Chapter 26: The Longest Day

Harry's mind raced as he frantically connected half-formed ideas into some semblance of a plan. Somehow, Umbridge had deduced that he had been part of Justice last year, and that he had been involved in the attack on the brothel. Or was she just guessing? I can't take the chance, the boy realized.

He had exactly one ace up his sleeve. He just had to make sure he played it at the right time, in the right way. And yet, despite the desperate situation he seemed to be in, he was confident that he would prevail. After all, he already had.

"What do you want?" he asked, trying to put a quiver of fear into his voice.

"I want you to suffer for what you have done," Umbridge replied gleefully. "And that is what will happen. Nothing you can do will stop me."

Don't seem too eager. Make them work for it. Harry swallowed deeply. "I wasn't the mastermind behind Justice, or the attack on the brothel," he said fearfully. "But I can tell you who it was. I can show you how to find them. But you have to agree to let me go."

"That's not going to happen," the toad-like woman said, her wide mouth twisting into a malevolent smile. "You'll tell us everything we need to know eventually."

"But it won't be soon enough. They'll know you've captured me, and they'll escape," Harry countered. "If you let me go, you can capture the ones that were really responsible, and you won't have to worry about the public outrage for unjustly punishing the Boy-Who-Lived." He hated the hyphenated name he had been given, but it did have its uses at times.

"Veritas is gone. Trustworthy Aurors are raiding their office right now, along with the office of your compatriots at 'Magical Solutions'," Gibbon responded, a smirk on his face.

While he hoped that she didn't know everything he had been up to, the mention of the company was proof that Umbridge at least knew more about Harry's actions than he would prefer.

"But there are others. People that only I know about. I have a way of communicating with them, that the people you're arresting don't have," Harry claimed. "In exchange for immunity, I will show you how it works. But if you wait until news of my arrest has spread, you'll never find them." Take the bait, take the bait. He didn't care about the immunity, of course; he wouldn't need it. But hopefully the demand would keep them from realizing the trap.

"Get some veritaserum," Umbridge ordered, looking at the Auror guarding the door.

So, it's illegal for me to use veritaserum to prove my innocence, but they can force feed it to me to get information about my associates. Why am I not surprised? Harry tried to think of a way to avoid an interrogation under truth-serum, but to his surprise, it turned out not to be necessary.

The Auror cleared his throat somewhat nervously. "The Auror's office doesn't keep any veritaserum on hand," he admitted. "Department of Mysteries might have some, but…" his voice trailed off.

Harry wasn't sure about the internal politics between the different departments of the Ministry, but if, for some reason, one of the Toad's cronies thought that the Unspeakables wouldn't be willing to help them, that could only be good for him. And it's probably because of people like Malfoy that the DMLE doesn't keep a supply of veritaserum. Ironic how their own attempts to keep the Ministry's law enforcement ineffective would backfire on them.

"The longer you delay, the more likely they are to escape," Harry pointed out, hoping that he sounded like a scared boy attempting to hide his fear.

"You will tell us where they are," the woman demanded angrily.

"Not without a magically backed agreement that I will not be punished for any crimes I may have committed," Harry insisted.

Rage filled the High Inquisitor's features. "I will not make any such deal with you!"

"Then the real criminals will go free," Harry answered. Just a little more…

To his surprise, the anger soon faded from her face, leaving Umbridge looked a little uncertain, though with an unsettling gleam in her eye. "It is essential that these criminals be arrested," she said, half to herself. She swallowed deeply. "As such, I am left with no alternative. Yes, given that this is a clear emergency, I'm sure that Cornelius will understand that certain… measures needed to be taken." She raised her wand, pointing it at Harry. As she did so, her eyes seemed to glow with malicious glee. Whatever reluctance or nervousness she had felt while talking herself into this had disappeared. Now, there was a nasty, excited look on her face. "I'm sure that the Cruciatus Curse will loosen your tongue."

That wasn't part of the plan! Harry searched desperately for some idea of how to escape, but there was no time.

Pain racked his body, and he could hear someone screaming. It was several seconds before Harry realized it was him.

He had no idea how long the spell lasted, but finally, the agony stopped. It took a minute for him to gather his wits. Okay, I think that's enough resistance. They won't suspect anything now. I hope.

"I'll tell you," Harry cried out, his voice choking with sobs. "I'll tell you," he repeated desperately.

"Who are the other people in your conspiracy?" Umbridge demanded. "How do you contact them."

