Chapter thirteen: by land or sea

The next thing Harry did was write Ron a short reply. He said that the Death Eaters were indeed a threat, and that they would soon be arriving in Iskenduran. He said nothing of the Grail, however, specifying only that they were in search of an item, which they must be kept from at all costs. He also added that he and Hermione would soon be arriving in Iskenduran as well, and to meet them, as they could use his help.

The three of them, it would be just like old times.

After that, Harry and Hermione ate airplane style food in silence. The food was poor, but Harry was hungry and would not have protested a second helping. After that, how tired he was really set in. he was still feeling the after effects of the battle in Venice, let alone his escape from castle Brunwald.

Unconsciously, Harry drifted off. When he woke, Hermione was still across from him, but it was warmer, and he watched the unfamiliar green countryside peel away beneath, moving into the distance to join with a calm ocean.

He shifted, his neck aching from resting at an odd angle, Hermione looked up.

"Good morning, or rather afternoon," she said brightly, looking up from the diary.

"Morning," Harry yawned. "So, that book."

"What about it?'

"Why did we go back for it?" he held up a hand to stop her from answering prematurely, "I know there's more to finding the Grail than following the map, but what specifically."

"Alright," she thumbed through the book, finding a specific entry. "When we reach the Grail's resting place, we must face three challenges, intended to keep the wicked away from the cup's incredible power.

"The first, 'the breath of God,' only the penitent man shall pass. Second, 'the word of God,' only in his word will he proceed. And finally, third, 'the path of God' only in an act of faith shall he prove his worth."

They sat in silence, letting the ominous words sink in. "So what is that supposed to mean?" asked Harry, finally.

Hermione laughed, "I haven't the slightest idea. But I guess we'll find out."

"I hope so," Harry muttered. He looked back out the window. The ground twisted away beneath, it didn't seem quite right. Then he felt the motion as the zeppelin swept about in a wide u-turn.

"Oh no, not already," Hermione protested. The zeppelin was going back to Germany. Vogol must have discovered their escape route. Whether through Slughorn or not, Hermione didn't care. But they couldn't afford to stay.

Harry was already standing in the aisle, "We have to get off," he said, pulling her up. "This is just going to cause a ton of mind-wipes." He rummaged in the luggage compartment over their booth, already gaining questioning looks. These intensified all the more as he produced their newly acquired broomstick; the same that had carried them away from Brunwald castle. Hermione was grateful she had taken the time to remove its locking charm.

Knowing it was best to do this as quickly as possible, Harry pushed open the window, air rushed into the passenger section. Harry climbed to the window ledge, mounted the broom, made sure Hermione was securely behind him, and kicked out into open air.

There was nothing like flying. As flying went, there was nothing like flying by broomstick. Now that the broom was at maximum performance, Harry truly appreciated its feeling of freedom, as the zeppelin retreated into the difference.

Harry was about to ask which direction Turkey was in, sure Hermione would know, when a jet of red light shot past beneath them. Harry looked to its source, dreading what he might see.

He wasn't disappointed. Speeding through the air toward them were two darkly clad men on broomsticks. Vogol had sent a reception.

As the two men gained on them, Harry dodged and weaved, trying to shake them off his tail. He was not successful, and harmful spells got closer and closer every time he dived, dodged, or changed direction.

Harry was a better flyer than either of these men, but he had been through a lot of this sort of thing during the past few days, and he was getting tired. It did nothing to help that his broom bore the weight of two.

They had no chance of out flying the Death Eaters, but outfighting them was a possibility. Harry reminded himself they had dealt with twice this many over a day ago.

"Hermione," he shouted, pulling the length of wood from his waistband. "Take the wand, see what you can do."

Though his words were ripped away by the wind, Hermione got the message. Taking the wand, she retaliated with spells of her own.

Her first jinx went wild. Hermione was a decent duelist: along with becoming an auror, she was a DA alumnus who had fought in the second war, but she still wasn't used to spell work while atop a speeding broom.

More carefully, she tracked one of their persuers as he sped past overhead. Her spell charm would have knocked him out of the air, but the Death Eater managed to block.

