Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any original plots, ideas, and characters are mine.

AN:

Thanks for the reviews! I only have something to clarify this time, since one of my Q&A of last chapter seems to have confused some. That Santi wants Harry as his lover doesn't mean that Harry will reciprocate. I still haven't decided on the final pairing for this fic –FYI, there's a poll about it in my YahooGroup if you want to put in your two cents.

Nevertheless, for those who just need to know, there is going to be Harry/Tom. When, how, for how long, etc, we'll see. But Harry/Tom will be the central relationship in this fic. If they will end up together in Part II or even till the very end as final pairing, that's another matter.

Oh, and I think someone asked again. Yes, this fic is going to be slash. It won the majority vote, by a staggering amount, in fact. So that's decided and there will be no turning back. I'm sorry to those who will feel disappointed or decide to drop the fic.

I hope this has helped ^^ Enjoy this chappie!


Part I: Chapter 53


"We have to get off as quickly as possible!" said Harry anxiously as he jumped to his feet. "Take only the important stuff!"

Though looking very ill tempered, Tom nodded, and with his heart thundering in his chest, Harry wasted no time as he dragged his trunk out from under the seats, finding his satchel and hastily loading it with his diary, and with the gun and box of bullets he had gotten in Norway.

He glanced at all the rest – his clothes, his textbooks, his rolls of parchment and quills and other supplies- but there was nothing that couldn't be replaced, so he took nothing more.

Tom was doing likewise, though Harry noticed that his brother had many other things he refused to leave behind. Tom was stuffing his schoolbag with his countless pouches of galleons, along with Grindelwald's Durmstrang textbooks, to finally pocket his own journal and hang Tilly Toke's pendant around his neck – to which Harry gave a dirty look, as his brother tucked it under his shirt.

Hearing a high-pitched meow, Harry slammed his trunk shut and swiftly took hold of the basket atop a seat, opening it hurriedly.

"Quick!" he urged frantically, as Ulysses came jumping out of it and into his arms.

In a few moments, he had his Scorcrup safely ensconced under his jersey, leaving Ulysses' head poking out from his collar –so reminiscent of their days in Norway that it made Harry blanch.

Meanwhile, Tom opened the cage of his owl. Lord Horkos let out a shrill, irritated hoot, and batted his enormous black wings as he finally settled on Tom's shoulder with his large, sharp talons.

The wails and shrieks of fear of students reached an unbearable crescendo as the Hogwarts Express's wheels came to a screeching halt, so abruptly that it flung Harry and Tom against one side of their compartment.

"We've arrived!" bit out Tom as he regained his balance and swung the strap of his heavy schoolbag across his chest, as Harry did likewise with his much lighter satchel. "Let's go!"

They soon saw that it was pandemonium in the corridor of their train wagon. All hell seemed to have broken loose, as distressed parents in Platform Four-and-Three-Quarters began yelling and urging their children to run to them, as students in the train began to attempt to get off, many stupidly dragging their trunks and cluttering the corridor, others just rushing as best they could, or even climbing out of their compartment windows and into the awaiting arms of fathers and mothers.

"Leave your possessions behind!" barked the voice of some Auror, sounding irritated as well as frazzled and hurried. "Descend in an orderly fashion!"

Though no one seemed to be paying him much attention as all students shrieked and cried out and tried to climb over each other just to reach the exit of the wagon.

"Move!" snarled Tom as he forcefully pushed others out of his way, and who didn't seem to mind stepping on hands, feet, legs, or even heads.

For once, Harry said nothing as he hurriedly followed his brother through the press of people, having to jump over several trunks obstructing the path.

When they finally stepped out into the Platform, it was mayhem, with panicked parents taking their children away in Side-Along Apparitions, the Aurors helping the mothers or fathers of muggleborns, creating portkeys in the spot, out of buttons or anything else they could instantly get their hands on, while Harry noticed others who seemed to have been fully prepared for the occasion.

Indeed, he caught sight of that barmy old wizard who had tried to beat him and Tom with his walking stick. Maximillian Malfoy looked utterly unruffled, donned in rich wizarding robes with a red bloom of the Egeriana Rose on his lapels, his lips curled contemptuously as he gazed at all the hysteric parents.

Until, that was, the old wizard flung out his cane, and barked, "Abraxas!"

The boy was standing right next to the old wizard, apparently having been one of the few students that had managed to be the first to get off the train. But just then, the boy's roving silvery eyes halted and locked with Harry's, as if Malfoy had been looking for him.

'See you soon' mouthed Abraxas, shooting him a wide smirk as he clutched his grandfather's cane, and then vanished.

It left Harry frowning as he followed his brother through the crowd of frenetic families, those fleeing, or going around searching and shouting names in order to be reunited with their children as swiftly as possible.

"HARRY!" someone cried out, sounding deeply anxious and desperate.

Instantly recognizing the voice, Harry halted and swirled around, his eyes widening when he caught a brief glimpse of the Blacks through the mass of people: looking very calm, Castor Black and wife, with their children, Orion and Lucretia, side by side with Pollux Black who was holding up a porcelain figurine that was being grabbed by Cygnus, Walburga, and Alphard.

But it was Alphard who was staring right at Harry with huge, frantic grey eyes, one hand on portkey, the other stretched out, as if imagining he could make his arm cross the distance and take a hold of Harry to pull him along into the journey.

"Harry!" yelled the boy again in distress, and for a moment looked as if he was about to break free from parents and portkey to reach him, though his older brother Cygnus snarled something and violently grabbed Alphard, just as the figurine blazed blue.

In the next second, all Blacks had disappeared, leaving Harry rooted in place, his mind spinning, because it was obvious to him that the Black men had been prepared, that they had known beforehand, because they were, after all -and he should never forget- Grindelwald's supporters in England.

"What are you doing!"

Harry blinked and found himself staring up at Tom's enraged face, who had apparently noticed that Harry had lagged behind and had turned back to find him.

"Move, you idiot!" spat Tom as he violently pushed him ahead and then grabbed his hand to break into a sprint.

Shoving, and panting, and bowling through the crowd, they finally ran into the wall that led them right into the muggle part of King's Cross Station.

If Harry had thought that the platform of the Hogwarts Express had been in full chaos, it paled in comparison with the rest of the train station. There were muggles everywhere, in a state of outright panic, rushing in all directions, like a disturbed anthill.

And no wonder that, because the very walls of the station were shaking and the floors trembling, with dust and bits falling from the ceiling every time a distant blast of bomb sounded and echoed, and reverberated, shaking the world with each strike, it felt like.

"Alice! Hutchins!" yelled Harry over the cacophony of screams and cries and the sounds of explosions, as he finally gathered back his wits.

