A/N: Hola! I'm back, peoples, and with your favourite part of the book; when Harry goes to Araluen! I hope you enjoy my awesome storyline! ;)

Chapter Two

Harry felt himself land painfully against a branch of a tree, and instantly scrambled for a foothold. He looked around, and was not surprised when he found his surroundings quite unfamiliar. Dense trees grew on either side of him, and, Harry realised, looking down, he was wearing a strange, forest green cloak, with a bow and arrow strung to his back. It wasn't comaflauge, Harry decided, but the cloak rippled in a nonexistent breeze, and it shimmered as if it were made of water. Harry took the bow from his back, and scrutinized it closely. He felt a strange presence wash over him, and winced at the feeling, but suddenly he knew exactly how to use the bow.

Cool! But where the hell am I?

Harry decided that waiting around in a tree was not going to do him much good, so he dropped from the tree and landed gracefully on his feet, his strange new instincts kicking in. He started walking in a random direction, hoping to find civilization somewhere close by. Thoughts of Sirius and his parents kept intruding in the peace, making Harry want to either cry or roar with rage at not being able to join his parents and friends. Harry growled, but did neither of those things, and simply plowed on. He would find this stupid mission of his, and he wouldn't give up until it was finished.

For Sirius, for Cedric, for Mum and Dad...

Harry repeated these words over and over in his head, like a sort of chant.

For Sirius, for Cedric, for Mum and Dad...

On and on he marched, the path blurring in front of his weary eyes. Harry felt himself shaking with exhaustion, but still he pressed on, and at last he came into a clearing with a small cabin in the middle and a small stable in the corner. He staggered up the front steps, and he heard a horses faint whinny coming from the stables. The door opened, and Harry felt the blade of a knife press against his throat and a rough voice say, "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Please sir," said Harry, his voice hoarse and shaky, "I just-just need a place to rest. I-I've been walking all day to try and find someone. Please - " He felt his knees buckle and he sank to the floor, unable to hold himself up any longer. He heard the door creak open farther, and arms pick him up and carry him inside.

"Who's that, Halt?" Harry heard a younger voice say.

"I don't know," said Halt, the man who was carrying him, "He just showed up on our doorstep all weak and shaking. Get your bed ready for him, he'll need it." Harry heard scurrying footsteps, a rustling sound, and he was lowered onto a bed. A warm, soft comfortable bed that made Harry sigh in relief. bedsheets were pulled over his shoulders and he heard Halt say, "What is your name, boy?"

The last thing Harry heard before he fell asleep was his own reply.

"Harry Potter."

Harry felt groggy, drowsy. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep. He gave a huge yawned and slowly opened his eyes, to find himself in an unfamiliar room. Harry frowned at first, then remembered all the events of yesterday.

Bloody hell, it wasn't a dream! He bolted upright in bed, glancing around the room fervently for any of the men who had picked him up yesterday.

"Ah, you're awake," said a voice, and Harry's head whipped round. He was so caught up in searching in the small corners of the room, he realised, that he had neglected to check that which was right in front of him. The figure of Halt was sitting in a chair next to his bed, wearing a strange grey and green mottled cloak.

"Hello," said Harry, wincing at how feeble he sounded. Halt handed him a glass of water, and he drank it up gratefully. Harry saw his bow and quiver of arrows lying next to Halt, and he quickly snatched it up, feeling strangely protective of the smooth, graceful weapon. Halt raised an eyebrow at his quick movements, and Harry flushed with embarrassment.

"Sorry," he said,"But these are the only things I have, and I'm kind of protective of them." Halt nodded, as if sympathising, but his eyes told a different story. They were shrewd and calculating, and they seemed to be evaluating his worth.

"That's a strange cloak you've got there," Halt commented, and it was Harry's turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

"I could say the same thing." He looked over the grey and green cloak that Halt was wearing, "Camouflage, isn't it?" Halt looked surprised that he had recognised it, but nodded. Suddenly there was a creak as the front door opened, and the younger boy's voice called, "Halt? I've done all the chores you asked for!" Footsteps approached the bedroom, and the young boy walked in. He had curly brown hair and mirthful chocolate eyes, and seemed rather surprised that Harry was sitting up in bed.

