"Bang!"
The sharp crack of a gunshot tore through the silence hanging over Privet Drive.
Vernon gripped his brand-new hunting rifle with both trembling hands. Smoke curled lazily from the barrel as every ounce of fat on his body trembled like jelly. His face had gone from its usual ruddy purple to white, and sweat poured down his temples.
But how could an ordinary Muggle hunting rifle possibly deal any damage to Dementors?
The bullet passed clean through the nearest Dementor's tattered black robes without encountering even the slightest resistance, eventually embedding itself with a dull thunk into the brick wall of a house across the street.
"It... it didn't work?" Vernon stammered hoarsely, his voice cracking with disbelief and rising panic. His eyes widened until they seemed ready to bulge completely from their sockets, bloodshot with fear. "How is that possible? I hit it directly!!"
The Dementor that had been shot, if one could even call it that, slowly turned its head toward Vernon. It raised one rotting claw from beneath its ragged robes. The gesture seemed almost curious, as if the creature was examining this foolish Muggle who dared to attack it.
An even more bone-chilling cold spread through the air out from the Dementor. The temperature plummeted so rapidly that frost began forming on the grass.
At this most critical moment, when death seemed inevitable and Harry's mind raced desperately for any solution he could manage with one working arm—
A slight, sharp crack suddenly echoed through the air.
Apparition!
When Adrian's tall figure emerged on the scene, Harry finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Vernon's gunshot had at least served some purpose, even if it hadn't harmed the Dementors.
The sound had alerted Adrian, who was several streets away, and he immediately recognized that it came from the Dursleys' direction.
The moment Adrian fully appeared and his feet touched the ground, his gaze swept the scene taking in every detail in a heartbeat:
An injured Harry clutching his twisted arm and grimacing in pain, a black-robed Death Eater's corpse lying on the ground with brain matter leaking from a gruesome head wound, and Vernon Dursley of all people pointing a hunting rifle at the dark creatures with shaking hands.
What an absolutely bizarre scene it made.
"So, something did go wrong after all?" Adrian observed aloud with a soft sigh, though his tone carried more resignation than surprise, as if he'd been half-expecting disaster to find Harry eventually despite his precautions.
He raised his wand without any hurry or panic.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A dazzling silvery-white light suddenly burst forth from the tip of Adrian's wand like a supernova being born. This light was far more intense, more solid, more overwhelmingly powerful than any Patronus Charm Harry had ever witnessed or cast himself.
Yet strangely, despite its incredible intensity and the way it seemed to fill the entire street with its radiance, the light somehow wasn't blinding or painful to look at directly.
Even Vernon, terrified and confused and having no understanding at all of magic, found himself staring at the magnificent scene with his mouth hanging open in pure bewilderment.
Then, as everyone watched with varying degrees of understanding and awe, the silvery-white light began to spread outward in all directions like a living tide of pure positive energy. It moved flowing around Harry and Vernon and Flick without touching them, enveloping all the Dementors.
Under the shroud of that overwhelming light, the Dementors let out piercing, inhuman shrieks.
This was a desperate wailing born of genuine pain and fear. But this time, for once, it was the predators who wailed in terror rather than their prey.
The dark forms beneath their tattered black robes began to twist and contort aggressively, wriggling like things in agony. Their substance started to disintegrate and dissolve, melting away rapidly like snow under summer sunlight.
Finally, only a few tattered black robes remained, empty and lifeless, falling to the ground in crumpled heaps like discarded Halloween costumes.
The unnatural cold vanished almost instantly, replaced by the normal late-summer warmth.
At this moment, with the silvery light fading gently away, all enemies had been thoroughly and completely eliminated.
The small Treant Flick who had been standing tensely on guard throughout the entire confrontation suddenly relaxed. He scurried excitedly across the lawn toward Adrian's feet. He reached Adrian and immediately wrapped himself affectionately around his leg, this was the little Treant's way of expressing affection.
"All done," Adrian announced casually, as if he'd just finished a mildly interesting afternoon task.
Then he turned his sharp gaze toward Harry, and his expression shifted slightly to concern mixed with mild amusement. "Oh, Harry, you look a bit worse for wear. Rough afternoon?"
