The Vanishing Game

Harry padded forward, gently he opened the door to peer inside. He was correct with his original guess, both parents were in attendance. Alongside them was an elder man Harry recognized only due to his interactions with Skylar, and a short scraggly red haired man who had an uncomfortable grimy aura.

"Harry!" Lily suddenly gushed, running one hand through her hair in a nervous tick as she shushed him towards the door, "Out you go, back to sleep! Your ankle isn't well and-"

"It already healed." Harry quietly offered, silencing her fretting and peering around once more.

"Listen to your mother, this is a conversation for adults." James offered gently yet sternly.

Harry turned, not meeting the eyes of the two strangers. He shifted, about to close the door before he spotted the unmistakable blue of Skylar's pajamas. The boy in question was sitting in a chair, looking rather sleepy suggesting he had been there a while.

'Oh,' Harry thought, not understanding why he suddenly felt such a strange feeling, 'It's a meeting for the important people. Not adults, I'm just not supposed to be here.'

Harry gave a small reluctant nod and trudged slowly out of the room. The door clicked quickly behind him, and the discussion started once again.

He couldn't find an excuse to lumber back into bed, despite the grating constant exhaustion. He walked with dragging feet and half opened eyes into the adjacent dining room. Climbing up onto a chair, he fiddled with one of the gilded Potter chalices that were always used for decoration. His thumbs traced the silver engravings and decorative marks. His fingers left small smudges against the precious metal- he'd likely have to polish it.

Tracing the marks and arches of the cup repeatedly provided him the necessary distraction to stay awake as the muffled voices continued endlessly. They began to meld in the back of his mind to an incessant chatter.

A door opened and clicked shut; the sound itself was very quiet but the harshness of its spontaneity made it ring clearly. Harry jerked his head up, looking as the short man ran one pudgy fist over his fading hairline. The man spotted Harry, and with a crooked unusual smile he waltzed over, trailing one hand over the crown moldings along the walls.

"Hiya," He greeted, yanking out the closest chair with one leg before plopping down on the edge, "You're the other kid, right?"

Harry blinked slowly, and nodded quietly.

"You should probably scamper off," the man rolled his eyes, "Don't wanna be around for that mess."

"What mess?" Harry asked, shifting to look at the other man fully.

"Well, looks like we got more clowns tryin' to out your folks," The man gave a cruelly twisted grin, "Looks like people are out for your family, mate."

Harry tilted his head curiously, "People are always out for us."

"Ah," The man crooned, leaning forward as if to tell a secret, "But this time, I got word that they're gonna getcha."

Harry sat back alarmed, that and also disgusted by this stranger's breath. Out to get them?

"Eh, don't worry kid, we're gon scramble you." The man eased, clapping his hands dramatically, "One of ya over here, one over there, and boom- you've vanished."

Vanished? Splitting up?

"We're leaving?" Harry asked quietly, hands clenching around the cup harder, "Where?'

The man shrugged, reaching out and plucking the cup from Harry's hands. Harry blinked, hands falling onto the table as if stunned.

"Eh, I dunno." The man shrugged, tossing the cup in his hand and inspecting it closely, "Your brother, he's heading off with your pops and that Dumble's bloke, off for training or someth'g ruddy like that."

"Oh," Harry sighed, blinking bluntly as his mind quickly collapsed to disconcertingly blank.

"Eh, I heard your head'n off to your cousin or someth'n. Your mum's got it covered, says nob'dy look there." The man grinned, teeth were discolored and his breath stank of something burning, "Look's like you're going on your own little trip."

Harry's hands started twitching and he curled them under the table and out of sight.

The man slapped Harry on the shoulder once, before jumping to his feet. "I'm Mundungus Fletcher, and I'm takin' this. Hope ya' don't mind." The man winked, brandishing the cup.

"But that's-"

The man popped and vanished.

'-mine.'

Harry's hands shook and trembled with something strong. His mind was blank, and he felt strangely void from the room.

He wasn't- he couldn't be sent away. That was, it was a ridiculous idea-

'Don't get excited over things that probably won't happen anyways.' he reasoned, eyelids sliding down halfway again, 'Why, why would they actually keep me?'