After all, in her latest letter, Alice had said that they would be picking them up in Hutchins' motorwagon.

Thus, Harry became the one who led now, as he tugged Tom along and rushed to make his way to the street outside.

When he finally halted in the sidewalk in front of the train station, his green eyes widened in horror at what he saw. Having had a glimpse from the windows of the Hogwarts Express was nothing like being right in the middle of it.

London seemed to be ablaze, the sky illuminated with glows of orange light, as it filled with smoke, as buildings all around were bombarded, as many crumbled, while people in the streets were running like headless chickens, some looking disoriented and shell-shocked, others screaming with arms over their heads as they attempted to find some shelter.

All the noise was nearly deafening, accentuated by the city's sirens that were baying that constant, caterwauling sound.

"Where are they?" spat Tom irately, as he rounded on Harry as though Alice's and Hutchins' tardiness was somehow his fault.

Though at that, Harry glanced at the streets again, frowning, because he saw that there wasn't much traffic to speak of. He saw a couple of motorcars and a double-decker bus that had been left in the middle of the road, though there were some other vehicles that were trying to dodge all the obstacles to pass through and make a hasty escape out of town.

"Give them time!" snapped Harry sharply, as he pointed at the street. "Can't be easy to drive through all that."

Tom glowered at him but remained silent as they both stood closer together under the ledge of the train station's roof, which at least kept debris from falling down on them.

"What's making all that racket!" suddenly hissed out Tom looking vastly irritated, as he turned around with searching, narrowed eyes.

"It's the sirens," muttered Harry with a heavy sigh, rubbing his ringing ears.

"It's something else," snapped Tom angrily. "Like a howling cat-"

"Oh," breathed out Harry as he caught sight of someone.

A girl in Ravenclaw uniform, not very far from them, was standing by the curb of the sidewalk as if she was also waiting for someone. Though she was hugging a lamppost, shrieking and wailing and sobbing at the top of her lungs, looking terrified and in hysterics.

"Oi! Moaning My- er, Myrtle!" Harry quickly amended as he called out and began to run towards her.

He heard his brother furiously hissing something, yet it was then followed by the sound of footfalls rushing after him.

Harry halted before the girl and shook her gently. "Myrtle – what are you doing here?"

The Ravenclaw didn't seem to hear or notice him, she kept wailing and yowling, hugging the lamppost tighter at every sound of blasts and explosions, as though she wished she could climb to its top and thus be safe from it all.

"Myrtle!" yelled Harry, as he grabbed her forcefully and gave her a very rough shake.

For a moment, she paused in her shrieks, blinking owlishly at him through her thick eyeglasses. "I know you." The next second, Myrtle furiously scowled at him as she screeched, "You're Harry Riddle – the boy who promised to be my friend and then ignored me!"

Wholly overlooking that last bit, Harry pressed urgently, "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for my dad!" Myrtle bawled in a shrill voice. "Daddy always comes with his chauffeur to take me home-"

"We cannot stay here!" hissed out Tom, who had merely spared the girl a revolted and disdainful look before he rounded on Harry. He glared at him as he gestured sharply at the train station behind them. "It's the most important station in London, do you think the German airplanes will not target it?"

Knowing his brother had a point, Harry swallowed thickly. Yet then he shook his head and said distressed, "But Alice and Hutchins-"

"Perhaps they are not coming," snapped Tom ill temperedly. "Perhaps they decided to stay put until the air raid is over, you halfwit!"

Harry stared at his brother. Tom could be absolutely right, after all. If the bombings had begun before Alice and Hutchins could leave the orphanage, they could have chosen to wait it out. Harry didn't expect them to risk their lives just to come pick them up. Furthermore, the muggles knew that he and Tom could manage on their own, that they could find some shelter or other and wait until it was all over.

Just then, as if to prove Tom's point, an explosion went off very nearby.

Indeed, both Harry and Tom instinctually ducked for cover as they were pelted by debris, a cloud of dust and smoke engulfing them, making them hack and cough, just as Myrtle let out a terrified wail.

"The Germans are coming!" she shrieked in an earsplitting high-pitch filled with mindless fear, as she hugged the lamppost tighter and then began sobbing and sneezing and howling, "I want to go home! I want to go home!"

As the dust settled and the smoke cleared in billowing puffs that rose to the skies, Harry caught a glimpse of something one block away. A corner of a street, lined with large brown sacks, one on top of the other as if forming a protective wall.

Harry's eyes widened in realization, remembering what the caregiver Magda had explained the last time they had seen her.

"Look, Tom!" said Harry as he pointed in its direction. "I think-" he squinted hard "- it's a tube station. It must be one of those serving as air raid shelters in cases of emergency!"

"Let's go!" Tom didn't waste a single second as he began running towards it, with Lord Horkos flying above his head, though Harry hesitated, glancing back at the Ravenclaw.

"Myrtle," he said urgently, as he grabbed a sleeve of her school robes and tugged. "You have to come with us. It's not safe here-"

"I want to go home!" she screeched back at him, sniffling in between a sob, and then glaring and scowling. "I must wait for Dad!"

"You can use my brother's owl to write to your father once we're somewhere safe," offered Harry with impatience and exasperation. "You can tell him where you are so that he can-"

"No! I have to wait," Myrtle wailed in a moaning, terrified voice, her face white as she clutched and frantically gripped her lamppost. "My dad will come!"

"HARRY!"

Harry's scar blazed with stabbing pain, his eyes watering, as he caught sight of Tom, standing in the middle of the road, far ahead, looking enraged.

"Leave her and come at once, you fool!" bellowed Tom across the distance, with Lord Horkos anxiously fluttering above one of his shoulders.

Harry turned to Myrtle, and bit out flatly, "Fine. Suit yourself then."

He immediately turned heel and rushed towards his brother, but he had barely given two leaps when he heard Myrtle's voice yowling, "Don't leave me! Please don't leave me!"

Harry swirled around and yelled with frustration, "Then come with me!"

Myrtle swallowed thickly, and seemed to be gathering as much courage as she could muster as she slowly disentangled herself from the lamppost. To their misfortune, a deafening blast exploded and reverberated just then, making the girl stop in her tracks, as if paralyzed and unable to move, as she began weeping once more.

Harry heard his brother roaring something or other, Tom's fury evident by the way his scar began to flare and throb even more painfully than before, but he ignored it as he ran back to Myrtle and briskly pulled her up, and he kept pulling and tugging forcefully, taking her along with him as they made a mad dash towards Tom and the tube station.

It wasn't easy, every sound seemed to make Myrtle freeze, and she stumbled and lagged, and made a complete nuisance of herself by wailing and bawling incessantly.