"I'm alright, Professor," Harry managed to say through the intense, throbbing pain scorching from his mangled arm. He forced what he hoped was a convincing smile onto his pale, sweaty face. "At least I'm better off than I was before—last time I lost the whole arm. This is just broken."
Adrian walked closer and carefully examined Harry's twisted arm. He tilted his head slightly, studying the injury from multiple angles, occasionally making small thoughtful sounds. Then he shook his head lightly.
"Just a bit of a fracture—well, several fractures actually," He corrected himself. "But thankfully, no traces of dark magic or curses embedded in the bones. The Death Eater must have been in a hurry, or perhaps not particularly skilled with curse-work. This is purely physical injury, which is considerably easier to treat."
That was genuinely good news, all things considered. Dark curse damage could linger for months or even years, resisting normal healing and would cause constant problems. This would heal cleanly.
Adrian reached out with one hand and gently placed it on Harry's uninjured left shoulder.
Before Harry could react or brace himself or ask what was about to happen, Adrian moved swiftly.
Accompanied by a sickening, teeth-grinding crack of bone sliding back into proper alignment, Harry's bent arm suddenly snapped back to its normal position and angle.
"Hiss~" Harry sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.
His vision whited out for a second from the intensity, and his knees buckled slightly before he caught himself. Tears sprang to his eyes, though he blinked them back rapidly. That had hurt much more than he'd expected, even though he'd known it would be painful.
"Some of your bones are shattered rather badly, I'm afraid," Adrian explained in a straightforward tone.
He reached into his traveling robes with his free hand and withdrew a small glass vial from one of the pockets. The vial contained a glowing blue liquid. "Drink this—it'll considerably speed up the bone healing process."
Harry took the offered bottle with his left hand, and drank the contents without any hesitation. 'Hmm, mint flavored.'
Adrian's potions always came with different, pleasant flavors regulated to make them easier to consume. Mint for healing draughts, vanilla for calming potions, citrus for energy boosters. They were all very easy and even pleasant to take down—completely opposite in every way to Snape's foul-tasting concoctions that seemed deliberately designed to be as unpleasant as possible, as if suffering was part of the healing process.
Harry had sometimes wondered if that difference in approach proved something about the two professors' behaviors.
"A bit more dittany directly on the wound should finish the treatment nicely," Adrian added. "Do you have any with you?"
Harry nodded and used his still-mobile left hand to reach into his robes, fumbling slightly with the unfamiliar angle and coordination. He pulled out several dried leaves from an inner pocket—these were specially processed dittany leaves that had been carefully prepared, convenient to carry around and use in emergencies.
While Harry awkwardly tended to his injuries with one working hand, pressing the dittany leaves against the worst of the bruising and feeling the immediate cooling, healing sensation spread through his damaged flesh, Adrian turned away and walked over to where Vernon still stood frozen.
Watching Adrian approach him, Vernon's already tense obese body unconsciously stiffened even further. He stood nearly at attention like a soldier being inspected by a superior officer, though the effect was somewhat ruined by his trembling hands and the hunting rifle he still clutched like a security blanket.
In such circumstances, even the most hot-tempered, aggressive person wouldn't easily lose their composure or start making demands or shouting.
Vernon loathed magic, despised anything that deviated from his definition of "normal," but he feared magic even more than he hated it. He'd just watched this thin, unassuming man casually destroy creatures that bullets couldn't touch.
That kind of demonstration tended to stimulate caution, even in the most stubborn minds.
"S-sir..." Vernon began stammering. "Those things...."
"Already dealt with, Mr. Dursley," Adrian said, giving Vernon a polite, reassuring smile. "I'm very sorry you were frightened. This was an unfortunate incident that should never have occurred in your neighborhood."
Despite his lingering fear, despite his desperate desire to flee back inside and pretend none of this had happened, Vernon's eyes still uncontrollably glanced past Adrian's shoulder toward the Death Eater's crumpled corpse lying in a spreading pool of blood on his lawn.
His face instantly turned even more pale.
The black-robed figure wearing that silver mask lay on the ground. The mask had been knocked slightly to one side during the fall, revealing half of a face with empty eyes.
