Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any characters or places named in these stories.
"Anything worth reading in there?"
"Same as usual."
"No more sightings?"
"No."
Harry passed the paper over to Arthur. He knew exactly what would happen. Having just watched him go through the entire paper, Arthur would go through it again, in the hope that there would be some news hinting to his family hidden on one of the pages. There never was, though they both checked every day. And when Arthur put the paper down, another member of the group would pick it up and comb the pages in the same way.
Nineteen people. That was their little world now, the only surviving witches and wizards they could be sure of. Of course, there were people like Hermione out there somewhere, who had adapted and survived. Not that Hermione had needed to adapt too much. Muggle-borns were pretty safe in this new world; they knew how to react without magic.
Harry knew he could have changed, have gone out into the world and started a new life as a muggle. He'd spent 11 years of his life doing it; he could surely have gone back to it. Except that the papers had declared him dead. Even several years on, people might notice if he started walking down their local high street or moved in next door.
Most of the others didn't have the choice. He'd never met most of them before the weeks at the Burrow. Some of them he'd met later; when they had separately had the same thought and sought safety at Hogwarts.
He'd waited in Holyrood park. He'd been early. The little boy he had ended up with turned out to be called Ben Abbott. He hadn't wanted to ask if Ben was related to Hannah, in case it made the little boy homesick. Harry had never been too good with crying children, especially when they were cold and hungry.
He had a little muggle money, and had bought them both some lunch in a little bakery on a side street. They sat on a bench in a clearing in the park, eating sandwiches and talking. Or rather, Ben babbled senselessly while Harry looked around and around in hope of seeing Minerva, or any other witch or wizard.
Nobody came.
He waited three days, until the money ran out. Then he tried to apparate back to near the Burrow, in case they just hadn't been able to find them in the park. It didn't work. There was a funny spinning sensation and nothing moved, just like in those practice sessions in the Great Hall years before.
It took weeks to get to Hogwarts. Harry resorted to scrounging food from closing cafes and shops, hoping that the sell by dates weren't too far gone, in order to keep Ben going. They became well practiced at fare dodging, only going a few stations at a time. Harry didn't like it, but there was no way he could walk to Hogwarts, especially as he didn't exactly know where it was.
They reached Hogsmeade first. It looked like a battleground. Ben started to cry and Harry agreed with the sentiment. He bent down and picked the little boy up to comfort him. Straightening up, he found himself staring straight into a pair of eyes looking out from a dark window. Mentally checking they looked like muggles, Harry steadied his breathing, moved Ben into a piggy-back position and carried him towards the house.
He knocked loudly, the sound echoing in the empty street. There was a nervous shuffling inside the house, but the chain scraped back and the door opened a fraction and an eye peered out.
"Yes?"
"My brother and I are lost; I think we got off at the wrong station." Harry hazarded.
"Nobody comes here any more, there are no trains."
"Well, um, we've been walking for a while."
Ben pulled at Harry's hair, and Harry leaned up to swipe him away. The eye moved to focus less on Harry.
"Ben?" The voice was startled. Ben looked towards his name in confusion. The door closed and the chain was removed, Harry could hear it clattering against the doorframe. The door opened wider and Harry was confronted by a frail old lady with grey hair and a walking came, wearing robes.
She held out her arms to Ben, who squirmed towards her. Harry hesitated, he had no idea who this lady might be, but he'd never met her before in his life.
"Nana Meg!" Squealed Ben. Which answered that question. Harry pulled Ben off his back and handed him to the lady, who looked at him closely and stepped backwards in shock. Steadying herself, she took a few breaths, holding Ben to her.
"I think you'd better come in."
The living room was dark and dusty, showing little sign of being lived in. Meg placed Ben in a chair and handed him a cake from a small plate on the sideboard. Turning to Harry, she pulled a newspaper from the shelf. It was a muggle paper, Harry was surprised despite himself, he knew the only newspapers still printing were run by muggles.
"Page 5."
Harry opened the paper and scanned the page. There it was, a small article in the bottom corner…
"Raid on 'wizarding house' successful", claims police chief
In the late hours of Monday 13th, a group of officers apprehended a large group of the 'wizarding' community gathered in a countryside house. The officers admitted to using force when the group fought back. Seven people are believed to be in hospital, while eighteen dead, including Harry Potter, inset, who is said to be of some importance to the community. Police are appealing for witnesses to the location of up to thirty people seen fleeing the scene.
It was accompanied by a small photo of Harry similar to those used by the Prophet after Voldemort's downfall, except it was stationary.
"A group of officers?" Was all Harry could manage. His head was reeling.
"Clearly that's not what happened. You're not dead, for a start."
"No."
Before he could explain, there was a bang from outside. Meg moved quickly to Ben and began to pull him from the room.
"It's not safe here. I don't know what that is, but there's less chance of them finding us upstairs. We need to move out in the morning, assuming you plan to stay with Ben?"
Her tone left Harry in no doubt that she and Ben came as a pair now. He could think of only one suggestion.
"We were going to head for Hogwarts."
"We won't be the first."
Meg had the paper now. Harry wasn't paying attention; his eyes were elsewhere, on the ceiling that was no longer covered by candles. This room was far too large and cold, but everywhere else was too far damaged from the war and ensuing battles.
"Arthur. Arthur!"
She was white as a sheet, her hands gripping the paper so hard it was tearing. Her eyes never left the page as Arthur swiftly crossed the room towards her."
"Arthur, it's Ginny!"
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