However, Harry was determined, and violently dragged her along, passing by Tom, and snapping irritably given the murderous glare he was shot, "I couldn't bloody well leave her behind!"

Tom didn't appreciate the sentiment and viciously glowered at him, before hastening towards the street corner buttressed with the sacks of sand.

As they approached it, Harry saw that it was indeed a tube station, and they swiftly descended the stairs. He could hear panicked and terrified whispers and voices coming from the underground, though they soon had to halt when they were faced with a locked gate impeding their path.

"Is someone there?" bellowed Harry through the entryway barrier. "Let us in!"

It took a moment before a set of approaching footfalls reached their ears, along with a beam of a flashlight and the sound of jingling keys.

"Who goes there?" demanded a stern, grave voice, before Harry was blinded by the light that was focused on his face.

He heard Tom hissing when the flashlight was turned to him, but at least it gave Harry a chance to glimpse the man standing at the other side of the railings: obviously a muggle, and clearly a policeman, given the man's peaked helmet and black uniform. He had a key chain dangling from his belt, the ring filled with all sorts of keys of every shape and metal, added to a sheathed baton.

"State yer allegiance!" barked the muggle, looking at them very suspiciously as he pointed the beam of his flashlight from one to the other.

Harry gaped at him incredulously at that, before he snapped, highly vexed, "We're British of course! What, did you expect a couple of Germans who had just fallen from the skies, you idiot!"

Bristling, the muggle glared at him, as he spat, "Ye could be. Might be expectin' Jerry to invade us at any mo', mightn't we?" His eyes narrowed to slits and his flashlight roved over them, halting at their school robes. "What's that ye're wearing?" His expression turned puzzled and then darkened, as he spit out, "And what're those?"

Harry understood the man's meaning when Ulysses meowed in pain as the flashlight bore on him, the blinding beam then turning to Lork Horkos who began menacingly batting his enormous black wings from his position at Tom's shoulder.

"Do we look like Nazis to you?" hissed out Tom, his expression so dark, ominous, and stark, that it was frightening. "We're just children, with pets. Let us pass!"

The muggle, clearly the daftest policeman in London, harrumphed under his breath, until he grumbled peevishly, "Had to make sure." He shot them a glower as he stepped closer to the lock of the gate and began perusing his set of keys. "Can't just let anyone in."

Finally, the gates were opened with a squeaking noise, and they wasted no time as they rushed into the underground.

Myrtle's sobs had subsided to sniffles and hiccups and some soft wails now and then, but Harry dropped her hand and paid her no attention as they finally reached the platform of the tube station.

There were countless of people there, huddled against the walls, seated on the dirty floors: families trying to soothe crying children, couples hugging each other, maids in uniform with grocery bags, old women whispering and bemoaning to each other. All of them with terrified expressions on their faces, their gazes more often than not pinned on the ceiling, as the muffled sounds of the bombings above rang and echoed in the dimly lit and cavernous space.

Every blast made the tiled walls and floor tremble, every explosion on the city above made the ceiling shake, dust falling down on them. To such point that Harry's black hair looked as if it was grey with litter, and it all made him very wary.

When the policeman came back from securing the gate, Harry immediately reached him.

"Say," he said in apprehension, as he pointed at one spot on the ceiling, "was that crack there before?"

The muggle looked up briefly, before he scowled at him, and briskly waved a hand dismissively as he bit out, "Haven't the foggiest."

Harry nibbled his bottom lip before he dashed back to Tom, gripping one of his brother's arms tightly as he whispered uneasily, "I don't think we should stay here."

Tom skewered him with a poisonous glare. "This was your idea. And we have no other place to go."

"We should try make it to the orphanage," began Harry firmly, to be instantly interrupted by a snide scoff from his brother.

"The orphanage is the safest place in London," snapped Harry impatiently, scowling at him. He lowered his voice as he added sharply, "Remember the anti-muggle weapon wards that Marchbanks made his Unspeakables and those American wizards cast at Hogwarts after the destruction of Leisure Alley? The Daily Prophet said back then that those wards had also been placed in every wizarding home, including those of muggleborns. We've got to trust that the Ministry didn't forget about our orphanage-"

"Of course I remember," bit out Tom caustically, "and I know all that." He shot him a very withering, dark look. "But how do you propose that we get to the orphanage, you twit! We cannot go outside."

An idea sparking in his mind, Harry searchingly gazed around, until he suddenly grinned. He clutched his brother's arm and instantly pulled him along until they stood before a wall of the station, displaying the map of London's Underground behind a pane of glass.

Sliding a finger across the glass, following one of the colored lines depicted, Harry murmured under his breath, "See this one? Its last station is close to our neighborhood." He cocked his head to a side, thinking fast and hard as he stared at the name and the address implied. "What could it be – four or five streets from our orphanage? Give or take?"

"Yes," said Tom grudgingly, clearly realizing Harry's intentions. He gave him a narrowed-eyed, considering look, before he nodded sharply. "Very well."

Harry beamed at him, feeling mightily relieved and reassured, before he dashed back to the policeman.

The muggle looked vastly annoyed and sour-faced as Harry came to halt before him, asking quickly, "Are the tube trains operating?"

"No," said the policeman crossly. "Had to shut 'em all down when the bombings began. They'll be back and running by 'morrow-"

"Do you have another flashlight?" interrupted Harry in the most innocent tone of voice he could muster.

The muggle frowned at him, before he mutely shook his head.

"I'll be borrowing yours, then," said Harry, instantly swiping it from the man's hand as he turned tail and scampered away as fast as his feet could carry him, leaving the muggle behind –blinking, clearly so startled and incredulous that he was unable to react at first.

Tom was already rushing ahead, and Harry only paused for a second as he reached the encased map of the Underground. Using the butt of the flashlight, he slammed it against the glass pane, which cracked and broke in a second as Harry thrust his hand forward and ripped out the map.

He did it so hastily that it tore, and part of it was left dangling behind, but as he ran, Harry glimpsed briefly at the paper in his hand, seeing that it depicted the part that they would be needing to find their way.

"Vandals! Thieves!" roared the policeman in an outraged voice, apparently jolted out of his stupefaction to then begin chasing after Harry. "Stop 'em! Someone stop 'em!"

"Harry – wait!" cried out a hysterical, wailing voice. "Wait! Where are you going!"

Having forgotten about her, Harry yelled over his shoulder without halting his mad dash towards the tracks, unto which Tom had already jumped down, "Follow us, Myrtle – quick! Run!"

"Ye can't go in there! It's dangerous!"

Harry paid the muggle no mind, since if the tube trains weren't working he had nothing to worry about. The other people huddled against the walls of the platform gasped or stared but didn't move a muscle, so his path was unobstructed as he finally reached the very end and took a big leap from the platform.

