Sah Brockner and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 2: Dropped off with the Dursleys

Chapter Summary: Charlie Fairhead brings Sah to Privet Drive...

*************************************************************************Charlie Fairhead wiped his eyes with his free hand, the other cradling Sah to his chest as he left Godric's Hollow and climbed onto his motorbike. He gently lowered the Child-Who-Loved into the sidecar, wrapping them up in blankets to keep them warm.

"Let's go see Hanssen." He smiled softly, grabbing his helmet and clipping it under his chin before pulling a pair of aviator goggles over his eyes and starting the engine. Without a moment's hesitation, Charlie took off into the night, leaving behind the remains of the Brockner home.

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A neighborhood on a street called Privet Drive stood out in the dark. An owl, sitting on the street sign flew off to reveal a mysterious appearing tall man walking through a forest near the street. He stopped at the start of the street and pulled out a mechanical device, zapping all the light out of the streetlights. He tucked away the device in his locked when he heard a meow nearby. The man, Henrik Hanssen looked down at the cat, humming

"I should have known that you would be here...Professor Cristie." The cat meowed again and morphed into his human form, revealing the stoic, mostly-unnerved Max Cristie. The shorter man was stood in his Hogwarts robes, dark green with the Griffindor crest on the chest. He tipped his head to Henrik. His mousy brown hair whisped past the top of his head in the breeze.

"How did you know it was me?" He asked with an amused half-smile.

"My dear professor," Henrik Hanssen chuckled softly. "I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

Max rolled his eyes, rolling his shoulders and cracking his back. "You'd be stiff if all you did for an entire day was sit on a brick wall." He said with a grumble.

"All day?" Henrik raised a brow. "When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Max sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right. You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." He nodded in the direction of the Dursleys dark living room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls ... shooting stars ... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them." Henrik spoke softly. "We have had little to celebrate for 11 years."

"I know that, Henrik." Max irritably grumbled. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours." He threw a firey sideways glance at Henrik, as though hoping he would tell him something. When he didn't, the shorter man kept going.

"A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all." Max paused, a shiver crawling up his spine at the mention of He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named. "I suppose he really has gone, Hanssen?"

"It certainly seems so." Henrik nodded. " We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?"

Max threw him another look. "A what?"

"A sherbet lemon. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of." Henrik smiled, offering the bag.

Max shook his head. "No, thank you." He said coldly. He didn't think this was the moment for sherbet lemons. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone-"