A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

"Let's go inside," Harry whispered to Hermione as they entered Sirius's rented house together.

But someone was already inside.

Harry stared, fixing his gaze on the scruffy stranger in front of him. The man sported a messy mop of ginger hair, looking as though he'd rolled down a hill in the Crookshanks. He lounged against the sofa, one short, stubby leg lazily propped on the table, seemingly dozing off.

"Who are you?" Harry and Hermione simultaneously brandished their wands.

Crookshanks growled, crouching on the floor.

The man in tattered robes was startled awake. He rolled over and sat up, raising his hands in surrender as he noticed a wand, sparking at his neck.

"I'm Mundungus Fletcher, sent by Dumbledore to protect you," the stout man said.

"You're lying," Hermione sharply retorted, "Dumbledore wouldn't send someone like you—"

Mundungus looked at her plaintively. "What's wrong with me? I've been working for both Dumbledore and H— for over a decade now, a member of the Order since—"

"He asked me to come, he can't leave right now," Mundungus replied cautiously.

"So you're the one supposed to notify me to leave early?" Harry's eyes widened. "But you did nothing, just slept here," he said in frustration, nearly misunderstanding Hermione due to the mismatched information.

Mundungus gestured to his droopy, bloodshot eyes. "Look at me, just finished a big task, couldn't keep my eyes open. I came early, thought I'd take a nap... didn't expect you two to show up."

"Were you busy with Order tasks?"

"More or less," Mundungus vaguely replied.

"But aren't you supposed to protect Harry?"

"Cough, temporary assignment..."

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks, finding the guy suspicious, his eyes darting around.

"Since you're the one sent to inform Harry, you should know where we need to go," Hermione asked.

"I can't disclose the exact address, not yet, need to wait—" Mundungus paused, waving a hand, "Hold on, don't rush. It's the Black's old place!"

Harry and Hermione lowered their wands.

"How do we leave from here?"

"Through that," Mundungus pointed to the fireplace, "The Floo Network."

"What about the time?"

"Seven o'clock, plus we need to wait for someone with a note," Mundungus muttered, "Don't ask me, I don't know who it is."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, almost figuring out who it might be.

"What about the note you mentioned?"

"A specific address written by the Secret Keeper, the key for the Fidelius Charm," Mundungus explained, "The place we're going is under the Fidelius Charm, after casting it, no one can reveal the address, outsiders can't find it. Only the Secret Keeper has the right to disclose it to anyone. Once we're there, we won't have to worry."

Harry and Hermione temporarily believed him, but felt the need for necessary questioning.

"Are you close to Sirius?" Harry asked.

"Of course, I often use this fireplace, safe, concealed! Not regulated by the Ministry!" Mundungus said.

"Not regulated?"

"Yeah, I bet the Blacks paid a hefty price to acquire this technology, think about it, if I had it too, I could set up secret bases all around the world, so convenient! Avoiding magical authorities from all countries!" Mundungus boasted, praising his grand plans.

Unfortunately, the plan stalled at the first step.

"Mr. Fletcher—"

"Just call me Mundungus, missy, I'm not some dignitary," Mundungus scratched his scruffy chin.

"Okay," Hermione paused, "I've heard that connecting to a private fireplace requires the owner's permission—and unless there's a legitimate reason, wizards aren't allowed to link Muggle fireplaces to the Floo Network..."

Mundungus waved his hand.

"Rules are dead. You get what I mean," he winked at Hermione, a sly, tacit understanding, "Do you dare say Sirius's ancestors never secretly connected fireplaces? And the Ministry—hmph, sounds good on paper..."

He started rummaging through his pockets, finally pulling out a filthy pipe, stuffing it into his mouth. Only then did he look at Harry and Hermione.

"Do you mind?"

"What? Oh, um, no—"

"Thanks." He ignited the pipe with his wand, taking a deep drag. Seconds later, he exhaled a big cloud of greenish, foul-smelling smoke. "Need a puff every hour to stay alert," Mundungus explained through the smoke, as if justifying himself.

Harry and Hermione subtly shifted away to the other end of the sofa.

"Would you like something to eat, Hermione?" Harry asked loudly.

"Since you put it that way..." Hermione glanced at the expanding smoke, decisively getting up. "I am hungry."

