Under The Raven Under The Viper
By: Eldar
Summary: Harry's trial at the Ministry before his Fifth-Year ended differently than it did Cannon wise. He was exiled from England and is forbidden to return, now, fifteen years later, he's doing just that… with a contingent of hired wands to boot.
"Hermione,
How are you? I know, I know, not the question you'd rather I start with, but it seemed the best one to use right now. I'm doing pretty well right now, I'm currently staying in an inn in France –yes, I know, real descriptive! It goes by the name of The Acorn and Oak and the owner has the quirkiest sense of humor...
However, that doesn't really matter right now: I'm hale, hearty, living, and not in a bad condition. Yes, I know, you worry. I haven't been involved in any fights since that one in Paris. But, you really can't call that a fight, can you? I mean, the guy was trying to steal all my money!
Well, he's in the hospital right now, and doesn't remember the fight, so it's all water under the bridge, now.
Funny enough, The Trial's been on my mind lately, or should I call it The Farce?"
-Excerpt from a letter sent from Harry Potter to Hermione Granger, dated 24 August 1995
Prelude: The Farce
"Let the Accused be brought in." Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge called from his seat with the Wizengamot in Courtroom Seventeen within the bowels of the Ministry of Magic.
As soon as his words reverberated across the expansive room, two guards at the entrance of the Courtroom bowed stiffly at the waist, opened the doors and marched outside. Seconds later, they returned with an exhausted Harry James Potter (Formerly of Number Four Privet Drive) suspended between the two of them. "The Accused does come before you." One of the guards responded ritualistically.
"The Accused is in the needing of a chair," Fudge responded as the rules of the court required him to. "It is my duty of make a chair of use for the Accused." He waved his hand airily and two Dementors came into the Courtroom, dragging a large chair made out of an unidentifiable material between the two of them. "The Accused is allowed to sit in the provided chair." He said once the Dementors were finished.
The two guards dragged the limp body and rested it in the chair, as soon as all of the living flesh was in contact with the chair, manacles suddenly appeared around the wrists and ankles of Harry's limp form.
"This court is now called to be in session." Fudge said. "Let there be no doubt that the Accused has committed the crime that he stands accused of… he admitted enough under Vertiserum earlier today."
Fudge then looked down at his notes, as if to reassure himself of some esoteric fact. "Today being the twelfth of August of the Year Nineteen Hundred and Ninety Five, The Minister of Magic has moved this Disciplinary Hearing into a full criminal trial." Fudge then looked around at the assembled members of the Wizengamot, "let the record show that there were no votes opposed."
At that moment, a man stood up, his purple robes contrasting with the Silver "W" marked in the center of them. "Now, see here, Fudge!" He shouted, his voice carrying across the Courtroom, unseen to anybody within the Courtroom, Harry stirred at the voice. "I may not have raised any problems when you motioned earlier to try a boy for Underage Magic in this Courtroom, nor when you proposed using the entire Wizengamot… but this… this is preposterous!" He sputtered angrily. "I-"
That was as far as he got, for, at the moment the man paused, Fudge gestured at the guard who had been watching the scene play out with rapt attention. "Arrest him." He said commandingly, "for he is being a disruption within a Courtroom that is in session."
The Two Guards bowed stiffly at the waist towards Fudge again before marching up to where the Wizengamot Judges were sitting. "Judge Agnue," The one who had spoken earlier said again. "It would be best for all if you would follow me, sir." His partner adjusted his grip on his wand, allowing it to point threateningly at the aforementioned Judge.
"Investigators are Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister; and Reginald Chambers Borgin, Senior Special Investigator for the Minister." Fudge continued on as if no interruption had occurred. "The Court Scribe is Percieval Ignatius Weasley." Fudge looked around, before opening his mouth again, "If that is all?" A pause. "Then, let the trial commence."
A black robed man swept into the Courtroom, his robes swirling behind him as if there was a gust of wind following him. "Could you please state your name for the Court Record, Mister Potter?"
"Objection: Supposition." A shrill voice broke out of the Courtroom's door. All the heads in the Courtroom turned to look at the newcomer, Harry's gray face grinned a little at the sight of Hermione Granger, one of his best friends, the only person he felt he could count on to get his out of this mess.