His landing was hard and painful, making his feet ache, his knees nearly wobbling from the strain, as he gritted his teeth and regained his balance, but at least he hadn't crashed into the thick, metal tracks themselves.

"HARRY!" shrieked Myrtle's voice, sounding panicked.

Harry spun around and looked up. He could barely see anything but feet on the platform, one set rushing towards the end where he was, the other giving chase.

"Tom, catch!" Harry shouted as he tossed the flashlight to his brother, before he yelled urgently, "Come, Myrtle, jump – I'll catch you!"

"I can't!" came the terrified wail.

"Leave her!" snarled Tom like a wild beast, already using the flashlight to illuminate and dispel some of the darkness creeping deep into the tunnel.

"Jump, Myrtle, now! I won't wait!" roared Harry, as he spread his arms in hopeful preparation and set his feet wide apart to best withstand a heavy impact.

There was a sob of panic and fear, and then a high-pitched shriek as Harry at last saw Myrtle hurtling herself through the air, her bespectacled eyes scrunched shut as she kept screeching in midair. In the last second, Harry thankfully readjusted his position to be able to catch her, and he did.

Though the unexpected force of the weight that slammed into him made him topple over, arms wrapped around the girl as they fell down, with him serving as the cushion - which he hadn't counted on.

Harry let out a gasp of pain as his back hit one of the tracks, feeling as if he might have broken something. It didn't help that Myrtle was desperately clutching at him, at his arms and chest and neck, barely leaving him able to breathe. Not to mention poor Ulysses who had certainly been a bit squashed.

"Geroff!" Harry snapped, shoving her away, even making her bawl and weep in hysterics, but he paid it no mind as he painfully got up to his feet.

His back ached terribly, and he was certainly bruised all over, but at least he didn't seem to have sustained any serious injuries – the satchel strapped across his torso had evidently buffered his fall quite a bit.

He then checked on his Scorcrup immediately, giving him a soothing scratch between the small black ears, and thankfully Ulysses licked him, letting him know all was well.

"Stop!" bellowed the policeman, now not sounding furious but highly troubled and concerned, as he halted at the very end of the platform and stared down at them. "Ye can't go into the tunnels –it ain't safe! Come back up!"

"Get moving!" urged Harry at Myrtle, as he pushed her ahead.

They had barely entered the tunnel, leaving the platform and shouting policeman behind, when Myrtle flopped down on the ground between the tracks, sobbing despondently.

She seemed to be too lost in her own fears to pay any head when Harry began to tug on her, as she kept shrieking over and over, "We should go back - the policeman is right!"

Harry shot his brother a frustrated look. "Help me!"

"I'm not taking care of her," hissed out Tom virulently, shooting him a murderous look. "You shouldn't have brought her with us, to begin with."

"I don't want to go into the tunnels!" Myrtle wailed at the top of her lungs.

"You're free to go back if so you wish," snarled Tom viciously, hatefully glaring at the girl. "If not, keep quiet!"

Myrtle yowled like a wounded animal. "Why are we here? I want to go back! I want my daddy!"

Letting out a deep-suffering sigh, Harry crouched before her, and intoned gently as he grabbed her hands between his own, "Myrtle, this is the only way that we can get to our house. And our house will be warded, it will be safe." He gestured at the platform they had left behind. "We couldn't stay there because, well… we don't think it was that safe."

Sobbing, Myrtle squinted at him through her thick eyeglasses. "The policeman said-"

"Harry."

Harry snapped his head around to look at his brother. Tom looked tense, an expression of concentration and alertness on his face, a gleam of uneasiness in his eyes. It was then when Harry heard it too, a distant cracking sound accompanied by the noise of something beginning to crumble.

"The tube station," said Tom quietly, his gaze pinned on what little they could see of it. "I think – Run!"

Harry didn't think about it twice and did just so, grabbing Myrtle's hand and violently pulling her along and sprinting as he had never run before, because the noises seemed to explode into a cacophony of them, of screams and shrieks and crashing things, and their tunnel was soon filled with clouds of dust and debris and everything seemed to be shaking.

Tom lead the way with the flashlight, with Lord Horkos flying way ahead as if their survival depended on it, with Ulysses hissing in distress under Harry's chin, with Myrtle wailing at the top of her lungs, with all of them choking and sneezing and hacking as the air became so filled with particles of dirt and dust and litter that their eyes prickled and burned and their lungs felt as if they were clogged and smothering.

And then, there was silence, and the darkness of their tunnel, and the grimy ground that had stopped quaking.

Harry coughed and coughed, as the air slowly cleared, as he dropped Myrtle's hand and bend over to clutch his knees, feeling as if his lungs were about to burst out of his mouth.

"It collapsed!" wheezed out Myrtle, bawling and crying in a high-pitch.

Harry glanced backwards, his heart thundering wildly, his chest aching, his hands trembling and his throat constricting so bad that he choked on his own tongue. Because he had seen that crack in the tube station's ceiling, but had only thought of getting Tom out of there as fast as possible.

Because he had realized that there was a remote possibility that a tube station that hadn't been designed to serve as an air raid bunker could cave in, but he hadn't thought about alerting all those people who had been huddled there for protection. He had thought of no one but themselves, and now, given the absolute silence in the distance-

"No," bit out Tom, gazing down at him with a dark expression on his face. "It's not your fault, you fool! And we are not going back in search of survivors. We have our own lives to think of!" He gestured angrily at the ceiling of the tunnel. "If the tube station didn't withstand the bombings of the streets above, the tunnel might not as well. We must make haste!"

Harry swallowed thickly, but jerkily nodded his head, as he then held up the crumbled piece of paper that had been crushed in his hand. "Here."

Tom took the map of the Underground and wasted no time as he lit it with the flashlight, his dark blue eyes roving over it.

"Follow me," he then said sharply, as he began running with flashlight in one hand and map in the other, and Harry was instantly at his heels.


It felt like an eternity but couldn't have been more than two hours, as they rushed through the Underground tunnels with Tom leading the way, with Harry having to halt and sometimes go back for Myrtle to grab her hand and make her run faster, to help her from tripping or just simply giving up and dissolving into a sea of wails and tears and panicked shrieks.

"We would go much faster without her!" Tom had snarled at him at one point, looking so thoroughly fed-up and aggravated that Harry's scar hadn't stopped hurting.

Harry could say nothing to that, because his brother was right but nonetheless he wasn't about to abandon the girl in the middle of some dark tunnel in the bowels of London.

It wasn't easy when they passed by other tube stations, with people clearly preparing themselves to stay overnight, using their clothes to pillow the floor of their platform, all snuggled together in groups.

