The Boy Who Lived

FIRE! FIRE!

It had been a lengthy three weeks after the Lestrange fire for Harry. Long and tiring with late nights at work where the only interludes were seeing Draco briefly during puppy training classes and for their meal out together. The last week had been worse because Mulciber had reappeared on the radar after nearly four years in hiding in Europe. Harry and his Auror team had managed to arrest him just as he was illegally entering the UK through the Harwich International Port on a freight service from Rotterdam.

Thankfully Minnie had taken Teddy for him during the past week but Harry felt guilty for barely seeing him. He took his scarce lunch breaks in Hogsmeade, just to spend time with him, but Apparating back and forth to Scotland was an added exhaustion.

It was always a bad time of year anyway as April slipped towards May and towards the anniversary of Battle of Hogwarts and the anniversary of his 'death'. Previously, Teddy stopped Harry falling into depression, he was Harry's responsibility now, his focus. He was looking forward to spending the whole of Friday with him. But, on the night of Thursday 2nd May 2002 and the fourth anniversary of the Battle, he ignored the sensible voice that told him to go straight to Scotland as he left the Ministry with Hercules later than usual; the temptation of the Firewhiskey bottle was calling him through loneliness and tiredness and the desire to forget.

He'd scarcely stepped out of the Floo-network from the Ministry into the neat cream-coloured sitting room at Grimmauld Place when his magic stirred alarmingly and there was a CRACK! in front of him. Almost without realising it, he pointed his wand hand at the intruder, his stance ready for attack; the other hand held in defence, the shield already conjured. He barely considering the question of how they had got through the Wards and into his home. He found he was pointing at the frightened face of an unfamiliar House-Elf. He quickly observed that they wore a singed uniform, smudged with black, and they smelt of smoke. The young elf's face was grimy and one ear looked severely burnt. Their large eyes were rather larger than usual. They were obviously afraid, though not of him but, rather, of something else, something elsewhere. Undoubtedly, he thought, it was another fire.

'Please, Master Potter, please!' the scruffy-looking elf pleaded, looking up at him. They dropped the two terrified, pure-white Kneazles they clutched to their chest and pulled on the hem of Harry's long Auror coat despite the magic swirling wildly in their face. 'Please, Master Potter, you is needed urgently, sir, your help is needed now!' The elf, not caring about Harry's attacking stance, was using his long coat to try and drag him away from the fireplace.

'Who? Why? Where?' he barked in a voice that was used to being in command and getting answers promptly. Auror training had eventually beaten some caution into him. 'Who're you?' he demanded, his heart pounding in dread of the name he instinctually knew was coming.

'Please, Mr Harry, I is Ruby, sir. It is Master Draco, sir. You must trust me. The house is on fire, sir, but he isn't leaving, I can't get him to move. I is scared, I is coming to you in desperation, Master Draco is mentioning the Famous Harry Potter many times and I is thinking maybe you can help as a friend of the Malfoys.' She was tugging on his coat more frantically as she spoke.

Harry didn't need asking twice. He flicked his hand wordlessly and his Patronus soared away, splitting it as it left Grimmauld Place to a select trusted few of his team members. He placed a tracker on himself so they'd Apparate straight to his location, then he held out his hand and ordered the young elf to side-along him with a sharp, 'take me!', leaving the petrified cats and a curious Hercules to battle it out by themselves in his absence.

He'd never felt such panic. The fear for Draco trapped inside a burning house.

Why does it have to be fire? he thought.