"I don't know all their names," Harry lied. "But you can find them using the communicator. It's in my bag." He paused to take a deep breath, his arms still trembling from the residual pain. "It's made of metal, about the size of your fist. It has a red button on it. Press the button, and a small light will began to flash. The flashes will slowly speed up as it connects to the other communicators, then their faces will appear, even if they're not connected yet." Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he made no effort to compose himself. Though it was humiliating to break down in front of the likes of Malfoy, Harry knew it would only help to convince his enemies that he was telling the truth. "It takes about five seconds."

"If this is some sort of communication device, it may be better to wait until we have a team ready to go after them," Gibbon advised.

"I told you everything I know," Harry pleaded, hoping to distract Umbridge from the corrupt Auror's unfortunately wise suggestion. "It's not my fault if they get away because you waited."

"Bring me his bag," Umbridge snapped. "I want this over with now. We're not giving criminals a chance to get away."

Percy Weasley quickly obeyed, handing Harry's binder over to the despicable woman, though judging by the horrified look on his face as he stared down at Harry, it seemed that the officious boy was beginning to regret his involvement here.

Umbridge struggled with the zipper for a moment, and Harry took the opportunity to glance at the desk where his wand was laying innocently, forgotten by everyone in the room except for him. Finally opening the cloth-covered binder, Umbridge looked at him, her beady eyes fixed on his. "Where is it?"

"In the front compartment, with my books," Harry replied, his voice little more than a whisper and his eyes on the ground once more.

Soon, Umbridge was holding the device. "How do I activate it?" she demanded eagerly.

"Press the red button, then keep holding it until it connects to the other communicators," the dark-haired teen said, still not looking at her. "There's a small light just above the button that will flash as it connects, and will take about five seconds. Just don't let go of it."

Everyone in the room watched closely as Umbridge pressed the button. Everyone except for Harry, of course. He just hoped that no one would realize he had maneuvered himself so that he was looking straight at the ground, with his eyes shut tightly. Despite the residual pain from the cruciatus, Harry's muscles tensed as he readied himself to spring into action. It would have been very convenient if there had been some way to tell when the flashbang would activate, but without looking, that was impossible.

It was just as this thought crossed his mind that a loud explosion filled the room. Harry sprang to his feet, mentally thanking his captors for their overconfidence in not tying him up. With speed born of desperation, he lunged at the desk, a familiar warmth spreading up his arm as he seized his wand.

There was no time to waste. His wand snapped over, and with a cry of 'Stupefy', Gibbon fell to the ground, unconscious. A second later, the other Auror had joined him in oblivion.

Harry's ears were still ringing from the cannon-like blast, but he could hear the screams of pain and fear from the people all around him. It was bad enough even without the blinding effect of the grenade, he could only imagine how bad it must have been for the people who had been staring right at the flashbang when it went off. Still, he didn't have any sympathy for them.

Stunners shot from his wand, and one by one, the members of the Inquisitorial Squad began to fall. But despite his best efforts, Harry wasn't fast enough. One of the larger Slytherin boys lunged at him, magic forgotten as he instead chose to punch the younger boy in the face.

Harry could feel his nose breaking as the meaty fist hit him. He fell to the ground heavily as the world spun around him. Fortunately, he had retained his grip on his wand, and he lashed out with the first spell that came to mind. "Depulso", he shouted, the pain from his nose redoubling as he spoke.

Still, the spell worked, sending the larger Slytherin flying backward head over heels, crashing into two other students before he finally impacted the far wall.

Other students were reacting now, some reaching for their wands, others trying to run for the door. Unfortunately for the latter group, the Auror who had been guarding the exit was in the way, and as Harry stunned a few more of the fleeing squad members, the pile of bodies ensured that there was no possibility of escape.

Finally, it was over, and Harry was the only person in the room still conscious. While he had, in one sense, been victorious, it certainly didn't feel like it. His arms and legs were still shaking from the cruciatus curse, his nose was bleeding heavily, and he had only the vaguest idea of what he should do now.

But at least he wasn't being held captive by Umbridge anymore. Which meant that things were looking up.

Harry raced through the halls, wishing he had had the foresight to keep his invisibility cloak on him at all times. Though he'd done his best to heal himself and clean his clothes, he knew that his efforts had been less than successful. If anyone saw him, there would be no doubt that he had fought his way free. And given that he was injured and tired, it wouldn't take much to subdue him.