"I do not believe you were invited to this Court, miss?" Fudge said, searching for a name.
"Granger, Hermione Jane." Hermione said, keeping her voice level and loud enough for the Scribe to catch. "I am here because Albus Dumbledore was going to act in the capacity of Harry's defense, but was unable to make it do to a scheduling issue, so, instead, he sent me."
Fudge was apparently uncomfortable with the arrangement, but then nodded to the Scribe, "Defense of the Witness: Hermione Jane Granger." He cleared his throat before continuing. "So, Miss Granger, how is it that the Consul's question calls for Supposition?"
Hermione opened her mouth before closing it again, with her cheeks flaming he opened her mouth again to retort. "Sir, the Question itself is inherently flawed, it asks for Ha- the Accused, to state his name while giving him a name.!"
"Miss Granger, that is an example of a Leading Question… Objection Overruled." Fudge said. "You may continue Consul."
As soon as the Consul was to begin again, Harry opened his mouth and spoke, his voice rough. "Harry James Potter." He grated out. "Profession: Student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"What, Mister Potter, do you stand accused for?"
"I stand accused of the Misuse of Underage Magic." Harry grated out.
"Please Describe the law –as you know it- regarding the Use of Underage Magic."
And so it continued, the Opposing Consul asking Harry questions, Harry would answer them, and Hermione would chime in anytime that she could think of a transgression on the part of the opposing consul.
The process went on for around an hour before Fudge called a recess. Following the declaration, Fudge got up along with the Wizengamot and the Black-robed man who had been questioning Harry, as one they got up and walked out the door, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.
"Oh, Harry." She said. "How do you always seem to find your way into these situations?"
Harry looked up at her. "Maybe God is Sadistic?" He offered humorlessly. "That, or I'm just here to suffer so other's don't." He took in a breath of air and then let it out seconds later. "So, Hermione, what do my chances look like?"
"Not good, Harry, not good at all." Hermione said. "I saw some people from Hogwarts on my way in… and, well, it looks like the Ministry is going to have them all testify against you. And, you're not going to like this, but its made up entirely out of Slytherins in our year: Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Dravis… the whole lot of them are here!"
Harry looked pensive for a moment, then nodded to himself as if he had just reached a decision with himself. "Hermione, see what the Prosecution is willing to give in exchange for me to plea guilty right now." He saw the look in her eyes and used one of his rare bouts of logic. "If they've got the entire Slytherin class here, that means they're going for the jugular, Azkaban or worse, see if we could reduce the Sentence with the Prosecution." He nodded warmly at her, the best he could give in his situation.
Hermione turned away from Harry and walked out the door herself, looking every inch like a woman on a mission.
As she walked away, Harry seemed to deflate into himself with the air he breathed out. He suddenly gave a start when a hand was rested on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry that it had to come to this, Harry." A grandfatherly voice said from above his head, and, if he craned his neck, he could make out Dumbledore above him.
"Professor!" Harry said, but Dumbledore raised a finger and shook his head.
"Harry, I fear I'm not going to be your Professor much longer… not if the Ministry has their way." Dumbledore tried to smile comfortingly at Harry, but the effect was lost when he wouldn't meet Harry's eyes. "Harry, I'm not going to be able to explain everything right now, but take this and use it when the time seems right… you'll know when." Albus's face seemed troubled, but his voice didn't loose any of the urgency from it.
He handed Harry a glass ball that seemed to glow with some hidden inner light attached to a simple silver chain. Harry quickly hid it within the folds of his robes. And, not a moment too soon, once the ball and chain were within Harry's robes, Hermione walked back into the Courtroom, stopping in her tracks when she saw Dumbledore.
She lost her stunned state almost immediately and walked up to Harry, ignoring the Professor.
"How bad?" Harry asked, somehow managing a grim grin.
"Very bad." Hermione said succinctly. "The prosecution is willing to settle for your Exile from England, in exchange for a Guilty plea." Hermione bit her lip before continuing. "Harry… don't take it. With… with you-know-who back, anywhere outside Hogwarts is going to be very dangerous. We can still win this case, and, if we do, than we'll, err, that is to say you, will be back in Hogwarts… where it's safe." She said in all in one breath, somehow.
"Hermione." Harry said, his voice still rough. "If the Prosecution is willing to throw a glass of water in with that deal… I'll… I'll take it."
