Chapter Four

The Seven Potters



Harry ran back upstairs to his bedroom, arriving at the window just in time to see

the Dursleys' car swinging out of the drive and off up the road. Dedalus's top hat was

visible between Aunt Petunia and Dudley in the backseat. The car turned right at the end

of Privet Drive, its windows burned scarlet for a moment in the now setting sun, and then

it was gone.

Harry picked up Hedwig's cage, his Firebolt, and his rucksack, gave his

unnaturally tidy bedroom one last sweeping look, and then made his ungainly way back

downstairs to the hall, where he deposited cage, broomstick, and bag near the foot of the

stairs. The light was fading rapidly, the hall full of shadows in the evening light. It felt

most strange to stand here in the silence and know that he was about to leave the house

for the last time. Long ago, when he had been left alone while the Dursleys went out to

enjoy themselves, the hours of solitude had been a rare treat. Pausing only to sneak

something tasty from the fridge, he had rushed upstairs to play on Dudley's computer, or

put on the television and flicked through the channels to his heart's content. It gave him

an odd, empty feeling remembering those times; it was like remembering a younger

brother whom he had lost.



"Don't you want to take a last look at the place?" he asked Hedwig, who was still

sulking with her head under her wing. "We'll never be here again. Don't you want to

remember all the good times? I mean, look at this doormat. What memories ... Dudley

sobbed on it after I saved him from the dementors ... Turns out he was grateful after all,

can you believe it? ... And last summer, Dumbledore walked through that front door ... "

Harry lost the thread of his thoughts for a moment and Hedwig did nothing to

help him retrieve it, but continued to sit with her head under her wing. Harry turned his

back on the front door.

"And under here, Hedwig" ? Harry pulled open a door under the stairs ? "is where

I used to sleep! You never knew me then ? Blimey, it's small, I'd forgotten ... "

Harry looked around at the stacked shoes and umbrellas remembering how he

used to wake every morning looking up at the underside of the staircase, which was more

often than not adorned with a spider or two. Those had been the days before he had

known anything about his true identity; before he had found out how his parents had died

or why such strange things often happened around him. But Harry could still remember

the dreams that had dogged him, even in those days: confused dreams involving flashes

of green light and once ? Uncle Vernon had nearly crashed the car when Harry had

recounted it ? a flying motorbike ...

There was a sudden, deafening roar from somewhere nearby. Harry straightened

up with a jerk and smacked the top of his head on the low door frame. Pausing only to

employ a few of Uncle Vernon's choicest swear words, he staggered back into the

kitchen, clutching his head and staring out of the window into the back garden.

The darkness seemed to be rippling, the air itself quivering. Then, one by one,

figures began to pop into sight as their Disillusionment Charms lifted. Dominating the

scene was Hagrid, wearing a helmet and goggles and sitting astride an enormous

motorbike with a black sidecar attached. All around him other people were dismounting

from brooms and, in two cases, skeletal, black winged horses.

Wrenching open the back door, Harry hurtled into their midst. There was a

general cry of greeting as Hermione flung her arms around him, Ron clapped him on the

back, and Hagrid said, "All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?"

"Definitely," said Harry, beaming around at them all. "But I wasn't expecting this

many of you!"

"Change of plan," growled Mad-Eye, who was holding two enormous bulging

sacks, and whose magical eye was spinning from darkening sky to house to garden with

dizzying rapidity. "Let's get undercover before we talk you through it."

Harry led them all back into the kitchen where, laughing and chattering, they

settled on chairs, sat themselves upon Aunt Petunia's gleaming work surfaces, or leaned

up against her spotless appliances; Ron, long and lanky; Hermione, her bushy hair tied

back in a long plait; Fred and George, grinning identically; Bill, badly scarred and long-

haired; Mr. Weasley, kind-faced, balding, his spectacles a little awry; Mad-Eye, battle-

worn, one-legged, his bright blue magical eye whizzing in its socket; Tonks, whose short

hair was her favorite shade of bright pink; Lupin, grayer, more lined; Fleur, slender and

beautiful, with her long silvery blonde hair; Kingsley, bald and broad-shouldered; Hagrid,

with his wild hair and beard, standing hunchbacked to avoid hitting his head on the

ceiling; and Mundungus Fletcher, small, dirty, and hangdog, with his droopy beady

hound's eyes and matted hair. Harry's heart seemed to expand and glow at the sight: He



felt incredibly fond of all of them, even Mundungus, whom he had tried to strangle the

last time they had met.

"Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?" he

called across the room.

"He can get along without me for one night," said Kingsley, "You're more

important."

"Harry, guess what?" said Tonks from her perch on top of the washing machine,

and she wiggled her left hand at him; a ring glistened there.