They headed for the kitchen.

"Get me something too, thanks—" Mundungus shouted from the living room.

"Can you cook?" Hermione whispered in the kitchen.

"A bit, practiced at the Dursleys'. You?"

"A bit too," Hermione admitted nervously.

Harry's hand touched the fridge door. "Oops," he said.

"What—"

The refrigerator door swung open, revealing only two tomatoes on the top shelf and emptiness inside. Harry reached in, his fingers brushing against a large patch of mold on one of the tomatoes.

"I forgot Sirius hasn't been home for meals lately," Harry remarked.

Hermione blinked. "Would you fancy some compressed biscuits?"

"I suddenly lost my appetite," Harry hurriedly replied, "just had dinner."

"Me too," Hermione squinted, nodding.

In the end, it was only Mundungus who indulged in the biscuits. Harry and Hermione lacked appetite due to the pervasive smell of burnt socks that lingered in the room, prompting Harry to open a window for fresh air.

At that moment, he spotted a familiar figure crossing the street.

"Professor?" he exclaimed, pleasantly surprised.

Felix glanced at Harry through the window, nodded with a smile, then was promptly overwhelmed by the odors in the room.

"Ventus Erupto."

A whirlwind swept through, carrying away the smoke and dust, visibly easing Harry and Hermione's discomfort. Hermione took a deep breath, relieved.

"I arrived half an hour early, found you both had left," Felix explained to Harry and Hermione, "then got held up by some issues, had to spend some time persuading your family."

"Did you see the Dursleys?" Harry interjected.

More than that, Felix thought. He glanced at Hermione, realizing her parents were quite persistent too, seemingly aware of his arrival, waiting by the roadside to intercept him.

"Saw them," Felix said briefly, "your cousin caused a bit of a ruckus, squealed at the sight of me, your uncle almost charged at me..."

Harry looked puzzled.

"...only to discover later that it was your cousin who had raided the Honeydukes' Ice Mice, nothing to do with me."

Felix glanced at the clock on the wall. "Time's almost up." He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "Take a look, both of you. Remember this address, won't need this again."

Harry and Hermione took the note, reading "12 Grimmauld Place." After memorizing it, the paper turned to ash.

"Professor, are you the Secret Keeper for Grimmauld Place?"

"I'm not," Felix replied without elaboration, "Dumbledore is, and he provided the note."

At exactly seven o'clock, a vivid green flame rose from the fireplace.

"As agreed, we have about two minutes, make it quick." Felix nudged Harry toward the fireplace, urging, "Questions can wait on the other side."

He stowed the luggage into a ring.

Harry, holding Hedwig, stepped into the flames, called out "12 Grimmauld Place," and vanished in a whirl. Following were Hermione with Crookshanks, Mundungus, and finally Felix, standing alone in the fireplace.

"Master Harry," a raspy, low voice spoke.

Startled, Harry's glasses were obscured by thick dust as he faintly saw a small figure.

"Kreacher?" he ventured.

"It is Kreacher!" the elderly house-elf exclaimed joyfully, bouncing forward with a feather duster to clean the dust off Harry.

"Oh, thank you—thank you, no need, I can manage—" Harry said, noticing a small square thing dangling in front of him. He removed his glasses, using them to wipe his clothes.

Hermione, Mundungus, and Felix arrived by then.

Having cleaned his glasses, Harry stared at the small green object—a pendant box hanging from Kreacher's chest.

"Sirius gave this to you?" Harry asked in amazement. It was Regulus's relic, a forged Horcrux that Kreacher had worn before, even across the two-way mirror. Harry had assumed it was a replica, but it turned out to be real.

"The master is generous, allowing me to safeguard this item," Kreacher said.

At that moment, someone rushed out from the living room.

"Reems," Felix greeted, "didn't expect to see you again so soon. Is your task complete?"

"Yeah," Lupin replied oddly.

"I'll go change, then I'll be in the study for a while. You can handle their queries," Felix said.

Lupin nodded. "Leave it to me."

"I'll take a nap, call me for dinner," Mundungus yawned, heading towards the sofa in the living room.

"Professor has joined the Order of the Phoenix too?" Harry asked, watching Felix disappear upstairs, quite intrigued.

"He hasn't," Lupin clarified, "but he's on our side, an ally—"

>

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