Chapter 69- Now you see, Now you don't (part 2)

Unfortunately, at that moment, Harry was still losing ground despite his efforts to halt or at least slow his backwards slide. Wind teased his hair and ran cold fingers across his scalp, while a gray mist closed in on all sides, cloaking any potential hand or footholds.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry clenched his fists, trying to figure out how to turn off or at least cope with this new dynamic. Before, when he'd been observing Voldemort, he'd actually been rather stationary until he decided he wanted to go somewhere. This bloody backwards pulling was making any attempt at mental control worse than useless.

"Stop!" he finally railed, swinging his fists at the misty nothingness that surrounded him. "Stop, damn it! Stop! STOP!"

Peace, fledgling. Be calm.

"F-Fawkes?" Harry stopped his blind shadowboxing and looked up, hardly daring to believe it when warm talons closed on his wrist. "Fawkes!" he said gratefully when the phoenix began to beat his wings, slowing, then stopping his backwards motion. "Fawkes, please! Professor Dumbledore! The Burrow!"

Hush, young one. Conserve your strength, Fawkes counseled, adjusting his grip on Harry's wrist so he was facing forward again, then towing him back in the direction they had come from. Or at least Harry hoped it was the direction they had come from. If your need is so great, you shall speak to my human.

Pacified, Harry tried to obey, but their progress seemed agonizingly slow and it was hard not to fidget impatiently. Fawkes was pulling against the same force that was trying to draw him backwards, but still! This was the same bird that had pulled Ron, Ginny, Lockhart, and himself out of the Chamber of Secrets without any noticeable strain.

Patience, fledgling. I may go no faster without the risk of damage to your astral link. Fawkes remarked, making Harry wonder guiltily if his thoughts were entirely private in his current state.

Then he registered what the bird had said.

"Excuse me, did you say, 'damage'?" he asked, hoping against hope that he'd misunderstood.

I did. The Astral Plane is not a place where younglings may frolic unattended, Fawkes informed him sternly. My human is rather talented in this area-much more so than the Melodramatic One he employs. When you are strong again, he and I will tutor you.

Harry frowned as Fawkes' words tickled a memory. "Melodramatic? Astral...oh of course! How could I be so stupid?" Harry exclaimed, as the maddening feeling that he should know this from somewhere finally made sense.

Professor Trelawney! Harry hit his forehead with his free hand. Astral Theory was one of her pet topics. Technically it wasn't in Harry's current Divination curriculum, but if she finished her lesson early and had a few minutes to fill, she liked to talk about Astral Projection-or more precisely the gruesome fates which could befall unwary travelers.

Professor Trelawney! Harry hit his forehead with his free hand. Astral Theory was one of her pet topics. Technically it wasn't in Harry's current Divination curriculum, but if she finished her lesson early and had a few minutes to fill, she liked to talk about Astral Projection-or more precisely the gruesome fates which could befall unwary travelers.

Harry shivered a little, suddenly wishing he'd paid more attention. Since Astral Theory was extraneous information and not included in homework assignments, practicals, or exams he'd let the information drift in one ear and out the other. The only reason he remembered this much was because he and Ron had found the idea intriguing. Astral Travel wouldn't do when one's hands were needed, like sneaking into the kitchen for example, but both of them had thought it might be dead useful for exploring, nicking answers off Hermione's homework papers, or maybe even copping a peek in the girls' dorm.

Sighing, Harry pulled his thoughts back to the present. Neither of them had taken the matter very seriously. It had simply been an enjoyable way to send some time. Now it looked like the subject had more merit than Harry had given it credit for...assuming the old fraud knew what she was talking about for a change.

Her tales are a trifle overdone but there is truth in them, Fawkes commented, snapping the straw Harry was grasping.

Brilliant. Feeling a bit shaken, Harry swallowed tightly, involuntarily glancing over his shoulder at the mystical rope behind him. Before, there had been a certain amount of slack in it, and it had stretched back toward the horizon with a gentle undulating motion. Now it was taut as a bowstring-and the tension was increasing steadily.

Harry forced his gaze forward again with a shudder, as the image of a rubber band stretched to the snapping point teased his mind's eye. "No one's ever been able to see me before," he ventured at length, trying to gather his tattered wits and get his mind on other things.

You have never crossed over into the Physical Realm from the Astral Realm before.

"Sorry?"

Astral Forms are not normally visible in the Physical Realm, Fawkes supplied patiently. Humans who possess the strength and will may overcome the limitation for brief periods, but it is not an easy task. I believe you discovered this for yourself just now.

Harry grimaced recalling the debilitating exhaustion he'd experienced. "Does it ever get easier?"

In time, fledgling, in time.