Hermione's face fell as she regarded her best friend. "If that's how you want it," she said her voice sorrowful. "That's what will happen."
"Believe me, Hermione, that's not what I want, but it's the only way I can see for me to escape this with my sanity… and my life." He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat before continuing. "No slight on your skills, but this court is openly hostile towards me, and Fudge gave an order that I'm guilty, since I confessed under Vertiserum." He fought against the manacles on his wrists to try and comfort his friend, but gave up the venture as futile.
"Okay, Harry." Hermione said, her voice betraying how close to tears she really was. She then hugged him awkwardly in the chair before getting up to walk out the door.
"You'll watch over them, Professor?" Harry said to Dumbledore.
"I'll do my best." Dumbledore said, his grandfatherly voice dropping. "And, Harry, I believe that you have earned the right to call me Albus."
"Alright, Albus." The name felt odd on Harry's tongue. "Try and convince the Grangers to take a vacation out of country… a long one, possibly forever, with Voldemort back, well, the Muggle world isn't going to be as safe as it has been for the past fifteen years."
"And, what about Ronald?" Dumbledore asked politely.
"His whole family are magical, and they lived through the last uprising, they can do the same for this one." Harry's voice sounded confident, much more confident than he felt inside.
Dumbledore looked up as a gong was sounded to announce the reentry of the Wizengamot, Hermione and the Black Robed wizard also walked into the Courtroom. A smug, haughty expression on the Wizard's face, a defeated expression plastered on Hermione's. When the witch looked at him, her expression narrowed until her glare was focused on him, so intense that one could've sworn that there were sparks flying off her as she did so.
"This criminal trial is called back into session." Fudge said, looking down at his notes. "Is there anything either consul would wish to share with the Wizengamot?"
"Your honors," Hermione said before the other consul, her voice stating that she thought of the group as anything but. "The prosecution and I have to come an agreement that is in full accordance with the relevant laws." She ground out, apparently still frustrated with Harry for not taking her advice. "My client is to plead guilty to the count of Misuse of Underage Magic, and, in exchange, this court is to clear him of all other charges, and, because of the guilty plea, Exile him from England for an eternity."
Even as she said these words, it was known that that would not be the case, as in the old days, the Exile lasted only until a new ruler was in need of the Exiled's experience or knowledge. Or, in this case, the popularity.
"My college is correct." The black robed man said in a silky voice bowing towards Fudge.
"Very well." Fudge said. "The Wizengamot accepts your agreement and will now sentence.
"The Accused shall rise while We read the charge that you are found guilty of." Fudge said, adopting a self-important tone of voice. "We find you guilty of the charge of the Misuse of Underage Magic. All other charges against you are dropped. We hereby sentence you to be an Exile from England, if you are ever found within the boundaries of England henceforth, you will be killed on sight. You have two hours to make your way away from England, they start now."
Fudge then waved his hand and the gong banged again. "This trial is no concluded." Once the Wizengamot had risen from their chairs, the manacles disappeared from Harry's ankles and wrists.
Harry, finding himself unbound, immediately got out of the chair and stumbled over to Hermione, who looked like she was on the verge of tears. When Harry stumbled over, she quickly hugged him properly, crying harder than Harry thought the situation warranted.
"Where will you go?" Hermione said between tears.
"I don't know." Harry said. "I've heard that the Foreign Legion is a good option." Harry cracked a brief smile. "But, honestly, I have a feeling that I'll just drift about… I guess I'll try and see you sometime when you go out of the country… provided you ever leave here."
Hermione frowned. "Don't say that, Harry!" She said. "If you give me an address or some other location, I'll try and come to see you."
Harry smiled at his friend. "I'd like that." He said, "write down your proper address for me, please. I have a feeling that my using Wizard's Post will be frowned upon, being an Exile and all."
Hermione then let go of her friend to fetch some paper and pencil, and allowed Harry to lead her out of the Courtroom. When they walked out, Harry noticed Mister Weasley standing by the door, looking anxious.
"What happened? Dumbledore didn't say." He asked hurriedly.
"Guilty for Misuse of Underage Magic." Harry said simply. "In about two hours I'm to be exiled from England, forever." Harry's voice remained, somehow, steady as he spoke.