Still, his luck held, and he made it back to Gryffindor Tower without being seen by anybody. At least, not by anybody human. Several of the paintings had let out loud exclamations of shock as he raced by, but Harry just couldn't care about that at the moment.

He took the stairs three at a time, racing up to his dormitory as fast as he could. To his surprise, his possessions were already neatly packed, the large trunk sitting innocently at the foot of his bed with his Firebolt right next to it. Of course, I must have… He shook off that thought as he glanced over at his desk, where the sight of a familiar piece of parchment showed that not all of his belongings had been placed in the trunk.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry muttered, and soon the familiar map was visible. It didn't take long to locate Hermione. As expected, she was in Transfiguration. A glance at his watch showed that class wouldn't be getting out for about fifteen minutes, however, and it would be extremely counterproductive to barge in there in front of everyone.

Harry reached into his pocket to retrieve his emergency kit, where he kept his communicator. It might be too late, but he had to try to warn the others. "Connect to Peter," he said after placing the communicator in his ear.

To his surprise, Peter answered almost instantly. "Harry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the teen replied, speaking quickly. "But you need to get out of there. Aurors are going to…"

Peter cut him off. "You warned us about it this morning, so we had plenty of time to evacuate everyone. For now, you need to focus on escaping. We'll talk more later."

In retrospect, it was obvious. Of course, if I took the time to pack my trunk, then naturally I would have also warned my employees. Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to stave off the headache that he knew would be coming from trying to predict the actions of his past/future self.

"Okay, I'll call you later," the Gryffindor said, ending the call with a sigh as he tried to think of his next moves.

It would be best if people think I escaped directly from here. He opened the window as wide as he could, which was easily enough for him to fly out on his broom.

He reached for the devil's trap necklace he had been given by Brian Williams, which held the monitoring charm Dumbledore had placed on him years ago. He'd worked hard to ensure that the data the charm produced was spoofed so that the headmaster would not be able to keep track of the movements Harry would rather keep a secret, but, at the same time, so that he would not realize Harry had disabled the charm. Now, there was no need for such deception. Drawing his arm back, he threw the charm out the window with all his might. If Brian was correct, at such a distance the charm would break, and Dumbledore would be alerted.

A part of Harry wondered idly how the high-handed old man would react. Would he panic that the boy he'd worked so hard to control was now loose in the world, with no chance of Dumbledore finding him? Harry hoped so, though he doubted it would happen. Still, he couldn't worry about that now. He wasn't out of the woods quite yet.

Now I need to get the time-turner from Hermione. He just hoped that she would let him use it willingly.

With no small amount of effort, Harry resisted the urge to fidget as he hovered impatiently outside the Transfiguration classroom. He had stunned everyone in Umbridge's office once more before he left, so hopefully it would be quite some time before the alarm was raised, but he didn't want to rely on luck any more than he had to. Of course, even if people were searching for him this very minute, it was unlikely that they would find him, given that he was sitting on his Firebolt ten feet off the ground with his invisibility cloak wrapped carefully around him. Finally, the door opened, and the students began to exit. Harry was pleased to note that instead of the excitement that had been prevalent that morning, now the students looked worried and upset – Hermione and Neville most of all.

Floating silently above them, he followed them down the hall until they were far enough away from the other students that Harry could whisper without being overheard. His skills on the broom made it easy to drift closely to his friends without being detected.

"Meet me in the classroom where we practice DADA," he said softly. Both of his friends stiffened in shock, but fortunately neither side anything, instead, turning down a side corridor toward the room.

Harry waited until Neville had shut the door before removing the cloak.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling him into a hug, which he gratefully returned.

"You know I didn't…" he began, but she cut him off.

"Oh, Harry, of course you didn't do anything to Parkinson. Everyone knows that," the bushy-haired girl said quickly.

"Yeah, everyone I've talked to knows you're innocent. They're just not sure what they should do. I know a few people were talking about writing to their parents, but mostly it's just been wait and see," Neville reported.

"Well, Umbridge made it clear that she doesn't care about guilt or innocence. She thinks I'm a threat to her and the Ministry, so she'll do whatever it takes to eliminate me. So, I'm leaving. I've got a plan to clear my name, but it will take a few weeks. For now, though, I need to get out of here." He took a deep breath, and turned his attention back to his female friend. "Hermione, can I borrow your time-turner?"

Her hand shot to her chest, a shocked expression on her face. "You… know?" she asked timidly.