"Time? But I need Professor Dumbledore to understand me now!" Harry blurted in an unreasoning swell of panic. "I could barely get three words out before!"

Fawkes didn't reply immediately with words. Instead, he opened his beak and sang a soothing note. Harry felt his eyes close and his body relax as the music flowed around him. When Fawkes finally spoke, his tone was mildly reproving. I promised you would speak to my human, fledgling. I am taking you to him as we speak. What further assurances do you require?

"I...nothing Fawkes," Harry replied meekly, feeling like the most insufferable prat living. "Thank you. I promise I'll be quick."

You are kind, fledgling, but I must point out, you are in more peril than I at the moment.

Harry wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, but rather than risk insulting Fawkes again he decided to change the subject.

"Are you a projection too?" he wondered, glancing curiously at the solid-seeming talons encircling his translucent wrist. "Is that why you can touch me?"

I am Phoenix, Fawkes replied as though that explained everything. I am simply governed by a different set of rules. You shall learn about that in the fullness of time. For now listen closely. We are almost there.

Immediately at attention Harry nodded, watching as the misty grayness began to resolve itself into definite shapes. Before long he was able to recognize Mrs. Figg's living room, with its crocheted afghans and many cats. When he could almost hear what the people inside were saying, Fawkes came to a halt, beating his wings to hover rather than push forward. "Erm, why are we stopping, Fawkes?"

Shifting his grip on Harry's wrist again, the firebird turned to face him. We are about to cross over into the Physical Realm, fledgling. The force you feel drawing you back is your body's summons. I will get you as close as I can for as long as I can, but eventually you must return or risk not being able to do so. Do you understand?

Harry nodded again, wishing that the firebird would just go already. "I understand. Please hurry, Fawkes. It's very important."

As you wish, fledgling.

As they neared, Harry noticed his headmaster was having problems of his own. Professor Dumbledore, now seated in one of Mrs. Figg's comfortable armchairs, was surrounded by a knot of worried-looking witches and wizards. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Harry might have snickered at the look on Dumbledore's face as he waved off warm blankets, reassuring pats, and hot cups of tea from Mrs. Figg, Professor McGonagall, and Mr. Weasley, while Mad-Eye Moody and a pink-haired witch Harry didn't recognize, looked on from the side.

"Why don't you get some rest, Albus," Moody finally suggested, carefully studying Dumbledore with his good eye, while his magical one moved restlessly in its socket. "We can manage without you for a bit."

"I know what I saw, Alastor." Dumbledore's words were mild enough, but the look he threw the old Auror held a touch of impatience. As Harry watched, wondering how long it would take him to become visible again, Dumbledore caught his eye and smiled an enigmatic smile. "In fact, if you'd be good enough to turn around, you can see him too."

"What are you on about-bloody hell!" Moody exclaimed in surprise, drawing everyone's attention. Here we go, Harry sighed in resignation, already anticipating the inevitable flood of questions and reprimands as the group surged forward and clustered around him.

"Well done Fawkes, very well done indeed!" Dumbledore congratulated the firebird, while McGonagall focused her attention on Harry.

"What on Earth are you doing, Potter?" she questioned anxiously. "Do you have the first idea how risky self projection can be?"

Harry shook his head and lifted his free hand in a pacifying gesture. "Professor! Professor please listen!" he broke in urgently, overriding McGonagall and heading off the others before they could start. "Professor Dumbledore! Go to the Burrow! You need to go to the Burrow now!"

Dead silence met his announcement for perhaps two or three heartbeats, then the room exploded with frightened questions and stern demands for him to explain himself immediately. The hubbub rose to such a degree Professor Dumbledore had to fire several sparklers from the end of his wand, making his companions jump, and Mrs. Figg's cats dive for cover.

"What about the Burrow, Harry?" he asked, his quiet voice unnaturally loud in the resulting silence. Harry quailed a bit in spite of himself. This Dumbledore was dead serious and not at all like the good humored, slightly dotty headmaster he was more accustomed to dealing with.

"Voldemort just sent some of his Death Eaters there!" Harry replied urgently, making anxious little flapping gestures with his free hand. "They have Muggles with them! They'll get through the wards! Please! You have to go and stop them!"

Dumbledore immediately drew what appeared to be a large pocket watch out of his robes and peered at it intently before shaking his head and turning to Mr. Weasley. "Arthur?" When Harry glanced over, he saw Mr. Weasley was consulting a similar device, holding it in trembling hands.

"The wards aren't picking up anything unusual," Mr. Weasley confirmed after a few tense seconds. "Are you sure, Harry?" he asked, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbing at his brow.

"Yes!" Harry asserted. When only Mr. Weasley glanced nervously at the fireplace, he frowned and tried a different tack. "You can't go by those!" "You can't go by those!" he pleaded, pointing to the devices Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley still held in their hands. "The wards won't help!"