"How can you remain so calm?" Mister Weasley said shaking his head. "Well, I've got to drop you two off at Headquarters, so, come with me." He gestured to the two and walked away from the Courtroom. "You see, we've had another one of the bloody regretting toilets today, so its my turn to check into it and set it right. What? Did I say something funny?" He demanded as Harry suddenly started laughing from the stress of going through the trial.
"No, Mister Weasley, you didn't." Harry said, wiping his face with his sleeves. "But, I'd rather not go to Headquarters right now… could you drop us off at the Leaky Cauldron? I need to grab some things from Diagon Alley before leaving."
"What? Of course, Harry, of course I would." Mister Weasley said, apparently at a loss as for why. "But, why would you need to go to Diagon Alley if you're going to hide out in Headquarters?"
"What good would I be doing at Headquarters?" Harry said. "There is no way in Hell I'm going to hide in Headquarters until my exile is rescinded. If I do, I'd probably do something stupid, like escape from there in order to charge into an Avada Kedava spell."
Mister Weasley paused for a moment before nodding and muttering something about how that made sense.
"Here, I'll drop you two off at Diagon Alley," Mister Weasley said, then, in an undertone. "Alastor will have my head for this."
"Harry," Mister Weasley said as they walked into the Leaky Cauldron. "If I don't see you again," he brushed a tear from his eye. "I just wanted you to know that Molly and I considered you a son of ours, even if you weren't of our blood."
Harry nodded, not daring to speak for fear of what he would say. Finally finding words, he spoke. "If I'm ever back here… however unlikely, I'll make sure to visit you and Missus Weasley." He didn't add the even though you'll most likely be dead by then that he mentally added.
Shaking Mister Weasley's hand again, Harry turned around and walked further into the Leaky Cauldron, as Mister Weasley walked out.
"Afternoon, Tom." He said to the Barkeep, who nodded at him without really registering his presence.
The dining area of the Leaky Cauldron was as full as it usually was, however the looks that the crowd gave Harry were a world apart from the usual looks he received. After his Fourth Year he thought that he was impervious to the looks and mutterings of the crowds that believed he was slighting Cedric, or generally thought him disturbed. However, he was not prepared to deal with the leering smiles that the patrons gave him, the smiles that told him what they thought of him, and what he could do about it.
"So, Potter." A man's voice said from a table as he passed by. "Is it true that the Dark Lord murdered Diggory… or did you do it yourself?" The voice laughed cruelly as Harry stalked away, towards the alley.
Once within the alley, however, it just became worse and worse. All along the alley there was the insidious whispering that followed them, each one just a hair louder than the last until it sounded like shouting in Harry's ears. So, he was very relieved when he came to the front doors of Gringotts.
Harry opened the doors and strode into the bank, his posture almost imperious in nature. Harry noticed one of the bank teller's was available and he walked over to it, and was surprised to realize that he recognized the Goblin manning it.
"Griphook?" Harry asked, surprise written all over his features. "I'm sorry." He said once the Goblin looked at him with a stern disapproving look on his face, "but, I was surprised to realize that I recognized you. It won't happen again."
"No need, Mister Potter." Griphook said, for it was indeed he. "You seem to be a rarity among wizards, especially in the fact that you can recognize a lowly Goblin on sight."
Harry flushed and he couldn't help but stutter his request out. "I… I… I was wondering if Gringotts has any other locations in the world?" He asked timidly. "If not, I would like to know if you have any affiliates or other banks that you trust in the rest of the world?"
Griphook raised a bushy eyebrow at Harry before responding to his question. "We would not be that good of a bank if we only had a single location now, would we?" Griphook barked with laughter at the look on Harry's face. "We have several locations around the world. " Almost every major city in the world has a Gringotts location, even in the muggle world!" Griphook laughed again at the gobsmacked look on Harry's face. "Yes, we are involved in the muggle world, of course, they think the name is just a rich old codger's affection, instead of the name of the Goblin leader in the revolution of seven eighty five." Griphook smiled a predator's smile. "Yes, it is amazing how ignorant wizards are."
"Would it be possible for me to access my funds while out of country without stepping on English soil?" Harry asked. "As you've probably heard already, I've been exiled, and it takes effect in…" He checked his watch. "About an hour or so."