Despite the stress he was feeling, not to mention the lingering pain from the Cruciatus Curse, Harry couldn't help but smile. "You were always in Divination with me at the same time you were in Arithmancy with Neville. We figured it out on the first day."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking a little disappointed that her efforts in keeping the secret had been so ineffective. After just a moment, her expression hardened. "You can use it, but I should come with you."

Harry shook his head emphatically. "Right now, there's nothing tying you to this. If you come back in time with me, there's a greater chance that people might figure out what happened." Seeing the mutinous expression on her face, he continued quickly. "You just need to keep your head down and you'll be safe. I'll leave as soon as I can once I've traveled back in time. That'll give me a few hours head start before anyone is looking."

"You can go back up to six hours," Hermione said softly, nodding. She pulled the strange, hourglass-shaped device out of her shirt and placed the chain around Harry's neck. "Just turn the center part over, one turn for each hour."

"Thank you," he said softly as he brought the time-turner up. "I'll leave it in the top drawer on the left hand side of that desk," he said, pointing to the unused article of furniture in the corner.

"Good luck, Harry," Neville said, taking a deep breath.

Harry just nodded, and began to turn the device.

The world seemed to dissolve around him, colors and shapes rushing past as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, until finally, everything came in to focus again. He found himself standing in a deserted corridor not far from the Transfiguration classroom.

As he reappeared, a wave of panic overtook him as he remembered the concern Chad had raised weeks ago that the magic of the invisibility cloak might have some sort of negative interaction with the time-turner. He hadn't thought of that. With a soft curse, he grabbed the cloak and threw it over his arm, letting out a relieved sigh when the limb vanished from sight. There didn't appear to be any problems. Just to be sure, he checked the Marauder's Map and his Firebolt as well, but both items also appeared to be functioning as normal.

He glanced at his watch, then had to laugh at himself as he realized his mistake. Instead, a quick tempus charm showed that it was almost eight o'clock, proving that he had, indeed, come six hours back in time. Quickly donning his invisibility cloak, Harry walked quietly to the abandoned room he had just been in moments ago, or would be in six hours from now, depending on your perspective. After placing the time-turner in the drawer as promised, a deep sigh escaped him as the stress he was feeling seemed to slip away. For the first time since this whole mess had begun, he had time to think things through and figure out his next steps, rather than rushing frantically.

As thoughts began flowing through his mind, he began to compile a list. Call Peter to warn him and have him begin investigating how Umbridge found out about us. Get a flashbang from Chad, then give it to myself. Pack all my stuff so that I'm ready to go. He frowned thoughtfully. He'd attacked himself just after Divination, which meant that it had been at about ten o'clock. That gives me almost two hours. Well, first step is to warn Peter and the others. The longer they have to evacuate, the better.

The communicator was still in his ear from the last time he had used it. "Connect to Peter," he said. This time, there was a definite delay before the older man finally answered the call.

"Hi Harry, what's up?" came the unconcerned greeting.

"This is going to sound crazy, but we have a very big problem. I just came back in time. Somehow, Umbridge knows about us. I don't know exactly what she knows, but you need to evacuate the Veritas and Magical Solutions offices. She might know about more than that, but that's all that she mentioned specifically."

There was a moment of silence. A very loud moment of silence. Finally, Peter spoke. "Okay, we can do that. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Not quite at a hundred percent," Harry said. That's an understatement, given that my hands are still shaking a little bit, though I have no idea whether that's because of the cruciatus or the adrenaline. Still, there was nothing to gain by telling his friend that. "I'll be a little sore for the next few days, but nothing life threatening."

"Do you know how she knows about us?"

"No," Harry replied, frustrated. "She wasn't forthcoming with the details, and I was too busy trying to figure out a way out of there to worry about getting more information."

"It's most likely that either someone was followed, or we've trusted someone we shouldn't have," Peter said after a moment. "I'll talk with Mac. He's likely to have some ideas. In the meantime, what will you do?"

"I think I should stay away until we have some more answers," Harry said slowly. "We still don't know for certain how the trace works, so there is a chance that if I'm nearby while any of you are casting magic, the Ministry could detect it."

"That's a good point," Peter agreed. "The right wards can block that, but we don't have many places that are warded like that. We'll need to evacuate everything, then we can see where they do and don't attack."

"I'll head down to London," Harry decided. "On my Firebolt, it won't take long to fly the distance, and once I'm there, the Ministry won't have a chance of finding me. I've got plenty of muggle money, I'll just be another face in the crowd until we have a better idea of what's going on."