In those occasions, Tom and Harry had to be very careful, crouching and ducking as they moved forward, pressed under the ledge of the platform so that no one would see a couple of children in the tracks. They didn't want to be halted, after all.

It was then when Harry had to forcefully drag Myrtle along, with hand pressed against her mouth because she seemed unable to stay quiet, always wailing and crying as she was.

They had even encountered an abandoned tube train in one of the tunnels, the conductor clearly having left it behind long ago when the German air raid had begun - begun and never ended.

Not five minutes passed by when the walls and ceiling of the tunnels didn't vibrate, when the ground shook and trembled, when dust and bits of debris rained down on them, as they heard the muffled sounds of explosions coming from the surface, the noise and impact of buildings crumbling.

Myrtle always jumped and shrieked each time, not allowing Harry to even try to not think about what was happening in the city above.

Yet, they had been lucky so far. They had not encountered another train station or tunnel that had collapsed in its entirety, thus they didn't find their way obstructed by anything impassable.

At present, though, they stood before a bifurcation of their last tunnel, the encroaching darkness feeling oppressive, Tom's flashlight nearly having run out of battery, the beam of light now very dim and small.

Myrtle was wailing and hopping from one foot to the other. A flood of rats seemed to have come out of nowhere, and they had found themselves surrounded by the fleeing rodents as they had to halt before the branching tunnel.

Screeching and bawling with disgust, horror, and fear, Myrtle had even tried to climb on Harry, apparently wanting him to give her a piggyback ride for the duration of their journey, to be spared from the rats.

For the sake of their abused eardrums, Harry would have been more than happy to oblige the girl just to get her to shut up, but he felt exhausted, every muscle and joint aching, every bruise on his body throbbing.

Harry himself didn't like rats much, but there was little he could do about it, except urge his brother to make haste.

"So?" muttered Harry quietly with a frazzled, weary sigh. "Which one is it?"

Tom was studying the map of the Underground with an irked expression on his face, looking hesitant as he now and then glanced at the two tunnels before them.

"It's missing a bit," Tom bit out churlishly, pointedly waving the torn map. "The last bit." He shot Harry a vexed glance, as he then gestured at the bifurcation. "I don't know which one we should take."

Harry gazed at him pensively, before he said slowly, "Remember what Old John Bryce used to say?" He glanced around at the floods of fleeing rodents. " 'When in doubt, always follow the rats, they're smarter than people'."

"He referred to the trenches," pointed out Tom acerbically.

"Same applies here, I dare say!" snapped Harry gruffly.

Tom shot him a long, considering look. "True." He sneered snidely as he added venomously, "The critters are certainly cleverer than muggles, and have good survival instincts. We'll follow them, then."

"What?" shrieked Myrtle in a shrill, high-pitch.

The last stretch of tunnel became an arduous, taxing ordeal, Myrtle's cries and bawls at any rat that came too close becoming unbearable. Only Tom looked completely unruffled as they made their way through the tunnel chosen as an exit by the rodents.

It could have something to do with the fact that Lord Horkos was taking full advantage of the situation, having a jolly good time in hunting rats, swooping down and picking them up with his beak, to then tear apart with his large talons to finally gobble them down. The bloody owl was having a feast of it.

Tom, not looking at all fazed by any of it, watched his owl hunting rats with a gleam of indulgent approval and appreciation in his eyes and an air of magnanimously allowing his pet a special treat.

Regardless, after following the end of the rats' chosen tunnel, they soon reached the last station of the line. The people having taken shelter there gawked and stared when three weirdly dressed children, with even weirder pets, climbed out of the tracks, covered in grime and dust.

Well, Tom climbed out first, being taller and thus the matter being less strenuous for him, and then helping Harry out, because he certainly didn't lift a finger to aid Myrtle. That, as always, was left to Harry.

There was no policeman in that tube station, no closed gates either, and no muggles halted them or even seemed to care when they finally ran towards the exit stairs.

As soon as Harry stepped unto the streets, he glanced around in puzzlement. He felt utterly disoriented, nothing looking familiar to him.

The streets were completely deserted now, not even cockroaches seemed to dare to come out of their hiding places. He saw many buildings on fire that no one was putting out, and many houses that had their windows boarded up, with no lights glowing from within.

Apparently, those who had basements, were in it, and it seemed the government must have issued a Blackout by radio, since even the lampposts on the streets were not lit - clearly with the intention of making matters harder for the airplanes that Harry saw zooming in the skies.

Though he had a hard task in guessing if they were all of the Luftwaffe. Clouds of smoke had turned everything foggy and grey, and at times Harry couldn't tell if there were airplanes of the British Royal Air Force trying to battle the Germans away from the London sky, or not.

In fact, Harry couldn't even tell if it was nightfall. Everything certainly seemed to be dark, still, and silent, except for the occasional distant sound of some bomb being dropped somewhere in London and the glow of fires in the horizon.

"Where do you reckon we are?" mumbled Harry, feeling a frisson of distress as he kept shooting his surroundings apprehensive looks.

"About three or four blocks from our neighborhood," stated Tom quietly, sounding very sure of himself.

Harry's eyebrows shot upwards. "Really?" He then beamed at him, feeling profoundly joyful. "Then Old John was right about the rats, wasn't he?"

Tom grunted noncommittally, but Harry was soon grasping his hand, and Myrtle's –in her case more forcefully- to then rush forwards with a spring of happiness in his bounds and leaps.

"Come, Tom," said Harry excitedly. "I can't wait to see Alice and Hutchins! Show the way!"

When they finally reached their neighborhood, Harry released a mighty exhalation of sheer relief.

It didn't look as if it had been targeted by the Germans, and as they approached the orphanage, he saw it glowing with that lattice that looked as if made of cords of fire. Like what he always saw in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade after Gravius Marchbanks' Unspeakables had cast and woven the newly invented magical ward that repelled bombs, and supposedly all other kinds of muggle weaponry.

To his surprise, he could even see the ward they had known that Dumbledore had cast on their orphanage. Not so dim and transparent as once before, when Harry had barely been able to get a glimpse of its runes from time to time. Now, it glowed beautifully, white and strong, under the newer set of wards.

"My ability has grown stronger," mumbled Harry under his breath in awe and wonder.

Tom shot him a narrowed-eyed glance. "Said something?"

"It has Marchbanks' wards," Harry instantly informed him with a wide, satisfied grin.

Tom stared at him, before he nodded his head, though his expression was sour as he bit out snidely, "Good. At least it can offer us protection."

Ignoring his brother's stark mood, Harry began to hastily and enthusiastically approach the gates of the orphanage. He saw no light glowing through the curtains of the windows, but then again, Mrs. Cole and Alice and Hutchins and all the children had to be in the basement, as they always did when the sirens blared. And for even more reason now that it had not been a false alarm.

