop here."

They stopped at the end of Privet Drive.

"You have not yet passed your Apparition test, I suppose?"

"No... Don't you have to be seventeen?"

"Indeed, you do. So you will have to hold my arm very tightly. My left, if you would be so kind. As you can see, my right is a little fragile at the moment."

Megan, still feeling awkward, took hold of his forearm.

"Here we go."

Megan suddenly felt like she was being pressed from all directions. She couldn't see anything and could barely breathe. She gripped Dumbledore's arm tighter. And then, she felt something hard under her feet. She panted slightly and looked around. It was clear to her they were no longer in Privet Drive, but some sort of empty village square. Megan suddenly realised she had just Apparated for the first time in her life.

"Are you all right? The sensation takes a little getting used to."

"... Yes, I'm fine... But in all honesty, sir, I think I'm more of a broom person."

He smiled.

"This way, please." he said.

They crossed the square. Megan saw on a church clock that it was almost midnight.

"Tell me, Megan, has your scar been hurting at all?"

Megan's hand instinctively reached for her forehead.

"No... Why is that, sir? I thought it would be hurting all the time, as Voldemort's been getting more and more powerful..."

Dumbledore appeared satisfied. Megan frowned, confused.

"I thought otherwise, actually." he said. "And it appears I was correct. You see, Voldemort has, it seems, realised how dangerous your bond is to him. And I believe he is now using Occlumency against you, the way you were last year."

"No complaints here," Megan said, preferring not to mention that her Occlumency was probably nothing compared to Voldemort's.

She missed neither the dreams nor the mood swings. She then glanced around her.

"Professor, where are we?"

"This is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton," Dumbledore said.

"Why are we here?"

"Yes, I haven't told you yet, have I? We are here because I am hoping to talk an old colleague into coming out of retirement and return to Hogwarts."

Megan knew that Umbridge, her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, had left her position last year, so, as it seemed to happen every year, the school was one teacher short.

"Very strange, how none of the teachers in Defence Against the Dark last more than a year, isn't it?" Dumbledore said pleasantly.

"... Uh... yes," she said, not sure what else to say. "But sir, I'm not sure I see what help I could be."

"Oh, it'll become clear soon. This way, Megan."

They reached a narrow street lined with houses. The odd chill Megan had felt over Privet Drive lingered here. Megan glanced around carefully, the feeling strongly reminding her of Dementors.

"Left here, Megan."

They turned. Megan hesitated a few seconds.

"... Sir? I heard Fudge was... fired."

"Yes, he was." Dumbledore said. "And replaced by Rufus Scrimgeour, who was, I'm sure you know, Head of Auror Office."

"... What d'you think of him?"

"He is able, certainly, a far stronger personality than Cornelius. And having fought Dark wizards most of his life, he does not underestimate Voldemort."

Megan didn't dare mention the disagreement mentioned in the Prophet.

"... I heard about Madam Bones, too..." she said.

"Yes," Dumbledore said sadly. "A terrible loss. She was a great witch. Over here, Megan."

He raised his injured hand and winced.

"Sir, what happened to your hand?"

"It is a thrilling tale, and I wish to do it justice, which we have no time for now."

He smiled, so Megan knew he wasn't snubbing her.

"... Sir, I got this leaflet about defending oneself from attacks..."

"I have one myself. D'you think it useful?"

"...Honestly, sir? Not really."

"No, I thought not. You didn't, for example, ask me what my favourite jam flavour was, to ensure it is indeed me."

"... I..." Megan wasn't sure she was being reprimanded or not.

"For future reference, it is raspberry. Of course, if I were a Death Eater, I would find out everything I could about the person I would be impersonating."

"... Of course," Megan said. "But the leaflet said something about Inferi... What are they?"

"They are corpses, Megan, bewitched to do a Dark wizard's bidding."

"That's... twisted... it's like... insulting the memories of the dead."

"It is. And they have not been seen for a long time. Not since Voldemort was last powerful. He killed enough people to make an army of them, of course."

Megan shuddered, but knew that a soulless, egotistical wizard like Voldemort was more than capable of such a horrifying act to ensure his victory.

"Ah, here it is, Megan."

Megan saw a small stone house and garden, but was too revolted by the idea of the Inferi to really notice. But as they reached the gate, Dumbledore held out an arm to stop her.

"What is it?"

Megan looked. The door hung off its hinges. She felt a shiver.

"Wand out and follow me." Dumbledore said softly.

He carefully opened the gate and walked up the path, Megan right behind him. He pushed the front door and raised his wand.

"Lumos."

The light shone over a terrible scene. There was mess everywhere. Torn books, a broken clock, pieces of a chandelier, slashed cushions... Megan then looked around and gasped.

"Not pretty, is it... yes, something terrible has happened."

The wall was covered in some dark red substance. Megan gulped.

"... but... there's no body..." she whispered.

"Oh, that's normal, Megan. He's still here."

"He is? But..."

Dumbledore turned to a single, overstuffed armchair which seemed miraculously intact.

"Evening, Horace," he said.

The chair shuddered, and then, to Megan's amazement, turned into a stout man with stripy pyjamas.