Chase Around After
Seven pounds and twenty-three pence.
Harry bungs the money back into his tin can and sighs. For the last three hours, he's sat cross-legged on hard pavement, and his legs are killing him. Harry rocks on his rump, hoping to increase the blood flow to them. A warming charm helps battle the brisk autumn temperature, but nothing can relieve his foul mood—except maybe nabbing the evil git he's been hunting for the past year.
Huddled on the steps of an unopened storefront, Harry watches as packs of Muggle tourists meander past hip new restaurants and theatres in the revitalised Soho District. Stranger after stranger pass him without a second glance, everyone paying little attention to the tramp clad in soiled trousers, a baggy shirt, and a worn trench coat. He hears the repetitive clicks of their cameras as they try to capture the bustling atmosphere of the street and sighs.
Muggle politicians tout the new, up-and-coming, family-friendly neighbourhood—it no longer being the dangerous, debauched red-light draw it once was—but Harry knew better: once a monster sets up its lair, it's difficult to eradicate. It might retreat for a while, but given time, it will return. Like a hydra, if one head is cut off, another will grow in its place. To truly vanquish a monster, one has to destroy its heart, and that's precisely what Harry wants to do.
Across the two-lane street, the door to a tattoo parlour whooshes open, and an attached CLOSED sign ticks back and forth.
Harry slits his eyes.
A man, wearing khaki trousers, a navy polo shirt, and a gunmetal-grey windcheater, saunters out of the shop. When he walks away, Harry notices a red blotch on the man's neck and stiffens.
Once the man rounds the corner, Harry leaps to his feet. He places his right hand in his pocket, wrapping his fingers around his wand. Harry trails him, keeping a discreet distance.
The man disappears into a shaded alley between two five-storey buildings.
Ignoring the scurry of rats, Harry follows while staying low and flush against a brick wall. Drawing his wand, he creeps forward, hiding his movements behind an olive skip.
Harry peeks into the alley. Stunned, he finds the man a few feet away placing the muzzle of a gun against his temple.
The man murmurs something, and a shimmering light cascades over him: His Muggle clothes morph into elegant carmine robes. His hair changes from a dull brown to a rich honey blond, and the shape of his forgettable face transforms into sharp, handsome planes. Lastly, the gun in his hand reshapes into a long mahogany wand.
Before the revealed wizard can flick his wand, Harry casts an Anti-Disapparation Jinx.
The wizard feels the spell strike and snarls in fury when he realises what jinx has hit him.
Harry quickly shoots a Disarming Charm, but the wizard twists out of its way.
Harry then dives behind the skip just as a bright, emerald beam blazes by. A moment later, the shocked shout of a distraught man echoes down the alley from the street.
The piercing squeal of metal tugs Harry's attention away from the rising voices of concern. He pokes out his head from behind the skip and discovers the wizard climbing the ladder of a fire escape. Pausing, the wizard discharges another curse in Harry's direction.
The skip explodes, flinging Harry into the air. As refuse rains down, he slams into the wall behind him.
Harry groans and crawls to his feet. Swaying as he moves towards the fire escape, Harry soon realises the ladder is gone. Below on the asphalt, a puddle of molten metal bubbles. Harry needs to get on that fire escape; already, the sound of the wizard's footsteps is growing too faint to hear.
Harry glances over his shoulder and grimaces; a large group of Muggles watch him with suspicion.
Storing away his wand, Harry runs to the entrance of the alley. Then building as much momentum as he can, he races forwards and leaps at the very last second. The sheer will of his magic propels him the extra inch needed for the fingers of his right hand to grab onto the iron scaffolding.
After lifting himself up, Harry notes fine red dust on his palms. He wipes his hands on his robes before rushing up the steps, using the handrail to help him take three at a time.
His lungs burning, a clear view of cloudless sky opens before him. He blinks rapidly when a bead of sweat slips into one eye. Harry lifts his head above an eroded partition and has a split second to react. "Protego!"
Smoky tentacles hit Harry's protective barrier. While the wizard turns around and flees, glowing cracks start to form in the shield as it neutralises the curse. Just as the last dark wisp of the curse disappears, the charm shatters into a shower of sparks.
In the distance, Harry can see the wizard soaring from one rooftop to the next, looking like a drop of blood sliding along a concrete wall. Harry races after him; he casts cushioning and acceleration charms as needed, keeping the wizard within his sights.