"What's that?"

Harry whipped around, thinking Myrtle was asking something regarding him, but he saw her instead staring at Tom's chest.

He realized what had happened in the next second, as he saw that Tilly Toke's pendant had at some point popped out of Tom's shirt. Myrtle was staring at the symbol inscribed in it with a curious expression on her face – the Dark Lord's mark, to those who knew about it. The Peverell coat of arms to Harry, who knew the truth, as puzzling and nonsensical as it was.

"None of your business," sneered Tom acidly as he swiftly tucked the pendant back under his clothes, glaring poisonously at her.

The Ravenclaw's expression soured, looking about to shriek or wail at the rough treatment, but then she sniffed and turned around to stare at their home, a frown and then a look of distaste on her face, surely due to its shabbiness.

"Saint Jerome's Orphanage," Myrtle then read aloud, staring at the wrought-iron sign in the gates. The unpleasant expression on her face vanished, as she owlishly peered and blinked at them through her thick spectacles, a look of utter surprise transforming into relishing, gossipy curiosity on her plain face. "You're orphans?"

"If you ever say a word about anything you've seen or heard," hissed out Tom in a very low, vicious tone of voice, his face darkening with menace, as he took a step closer to her, looming, "I'll make sure you rue the day your mother begot you-"

"He means to kill me!" shrieked Myrtle instantly, her bespectacled eyes growing wide as she then let out an earsplitting wail.

Harry winced at the sound, his ears ringing painfully, no matter how he thought he should have gotten used to it by then. He shot Tom a dirty look, filled with vexed scolding, before he gave a deep sigh.

He finally approached the bawling girl, soothingly patting her on the back. "There, there… It was just a joke. My brother has a bit of a twisted sense of humor –always saying such nonsense!" He let out a fake bout of chuckles. "But he is harmless. See?"

Demonstratively, Harry brought up a hand and patted Tom's cheek, and then found himself grinning and enjoying the situation as Tom shot him a withering, murderous look that could have curdled milk.

"He's nasty and mean!" yowled Myrtle at the top of her lungs, shooting Tom evil-eyed looks. "I don't like him!"

"Yeah, well," said Harry in a martyrized tone of voice, "try being his brother."

Sniffling, Myrtle stared at him, and then finally went quiet as she gazed at him pityingly, though there was a spark in her eyes that revealed that she quite enjoyed having him on her side, and foremost, learning such juicy bits of information.

"Enough!" snarled Tom, looking very ill-tempered, glaring from one to the other and apparently not at all pleased with the two of them ganging up on him. "Move!"

Harry was shoved forward so briskly that he nearly tripped over the stairs, but then he was jumping and leaping, taking two steps at a time, before he joyfully pounded on the door.

"It's Harry and Tom!" he declared happily as he kept pounding. "Let us in!"

It took a while, as he kept repeating and shouting, before the door was opened a crack, a sliver of Kathy Cole's face peeking out. The woman's eyes grew wide with sheer relief at the sight of them as she then parted the door wide open.

"Oh thank the Lord!" Mrs. Cole breathed out as she hurried them into the house, looking thoroughly frazzled and disheveled. "I was so worried!" She paused as her gaze fell on Myrtle, blinking. "Who's this?"

"A friend from boarding school," said Harry coolly as he crouched down on the floor to let Ulysses spring out from his clothes, the Scorcrup looking mightily relieved to be on solid grounds that didn't shake, for a change. "She'll only be staying until her father comes to fetch her."

"Oh," muttered Mrs. Cole still looking a bit nonplussed, "that's alright, I suppose." She shook her head, as she then urged pressingly, herding them towards the stairs at the end of the hallway, "Hurry, we're all staying in the basement for the time being."

Harry happily went along, dying to see everyone after what felt like ages, and specially prepared to do some tight hugging and giving his heart-felt, jubilant congratulations for the upcoming wedding.

"Alice! Mr. Hutchins! Be quick with the boys' trunks, will you?" hollered Mrs. Cole over her shoulder as she moved them along.

Harry froze on his tracks at that, so abruptly that Mrs. Cole, who had been hurrying behind him, nearly tripped over him.

"What?" croaked Harry, all color draining from his face as he stared up at her. "What did you say?"

"Move along, boy!" snapped Mrs. Cole impatiently. "It's not safe here-"

"What did you say!" roared Harry at the top of his lungs, feeling as if he was about to be sick, as he noticed that Kathy had not closed the front door, as if expecting more people to come inside, as if…

Harry instantly grasped the woman's apron with trembling fists, shaking her roughly, dreading the worst as he yelled in full panic, "WHERE ARE THEY?"

Mrs. Cole, looking utterly startled at his outburst, blinked at him. "Where are who?"

"Alice and Hutchins!" shouted Harry desperately, so frantic, so unbearably anxious that he suddenly felt he couldn't breathe, his breathing becoming laborious, ragged pants.

"What do you mean, Harry? They are with you," Mrs. Cole said flatly, before she glanced back towards the opened front door, before she seemed to realize what was amiss. She instantly whipped around to stare at him, as the realization dawned on her, her face so pale that she looked about to faint, as she whispered tremulously, "You came on your own."

"Yes!" bit out Harry, giving her another violent, demanding shake. "So where are they?"

"They left," mumbled Kathy Cole weakly, her face turning alarmingly white. "I told them to wait – the sirens were blaring, we heard the first bombings- but they would not hear a word about it. They were worried. They didn't want you waiting for them in King's Cross Station. They took the motorwagon and…"

The woman abruptly swayed where she stood, but Harry took no notice.

Like a flash, he was out the front door before anyone had the chance to react, with the beating of his heart thundering in his ears, the rush in his blood pulsing as if about to burst.

Distantly, he heard Myrtle shrieking and wailing, he heard Tom's furious yells, and then two sets of footfalls giving chase after him, but he didn't stop.

It all seemed to blur, the streets and houses, as Harry hurtled forwards, because he knew the route Hutchins always took to reach King's Cross Station. He knew it by heart, so he would find them and they would all be well.

And then, suddenly, as he took a turn around a corner, he distinctly saw it: Hutchins' motorwagon at the left side of the road, right beside a building that had been clearly bombed, as crumbled and in ruins as it was. But one chunk had fallen down on the motorwagon, Harry saw clearly as he reached it – had smashed into it, leaving the vehicle's roof horribly indented and crushed, as if a Giant had stepped on it.

He saw metal chunks twisted, the driver's door so deformed by the impact that the whole vehicle was barely recognizable as such. But then, Harry halted, right by his side: Robert Hutchins was laying on the motorwagon's hood, half the man's body having gone through the windshield. The lacerations and cuts on the muggle's body were countless, the face so badly wounded that the features looked distorted, but none of the injuries were bleeding anymore.