"Do you know when the Ministry will start the raids?"

"Probably sometime around lunch," Harry said uncertainly. "But the sooner you can get out of there, the better."

"Well, that goes without saying," Peter replied with some humor in his voice. "Is there anything else?"

"I'm going to call you around two o'clock, but it will be before I've gone back in time. Don't bother filling me in on what you've learned, just tell me to focus on escaping. I'll call you around three and we can make a plan then."

"Right," Peter replied, sounding a little distracted. Harry could hear noise in the background. Did Peter already tell them to start evacuating?

"Also, I need Chad to send me one of his flashbang grenades," Harry added.

"I'll have him do that right away," Peter promised.

"Then I think that's it. I'll call you this afternoon and we can talk more then."

"Good luck, Harry."

"You too," the teen replied before ending the call.

In many ways, it was the waiting that was the worst, Harry realized as he forced himself to stop pacing and sit down. He'd already completed his preparations, but he couldn't leave Hogwarts until after he had given his past self the flashbang, and he had to ensure that he wasn't seen or that could put Hermione in trouble for helping someone wanted by the Ministry. And given that she was a muggleborn, he was under no delusions that Umbridge would give her any benefit of the doubt. No, if there was even a hint that she had aided him in any way, she would end up in a Ministry holding cell without delay, and possibly Azkaban after that.

Fudge and his people had proven that they were willing to move openly against an international celebrity who was considered a hero by a large percentage of magical Britain's population. Compared to that, the unjust imprisonment of a muggleborn, whom many of even the law-abiding members of society still saw as second-class citizens, would hardly rate a mention. Harry scowled at this thought. It wasn't fair, but that didn't change the fact that that's how it was. But that's not how it's always going to be. He may be facing some setbacks now, but he would find a way to overcome them, and he would expose the crime and corruption that pervaded the Ministry.

Finally, the time arrived, and Harry stood once again, stretching as he walked over to the door, pausing first to don his cloak and double-check that he was fully covered. Finally satisfied, he exited the room and walked quietly down the hall to where he knew his past self would be passing in about five minutes.

It was strange looking at things from this perspective. He knew what he should include in the note because he remembered what he had read the first time through. What would happen if he tried to write something different, something that explained the situation he would be facing in greater detail? Would that cause a paradox? Was there some original version of Harry in a far distant timeline that had decided to be cryptic rather than giving himself a real warning? With a frustrated sigh, he pushed these thoughts away. He just didn't have the time to dwell on such irrelevant questions.

He raised his hand, his wand just barely poking out of the cloth hiding him from view as his past self appeared, walking unconcernedly down the hall, just as Harry had done six hours ago. A stinging hex shot out of his wand, and he watched with some pride at how quickly he reacted and dodged the incoming spell. He wasn't surprised, of course; he knew he would do so. Shaking his head at this confusing train of thought, he quickly retreated back down the corridor. Though his instincts were screaming at him to watch, just to make sure that his past self took the grenade like he was supposed to, he knew it was unnecessary. He knew it would work out okay because it had already happened for him.

Now, Harry needed to look to his future, and he had no more hints from a future self to guide him. He was on his own.

The flight down to London passed without incident, and soon Harry found himself eating a very greasy burger at McDonalds, watching people passing this way and that on the busy streets of England's largest city. It was strange to think after so much that had happened just hours ago, he was sitting here bored out of his mind and looking for some way to pass the time. Fortunately, he wasn't the only teenager out and about, as it seemed that some schools had already let out for the holidays (or a decent number of his fellow teens had simply chosen to skip school that day). He wandered up and down the roads, taking the time to investigate anything that caught his fancy.

He'd been meandering aimlessly for about an hour when he finally stumbled upon a way to fill up a few hours. Purchasing a ticket and some popcorn, he entered the theater and found a seat, and was soon enthralled watching as a group of unfortunate humans tried desperately to escape the dinosaurs at a failed zoo.

It was an amazing movie, with incredible effects, many of which he wondered how they could have been done without magic. But as he left the large, multi-screen theater he noticed something that instantly drove out all thoughts of the movie he had just seen.

There were several men standing around, casting suspicious glances at the large crowd exiting the building. Thankfully, he had used one of his disguising potions when he first arrived in London, so it was unlikely that he had been recognized from such a distance. But if they got a good look and him, his new hair and eye color would not be enough to ensure he remained anonymous. Especially since he had demonstrated the effects of the potion during the trial all those months ago. Crossing his fingers and hoping that he hadn't been spotted yet, Harry turned and tried to nonchalantly slip back inside the building, making his way directly to the bathroom. To his relief, it was empty, giving him enough time to quickly extract his invisibility cloak, then wait patiently at the door until someone else entered, allowing him to sneak out before the door swung shut.