The broom jerked beneath them. It twisted to the right, without Harry's urging, and rolled. Both of them would have fallen of, had Harry not kept a death grip on the broom's handle, and Hermione knit her arms tightly around his waist.

Harry cursed, he recognized these symptoms, remembered them from his first year at Hogwarts, his first Quidditch match. Professor Quirril, who had been a vessel for the shattered soul of Voldemort, had jinxed Harry's broom, trying to kill him. The same was happening now, and there was no Severous Snape here to save them.

The broom's movement became more erratic and violent. Both Hermione and their persuers had halted their exchange of spells, the latter to watch what was sure to be an interesting death.

Harry knew their only chance was to get to the ground. He urged the broom downward, against its wishes, and, taking the wand, tapped it, whispering.

"Petrificus Totalus."

The broom was immobilized, and Harry and Hermione fell screaming to the ground below. They landed in a field of sprouting plants, the outskirts of a farm. The ground was soft, but Harry still groaned in pain as he straightened. He saw the black specks above growing ever closer. They couldn't afford to stay put.

Seizing Hermione's hand, he sprinted beside her, as the Death Eaters rushed over the field. As they reached it's end, vaulting a fence into the yard of the farm, the barn behind them burst into flames.

Harry knew that if they stayed on foot they were dead. As the Death Eaters circled back for another run, he spied an aged black car in the driveway of the antique farmhouse. Pulling Hermione behind him, he ran to it.

It took nothing more than a few taps of the wand to unlock the doors and start the engine. Harry pulled out the driveway, and floored the accelerator as the turned onto a deserted road. He swallowed the guilt from stealing the car. Their lives were in danger, and regret wouldn't help him now.

A low mountain range sprang up ahead of them. Harry shifted into a higher gear. He had no idea where their persuers were, and wasn't eager to find out. Ahead, the road disappeared into the mountain face; Harry realized there was a tunnel carved into the rock.

His questions were answered as a jet of energy punched the car's roof, crumpling it inward. He swerved to the left as another spell impacted the tarmac beside them, forming a small crater.

Harry drew a deep breath as they sped into the half-light of the tunnel. He was jolted back into reality, as their rear window imploded, showering them with broken glass. One of the Death Eaters had followed them into the tunnel, in what Harry saw as an amazing show of flying skill. The Death Eater pulled up beside them, but Harry was ready.

"Confringo!"

Flames exploded from Harry's wand. The Death Eater's broom was incinerated instantly, his burning body thrown to the road, where it was left behind.

"Lovely," said Hermoine. Harry had nearly forgotten she was there.

"He was trying to kill us," he protested, trying to justify the man's death.

"It still wasn't right."

"What's right or not doesn't make much of a difference in our line of work."

And then they were out of the tunnel, back under the bright sun. Harry caught a whiff of ocean air, and saw that they were on a sharp rise overlooking a deserted beach. He didn't have long to take in the site.

The ground in front of them exploded upward, at the impact of an expertly placed spell. It tore into the front of the car, destroying the engine, shearing the hood in half. What was left of the car was thrown, spinning, down a twenty-foot drop to the white sand of the beach.

Harry crawled out of the wreckage of the car, coughing, and feeling even guiltier now that it had been totaled. He looked up to see the last Death Eater bearing down on him. He could see the raised wand. That was when he realized his own wand was not in his grasp.

He saw it, lying on the sand fifteen yards away. There was no way he could reach it before the Death Eater cut him down. As he threw himself toward it, the sand where he had been erupted in another explosion. He stumbled, the wand still to far away, as the Death Eater returned for another pass.

Hermione Granger seized the wand from its resting place, and stood, legs apart, facing the approaching Death Eater. She did not hesitate, but leveled it, and shouted two spells in succession.

"Avis! Oppugno!"

A flock of small, powder blue, birds burst from wand's tip. They streamed into the air, surrounding the Death Eater. They tore at his skin with their beaks, ripped his clothes with their claws. He screamed one last time as, engulfed by the flock, he plunged into the ocean.

Hermione turned, and tossed Harry the wand. "I think I see what you mean," she said, sighing.

Harry got to his feet, speechless.

"So, where are we anyway?" she asked.