In the end, after much internal debate and several false starts where he opened his mouth only to close it again, Vernon finally accepted Dumbledore's suggestion with reluctance.
However, being Vernon, he couldn't simply accept defeat. He made one final demand, trying to salvage some measure of control over a situation that had spiraled completely beyond his ability to manage.
"I want you to guarantee—absolutely guarantee—that there will be no magic whatsoever around me from now on!" Vernon said gruffly. His face was still somewhat pale, but color was returning to his cheeks as anger replaced fear.
Hearing this utterly unrealistic demand, Adrian gently shook his head with amusement.
Even at a time like this, even after nearly dying and being forced to abandon his home, Vernon still wanted to haggle and make demands as if he had any leverage in this situation.
Moreover, this particular demand itself was rather unrealistic—indeed, completely impossible given the circumstances and the magical protections that kept them all alive.
Sure enough, after pondering the request for a thoughtful moment—probably trying to find the most tactful way to deliver disappointing news, Dumbledore replied with patient firmness.
"I'm afraid that's somewhat difficult to guarantee, Mr. Dursley. Actually, it's completely impossible."
He folded his hands together calmly. "At least until Harry comes of age, he will still need to spend some time living with you each year to maintain the protections. The magic protecting this family is tied to Harry's presence here."
Vernon's face began turning purple that usually came before an explosive outburst. His mouth opened, undoubtedly preparing to launch into a tirade about the unfairness of it all, about his rights as an Englishman and a homeowner, about how he'd been put upon and taken advantage of.
But before he could get even a single word out—
Petunia took a deep breath and reached out to place one hand firmly on her husband's arm, squeezing hard enough to make him wince and turn toward her in surprise. She interrupted her husband's attempt to argue further.
"We agree," She said simply, her tone flat and resigned.
Her gaze lifted and fixed on Dumbledore. Despite her fear and the trauma she'd just experienced, her voice remained steady.
"But after Harry comes of age in two years, and these blood protections you keep mentioning are no longer necessary, I hope that you will never come to bother us again. We want to completely distance ourselves from everything related to magic."
"Of course, Petunia," Dumbledore replied softly. "You have my word. Once Harry comes of age and the protections naturally dissolve, you will be free to live as you choose, without any interference from our world. I promise you that."
When the tense, emotionally draining exchange with the Dursley family finally concluded, Adrian, Dumbledore, and Remus left the oppressive atmosphere of the living room and returned outside.
The Death Eater's corpse had already been removed by the Obliviators, along with every trace of blood and brain matter. Even the lawn looked pristine again, the grass showing no signs of disturbance. The scattered Dementor robes had been collected and presumably destroyed or stored as evidence somewhere in the Ministry's vast archives.
Everything around Number Four Privet Drive had been returned to its previous state of suburban normalcy, carefully and expertly restored, as if nothing unusual or violent had ever happened on this quiet street.
Once the Dursleys moved away to their secret location in the coming days, Adrian thought to himself with some relief, he could finally return Flick safely to the Forbidden Forest where the little Treant belonged.
Compared to the outside world with its strange Muggle smells and concrete and lack of deep roots, the small creature still strongly preferred the familiar environment within the Forbidden Forest—the rich soil, the ancient trees, the magical atmosphere that pervaded everything.
"That Death Eater was Antonin Dolohov," Adrian said, breaking the contemplative silence that had fallen over the group. His tone was puzzled, and thoughtful. "One of Voldemort's most experienced and dangerous followers, according to your files. Which makes me wonder—why would he suddenly come here to attack Harry?
And more puzzlingly, why would he come alone with only some Dementors for backup? It seems tactically unsound."
"Obviously," Dumbledore answered, "Voldemort wants Harry dead. He has wanted that since before Harry was even born, and that desire has only intensified since his resurrection."
Well, Adrian thought with mild exasperation, that was stating the obvious without really answering the actual question about tactics and timing.
Dumbledore continued, his voice becoming more revealing, "Since Antonin Dolohov has now been dealt with, of all the Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban in that mass breakout, only Bellatrix Lestrange remains at large and unaccounted for."
"Only her?" Adrian seemed genuinely slightly surprised by this news. "Just Bellatrix? I thought there were at least ten or twelve who escaped. What happened to all the others?"
He'd assumed hunting down experienced, dangerous Death Eaters would take months or even years of careful work.
"It appears so at present, yes," Dumbledore nodded with satisfaction, clearly pleased with the Order's recent successes. "The other escaped Death Eaters have either been recaptured or they've ended up like Dolohov here."
He gestured vaguely toward where the corpse had been.
Upon hearing this accounting, Adrian frowned deeply, his expression becoming troubled as he thought through the implications. Something about this situation didn't add up logically.
"What on earth is Voldemort thinking?" He asked, genuine confusion tinging his voice. "His decisions make no sense. Sending a Death Eater to attack Harry alone like this, with only a handful of Dementors for support... it's practically suicide. He must have known it would likely fail."
Adrian shook his head, trying to puzzle out the plan.
"Indeed, it's very unusual," Remus agreed, walking over to join the conversation properly. His robes were slightly dusty from crawling around checking for magical residue.