"Harry, I assure you, the wards on the Burrow are quite sensitive. I placed several of them myself," Dumbledore said in his most pacifying tone, clearly considering the matter settled. "We would know if anything was amiss."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and felt his patience shatter. "It doesn't matter who set the wards!" he roared, making the assembly in front of him draw back in surprise. "Don't you get it? If they can't detect Muggles they're useless!"

Dead silence.

Again.

Harry raked an agitated hand through his hair and wondered pettishly how otherwise intelligent people could be so thick. They were lost. Clueless. Completely dumbfounded. Clamping down hard on his temper he took a deep breath and tried again.

"Voldemort is using Muggles to get inside without activating the wards," he explained, enunciating very carefully and precisely. "Once inside, they're supposed to scatter potions about."

That broke Moody out of his paralysis, but his reaction wasn't promising. "Snake Face use Muggles? Don't be daft, boy!" he scoffed, making Harry bristle like a spitting cat.

"Wait Alastor," Dumbledore cautioned, holding up a hand and frowning in concentration. "The potion, Harry, what color was it?" he questioned abruptly, drawing Harry up short.

"Erm, I saw two...a blue one, and a yellow one. They're supposed to throw the blue on the walls and pour the yellow one on the floor. Why? What's wrong sir?" he asked in alarm when Dumbledore swore softly under his breath and fired five silvery spells out the window.

"Alastor, Arthur, summon the others...no Arthur! Not alone!" Dumbledore commanded, but Mr. Weasley was no longer listening. As Harry watched, he broke away from the main group and made a dive for Mrs. Figg's fireplace, scooping up Floo Powder and shouting "The Burrow!" as he went.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then shook his head irritably and continued issuing orders. "Minerva, cover him until the others catch up to you! Severus was ordered to brew ward weakeners, firebombs, paralyzing gas, and Veritaserum so be on your guard! Arabella! Help Alastor! Tonks! Go to the Ministry and alert the Aurors. Summon the fire brigade as well."

As the gathered witches and wizards scrambled to carry out their assigned tasks, Dumbledore turned to Harry. "As for you, Mr. Potter," he said, raising an eyebrow at the young man who was still dangling from Fawkes' talon, "I want to know as much as you can tell me about what Voldemort is up to, and how you found yourself in your current...situation."

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Arthur Weasley tumbled out of the Burrow's main fireplace, wand at the ready and all senses on high alert. Listening intently, he tried to identify any unfamiliar sounds or voices, but there were none. Even the ghoul was silent. Automatically, he sought out the luminous face of the locator clock, sagging in relief when he saw Molly and the children s hands all pointing calmly at "Home" with his own on the way to join them. The only thing out of the ordinary was a faint, slightly acrid odor in the air, but then again Fred and George had been "inventing" all summer. Most likely it was the result of their antics, and there would be new "products" to show in the morning.

Or rather, for Molly to confiscate.

Torn between exasperation and thankfulness, Arthur pocketed his wand and released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, as the obvious answer occurred to him. A nightmare. Harry must have been dreaming, poor lad. He was clearly still frightened out of his wits about You Know Who, and probably missing Ron as well.

He turned back to the fireplace, then froze with his hand hovering indecisively over the Floo Powder. As long as I'm here, it won't hurt to have a quick look 'round, Arthur decided, shaking his head as he tried to puzzle through Harry's behavior of late. Why hadn't he just agreed to come to the Burrow a few nights ago? If he had, perhaps this could have been avoided. If not, then at least he would have had someone nearby when he awakened.

"Arthur?" someone called from somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. Arthur jumped before his brain caught up with him and he recognized Minerva's voice. Peering into the hearth, he saw the Transfiguration professor's head looking up at him. Minerva looked immensely relieved, then became all business once again. "Stand clear, I'm coming through," she warned in her best no-nonsense voice.

Arthur grimaced, realizing the extent of his own folly. Charging in here alone probably wasn't the brightest thing he'd ever done. Had Harry been correct, he could have found himself horribly outnumbered, but blast it all! It wasn't always easy for a wizard to think clearly when his home and family were at risk!

I'd better get out of the way, he thought, taking a few confident steps forward. Thanks to all the odd hours he'd worked over the years, he was quite accustomed to moving about in near darkness. Molly helped, too, by making sure the floor was always clear, so Arthur was taken by complete surprise when his foot caught on something solid. His surprised gasp quickly turned into a howl of pain when he threw out both hands to catch himself, and wound up with two palms full of shattered glass for his trouble.

Minerva must have heard him. He caught sight of her familiar silhouette for a second before the flames died, her stance tense and rigid. "Arthur? Arthur! Lumos!" she called, anxiety making her Scottish burr more pronounced than usual.