Feeling as though he was in some foggy, slow-motion nightmare, with his breath hitching in his throat, Harry checked for a pulse with shaking fingers. There was none, as much as he frenziedly left the man's neck to check on one wrist. Still nothing, not even a faint fluttering.

"He's dead," he heard Tom's voice stating coldly, as it seemed that his brother had finally caught up with him. Vaguely, he realized that Myrtle was also there, panting hard, recovering her breath to then suddenly fall silent.

Harry swallowed thickly, as though he had a tennis ball stuck in his throat that refused to go down. He shook his head, and finally sucked one of his fingers to then pose it under Robert Hutchins' mangled nose. Not the slightest hint of air caressed the moist on his finger, and Harry dropped his hand.

"Who are they?" wailed Myrtle, sounding both horrified and terrified. "I don't like dead people!"

"Don't you ever remain quiet, you stupid girl!" hissed out Tom virulently, though Harry paid no mind as he rushed around the motorwagon to its other side.

His green eyes went wide with hope, with relief, and then dismay. Alice was still alive, but in an awful state, her head forced to look out her glassless window, her face gaunt and pale, her lips drenched with blood, her eyes opened but foggy and dazed, barely conscious. She looked to be unnaturally bent, crushed by the roof of the motorwagon and the chunk that had fallen on it, one of her arms dangling from the window, bleeding profusely. But it was still bleeding!

"Alice!" croaked Harry as he desperately tried to worm his arms through the window to find a way to pull her out.

But it was impossible, the vehicle was so bent and crushed that she was pinned in it. Worst of all, it was then when he noticed that a twist of metal had speared one side of her waist. There was so much blood inside the motorwagon, soaking her seat and her dress, that it was a miracle that she was still breathing.

In the next second, Harry could have slapped a hand on his forehead at his stupidity. There was a way! He instantly whipped out his wand from his robes' pocket-

And it was immediately snatched away violently, as Tom towered over him, snarling furiously, "Don't even think about it! The Trace, you idiot – you cannot do magic! I'm not letting you get expelled for this foolishness-"

"I CAN SAVE HER!" roared Harry at the top of his lungs, such rage encompassing him as he had never felt before, as he flew at his brother and clawed and kicked and grappled for his wand like a wild cat. "Give it back!"

Harry didn't know how his brother managed it, but abruptly, he found himself in a lock, trapped by Tom's arms, a hand brusquely forcing his face towards Alice. "Look at her, you halfwit! Her spine is obviously broken, she's suffering internal injuries, and we took over two hours to reach the orphanage – she's been slowly bleeding to death during that time. It's too late – even with magic, she cannot be saved, you imbecile!"

Harry stared at Alice, and abruptly felt himself go limp, making Tom grunt with the effort of sustaining him on his feet, because his brother was right.

He was way in over his head: all the Healing he had been studying, more dedicated than ever after Norway, wasn't enough. He didn't know how to repair a severed spine, and he couldn't work on her without first taking her out of the vehicle. Even if he used Levitation Charms to lift the chunk off the motorwagon and then slowly pry the vehicle apart to get her out, any misstep, anything that jolted her in a wrong way, could worsen her condition even more.

Suddenly, there was a gurgling noise, and Harry surged to his feet and violently tore away from Tom to reach Alice.

She was staring at him, her eyes wide and coherent, apparently unable to move except for her lips, a splat of blood dribbling down her mouth as she tried to speak.

"…Ro… Ro…" she gurgled out painstakingly, her face paling even further with the effort, but there was a light of desperation and anxiety in her eyes as she kept staring at him.

"Robert?" choked out Harry, as he immediately grasped her hand from the arm that was dangling out the window. He didn't know if she could feel his touch, but he rubbed her hand reassuringly nonetheless. "He's…"

Harry paused when his throat tightened and his eyes began to burn, but then he shook his head, forcing himself to display nothing but a warm smile on his face, as he kept slowly caressing her hand and whispered gently, "Hutchins is fine. My friend over there-" he vaguely gestured with his free hand in Myrtle's direction at the other side of the motorwagon, who was still fearfully wailing and moaning to herself "- is helping him get out the motorwagon."

He gave Alice a beaming smile, feeling such strain in his facial muscles that it felt as though it was about to split apart. "He has a mild concussion and we're taking him to a hospital. He'll be alright." He jerkily clutched her hand tighter, as he added cheerfully, "And you'll be alright too, Alice."

Alice's bruised face seemed to thoroughly relax with profound relief, her eyes sparkling with gratefulness and joy at hearing about Hutchins' wellbeing, her features turning beautiful as they slacked with peacefulness, as she let out a soft exhalation of breath, as her eyes turned dull and her pupils distended, as Harry found himself holding a limp hand that began to turn cold, staring into eyes that had turned lifeless, and somehow, he kept gazing at her in incomprehension and then numbness, and then such a devastating pit of shattering, overpowering emotions that he couldn't move.

"Let's get going," snapped Tom's voice impatiently, as hands roughly shook and pushed at Harry. "It's not safe to be on the streets. We must get back. Harry! Harry!"


There was a sound of hushed voices, of Alice's and Hutchins' names being whispered followed by tears, of children weeping, of adults chokingly giving reassurances, of a radio choppily giving its broadcasts, of muffled, thundering explosions, of walls slightly shaking and ground quivering, of the rustle of pillows and bed sheets, and the silence of a night spent in distress, and fear, and grief.

Harry woke as if from a foggy, drawn out dream, finding his head resting on Tom's lap, his brother's fingers entangled in his hair, yet not giving comforting caresses. His brother's fingers were just there, as if to make sure Harry was staying put, secured down by Tom's grasp on his disorderly black locks of hair.

A lick on his chin made Harry aware that he had Ulysses snuggled on his chest, now purring soothingly at him, licking and nuzzling his small furred muzzle into Harry's neck.

A girl noticed his resurface into consciousness, her plain, bespectacled face looming over him as she intoned with relish, as one who reveled in dissension and strife, "Tom knocked you out!" Myrtle tittered sharply. "And then he carried you back! Not very gallantly, at that. He carried you like a sack of potatoes!"

His brother was now gazing down at him with a frown on his face, yet without removing his fingers from Harry's hair, but the grip tightening, as if expecting Harry to attempt to bolt.

Tom looked utterly disheveled and ruffled, with blood-shot eyes and tousled hair and rumpled school robes, as if having spent a whole night awake - in the basement, Harry realized distantly. They were all in their orphanage's basement.

With a fleeting glance, he saw his friends, Amy Benson, Eric Whalley and Billy Stubbs, all huddled together on a set of improvised cots, like all the rest of the many children there – ashen-faced and with eyes puffy from crying.