Griphook looked at Harry oddly. "Why are you advertising the fact, Mister Potter?" He finally said after several moments. "And, why aren't you angrier about it?"
"Well," Harry said. "I'm not hanging a sign up that says I'm going to be exiled, and I trust you to be discrete with the fact." Harry missed the quick intake of breath from both Hermione and Griphook. "And, I am plenty angry about it, but acting angry won't help me with this, so I've settle to just seethe inside." Harry shrugged. "Anyway, could you give me a brochure that lists all your locations for me? I'm probably going to drift around, and I would like to be able to plan out my withdrawals."
Griphook produced a brochure from behind his teller's station and handed it to Harry. "This isn't just your everyday brochure, Mister Potter." The goblin stated as he handed it to Harry. "This brochure is magically altered so that it has every location Gringotts has built that still stands in it, along with any construction going on… at any time." Griphook smiled his predator's smile again. "And, finally, there's a mild tracking charm on it that directs you to the closest Gringotts location."
"Thank you Griphook." Harry said. "I would like to make a withdrawal before I leave though." Harry said. "Just for some spending money." He quickly added. "I would like a hundred galleons, and then… oh, five thousand Francs." Harry said, thinking about what was likely to happen in France.
Griphook bowed slightly before reaching down below his teller's station again and producing a small sack containing the hundred galleons Harry requested. He also wrote a quick note in Gobbleygook and handed it to Harry with some directions.
"Here," he said. "Take this note and give it to the third teller down at the counter to my left." He pointed the goblin out to Harry, who nodded for Griphook to continue. "He'll give you the Francs."
"Thank you Griphook." Harry said, he then searched his rather hazy memory of History of Magic before finding what he thought was the proper phrase. "May your ancestor's smile upon you." He said.
"It has been a long time since I heard a human use that phrase." Griphook replied. "Perhaps your History of Magic teacher isn't as worthless as every Hogwarts student that comes here thinks he is. Next."
Harry bowed to the goblin before walking over to the goblin that Griphook had pointed out, a goblin that looked like he had seen far too many winters.
"Uh… Sir?" Harry said to the goblin. "I was told to come over here in order to convert Magical currency into muggle currency?"
The ancient goblin stirred to life; he stretched out his arms before turning a sleepy eye upon Harry. "And, who exactly told you that I handle the magical to muggle currency transfers?" He demanded with a voice that sounded like sandpaper.
"Griphook, sir." Harry supplied.
"Griphook, eh?" The ancient goblin said. Then, after a moment's pause, he continued. "What are you needing in muggle currency?" He said politely.
In response, Harry handed the goblin the slip of paper that Griphook had handed him. The goblin looked at the note before angrily shoving a hand into his coat's pockets and extracting a pair of glasses that looked to be about as old as Hogwarts. The goblin extracted another piece of paper and started writing down some numbers and doing some math, however, since the numbers were not the Arabic numerals that most everybody knew, Harry wasn't able to follow the math that the goblin was doing.
After a few moments of the goblin doing the impossible math and Harry watching, the goblin nodded to himself and opened a drawer set in the desk he was using and extracted five thousand Francs in enough common denominations for Harry to be able to use the money without having to break up larger bills.
"Here you go." The goblin said in a surprisingly human manner. "Five thousand French Francs."
"Thank you," Harry said courteously. "And, may your ancestor's smile upon you."
"No, thank you, Mister Potter." The goblin said. "You've just done more for me than you can know." His words left Harry confused as the Goblin stood up from the desk and wandered deeper into the bank.
Harry took a look around the bank before walking out the door, and out of Gringotts, without looking back.
"This the place?" Harry asked Hermione as they both stood in front of an older-style house that looked like it had been built at least fifty years ago.
"Yep." Hermione said, "this is home." Her voice was excited, and her excitement was infectious; in the short trip to her house, Harry had become much more light hearted than he thought he would become.
"So, why are we coming here again?" Harry asked, he then continued on hurriedly as Hermione leveled an acid gaze on him. "Not that I mind meeting your parents or anything!" He raised his hands defensively. "It just seems… odd to be meeting with them before leaving the country."
"Harry." Hermione said softly. "You give us a location and time, and we'll be there."
Harry looked at his best friend in amazement. "You'd do that for me?" He said, amazed. "Why?"
