Web of Illusions: Chapter 4
A Day at the Ruckus
By Davita
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associates belong to JK Rowling. I own the plotline, the writing, and various unimportant original characters.
Author's Note: Thanks to rayvern for pointing out the errors in grammar/diction in the last chapter. An updated version, hopefully error-free, has been posted. I try to proofread my work before I post it, but unfortunately I don't always catch every mistake.
Hope you like!
Afternoon was always the busiest time on the circus grounds, and Wednesday was no exception. Harry was fully occupied passing out programs to incoming members of the audience, pausing only to guide lost customers to their seats. His break came as the show began, and Harry gratefully sank into the nearest available chair, a hideous lime-green concoction that was generally hidden backstage. He wondered for a minute whether he had enough energy to tote it back where it belonged, before deciding that his feet had already suffered enough abuse for one day and that for their sake he had better stay put.
Pulling at his glasses, Harry rubbed his eyes absently for what felt like the hundredth time that day. They were probably all red and swollen by now, Harry thought with a sigh. His first idea when he had woken up in the morning seeing dull brown halos surrounding everyone in his line of vision was that it was time for a new prescription. After all, the last time he had been outfitted with new glasses was a few years ago—it made sense that his sight would have altered in the interim. But now, thinking back on the Snake's kiss, he wasn't so sure. When he had opened his eyes after receiving the serpent's alleged gift, nothing had changed, and Harry had dismissed it as an empty gesture, merely an accessory to the mystery and drama that the Snake so loved to accompany its presence. But of course, he hadn't seen anyone at the time; it had been too late to socialize, and he had promptly put out the light and gone to sleep. It hadn't been until morning that he had been confronted with this new aspect to his vision.
Still, what could be the point of this so-called gift? So he saw people a little brown—what of it? It was hardly helping him to find his magic or even to make up a trick or two to show off to a crowd. In fact, it looked sort of ugly—kind of like overnight all the people in the world had been dunked in a cup of coffee, without cream, and were now left stained from the pigment. Well, not quite, but that was the color at least. Some gift. I don't suppose I could return it and ask for a bike in exchange…
Tired of trying to rationalize the Snake's present with no results, Harry stood up and strode through the small flap that led into the Big Top. At least there he could be of some use, and it might help take his mind off things. "Things" being the fact that he had only one day left to figure out how to convince Mr. Varekai to give him a job, and he was still no closer to solving the problem than he had been on day one.
Creeping around Mr. Daniels, the Backstage Coordinator, Harry peeked around the curtains. Having been with the circus only a few days, it still awed him to see thousands of faces in the audience all staring with round eyes and open mouths at the stage. Needless to say, he had never seen anything like it in the duration of his stay at the Dursley's.
But today, only halfway through his ritual of surveying the audience, calculating its size and its interest in the performance that unfolded in the arena, Harry's attention was caught by one man in the back row and his surrounding brood of children. For a moment, Harry couldn't figure out what had drawn his eyes to that particular corner of the tent…there was something different about them, they stood out, almost as though they were brighter than everyone else in the dimly-lit circus tent… It had to do with the brownish auras. Theirs was lighter, and far more obvious—if everyone else's was like coffee, then theirs must have been the cream. It must have something to do with magic, Harry thought. That was the only thing that could connect the Snake's gift to this odd new ability. Maybe they deal with magic too. Intrigued, Harry crept quietly out of the tent, forgetting entirely his intention of helping out, and stationed himself on a platform outside where he would be sure to have a good view of the individuals in the audience as they swarmed outside after the show.
Sure enough, his perch afforded him a clear view of the heads bobbing up and down as the audience exited. However, it turned out to be unnecessary; his family was if anything more conspicuous outside than in. It wasn't the auras, although they still shone with a brightness all their own; rather, it was the field of red hair that made the family stand out. As they passed by Harry's station, he heard the man—father, presumably—gasping excitedly, "A muggle ruckus, boys! Wait, no, I mean, surkus! How did it go? I thought they did wonderfully! Doing all this without magic, too!" he continued, while Harry's ears pricked at his mention of magic. "I tell you boys, muggles are a race to be admired. The stuff they manage to pull off…absolutely awe-inspiring."
Stifling a giggle at the man's muddled excitement, Harry decided it might be worthwhile to find out a bit more about this unusual family. If he hadn't seen their auras, Harry would have dismissed the father as a lunatic—but he knew there was something special about this family, and he also knew that magic existed. Definitely worth investigating. Harry hopped off his stand and moved quickly after the family, just catching the shortest boy's whining, "Daddy, I like Quidditch better. Can we play Quidditch instead next time?" before their voices were lost amid the roar of the crowd.
It wasn't a particularly hard family to follow. Their bright red hair set them apart from the crowd, they moved in a large group, and they were plenty noisy. In addition, Harry was quick and blended easily into the background (a product of years' experience escaping Dudley and avoiding his surrogate family). Fortunately, they didn't use a car; instead, Harry followed them to the train station. Here was the first obstacle that Harry ran into, since he had no money to purchase a train ticket. He hid himself behind the wall of redheads, praying that his small form would go unnoticed. And for the most part, it did. The conductor passed by him quickly, never casting his eyes downward where he might catch sight of Harry's nervous mien. One of the redhead boys sent a curious glance in his direction, but was distracted by the train's timely jerking into motion. Harry cautiously moved toward the end of the car, careful to station himself where he could still see the redhead family. It was only then that he began to question his decision in coming with the family—earlier he had been too caught up in the moment to consider his situation. To be honest, when he had first headed after the family, he hadn't expected to get any further than the parking lot before being left behind, but here he was heading on a train to who knows where, with no money for transportation home…. Stupid! Harry though angrily at himself. I know finding out about magic is important, but it's hardly worth risking my future over… Harry resolutely quashed all such self-recriminations before they incapacitated him; now, more than ever, he needed to be able to think quickly on his feet without distractions.
Finally, the train slid to a halt, and Harry followed his target family discretely through the exit. Looking around, he recognized the location as London—although he'd rarely been there, the tall buildings and hurried passersby were a sure giveaway. He gawked, before remembering his mission: follow the redheads at all costs. (Harry had decided that hitching a train ride to London definitely qualified as "all costs," and he wouldn't want to waste all that effort now, would he?) They hustled through the busy streets until they stopped before a small, dingy pub and turned in. Evidently this was their destination. Harry eyed it dubiously—it didn't look all that reputable, between its shabby appearance and the oddly-clothed customers Harry glimpsed through the windows. But once again, he wasn't about to let all of his hard work go to waste. So, taking a deep breath, he cast caution to the wind and strode into the pub before prudence had a chance to rear its ugly head.
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