More horrifying still was the brain matter mixed with dark blood slowly seeping from the terrible wound pierced through the skull forming a nauseating pool on the ground.
Vernon made a small choking sound in the back of his throat and looked away quickly, his face was turning green.
"Who... who is that person?" Vernon forced out the words, trying desperately to calm down his racing heart and settle his churning stomach. He turned his gaze away from the corpse and focused instead on where the Dementors had dissipated. "And what were those... those floating black things?"
"That fellow on the ground is just a terrorist from the magical world," Adrian explained simply. "A dangerous criminal. You can think of him as something like a magical extremist or cult member if that helps provide context."
He paused, then continued with the same calm tone.
"And those black things hovering around are a type of dark creature that feed on human happiness and positive emotions, draining them away and plunging their victims into complete despair and eventually madness."
Before Vernon could process this disturbing information, he felt a push from behind.
"Please go inside and try to calm down, Mr. Dursley," Adrian said in a gentle but absolutely firm tone, applying steady, light pressure to Vernon's shoulders to guide him toward his front door.
"Professionals from the magical authorities will come shortly to handle all of this mess. By tomorrow morning, I promise you, everything will be back to perfectly normal."
Vernon, still in shock and struggling to process everything, was surprised to discover that this seemingly thin looking man was far physically stronger than his appearance showed. His grip was like iron beneath the gentle pressure, and Vernon found himself being almost half-pushed, half-escorted toward his doorway with absolutely no room to resist.
Just before crossing the threshold, Vernon suddenly stopped moving and turned around.
His face was conflicted, torn between fear and something else.
"Wait... my memory..." Vernon began, his voice coming out smaller and more uncertain than he'd probably intended. "You people... are you going to erase it?"
Adrian raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise, clearly not having expected Vernon to ask this particular question so directly or to have any knowledge of memory charms.
He pondered the question for a moment, his expression becoming more thoughtful and serious, then replied,
"Part of your memory will be modified, yes—that's standard procedure for Muggles exposed to dangerous magical situations. This is for your own safety and psychological wellbeing, Mr. Dursley, not simply for our secrecy."
He paused observing Vernon's face.
"However... you are Harry's blood relatives after all, and that relationship affords you certain considerations. So if you want to…."
"Make me forget all of this! Everything!" Vernon interrupted almost desperately, his voice rising and cracking slightly with emotion. "I don't want to remember any of it! I just want to live a completely normal life! That's all I've ever wanted!"
His gaze swept over to where Harry still stood tending his injuries, and the look that appeared on Vernon's face was filled with resentment and restrained anger.
"And quite frankly, it would be best for everyone if you took that one away too! Permanently! Take him to your world and leave us alone!!"
Adrian's expression didn't change much. He shrugged, revealing a faint, knowing smile.
"Completely getting rid of Harry is impossible, I'm afraid, Mr. Dursley. Besides, if he left this place completely, you'd actually be in considerably more danger than you are now."
"Bang!"
Vernon's response was to slam the front door heavily, putting all his frustration and fear behind the action.
Adrian stood there for a moment looking at the closed door, then turned and walked back toward the Death Eater's corpse lying on the ground.
He crouched down carefully beside the body, mindful of the spreading pool of blood, and reached out to carefully remove the mask.
"Antonin Dolohov?" Adrian murmured to himself,.
He had definitely seen this face before—Dumbledore had prepared detailed portraits and records of all the Azkaban escapees during the Order of the Phoenix meeting, wanting everyone to be able to identify the dangerous fugitives on sight.
Now the real question was: what exactly should he do with this body and this entire messy situation?
Adrian pondered for a moment, pondering his options.
Well, forget it. Why not pass this entire mess on to someone else?
Adrian immediately pulled out the small two-way mirror that Dumbledore had given him weeks ago.
This was exactly the kind of emergency situation it was meant for, wasn't it? Perfect timing.
"Hello—Dumbledore—hello—can you hear me?" Adrian called into the mirror's surface, speaking to his own reflection and feeling slightly foolish doing so.
After calling for a while, the mirror's surface finally began to glimmer with faint silvery light. The light merged and brightened, and then Dumbledore's instantly recognizable face appeared in the mirror, replacing Adrian's reflection.
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