Exiting the building was a bit more difficult, given the larger numbers of people coming and going that he had to avoid, but he managed, and finally he was standing at a spot well out of the path of the moviegoers that still provided a good view of some of the mysterious watchers.

Though there was nothing immediately obvious about their clothes, for some reason, Harry could just tell that they didn't fit in. It wasn't until he examined them more closely that he finally noticed some inconsistencies. One man was wearing sneakers with his dress slacks, while another was wearing both a belt and suspenders. Others had similar oddities. Harry would never consider himself to be as knowledgeable about fashion as, say, Lavender or Parvati, but even he knew that these men's clothing didn't match. They weren't muggles.

With the invisibility cloak, it wasn't difficult to sneak away, but that still left one question. How did they find me?

As soon as he found a deserted alleyway, Harry retrieved his broom and flew to the top of a nearby building, then pulled out his communicator.

Peter answered after the second ring. "Harry, good news, there hasn't been any sign of Auror activity around the land we purchased for our new village, so we should be safe to…"

Harry cut his friend off before he could finish that thought. "I've got some wizards following me. I don't know how they found me, but they did."

There was silence for a moment, then Henry MacArthur's voice growled into the communicator. "Potter, are they following you right now?"

"No, I don't think so," the teen replied. "They were waiting for me when I left the theater, but I don't think they detected me when I slipped out using my cloak."

"Keep moving," Mac instructed him. "But not too fast. And stay under your cloak until we have a better idea of how they found you."

A crack sounded off to Harry's right, and he turned, grateful that he was still wearing his cloak. "Someone just apparated onto the roof," he informed the old Hitwizard in a whisper.

"Can you see them?"

Harry paused, straining his eyes in the direction the noise had come from. "Not sure. I think I might see something, possibly a disillusioned person, but I can't say for certain.

"Get out of there," Mac said quickly. "Just make sure you don't draw any attention to yourself as you leave."

Harry hastened to comply. He couldn't risk getting on the broom yet, that was too difficult to conceal under the cloak. So instead, he stealthily crept away from where he suspected the disillusioned Auror was.

A second crack sounded from just a few yards in front of him.

Harry held his breath, trying not to make a sound, hoping that he wouldn't be noticed as he made a detour around the presumed Auror. Within a minute, he was crouched behind a large mechanical unit. Keeping an eye on the guards, he silently recovered his broom from the pouch and climbed on.

He flew slowly to ensure that the invisibility cloak stayed in place, and that the moving air from his motion didn't reveal his presence. Finally, he was far enough away to ensure that he wouldn't be heard. "Mac, are you still there?"

"I'm here. You get clear?"

Harry found himself nodding, even though Mac obviously couldn't see him. "It was close, but I'm away from them."

"Keep moving, but stay on your broom. Call me as soon as someone else appears," Mac directed. And then there was silence.

"Goodbye to you, too," Harry muttered as he continued to fly slowly east.

The next time, the telltale pop of a wizard apparating in was so soft that Harry almost missed it. It didn't help that the man had appeared down at ground level while Harry was flying thirty feet in the air. But he did hear the sound, and, after a few seconds of carefully watching, he spotted the disillusioned man.

Moving away from the prowler and picking up speed, he called Peter's communicator once again. "Another one found me," he stated softly when Mac answered.

"Almost exactly twenty minutes," the old Hitwizard stated. "Somehow, they have a way of determining exactly where you are every so often."

"How?" Harry asked. "And why send just a few men each time? Wouldn't it be easier for them to send a large group to trap me?"

"It might be that they're hoping to wear you out, make you more vulnerable," Mac theorized. "And as for how, there's several ways. The most common would be blood-based scrying. Any chance they have some of your blood?"

Harry groaned out loud. "Stupid! While I was escaping from Umbridge's office, one of the Inquisitorial Squad goons managed to punch me in the face, breaking my nose. I did my best to fix it using basic healing spells, but I didn't think to get rid of the blood before I left." He was mentally kicking himself for the oversight. Even though he had never heard of scrying, he should have known better than to leave blood behind.

It was clear that Mac agreed it had been an idiotic oversight, but at least the old man realized there was no point in castigating the teen for his lack of caution. "Each time they scry, they use a little more of the blood. Eventually, they'll run out. But I have no idea when."