Instead of answering, Hermione looked away, abashed. "Well, lets go in and introduce you already!" She said, covering the semi-awkward silence between the two.
"Alright!" Harry said. "Slave driver."
Hermione turned and glared at him.
"It's just a joke." He said feebly before walking up the stairs that led to the door, where Hermione rang the doorbell.
After a few minutes, the door was opened by a man whom Harry could only assume was Mister Granger; he had Hermione's brown hair, and her eye color, and, for some reason, he looked as much like his daughter any man could and still look like an actual man. "Mister Granger, presume?" Harry said, extending a hand to the man, who shook it in turn.
"Yes." Mister Granger replied. "And I imagine that you are the Harry Potter that my wife and I hear so much about in our daughter's letters?"
"Guilty." Harry said. Wincing after he said the word and how it fit into his life currently.
"If you'll excuse me, Mister Granger, I'm actually under a time constraint, so… if you'd let us in?" Harry said, hoping he didn't sound as rude as it sounded to him.
"Ah, of course." Mister Granger said. "That smarmy old coot got you on a short leash?" The words 'smarmy old coot' could only refer to Dumbledore.
"No, sir." Harry said. "I'm actually going to be… well, I'll let your daughter tell the story, she'll know best how to explain it."
And Harry followed the tow members of the family into the house and then, after removing their shoes, into the room that Harry could only assume was the family room. Sitting back in a chair that he was shooed into by Hermione, Harry listened to her tell the tale of what had unfolded in the past eight hours of his life.
"…And that's what's happened up to now." Hermione finished up fifteen minutes later. "The reason we're here is because I wanted Harry to meet you before going away, since I'm going to try to meet him if he can give me a location and date."
Mister Granger looked at his hands pensively before looking up at Harry and speaking. "So, you're going to be exiled from England, forever?" He said, incredulous. "That's… a huge throwback!" He exclaimed. "It's like your government is from the nine hundreds!"
"Mister Granger." Harry said seriously. "Most of the Magical World is stuck in the early years, most seem to hold a contempt for muggles that amazes me, the other's seem to think that Muggles going to the moon is a stupid idea and that anybody who claims otherwise is a liar." Harry took a deep breath before continuing.
"Besides, my exile is partly my fault, I told Hermione to take the deal…" Harry suddenly stood up and extended his hand to Mister Granger again. "Mister Granger, I'm thankful that you've allowed me to stop by for now, but I've got to be out of country very soon, and, well, its not the easiest thing to do."
Mister Granger nodded and shook Harrys hand and Harry left the room, and, later, the two in the Granger household could hear the door shut behind him.
"I hope that that kid keeps himself alive. He seems good enough." Mister Granger said after awhile. He then looked at his daughter before continuing. "So, what is it about the Magical world that you haven't told me?" He querried.
Harry found his way to the Chunnel station rather easily, he had some spare quid in his pocket and had flagged the nearest cab and had requested that as his destination. Once the cabby had dropped him off at the Chunnel station, Harry paid him and walked into the station proper.
Once inside the station, he was greeted with the sight of Dumbledore, Ron, his trunk, and Hedwig. Dumbledore and Ron were standing quite awkwardly in the entrance to the station, the trunk and owl cage in front of their feet.
"Harry." Dumbledore said in his grandfatherly voice. "Are you sure you won't reconsider my offer of living in Headquarters until we can get your name cleared?"
Harry struggled for a moment before answering. "I'm certain… Albus," he cracked a small grin when he used the Headmaster's name, partly at the fact that he –a fifteen year old boy was addressing the headmaster by name, but also due to Ron's expression. He looked like he was bursting to explode at Harry for addressing the Headmaster in such a familiar manner, but refrained from doing so, remembering the last time he'd opened his mouth without thinking.
"I'd rather live than survive." Harry said finally. "I also don't think I could stand to be in that house when Ron and Hermione leave for Hogwarts… and I don't follow." His voice nearly broke at the end, but he disguised it with a cough. "Yes, I'm certain, Albus. Hey, it's getting easier to say your name every minute." Harry joked, trying to lighten the mood that was setting in.
"In that case." Dumbledore said. "I'll leave you and Master Weasley alone until the train arrives. Here's your ticket, Harry… have a good life." The old man fumbled in his robes briefly before pulling out a slightly mangled ticket and handed it to Harry.