"Have you ceased your histrionics?" Tom demanded crisply, a look of dark irritation on his face as he stared down at him with narrowed eyes.

"He wouldn't let me borrow his owl!" snapped Myrtle crossly, shooting Tom a nasty look, before she pinned Harry with an accusing glint in her bespectacled gaze. "You said I could write to my father once I was here-"

"And you did," bit out Tom acidly, his dark look turning ominous, though he then lowered his voice to not be overheard, sounding like grinding stones, "I gave you paper and pencil, you insufferable girl. And went outside to send my owl with your letter, just to get you to stop pestering me-"

"Then why isn't my dad here!" shrieked Myrtle with a high-pitched, anxious wail. "It's morning – he should already be here!"

"Tom, for Heaven's sake, will you comfort your friend!" yelled the caregiver Magda from the other end of the basement, looking thoroughly aggravated. "She hasn't let anyone of us get a wink of sleep with her lamentations. If you would just-"

"She is not my friend and I've done enough," sneered Tom virulently, turning his head away, to then stare down at Harry once more, with furred brows, which turned into a glower. "Are you going to-"

"Harry," said a hesitant voice, and Harry saw Kathy Cole coming up to them, with the blaring radio stuck under an arm, her face strained and pale.

"What news?" demanded Tom sharply, narrowing his eyes at her.

Mrs. Cole gave him a surly look, before replying crisply, "They are saying all sorts of things. I cannot make head or tails of any of it."

She huffed irritably, before her expression softened as she eyed Harry.

With some effort, it seemed, she crouched down on the floor before him, clumsily taking something out from a pocket of her apron, to then push it into Harry's hands.

"I went upstairs to get this for you," Kathy Cole whispered in a quiet yet wavering voice, her eyes moistening. She blinked repeatedly, forcefully dispelling any tears, as she carried on in a firmer tone, "Alice would have wanted you to have it. It was her most treasured possession. It belonged to her mother."

Harry curled his fingers around the silver sewing thimble, and said nothing.

Mrs. Cole gazed at him with a hint of concern in her eyes, before she let out a deep sigh and rose to her feet, wobbling her way back to some other children, taking radio along.


Somehow, he seemed to be weaving in and out of sleep, as when Harry woke again, it was to the sounds of great hurried agitation.

"Magda, Karen, you know the routine!" Mrs. Cole was hollering at the top of her lungs, amidst children coming and going to and fro the basement, carrying their belongings in preparation. "Only pack the bare essentials – and mostly, sacks and cans of food!"

This time, Harry found that he was resting on a pillow on the floor instead than on his brother's lap, with the ever faithful Ulysses nestled under his chin, meowing softly up at him.

With a searching gaze, he found Tom standing before Kathy Cole, in what seemed like a battle of wills, of sour or disdainful expressions, of stubbornness or relentlessness.

"For the last time, Tom," snapped Kathy Cole acerbically, "you cannot stay here! You heard the radio – children are being evacuated to Canada this time. There's not a spot in England that's safe anymore." She gestured apprehensively with her hands. "With the Germans bombings us every day and night in what they're now calling-"

"The Blitz," said Tom coolly, before his eyes narrowed to seething slits. "Harry and I cannot go to Canada, you daft woman! I've already explained-"

"Oh yes," interrupted Mrs. Cole with dripping sarcasm, "that your school term has been moved up and is now starting in a few days. Show me proof." She glowered at him. "You're up to no good, as always. I might not know what, but I'm sure of it. And this time, I cannot allow it." She lifted her chin up in a display of firm determination. "Your twin is not faring well, Tom. If you insist on remaining, be it on your head, but I'm taking Harry with me!"

"Just try," sneered Tom venomously, his voice low and quiet, as Harry's scar suddenly blazed in pain. "I'm more than capable of taking care of him. He's staying with me." He menacingly took a step closer to her, his voice lowering to a mere hissed out whisper, "Attempt to take him away, and just see what will happen to you."

Instantly, Kathy Cole paled and stiffened, one of her hands shooting up to rub her throat as if in remembrance, with a volition of its own. She seemed to notice it, blanching as she dropped her hand.

"I've always known," she muttered sharply, her eyes flashing, "that there's something very wrong and unnatural about you, boy. And I'll be glad to see the back of you. But in this matter, at least, I think I should let Harry decide for himself."

She swirled around, her apron flapping and billowing with the brisk motion, as she then reached Harry's corner of the basement.

With hands on hips, Mrs. Cole pinned him with a stern gaze, and snapped, "We're being evacuated to Canada. I've been informed that the ship is leaving today. Are you coming with us or staying with your brother?"

Harry could feel Tom's gaze piercingly boring into his skull. He gazed up at the woman, slowly trailing his fingers through Ulysses' soft fur, as he then finally mumbled quietly, "I stay."

Mrs. Cole's nostrils flared, giving him a most disappointed and angered look before she rounded on Tom.

"So be it," she bit out disgruntled, glowering at Tom. "We're being fetched in half an hour. I haven't got the time to argue further with you!" She shot Harry a curt look, as she added, "You have until then to change your mind. And I hope, for your sake, that you will."

She flounced around, stomping away as she grumbled under her breath, "Thank goodness that wailing girl is gone, at least! Most ungracious ingrates as her parents I never saw – after we harbored her amongst us and offered her shelter and…"

"We wait," whispered Tom sharply as he sat down by Harry's pillow. "When they're gone, we can freely make use of the house."

Harry merely nodded vacantly.


"We want to say our good-byes!" several voices seemed to be speaking at once, indignant, angered, fretful, or teary. "We've got a right – we're his friends and who knows when we're coming back from Canada!"

"I'm not waking him up," hissed out Tom's voice viciously. "Go away or you'll miss your silly boat."

Eric Whalley's voice rose above the others, furiously, "Then promise to tell him-"

"I will," bit out Tom irritably.

"Right. Sure you will."

Feet stomped angrily away, until it was only a girl's voice that was left, Amy Benson's, sounding strained and teary, rustling something, "Mrs. Cole said to give you this. It's only some cans of food she said she could spare. I… tell Harry I'll miss him. And tell him I'm sorry about Alice and-"

"Of course," intoned Tom dryly, "we all are. Such a tragedy."

"Yes," murmured Amy Benson, sniffling. "Tell him to take care – and you too, I suppose."

A sound of feet nervously skittering away, and there was finally blissful silence, only Ulysses' soft purrs puffing against the hollow of Harry's neck.

"They're gone," said Tom's voice mordantly. "You can stop pretending you're asleep."

Yet Harry didn't. He tightly hugged Ulysses to his chest, rolled to a side on the floor, and closed his eyes.