"So, I just have to keep avoiding them until they stop coming after me?" Harry asked, closing his eyes in despair. It had been a long day already, and he was getting tired.

"Wait one moment," the former Auror gruffly said.

Harry could hear some indistinct conversation in the background, but nothing loud enough for him to make out.

"Connor agrees that none of our wards are likely to do anything to block a blood-based tracking system. We'll try to figure something out, but for now, just keep dodging them."

Harry sighed wearily. "Will do," he said, then ended the call.

Hours passed, and rain had begun to fall. With the sun long since having vanished beneath the horizon, Harry rubbed his arms to get warm, a surprising chill having begun to spread an hour or so ago, an unfortunate turn given his lack of proper cold-weather clothing. His pursuers had begun turning up in even greater numbers, and now, every fifteen to twenty minutes, he had to flee the sudden appearance of nearly two dozen unidentified magicals.

He had never been so grateful for his father's old cloak. Despite the many spells they cast to try to find him, they never succeeded. He wished that he had to opportunity to take the fight to them, but given that he still had the Trace on him, it seemed like a particularly foolish plan. He would if he were desperate, however.

The good news was that his team had found a solution to the problem of the blood-based tracking. Connor had reached out to some of his international contacts and, with some additional assistance from Brian Williams, had found a method to 'scramble' the signal, so that a person inside the wards would not be detected. Unfortunately, it would still be some time before the new protections were ready, which meant that Harry had to continue to evade his pursuers until that time.

He had spoken with Peter and Mac about having the DragonFire soldiers come to assist him, but that would be a last-ditch effort in case all else failed. His best hope lay in the incredible stealth his magnificent cloak gave him, rather than direct combat. Still, it was encouraging to know that a team was standing by, reading to apparate in if he needed.

Shivering once more, Harry decided to abandon his broom and return to ground level, staying near the parts of the city where people still walked here and there, despite the cold and the light rain. Hopefully, his pursuers would be hesitant to come in too close for fear of being discovered by the muggles.

He looked around him, then down at his watch, frowning. It should be getting to that time, he thought. Several minutes passed, and still there was no sign of his pursuers.

Could they have finally run out of blood? He knew it was foolish to get his hopes up, but the possibility was too tantalizing to ignore completely. But, no, he knew that it was not possible. The Ministry would never give up. They would keep hunting him until he was too tired to run, and there was nothing anybody could do to stop it.

He shivered again as another wave of cold rolled over him, this one more intense than any before. He was going to die, he knew that now. The Aurors would capture him and kill him, and everything he worked for would be in vain. Somewhere in the distance, a woman screamed, though Harry couldn't tell what direction the sound had come from.

By now his teeth were chattering, and as he looked around, he could see that he wasn't the only suffering under this unexpected wave of cold. The muggles around him were similarly affected, some of them even having fallen to the ground, crying out, not because of the cold, Harry realized, but out of fear.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Something was very wrong here. Intense cold. Feelings of despair… and hopelessness… Dread filled his thoughts as he realized what that meant.

A dark shape materialized out of the night sky, drifting toward him as it hovered just a few feet off the ground.

A dementor. Before Harry had time to fully process this thought, another appeared, and then another.

Soon, dozens of the foul beasts were swarming toward him, evidently unhindered by the invisibility cloak he wore.

The time for secrecy was over. Unfortunately, the only spell to repell dementors was one that he had never successfully cast, despite having spent literally hundreds of hours working on it. He pulled out his wand, trying to steady his hand as he pointed it at the advancing monstrosities. "Expecto Patronum," he cried, trying to focus on happy thoughts.

A soft white mist filled the darkness momentarily, but it soon faded away.

More dementors had joined the throng, and Harry saw to his horror that some of them had begun to drift toward the helpless muggles as well. "Expecto Patronum," he tried again, but the result was no better than the first time.

Hoping to lure the demonic soul-suckers away from the muggles, he ran down an alley, pressing his back up against the wall when he finally came to a dead end.

Dead end. How fitting. He was going to die here. There was nothing for it. He considered calling for help from Mac or the DragonFire team, but he knew deep down that it was futile. They wouldn't arrive in time.

He could hear a high-pitched laugh from somewhere as the dementors approached. "Expecto Patronum," he called once more, still to no lasting effect.

He grabbed his broom, hoping to fly out of the alley, but as he looked up, he could see another half-dozen dementors hovering in the air above him. He was trapped.

