A Suspicion in the Darkness

That afternoon Albus Dumbledore stepped through the fireplace of his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Flooed to the house of a Squib named Arabella Figg. Mrs Figg lived very near Privet Drive, and she had contacted Dumbledore that morning to inform him that she had not seen Harry in over a week.

'It's not altogether unheard of, Professor,' she explained once the aged wizard stepped out of the grate. 'Sometimes the boy will get in trouble and not come out for a fortnight. But this is different. The entire family disappeared for a weekend, and they didn't ask me to watch Harry.'

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. 'This is unusual?' he asked.

'Yes, Professor,' Mrs Figg assured him. 'Mrs Dursley is worried he'll burn the house down if they leave him alone.'

'I see.' Dumbledore frowned. 'Well, I suppose I shall have to check on the boy and make sure he is well.' His eye twinkled. 'In any event, perhaps a visit from me is just the reminder they require to inspire them to treat Harry better.'

He turned on the spot and vanished, reappearing on the Dursleys' doorstep. He knocked on the door gently. Petunia Dursley opened it.

'What do you want?' she scowled. She looked him up and down in disgust. 'You're one of them.' It was a statement, not a question. Dumbledore inclined his head.

'I am Albus Dumbledore,' he said gently. 'We have corresponded, of course.'

Petunia turned a bit pale.

'Do you mind if I come in?' Dumbledore asked.

Petunia looked as though she minded very much, but stood aside nonetheless. Dumbledore stepped through the doorway into the immaculately clean home.

'You have a very nice home, Petunia,' he said. 'Very clean.'

Petunia nodded brusquely.

Dumbledore sighed. 'Petunia, I am here to enquire after Harry's welfare.'

'Whose?' Petunia asked blankly.

Dumbledore was startled, for the first time that day feeling genuine alarm.

'Harry Potter,' he said slowly. 'Your nephew? Lily's son?'

'Lily had a son?' Petunia seemed surprised. 'How? I thought your letter said that she died.'

Dumbledore looked Petunia directly in the eye and gently probed her thoughts. Harry was completely absent from her memories, yes, but there were traces—the unusual gaps that so often attended altered memories. In this case, he saw many such inconsistencies: Petunia walking to Mrs Figg alone, speaking with her briefly, and then returning alone, all for no apparent reason; a table set for four, even though only three were eating; Petunia opening the front door on November 1 to find an empty basket along with a letter from Dumbledore.

The Headmaster frowned. He rather thought a wizard would have done a cleaner job, and, in any event, there were none of the usual signs of a Memory Charm. The only clue Dumbledore could gather from Petunia's memories was a very fancy dinner she had prepared a week before, with a great deal of hustle and bustle, for which no guests at all had arrived. The next day, Petunia had cleaned out the cupboard under the stairs, which looked as though it had been used as a bedroom for a small boy.

Dumbledore pulled out of Petunia's mind. Something had happened a week ago—someone had taken Harry. The questions, however, were too many in number for him to answer: Who? How? Whither? Wherefore? Ignoring Petunia's confused expression, Dumbledore scanned the house for any traces of amulets, Dark artefacts or potions.

In another home, Dumbledore might have detected residue of Forgetfulness Draught in the teapot, and used that evidence to trace the potion to its brewer, and, perhaps, its purchaser. Petunia Dursley, however, was far too efficient a housewife to permit the remnants of any magical potion to remain in her home, and Dumbledore found nothing.

'It appears I was mistaken, Petunia,' he said softly, bowing slightly towards her as he opened the front door. 'I apologise for the intrusion.'

He left Privet Drive and returned to Mrs Figg, to whom he offered only the briefest of explanations before returning to Hogwarts. Once back at the school, he sat in his chair and reflected on the enigmatic situation. Someone had taken Harry from Privet Drive a week before. That much was certain. Dumbledore suspected that someone to be the person who had modified the Dursleys' memories, though that was only a conjecture, if a reasonable one.

Whoever had modified their memories was not a very talented wizard, since he had left circumstantial evidence of Harry's existence. Moreover, he seemed not to have used a Memory Charm. Dumbledore suspected a potion, most likely a Forgetfulness Draught, though Petunia Dursley had undoubtedly destroyed the evidence too soon. Unfortunately, without knowing the means by which the perpetrator had removed Petunia's memories, Dumbledore had no way of recovering them.

When it came to questions of motive, Dumbledore was completely baffled. The protection afforded by Lily's sacrifice ought to have protected Harry from kidnapping. Had the boy left willingly? Dumbledore had reluctantly to admit the possibility.

The evidence of the cupboard under the stairs suggested that the Dursleys had not treated Harry as well as one might have hoped, and the boy might easily have run off with any kind stranger who offered him a happier situation. The Headmaster frowned. He had not anticipated the possibility that the Dursleys would treat Harry so poorly, and, in retrospect, that had been foolish.

What of suspects? Death Eaters would certainly be delighted to get their hands on Harry, but Lily's protection would prevent them from setting foot in the house. That left only relatives and friends as likely candidates. Lily's only living relatives were the Dursleys. James's parents were both dead, and his father had no siblings. Dumbledore shuddered involuntarily when he considered James's mother's relatives.

The thought of Pollux or Cassiopeia Black getting anywhere near Harry Potter... But both Black siblings were quite skilled enough to cast a proper Memory Charm, and Dumbledore suspected that either would rather die than defile themselves by setting foot in a Muggle residence. For that matter, he could think of no possible way they could have learnt that Harry was staying with the Dursleys. Dumbledore had the strangest feeling that he was forgetting someone, but he was certain that Pollux, Cassiopeia and Dorea were all the Black siblings. Dumbledore remembered every student he had ever taught.

That left friends, or rather, James's one remaining friend: Remus Lupin. Dumbledore would have thought Lupin capable of a decent Memory Charm, but perhaps the werewolf had never had the need to perform one before, and had preferred to use a potion. He also would have known about Lily's relatives, and might have thought to check up on Harry, despite Dumbledore's strict instructions to stay far away from Privet Drive. Dumbledore sighed. For the moment, Remus Lupin was the most likely suspect. He took out a quill and a piece of parchment and began to compose a letter to Mr Lupin.