"Thank you, Albus." Harry said. "For… everything."
After an awkward moment, Dumbledore left the room and stood outside, leaving the two teens inside the station.
"So." Ron said thickly. "This is it. Somehow, I'd always thought that we'd be together until the end, it never even crossed my mind that you'd end up leaving on some trumped up charges."
"I didn't think that that would happen either, Ron." Harry agreed. "But… it did." His voice quickly became as thick as his best mate's, "listen, Ron." He said. "If things get really bad… well, he who fights but runs away lives to fight another day." He shrugged. "Don't be afraid to run away from England. And, if you can, bring Hermione with you."
"Mate." Ron said. "Most likely it would be her dragging me with her."
"True." Harry agreed. "She is rather… forceful."
A whistle somewhere in the station blew and the train sped into the station, slowing down and eventually coming to a full spot. "Ron," Harry said in a thick voice. "My train's here… I've got to be out of country soon."
"Yeah." Ron agreed absently.
Harry grabbed his best mate in a hug that lasted only a second. "Take care of Hermione for me." He said. "Make sure that any boyfriend of her's doesn't turn out to be a complete prick."
"Will do, Harry." Ron said. "Will do."
Stepping back, Harry surveyed the station yet again before grabbing his trunk and owl cage and stepping into the train.
Once inside the train, Harry found a compartment that was unoccupied and quickly claimed it as his own. He opened up his trunk and claimed a book on French linguistics that he sat on his seat before lifting his trunk up to the rack above his head. Shaking his head he looked out the window to see that the train was starting to move before turning his head to look at his book and he started to read.
Before he had the chance to get into his book and try to teach himself basic French in thirty minutes, his compartment door slid open and a woman who appeared to be in her fifties with a seeing eye dog walked in.
"Is this compartment empty?" She asked, looking at the wall opposite Harry.
"No." Harry said. "But, you're welcome to sit down." He refrained from gesturing at the seats.
"Thank you." The woman said in a younger voice… a voice that Harry could've sworn he'd heard before, but from a different woman's body.
"Wotcher, Harry." She said, her features morphing until they resembled the familiar pink-haired auror that Harry had met originally in his bedroom in Number Four what seemed like an eternity ago. "Dumbledore sent me and… Snuffles in order to keep a watch over you." She shed the trench coat that she'd been wearing earlier and beneath it she was wearing typical muggle dress, a tee shirt and jeans, nothing fancy.
"Still riding herd on me, is he?" Harry muttered to himself. "Anyway, I'm glad to see a familiar face, well, two." He looked down at 'Snuffles' and affectionately messed up the dog's fur. "You wouldn't happen to know any French now, would you?"
"Actually," Tonks blushed. "I do. My mother never considered the possibility of a daughter of a black not knowing French and so sought to educate me." She grimaced at the memory. "Why?"
Harry quickly explained what he needed and quickly learned the phrases he'd need in the course of a day to get by for his first day in France. During the ride, he found that it was easier to speak to Tonks than he'd ever thought it was possible, but he supposed that the way his emotions were right now, he'd be able to open up to anybody who would've opened up that door.
Too soon, the ride was over, and Harry watched as Tonks assumed the form of the blind woman that she'd used earlier. She also put on the trenchcoat again and put a leash on 'Snuffles', who seemed to resist the idea.
Walking into the station, Harry breathed in the air, and it hit him.
He was no longer welcome at home. He couldn't ever return to English soil in his life.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tonks stumble and lose her grip on the leash, and 'Snuffles' came running towards him. Tonks shrugged and mouthed "He's your problem now." To Harry and walked behind a pillar.
A crack of disapparation told him that she'd left.
That was it. He was… exiled. And, for the first time in that whirlwind of a day it really caught up with him.
"What the fuck have I got myself involved in." He whispered to himself.
The pavement below his feet had no answer.
A/N: Yes, yet another story. This one, hopefully, won't be abandoned like RtP was… I still can't think of how to string the words to make that story work anymore. So, if anybody wants RtP, please tell me, either through PM or a Review.
This is my first shot at writing an "M" rated story, however there will not be many adult situations throughout the story, so it's going to be an "M" for language and gore.
Story-6063 Words