"You got married?" Harry yelped, looking from her to Lupin.

"I'm sorry you couldn't be there, Harry, it was very quiet."

"That's brilliant, congrat ?"

"All right, all right, we'll have time for a cozy catch-up later," roared Moody over

the hubbub, and silence fell in the kitchen. Moody dropped his sacks at his feet and

turned to Harry. "As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius

Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He's made it an imprisonable

offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here, or Apparate in or

out. All done in the name of your protection, to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you.

Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother's charm does that already. What he's really

done is to stop you getting out of here safely."

"Second problem: You're underage, which means you've still got the Trace on

you."

"I don't ?"

"The Trace, the Trace!" said Mad-Eye impatiently. "The charm that detects

magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out about underage

magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is

going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters."

"We can't wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen

you'll lose all the protection your mother gave you. In short, Pius Thicknesse thinks he's

got you cornered good and proper."

Harry could not help but agree with the unknown Thicknesse.

"So what are we going to do?"

"We're going to use the only means of transport left to us, the only ones the Trace

can't detect, because we don't need to cast spells to use them: brooms, thestrals, and

Hagrid's motorbike."

Harry could see flaws in this plan; however, he held his tongue to give Mad-Eye

the chance to address them.

"Now, your mother's charm will only break under two conditions: when you

come of age, or" ? Moody gestured around the pristine kitchen ? "you no longer call this

place home. You and your aunt and uncle are going your separate ways tonight, in the

full understanding that you're never going to live together again, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"So this time, when you leave, there'll be no going back, and the charm will break

the moment you get outside its range. We're choosing to break it early, because the

alternative is waiting for You-Know-Who to come and seize you the moment you turn

seventeen.



"The one thing we've got on our side is that You-Know-Who doesn't know we're

moving you tonight. We've leaked a fake trail to the Ministry: They think you're not

leaving until the thirtieth. However, this is You-Know-Who we're dealing with, so we

can't rely on him getting the date wrong; he's bound to have a couple of Death Eaters

patrolling the skies in this general area, just in case. So, we've given a dozen different

houses every protection we can throw at them. They all look like they could be the place

we're going to hide you, they've all got some connection with the Order: my house,

Kingsley's place, Molly's Auntie Muriel's ? you get the idea."

"Yeah," said Harry, not entirely truthfully, because he could still spot a gaping

hole in the plan.

"You'll be going to Tonks's parents. Once you're within the boundaries of the

protective enchantments we've put on their house you'll be able to use a Portkey to the

Burrow. Any questions?"

"Er ? yes," said Harry. "Maybe they won't know which of the twelve secure

houses I'm heading for at first, but won't it be sort of obvious once" ? he performed a

quick headcount ? "fourteen of us fly off toward Tonks's parents?"

"Ah," said Moody, "I forgot to mention the key point. Fourteen of us won't be

flying to Tonks's parents. There will be seven Harry Potters moving through the skies

tonight, each of them with a companion, each pair heading for a different safe house."

From inside his cloak Moody now withdrew a flask of what looked like mud.

There was no need for him to say another word; Harry understood the rest of the plan

immediately.

"No!" he said loudly, his voice ringing through the kitchen. "No way!"

"I told them you'd take it like this," said Hermione with a hint of complacency.

"If you think I'm going to let six people risk their lives -- !"

"-because it's the first time for all of us," said Ron.

"This is different, pretending to be me ?"

"Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry," said Fred earnestly. "Imagine if

something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever."

Harry did not smile.

"You can't do it if I don't cooperate, you need me to give you some hair."

"Well, that's the plan scuppered," said George. "Obviously there's no chance at

all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate."

"Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who's not allowed to use magic; we've

got no chance," said Fred.

"Funny," said Harry, "really amusing."

"If it has to come to force, then it will," growled Moody, his magical eye now

quivering a little in its socket as he glared at Harry. "Everyone here's overage, Potter, and

they're all prepared to take the risk."

Mundungus shrugged and grimaced; the magical eye swerved sideways to glance

at him out of the side of Moody's head.

"Let's have no more arguments. Time's wearing on. I want a few of your hairs,

boy, now."

"But this is mad, there's no need ?"

"No need!" snarled Moody. "With You-Know-Who out there and half the

Ministry on his side? Potter, if we're lucky he'll have swallowed the fake bait and he'll



be planning to ambush you on the thirtieth, but he'd be mad not to have a Death Eater or

two keeping an eye out, it's what I'd do. They might not be able to get at you or this

house while your mother's charm holds, but it's about to break and they know the rough

position of the place. Our only chance is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who can't split

himself into seven."

Harry caught Hermione's eye and looked away at once.

"So, Potter ? some of your hair, if you please."