"I thought you said that he wouldn't wake until tomorrow?" He asked Halt accusingly.

"I thought so too," Halt replied, "I guess he's more used to injury than I thought." Harry chuckled.

"You could say that," He said when they gave him curious looks, "I've had all of the bones in my right arm broken and rehealed, I've fallen fifty feet from a br- a tree, I've been knocked unconscious numerous times, do you want me to go on?" Both of the men stared at him, and Halt raised an eyebrow again.

"You do raise your eyebrow a lot, don't you?" said Harry, "Oh! Where are my manners? I'm Harry, Harry Potter." He extended a hand for the younger boy to shake. The boy shook his head in amusement and took it.

"My name's Will," He replied. Harry frowned when he didn't give a last name, but didn't comment, for he had a suspicion that whatever the reason was, it was rather personal. Harry then noticed that Will was wearing the same type of cloak as Halt was, and that they each had a double-knife scabbard strapped to their belts.

Maybe it's some sort of uniform?

"Are those weird cloaks some sort of uniform?" Harry asked, his curiosity seemingly unsatiable. Will nodded.

"They're Ranger cloaks. I'm surprised you didn't recognise them." Harry looked down and mumbled, "I'm not from around here."

"It doesn't look like you are," Halt replied, "Where are your parents, if you are traveling?" Harry convulsively clutched at the sheets of his bed, and Will watched him in concern.

"My parents are dead," Harry said shortly, looking away from both of them. Will gave him a sympathetic smile, laced with sadness.

"That's alright," he said, "Mine are too. I never knew my parents. If it's not too painful, may I ask how they died?" Halt glared at him for lack of tact, but Harry quickly intervened. He figured it would sound too unrealistic if he told them that his parents were murdered by an evil wizard, or even that he was one years old when it happened, so he improvised wildly and said, "Bandits raided our village when I was five. I don't really remember it too well, only that I was the only one that survived. I Was sent to live with my aunt and uncle afterwards, but they - well, they're not the nicest people, they hated me. They blamed for my parents deaths. So, when some theives ambushed their house two years later, I took the opportunity to escape, and here. I am." Harry bowed his head, waiting for a rebuke at his running away from his relatives, then perhaps questions on where they were and how they could give him back to them. His story would fall apart when he told them that he didn't know, and then there would be trouble. But neither of them said anything of the sort.

"Wait," said Will in dawning comprehension, "You said you ran away two years later, and your parents died when you were five. Does that mean you were seven when you started living on your own?" Harry hesitated, then nodded. He got the weird "trust them" vibe from the two Rangers, sort of like what he got from Hagrid the first day he went to Diagon Alley.

Even Halt looked utterly shocked. Both his eyebrows went up of their own accord, and Harry had to suppress a chuckle at the expression on Will's face.

"I know," said Harry, briefly wondering when his acting skills got so good, "Most people are pretty shocked. But I already knew how to shoot a bow pretty well, so I fended for myself for quite a while. Then, after my favourite dog died, I sort of became reckless. I tried to take on too many people at once, ended up injured, and used up all my supplies while healing. So I tried to find some shelter, walked all day, exhausted myself, and passed out on your doorstep. Speaking of which, have you got some food? I'm bloody starving!" Halt stared at him for a few seconds longer, then, shaking his head, went back into the kitchen to cook some food.

"You any good with your bow?" asked Will, "I've just started shooting mine. Halt says, "Most archers shoot until they get it right. Rangers shoot until they don't get it wrong."

"Not only Rangers do that," replied Harry, "But, yeah, that is some good advice. Oh, and to answer your earlier question, I'm pretty sure I could go against that Halt fellow in a contest if I wanted to."

"Oh, really?" Harry looked up to see Halt standing in the doorway, carrying a laden tray of food, "Well, eat all your food, and then we'll go outside and test that theory." Then, a competitive spark in his eyes, he left the tray on Harry's bed and left the room.

A/N: Another chapter finished! I'm so sorry that I took so long for this book, but time just got away from me! STUPID CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS! I really hate them, you know, it's only a time where you watch your sisters brag about all the toys they got while you get dictionaries. Plus, I have to spend the day after christmas doing yardwork for my gramma. GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Next chapter is Harry and Halt's shooting contest! Who will win?