He'd just finished the final thorough inspection of the surrounding area, making certain no traces of magic remained that might confuse Muggle investigators or break the Statute of Secrecy.
His worn face looked even more tired than usual in the streetlight's glow, but his voice was steady and thoughtful.
"Although Dolohov was quite powerful, acting completely alone against a target in a protected location... this attack was almost destined to fail from the start. Even with the Dementors' help providing distraction and fear, it was ultimately futile. Harry's shown he can produce a corporeal Patronus, the house has wards, and help was nearby. What was the point?"
In fact, the Ministry of Magic had taken the Dementors' betrayal and subsequent escape from Azkaban extremely seriously—it represented a massive security failure and a dangerous precedent that deeply worried everyone from the Minister down to junior Aurors.
According to Dumbledore's most recent intelligence gathered from his contacts within the Ministry and the Order's own investigation, the rogue Dementors had basically all been brought back under Ministry control through various means.
And the few remaining rebellious ones who'd refused to return to their assigned posts had been mercilessly eliminated by Adrian's overwhelming Patronus just hours ago.
However, although all these recent matters were full of suspicious points and unexplained questions, the current outcome was undeniably good for their side.
Voldemort's forces hadn't managed to stir up any major trouble or achieve any significant victories. Their prison break had been neutralized, their Dementor allies eliminated or recaptured, their numbers were severely depleted. They'd lost experienced fighters without gaining anything in return.
An anticlimactic end to what should have been a dangerous period.
Almost too anticlimactic, actually. Adrian put that thought away for later consideration.
After everything concluded and the area was declared secure, the small group, Adrian, Dumbledore, Remus, and Harry went together to visit Mrs. Arabella Figg at her nearby home.
Mrs. Figg was an elderly Squib living just two streets over from Privet Drive in a house that continuously smelled of cabbage and cats. She was also a member of the Order of the Phoenix, though not a particularly active one given her lack of magical ability.
She was the person Dumbledore had originally arranged years ago to secretly monitor Harry's wellbeing from a distance, to keep watch over him during summers and report any concerning developments or threats.
Though after Adrian had taken over this protection task more directly, Dumbledore had allowed her to retire from active duty—she was getting on in years and deserved some rest.
During the commotion earlier with the Dementors and the Death Eater, Mrs. Figg had been among the very first concerned neighbors to come up the street and investigate the disturbance, worried about "that poor Potter boy" as she always called him.
Being a Squib, possessing just enough magical blood to perceive magical phenomena but not enough to perform any magic herself, she had been more aware than normal Muggles of what was actually happening. She'd seen the Dementors more clearly and felt their effects perhaps even more intensely than Muggles did.
Those Dementors had affected her to some significant degree, draining her happiness and leaving her shaken and pale and trembling. She was old and not in the best health.
They found her sitting in her messy living room surrounded by cat carriers and balls of yarn, looking pale and shaken.
Dumbledore spent nearly an hour with her, checking her condition, providing comfort, and ensuring she had what she needed to recover.
A few days later, on an overcast morning that promised rain, the Dursley family finally moved to their new location whose exact whereabouts were known only to Dumbledore himself.
Even Adrian didn't know where they'd gone. However, this lack of information wasn't particularly important or concerning to him.
Harry wouldn't need to return to live with the Dursleys at all this year either. Instead, he would stay by Adrian's side the entire time until school started.
It was the Last Week of August soon.
The final week of summer vacation arrived with surprising speed, bringing with it cooler temperatures and the first hints of autumn in the changing leaves. Soon the Hogwarts Express would depart from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, carrying students back to school for another year.
But before that happened, Adrian had decided to teach Harry something important.
"Apparition?" Harry repeated, momentarily stunned after hearing Adrian's words. He blinked several times, certain he must have misheard. His voice came out surprised and confused. "You want to teach me Apparition? Can I even learn this now? Isn't there an age restriction?"
Apparition was advanced magic, possibly dangerous magic. Harry had heard older students at Hogwarts discussing it with excitement and nervousness—it was one of the major milestones of becoming an adult wizard, one of the privileges that came with reaching seventeen.
"Strictly speaking, no—you're not technically supposed to learn it yet," Adrian explained straightforwardly, his arms crossed casually over his chest as he leaned against a sturdy bookshelf.
"Generally speaking, only students who have reached the age of seventeen are legally permitted to learn Apparition. It's taught by certified professionals from the Apparition Test Centre of the Department of Magical Transportation. And the standard fee for the approved course is twelve Galleons, paid in advance."
He paused, then shrugged with a smile.
"But, you know, these are special times we're living in. I think you need to learn this magic for your own survival and safety. Being able to disappear at will, it's a necessity now. And as a bonus benefit, you'll save twelve Galleons by learning from me instead. Consider it free tuition."
Harry nodded slowly, still feeling somewhat uneasy and uncertain about this development despite Adrian's reassuring tone. Learning Apparition sounded exciting in theory, but he'd also heard stories about what happened when it went wrong.
Splinching, leaving body parts behind, arriving at your destination incomplete was apparently excruciatingly painful and potentially fatal if major organs were involved.