Harry glanced at Ron, who grimaced at him in a just-do-it sort of way.

"Now!" barked Moody.

With all of their eyes upon him, Harry reached up to the top of his head, grabbed

a hank of hair, and pulled.

"Good," said Moody, limping forward as he pulled the stopper out of the flask of

potion. "Straight in here, if you please."

Harry dropped the hair into the mudlike liquid. The moment it made contact with

its surface, the potion began to froth and smoke, then, all at once, it turned a clear, bright

gold.

"Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry," said Hermione,

before catching sight of Ron's raised eyebrows, blushing slightly, and saying, "Oh, you

know what I mean ? Goyle's potion tasted like bogies."

"Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please," said Moody.

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Fleur lined up in front of Aunt Petunia's

gleaming sink.

"We're one short," said Lupin.

"Here," said Hagrid gruffly, and he lifted Mundungus by the scruff of the neck

and dropped him down beside Fleur, who wrinkled her nose pointedly and moved along

to stand between Fred and George instead.

"I'm a soldier, I'd sooner be a protector," said Mundungus.

"Shut it," growled Moody. "As I've already told you, you spineless worm, any

Death Eaters we run into will be aiming to capture Potter, not kill him. Dumbledore

always said You-Know-Who would want to finish Potter in person. It'll be the protectors

who have got the most to worry about, the Death Eaters'll want to kill them."

Mundungus did not look particularly reassured, but Moody was already pulling

half a dozen eggcup-sized glasses from inside his cloak, which he handed out, before

pouring a little Polyjuice Potion into each one.

"Altogether, then ... "

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Fleur, and Mundungus drank. All of them gasped

and grimaced as the potion hit their throats; At once, their features began to bubble and

distort like hot wax. Hermione and Mundungus were shooting upward; Ron, Fred, and

George were shrinking; their hair was darkening, Hermione's and Fleur's appearing to

shoot backward into their skulls.

Moody, quite unconcerned, was now loosening the ties of the large sacks he had

brought with him. When he straightened up again, there were six Harry Potters gasping

and panting in front of him.

Fred and George turned to each other and said together, "Wow ? we're identical!"

"I dunno, though, I think I'm still better-looking," said Fred, examining his

reflection in the kettle.



"Bah," said Fleur, checking herself in the microwave door, "Bill, don't look at me

? I'm 'ideous."

"Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I've got smaller here," said Moody,

indicating the first sack, "and vice versa. Don't forget the glasses, there's six pairs in the

side pocket. And when you're dressed, there's luggage in the other sack."

The real Harry thought that this might just be the most bizarre thing he had ever

seen, and he had seen some extremely odd things. He watched as his six doppelgangers

rummaged in the sacks, pulling out sets of clothes, putting on glasses, stuffing their own

things away. He felt like asking them to show a little more respect for privacy as they all

began stripping off with impunity, clearly more at ease with displaying his body than

they would have been with their own.

"I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo," said Ron, looking down at his bare

chest.

"Harry, your eyesight really is awful," said Hermione, as she put on glasses.

Once dressed, the fake Harrys took rucksacks and owl cages, each containing a

stuffed snowy owl, from the second sack.

"Good," said Moody, as at last seven dressed, bespectacled, and luggage-laden

Harrys faced him. "The pairs will be as follows: Mundungus will be traveling with me,

by broom ?"

"Why'm I with you?" grunted the Harry nearest the back door.

"Because you're the one that needs watching," growled Moody, and sure enough,

his magical eye did not waver from Mundungus as he continued, "Arthur and Fred ?"

"I'm George," said the twin at whom Moody was pointing. "Can't you even tell

us apart when we're Harry?"

"Sorry, George ?"

"I'm only yanking your wand, I'm Fred really ?"

"Enough messing around!" snarled Moody. "The other one ? George or Fred or

whoever you are ? you're with Remus. Miss Delacour ?"

"I'm taking Fleur on a thestral," said Bill. "She's not that fond of brooms."

Fleur walked over to stand beside him, giving him a soppy, slavish look that

Harry hoped with all his heart would never appear on his face again.

"Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by thestral ?"

Hermione looked reassured as she answered Kingsley's smile; Harry knew that

Hermione too lacked confidence on a broomstick.

"Which leaves you and me, Ron!" said Tonks brightly, knocking over a mug tree

as she waved at him.

Ron did not look quite as pleased as Hermione.

"An' you're with me, Harry. That all righ'?" said Hagrid, looking a little anxious.

"We'll be on the bike, brooms an' thestrals can't take me weight, see. Not a lot o' room

on the seat with me on it, though, so you'll be in the sidecar."

"That's great," said Harry, not altogether truthfully.

