October 5th, 1995 – Manchester, England
Harry Potter paced anxiously around Dinesh Patil's small flat, worried about the meeting with Auror Tonks that was about to take place. She had sent a message back with Dobby, agreeing to his terms, but he didn't know how much he could trust her. Dinesh was watching him pace, amused at his inability to stand still.
"You're not going to piss yourself, are you, lad?" he asked, smiling.
"Oh, sod off," Harry snapped back at him. "This is my life on the line here, and I don't have anyone watching my back, thanks to you."
Dinesh shrugged. "I never signed on to fight Albus Dumbledore, lad. I'll apparate you there, but then you're on your own. I think my help this morning is worth another 1,000 galleons, yes?"
Harry stopped pacing and glared at the man; he had endured enough of Dinesh's attempts to goad him into paying more. "You won't get a bloody knut if I get caught by Dumbledore—maybe you should think about that."
Dinesh chuckled in response. "There's hope for you yet, Harry Potter."
Harry shook his head in exasperation and looked at the clock on the wall. "It's almost time. Can you put that glamour on me now?"
Dinesh nodded and moved his wand in a figure-eight pattern across Harry's chest, before tapping him on the head and whispering an incantation. He stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Harry looked down at his hands and then strode to a small wall mirror.
"Buggering hell," he moaned, "are you trying to get me to curse you?"
Harry now had long, curly blond hair, big, blue eyes, and looked to be in his early 20s. His whole look was decidedly feminine.
Dinesh let out a full belly laugh. "You'd make a right fair lass, Harry Potter. Those doe-eyes would make you quite popular. Not to worry, though—no one would ever expect you to go in disguise as a poofter. It's perfect."
Harry gritted his teeth and wished desperately that he could draw his wand. Dinesh had been winding him up all morning, and the proverbial camel's back was close to the breaking point. He was beginning to wonder if Dinesh was truly related to Parvati and Padma.
"Fine," he said, in annoyance. "But you better not be expecting a bloody tip."
Dinesh didn't respond to the jibe, but became momentarily serious after he too looked at the clock on the wall.
"It's about time, Harry Potter. Remember, that glamour won't fool them for long if they're laying a trap for you. You may have to fight, wand trace or no."
Harry took a deep breath and exhaled. "Okay, I'm ready. Thanks for your help. I'll send your money with Dobby as soon as I can; that, or you'll read my obituary in the Prophet soon. Let's do this."
Dinesh nodded and grabbed Harry's arm, and with a soft pop the pair left the flat behind.
Kings Cross Station, just outside the Beefeater Café
Nymphadora Tonks sat on a bench thirty feet outside the small café where she was supposed to be meeting Harry Potter. She had transformed into the appearance of a bland, older woman, and was trying to remain inconspicuous by casually reading The London Times.
So far Potter had yet to show, but he was only running a couple minutes late. If he was coming at all, that is. Tonks' Auror instincts were on high alert, as something about this entire scenario didn't smell right to her. Her backup was concealed within the café, ready for action should there be a confrontation. She didn't expect a trap exactly, but she was going to minimize risks as much as she could.
If Harry Potter indeed planned to meet her here, she had to admit that she was impressed with his cunning. A meeting at King's Cross, a crowded and busy muggle train station, would make it hard for a significant magical fight to take place. It would also make it rather easy for someone to fade into a crowd and disappear.
Tonks looked at her watch; Potter was now five minutes late. She glanced around warily as people passed by, and noticed a foppish-looking young man sitting on a bench twenty meters to her right, also casually reading a newspaper. Tonks surreptitiously pointed her wand at him, her action concealed by the newspaper, and cast a silent glamour-detection charm.
Gotcha, she thought, seeing the results.
Whoever this was—and likely it was Harry Potter being just as cautious as she was—had to be waiting on her to show. Then she noticed that this stranger was wearing small, round glasses, and her suspicions were confirmed. Deciding to force the situation, Tonks rose and approached the young man with the long blond curls.
"Ahem," she said, clearly her throat and coming to a halt five feet in front of him. He was eyeing her warily and kept his right arm extended next to him, obviously ready to draw a wand.
"You wouldn't happen to be wearing a leather wand holster, would you, young man?" Tonks inquired.
"It depends on who's asking," the boy replied, after a brief pause.
Tonks responded by quickly turning her hair a bright pink, then returning it to its disguised brown.
"Tonks?" the young man whispered, his eyes looking at her and then darting around the station.
"Wotcher, Harry," she smiled at him. "Nice glamour—pretty eyes." Then her face hardened. "Now I think you owe me some explanation about what the hell you're doing. I'm supposed to be hunting you. Are you alone here?"
"Maybe," replied Harry cryptically. "Let's go over to one of those tables; you can cast a notice-me-not charm around us."
Tonks nodded, and the duo moved slowly toward one of the open-air tables outside the café. Neither wanted to spook the other.
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