Despair filled his heart. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear a woman pleading. At first, he didn't understand what she was saying, but as the dementors came closer, her words became clearer.

"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything –"

Understanding finally filled him. Dementors forced a person to remember their worst memories. He was amazed to realize that he was hearing his mother's last words.

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

Voldemort. Harry shivered. It looks like he'll finally get his wish today. The Boy-Who-Lived-no-more. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He'd get to see his parents again. It was clear that they had loved him. His mother had died to save him.

The dementors were just a few yards away as this thought passed through his mind. But despite the despair that he was feeling, the memory of his mother fighting to save him awoke something in the dark-haired teen.

She died. She died to save me. She didn't care what happened to her, so long as I lived. It was like a fire, slowly growing, despite the waves of cold hopelessness that threatened to overwhelm him. I'm not going to let her sacrifice be for nothing. I'm not going to just give up. I'm not going to die here!

The fire grew a little hotter, and Harry found himself actually snarling at the approaching demons. I will not give up. I will not just die here. He chanted it mentally over and over like a mantra. I am going to fight on, and nothing is going to stop me. Not dementors, not the Ministry, not Dumbledore, not Voldemort. NO ONE will stop me. I WILL stand triumphant in the end.

The fire was now a raging bonfire, a well of hope and determination that not even the horde of dementors could suppress. And suddenly, he knew that he could cast the spell, as though the missing piece of the puzzle had finally been found.

"Expecto Patronum," he yelled once more, putting every ounce of hope and defiance into it. A mass of silver shot out of his wand, and as he fell to the ground, Harry could see it coalesce, steadily taking form.

Soon, a silvery, four-legged animal stood between him and the dementors, which had all paused as though to reassess their prey. From his perspective, Harry couldn't get a good look at the shape of his new spirit guardian, though the legs and body were muscular, and he could just make out what seemed to be a curved horn coming out of each side of its head.

The ethereal beast stamped angrily at the ground, then lowered its head and charged.

The dementors scattered, and soon Harry was alone, panting heavily in the alley.

I did it. I finally did it. To his embarrassment, he actually started giggling.

But his mirth soon faded as a series of loud cracks sounded at the mouth of the alley, and Harry found half a dozen red-robed Aurors gazing at him with cruel smiles on their faces, wands already pointed at him.

"So, Potter still has his soul. That's a surprise," Gibbon said, his voice dripping with malice. "But I guess that means we get to do things the old-fashioned way."

Before any of the men in front of him could cast a spell, a bolt of purple light flew down from the sky hitting the ground right in the middle of the Aurors.

Harry stared in amazement as a massive explosion erupted from the ground, sending his attackers flying. A tall man with long, brown hair leaped down from a nearby building, somehow landing without injury. Wand held aloft, he charged the corrupt Aurors, spells flying at an astounding rate.

Soon, Harry and his rescuer were the only two in the alley still conscious. In fact, Harry realized, given the kind of spells his unexpected defender had been using, it was entirely possible that they were the only two still alive.

Harry forced himself to his feet, trying to hold the wand steady in front of him. "Thanks for the rescue, but why did you help me?"

"I was following the dementors, hoping to find you," the man said. Then, to Harry's surprise, his face blurred, taking on a more familiar visage.

"Tonks," he exclaimed, relieved, as he fell to his knees in exhaustion.

She rushed forward to catch him. "I got you, Harry. Let's get you somewhere safe."

A/N – Thanks for reading! I hope this chapter made up for the cliffhanger in the last one. And thank you for not hunting me down in real life and lynching me. I know some of you were thinking about it. :)

As for the patronus, I know that many fics like to use the idea that love is the true emotion that powers a patronus, not mere happiness. And while this is a nice sounding idea, I don't think that it fits with what we see in canon. The first time Harry successfully casts a patronus is during the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw match, when he is racing neck to neck with Cho, fully focused on catching the snitch. Despite his slight crush on Cho, there's nothing to make me think that Harry would be thinking about love in that situation. No, I think that, as I showed here, it is the determination to continue on despite adversity, the 'guts' to keep going no matter what that really counts. This contrasts nicely with the oppressive aura of despair the dementors exude, magically compelling people to give up. Happiness is a good motive for people to keep going, but when it comes to the patronus, it's the actual fortitude, the grit, if you will, to persevere come what may that is the essential emotion.

And bonus points to anybody who can guess what animal Harry's patronus is.