"We think the Death Eaters will expect you to be on a broom," said Moody, who

seemed to guess how Harry was feeling. "Snape's had plenty of time to tell them

everything about you he's never mentioned before, so if we do run into any Death Eaters,

we're betting they'll choose one of the Potters who looks at home on a broomstick. All

right then," he went on, tying up the sack with the fake Potters' clothes in it and leading



the way back to the door, "I make it three minutes until we're supposed to leave. No

point locking the back door, it won't keep the Death Eaters out when they come looking.

Come on ..."

Harry hurried to gather his rucksack, Firebolt, and Hedwig's cage and followed

the group to the dark back garden.

On every side broomsticks were leaping into hands; Hermione had already been

helped up onto a great black thestral by Kingsley, Fleur onto the other by Bill. Hagrid

was standing ready beside the motorbike, goggles on.

"Is this it? Is this Sirius's bike?"

"The very same," said Hagrid, beaming down at Harry. "An' the last time yeh

was on it, Harry, I could fit yeh in one hand!"

Harry could not help but feel a little humiliated as he got into the sidecar. It

placed him several feet below everybody else: Ron smirked at the sight of him sitting

there like a child in a bumper car. Harry stuffed his rucksack and broomstick down by his

feet and rammed Hedwig's cage between his knees. He was extremely uncomfortable.

"Arthur's done a bit o' tinkerin'," said Hagrid, quite oblivious to Harry's

discomfort. He settled himself astride the motorcycle, which creaked slightly and sank

inches into the ground. "It's got a few tricks up its sleeves now. Tha' one was my idea."

He pointed a thick finger at a purple button near the speedometer.

"Please be careful, Hagrid." said Mr. Weasley, who was standing beside them,

holding his broomstick. "I'm still not sure that was advisable and it's certainly only to be

used in emergencies."

"All right, then." said Moody. "Everyone ready, please. I want us all to leave at

exactly the same time or the whole point of the diversion's lost."

Everybody motioned their heads.

"Hold tight now, Ron," said Tonks, and Harry saw Ron throw a forcing, guilty look at

Lupin before placing his hands on each side of her waist. Hagrid kicked the motorbike

into life: It roared like a dragon, and the sidecar began to vibrate.

"Good luck, everyone," shouted Moody. "See you all in about an hour at the

Burrow. On the count of three. One ... two .. THREE."

There was a great roar from the motorbike, and Harry felt the sidecar give a nasty

lurch. He was rising through the air fast, his eyes watering slightly, hair whipped back off

his face. Around him brooms were soaring upward too; the long black tail of a thestral

flicked past. His legs, jammed into the sidecar by Hedwig's cage and his rucksack, were

already sore and starting to go numb. So great was his discomfort that he almost forgot to

take a last glimpse of number four Privet Drive. By the time he looked over the edge of

the sidecar he could no longer tell which one it was.

And then, out of nowhere, out of nothing, they were surrounded. At least thirty

hooded figures, suspended in midair, formed a vast circle in the middle of which the

Order members had risen, oblivious ?

Screams, a blaze of green light on every side: Hagrid gave a yell and the

motorbike rolled over. Harry lost any sense of where they were. Streetlights above him,

yells around him, he was clinging to the sidecar for dear life. Hedwig's cage, the Firebolt,

and his rucksack slipped from beneath his knees ?

"No ? HELP!"



The broomstick spun too, but he just managed to seize the strap of his rucksack

and the top of the cage as the motorbike swung the right way up again. A second's relief,

and then another burst of green light. The owl screeched and fell to the floor of the cage.

"No ? NO!"

The motorbike zoomed forward; Harry glimpsed hooded Death Eaters scattering

as Hagrid blasted through their circle.

"Hedwig ? Hedwig ?"

But the owl lay motionless and pathetic as a toy on the floor of her cage. He could

not take it in, and his terror for the others was paramount. He glanced over his shoulder

and saw a mass of people moving, flares of green light, two pairs of people on brooms

soaring off into the distance, but he could not tell who they were ?

"Hagrid, we've got to go back, we've got to go back!" he yelled over the

thunderous roar of the engine, pulling out his wand, ramming Hedwig's cage into the

floor, refusing to believe that she was dead. "Hagrid, TURN AROUND!"

"My job's ter get you there safe, Harry!" bellow Hagrid, and he opened the throttle.

"Stop ? STOP!" Harry shouted, but as he looked back again two jets of green light flew

past his left ear: Four Death Eaters had broken away from the circle and were pursuing

them, aiming for Hagrid's broad back. Hagrid swerved, but the Death Eaters were

keeping up with the bike; more curses shot after them, and Harry had to sink low into the

sidecar to avoid them. Wriggling around he cried, "Stupefy!" and a red bolt of light shot