The wizard slows. He glances at Harry from over his shoulder and flashes a mischievous smile.
"Ignis Maxima!" the wizard bellows in a raspy voice.
An eruption of flames roars towards Harry as the wizard leaps off the roof.
Harry's eyes widen, and he braces himself.
"Aguamenti!"
An icy blue torrent barrels out from his wand.
Harry's ears pop when the spells collide, and scalding steam swirls around him. He grits his teeth as radiant heat eats into the flesh of his hands and face. The fire curse is so hot the sandy surface of the rooftop in front of him melts. After a few more painful seconds, the Dark spell is clear.
Not letting his burnt skin distract him, Harry darts across patches of newly made glass. While sirens from nearing emergency vehicles howl at each other, Harry makes his way to the edge of the roof. He looks down.
A group of Muggles, shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders, surround a crater, the breadth of the pavement. One woman points to a sign affixed to a wrought-iron lamp post that reads RUPERT STREET and then gestures to her left.
Moving to get a better view, Harry sees another sign. A narrow-eyed grin appears on his blistered face. The wizard won't want to stop and remove Harry's jinx; it would take too much time and concentration.
Harry yanks a caterpillar-sized bottle filled with a golden liquid from an inner pocket. He twists off its copper cap and swallows.
Screwing his mouth in disgust at the taste of sour apples and ocean water, Harry feels prickles crawl from the top of his head to his feet. His veins become more pronounced and turn an intense metallic green. Once the discolouration fades and new skin appears, he winds his wand around his body as if he were wrapping himself in ropes. His body wavers and then disappears from view.
A second later, Harry Apparates, materialising next to a descending tunnel. Above it, a plaque reads Piccadilly Circus Underground Station.
Shouts of ire draw Harry's attention. He smiles when he sees the wizard, as expected, heading in his direction.
As the wizard makes his way towards the entrance to the Underground, he continues to shove people, including Harry, out of his way. With one last glance behind him, the wizard hurries down the stairwell.
Harry matches the rhythm of the wizard's steps and follows him down a long corridor of gleaming white tile. Soon, the wizard stops in front of a caretaker's cupboard. He unlocks the door with a swish of his wand and then disappears inside.
Harry places his ear on the parchment-coloured door. After hearing nothing, he tries the stainless-steel knob but finds it locked. Harry whispers, "Alohomora," then slowly turns the knob.
Protecting most of his body with the wall, he flings open the door—but discovers the cupboard is empty.
The small, dingy space, about a full arm span in both depth and width, sits undisturbed, unthreatening, and unremarkable.
Lumos, Harry thinks, and a soft radiance reveals the nooks and crannies. He investigates the interior from top to bottom but uncovers nothing.
"Damn it!" Harry kicks over a bucket of sudsy water.
Trying to calm down, he cleans up the mess he made.
Harry exits the cupboard, then turns around to stare into the dark, rectangular opening. It takes an average wizard at least fifteen straight minutes to remove his Anti-Disapparation Jinx; a gifted witch like Hermione could do it in five…
Shrugging his shoulders, Harry holds his breath and sprints forward without hesitation.
The cupboard being similar to the entrance for platform nine and three-quarters had only been a hunch, so when Harry actually passes through the wall and spills into a gloomy, sinister back alley, he's quite surprised.
Harry straightens and looks around. In front of him, a row of menacing structures seems to lean over him like intimidating sentinels.
Creeping closer to a plain wooden door, Harry spots a scrawled symbol: a wingless dragon in the shape of an S with curved spikes growing from its spine. Harry realises he's standing before the rear exit of The Spiny Serpent.
As he breathes out, Harry's shoulders sag. By now, there's no telling where the bleeding wizard is. Nails biting into his palms, Harry begins to turn away when something catches his eye: on the doorknob of The Spiny Serpent lies a fresh smear of rust.
Harry studies his palms. With burgundy residue covering them, they look like he crawled across the surface of Mars—or up an oxidised fire escape. He reaches towards the doorknob, but the throb of strong wards gives warning.
Staring at the fortification of buildings, Harry takes a few steps backwards in thought. His eyes glint when an idea starts to form. Grinning, he removes his Disillusionment Charm, then jogs toward the main thoroughfare of Knockturn Alley.