Arthur grimaced again, this time in pain. "I'm here," he answered, lifting a cut and bleeding hand to shade his eyes from the strength of her spell.

"For Heaven's sake, Arthur! What happened?" Minerva demanded, more glass crunching under her feet as she hurried over to him.

Arthur was still trying to get his eyes to open properly. "I don't know, there were no indications...even the clock...and Good Lord!" he gasped, when his eyes cleared and he really looked at his living room for the first time.

"Yes, I'd say that covers it," Minerva agreed grimly, while Arthur surveyed the mess in open-mouthed dismay. Empty potion vials, both shattered and intact littered the floor. Four Muggles, including the one he'd tripped on, lay unconscious-seemingly dropped in their tracks. A viscous blue fluid bubbled and fizzed on one wall, and the floor was cris-crossed with wet trails of a yellowish substance. Now that he was on the floor, Arthur could identify that as the source of the smell he'd noticed earlier.

He was right! Dear Lord, he was right! Arthur gibbered, turning his hands over and staring blankly as the yellow potion burned its way into the cuts on his palms. He barely noticed Minerva's banishing charm or the hiss and clink of sliding glass, blinking only when fingers snapped uncomfortably close to his face.

"Stay with me, Arthur," McGonagall admonished, studying him with a little frown on her face. "Potter's warning was timely but we have to hurry. Albus said this attack force is heavily armed with Severus' potions. It looks like they poured firebomb fluid on the floor and concentrated the ward weakener on the east wall," she said, indicating the large blue splotch with her wand.

"Oh, did they now?" Furious, Arthur gripped his wand as best he could. "Scourgify!" he snarled, throwing a cleaning spell at the mess on the wall, but to his irritation it didn't even make a dent.

"No, Arthur!" Minerva, said, holding up a hand. "Arthur, listen to me!" she shouted when he fired another spell over her shoulder. "We don't have the tools or the time to get the potion off the wall. The wards will most likely be breached. We have to wake Molly and the children and get them out now!"

"But the Burrow-"

"May be a loss!" she snapped impatiently. Seeing his heartbroken expression, she added more gently, "Arthur, Albus is sending help as fast as he can! We'll do everything possible to save your home, but if worse comes to worse the house can be repaired or replaced! Your family can't!"

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again and nodded as sanity began to return. What was he thinking? She was right. There was no time to waste. "You're right Minerva, " I don't know what came over me..." he said, trailing off when he staggered woozily. "Sorry...dizzy..."

"It's quite all right, Arthur, you've had a shock," McGonagall said, hiding a yawn behind her hand. "Oh, do forgive me," she apologized, looking horrified.

Arthur shook his head, dismissing her concern with a wave. She was exhausted-they both were. "Not at all," he said, gesturing toward the stairs. The sooner they got Molly and the kids out the better. "It's beyond me why no one came down to see what all the commotion was about, though."

Minerva shrugged. "Let's not question it. With luck we'll be able to get the children out of the house without them being the wiser-" she said breaking off with a startled yelp when something hit the Burrow with a colossal WHUMP, knocking them both off their feet and shaking the house down to its foundation.

Oh, that's done it, Arthur groaned inwardly, struggling to get back to his feet. Any second he expected to hear sleepy, confused voices and footsteps on the stairs.

Minerva seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Raising her voice she called for Molly and the children to come to them, but still no one appeared.

By now they had reached Ginny's room. Frightened, Arthur flung the door open, about half expecting to see his youngest child murdered in her bed, but by all appearances she was sleeping peacefully. Swearing softly, he gripped the doorframe as another wave of dizziness washed over him, followed by a huge yawn. "Ginny!" he called, "Ginny, love, wake up!" Turning his shouted up the stairwell, "Fred! George! Molly! Ron!"

"Arthur!" McGonagall called from below, as another spell pounded the house. When Arthur turned back toward the foot of the stairs, he saw her looking anxiously up at him, one hand on the wall for support. "The Muggles are all unconscious! Albus mentioned paralyzing gas, but this looks more like a sleep agent," she informed him, starting shakily up the stairs. "We'll have to get Molly and the children out one by one!"

Arthur paled, clinging to the doorframe as the most savage blow yet shook the house. "Minerva...I feel...I'm not certain I can Apparate!" he confessed.

"Nor I," McGonagall replied, drawing her wand and trying a Bubble-head Charm with no success. "We'll have to use our portkeys," she decided, drawing her phoenix pendent out of her summer robes. "Hurry! We haven't much time!"

Nodding, Arthur staggered through Ginny's door, while Minerva shifted into her cat form and, dashed up to the next landing.

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