He caught a glimpse of Adrian casually flipping through a thick book.
"What's that book?" Harry couldn't help but ask, curiosity overcoming nervousness.
Adrian's movements paused for just a moment, then he closed the book casually as if it were completely unimportant.
"Nothing," He said in a flat tone that immediately made Harry more suspicious rather than less. "Just a reference book I was reviewing. Background material."
But Harry's gaze had always been sharp, his Seeker's eyes trained to spot small, fast-moving objects and subtle details others might miss. In the brief instant before the book closed, he caught sight of its title imprinted on the cover:
Learning to Treat Splinching Caused by Apparition from Scratch
Harry's face paled. His mouth went suddenly dry.
Oh. Oh no. That was definitely not reassuring.
Without changing his expression at all, maintaining perfect composure as if nothing whatsoever was amiss, Adrian placed the textbook on the coffee table beside him. Then he reached into his robes and produced a wand from an inner pocket.
This wand looked immediately, strikingly different from any wand Harry had seen before. Its appearance was somewhat peculiar and distinct—its color was considerably deeper and darker than typical holly wood or even ebony and it had a strange, subtle luster.
"Take it," Adrian said simply, casually tossing the unusual wand through the air toward Harry.
Harry instinctively reached out and caught it one-handed. The wand felt slightly cool to the touch against his palm, noticeably cooler than room temperature, and its weight seemed somewhat heavier than his own familiar holly wand.
"This is..." Harry examined the unfamiliar wand with growing confusion and curiosity, turning it over in his hands and studying every detail. He tried a few experimental waves through the air, getting a feel for its balance and movement.
The wand gave him a distinctly strange feeling, as if he were merely holding an ordinary twig picked up from a forest floor.
"Your spare wand, essentially," Adrian explained patiently, watching Harry's examination with interest. "A backup weapon for situations where using your primary wand would be inadvisable or dangerous. The material is rather special and quite rare. I made it myself over several months."
He gestured toward the wand with clear pride in his creation.
"The core is the classic phoenix feather, same as your holly wand, so it should resonate with you eventually once you establish a connection. The body is constructed from some kind of specially treated wood—I won't bore you with the technical details of the preservation and enhancement process. Most importantly, it's been enchanted with trace-concealing magic."
Adrian's expression became more serious.
"As long as you use this wand to cast spells, the Ministry of Magic won't be able to track your magical signature or determine your location through the Trace. The usual monitoring systems simply won't detect it. You can use it freely to practice magic anywhere, even outside school, without triggering any alarms or receiving any howlers about underage magic. It will be very useful for extra training."
Harry's eyes widened with understanding and excitement. This was an incredibly valuable tool.
Incidentally, this wand had indeed been made by Adrian himself.
Harry tried waving the new wand a few more times, getting accustomed to its weight and balance.
Although the feel was different from his holly wand, it was reasonably balanced and moved smoothly enough through the air. With practice, he could probably adapt to it.
After a few moments of experimental movements, feeling his confidence grow, Harry instinctively decided to try a familiar spell on the practice dummy standing in the corner.
"Expelliarmus!" He flicked his wrist, clearly pronouncing the incantation.
The familiar red light of the Disarming Charm shot out from the wand's tip.
However, perhaps because he wasn't yet properly accustomed to this new wand's particular characteristics and quirks, the spell's trajectory was slightly off from where he'd intended.
Instead of flying straight toward the practice dummy in a perfect line as it should have, the red light veered several degrees to the left and struck a broken cauldron sitting nearby on a workbench—one Harry had left there from practicing potion-making techniques.
Clang.
A sharp, crisp metallic sound rang out through the room.
The red light of the Disarming Charm bounced off the metal surface of the cauldron at an unexpected angle, changing direction like a billiard ball striking a cushion, and suddenly shot straight toward Adrian, who was standing several feet to the side near the bookshelf!
The spell was heading directly for his chest.
Harry's heart nearly jumped clean out of his throat, stopping completely for one horrified instant. His cry of alarm caught in his throat, coming out strangled and desperate: "Watch out! Professor, move!"
Time seemed to slow down as he watched the spell arrow toward Adrian.
"?"
Adrian, for his part, simply looked at the approaching spell. His eyebrows rose slightly.
Why is it coming at me?
Just as the Disarming Charm was about to make contact with his chest, Adrian casually raised his right hand with an almost lazy movement.
Without even drawing his own wand, the red light completely dissipated in the air.
Harry's mouth hung open in shock.
As the spell's caster, he naturally knew exactly how much power he'd put into that casting. It had been a strong Disarming Charm, fueled by surprise and adrenaline, easily capable of sending a grown wizard flying back several feet.
And Adrian had just blocked it, no—more than blocked it, completely erased it, so effortlessly?
"I want to learn that, Professor," Harry said immediately excitedly.
"You're still far from ready," Adrian replied, glancing at Harry casually.
He reached over and picked up the textbook from the coffee table again, flipping it open to a bookmarked page.
"Master the basics first, like not killing yourself during Apparition—before worrying about advanced wandless combat magic. One step at a time, Harry."
His expression became more intensive.
"Now, let's proceed with the actual Apparition practice...."
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