The Paranoid Harry Potter

His brow furrowed in thought - poor Harry, knowing him as well as he did, he knew the boy would be frustrated at not being told anything. Unfortunately, he had yet to determine the full extent of Harry's link with Voldemort. That there was a link was undeniable, Harry's dreams proved that, however the question of the effect Voldemort's resurrection ritual had on the link still remained to be seen. It was quite possible that the blood that Voldemort had stolen from Harry to use in the ritual had strengthened the link immeasurably. Until he better understood the link between the two he could not afford to tell Harry anything. If he did so and Voldemort gained full access to Harry's mind, the effects could be disastrous. Thank Merlin, he had never informed Harry of the prophecy. Full knowledge of the prophecy was one of the few cards he still held. If Voldemort could simply read that information from Harry's mind that would change the game completely. As it was, his current plans centred around the fact that he was certain that sooner or later Voldemort had to break into the Hall of Prophecy. With a little bit of luck, he could use that to finally make Voldemort's resurrection public in a manner that even Fudge would not be able to deny.

Unfortunately he did not have any reliable method of determining the full extent of the link between Harry and Tom. The only way that he could think of was for an expert Legilimens to practise Legilimency on Harry to see if they could analyse the link. However, that was a method he was reluctant to subject Harry to. Not unless he was certain that he had no other choice. Convincing Harry to let someone read his mind was also problematic. Especially as he could not just come out and be straight with the boy. Chicken and egg he thought. He could not tell Harry anything until he had a better analysis of the link and he could not get a better analysis of the link without giving Harry more information. So if it became necessary, he would have to come up with some excuse for the boy to allow a legilimens access to his mind. He hoped desperately that it would not come to that.

He sighed, until he knew more about the link, not only could he not give Harry any sensitive information, he would also have to avoid the boy. The worst case scenario was that Voldemort would use the boy to legilimens the people around him. That meant that he would have to severely limit the time he spent with his favourite student. Pity, he hoped that Harry would eventually understand why he had to be distant from the boy.

"Aah, a lemondrop, that would hit the spot," he thought, as he grabbed one and popped it into his mouth.

Just as he was beginning to relax his floo flared to life with bright green flames and Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice boomed forth.

"Professor, we've got an emergency at Privet Drive. Mundungus was attacked, looked like a bone breaking hex to the head. I've taken him to St. Mungos but the house looks abandoned. I can't see the Dursleys or Potter anywhere."

Dumbledore sprang into action. He immediately moved to his fireplace. "Move aside Kingsley, I'm coming through," he ordered. He tossed some floo powder into the fire and seconds later he was gracefully stepping out of the fire at Mrs Figg's house on Wisteria Walk, where he found a nervous looking Mrs Figg waiting for him along with a tall black wizard in the robes of an auror.

"Tell me everything," he ordered.

"Dung hadn't checked in with me all day so I got worried and contacted Kingsley," said Mrs Figg.

"I immediately went to Privet Drive to look for him. He wasn't there so I cast a revealing spell, just to be sure. I thought he might be sleeping under his invisibility cloak, but the spell showed him to be nowhere near where he was supposed to be. He was knocked out, tied up and hidden under the bushes a few houses down from Number four," added Kingsley.

"And Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"Didn't see him at all, and the house looked deserted" answered Kingsley.

"Come with me Kingsley, I need to check on the house myself" ordered Dumbledore, as he strode briskly out the front door and headed down the street towards Privet Drive. He was extremely worried. Had Death Eaters managed to penetrate the blood wards? Had Harry and his relatives been kidnapped? Was Harry even now in some Death Eater's dungeon?

Just as they reached number four Privet Drive, he felt a sudden chill, as though he had been doused in icy water.

Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch black and lightless - the stars, the moon, the misty streetlamps along the street had vanished. The distant rumble of cars and the whisper of trees had gone. The balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. They were surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire street, blinding them. He turned his head this way and that, trying to see something, but the darkness pressed on his eyes like a weightless veil.

Dumbledore knew that feeling very well. He shushed Kingsley and listened intently. Then he heard just the thing he had been dreading.

There was something in the street apart from themselves, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Dumbledore felt a horrible jolt of dread as he stood trembling in the freezing air.

Dementors. Dementors had come to Privet Drive.