They continued the next morning, just as planned. The four of them woke early and set out on foot. They quickly left the village, and all sign of civilization, behind. Their journey continued to be uneventful, except for the increased frequency of pain in Harry's scar. They would often have to stop to let him rest and recover. Harry was embarrassed by this, but was even more humiliated when the pain came at night. His dorm mates were used to his occasional "nightmares", but he had never been woken up so often, and had never experienced such vulnerability in front of his head of house.

Harry felt weaker and more inept the longer they went on. His lack of sleep and frequent attacks of pain caused him to slow the group. They moved quietly, and the landscape provided little distraction for Harry. His doubts became more difficult for him to ignore as time wore on. While days before, he had felt that things were coming to a head, he now had difficulty believing that he would be able to affect a change of any sort. Although Voldemort's existence had only been known to him for the last seven years, he found it difficult to envision a world without the Dark Lord. Harry had even more trouble grasping the alternative. His own death.

After two nights of camping under the stars, the group arrived late in the morning at a rock formation which contained a cave of sorts that was to be their home base. The opening was at ground level and was well shielded by the wooded area surrounding it. Harry followed the others inside and surveyed their temporary home. It was small, but sufficient for the four of them to move around comfortably and for Harry, the tallest, to stand erect. A small pile of scorched rocks in the middle of the cave indicated that it had been host to campers in the past.

Harry was too discouraged to protest when, after a quick supplies inventory, Professor McGonagall informed him that the rest of the group was leaving to survey the area and that he was, under no circumstances, to leave the cave. Harry stayed behind obediently. He ventured outside briefly, as a perfunctory act of defiance, to further examine his surroundings. Mostly, Harry sat and contemplated his situation.

His thoughts wavered back and forth throughout the day. For a while, he was sure that he had made a mistake, that he was in over his head, and that he would give anything to be back at Hogwarts with his friends. Then, he would think of Voldemort, and all that the monster had taken from him. He thought of his parents and of Sirius, and wished more than anything that he was on the Dark Lord's trail. He wanted, at those times, to play out his part. He wanted to kill his enemy or die trying.

Dusk was approaching when Moody and McGonagall returned together. The two of them were clearly tired, so Harry set about preparing dinner while they sat and informed him of their findings. Having been warned to avoid possibly detectable magic, he set up two muggle camp stoves and began cooking, falling back easily on his experience doing household chores for the Dursleys.

 There was indeed a gathering of people several miles to the west of the cave. Moody and McGonagall had set out in that direction. The other ex-auror, being younger and able to cover more ground on her own, set off to the East. Moody and McGonagall had been moving quietly through the wooded area when they detected a large amount of magic being used and had followed this lead to a large clearing. They hid themselves in the surrounding foliage, one in cat form and the other moving silently from years of practice in paranoid behavior.

The meadow housed an enormous building that was largely obscured by magical shielding, even to Moody's eye. Localized silencing charms prevented any sound from escaping.

"It's not getting through the barriers that concerns me," Moody told Harry. "It's getting through without being detected. We need to get in and gather more information, if we are to take action."

"Or if we are to make a report of any substance to Albus," Added McGonagall.

Harry had listened in silence, absorbing the information. His stomach clenched at the confirmation that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were nearby. He had been standing and stirring a pot of stew for some time before he felt his professor's eyes on him and looked up to meet them.

"Mr. Potter," she asked. "Did you feel anything unusual today?"

"No," Harry responded. "Not even anything usual. I mean, my scar didn't hurt at all."

"I hope that bodes well for us." McGonagall said, giving Harry a tired smile.

Moody cleared his throat, nodding toward the cave entrance once he had their attention. Harry listened and heard voices approaching, one he recognized as Krux's, the other was too low to make out. Harry reflexively put his hand on his wand, but relaxed at a nod from McGonagall.

Moody rose and, offering his hand, helped McGonagall to her feet. They both exited the cave, only to reenter moments later. Between them, they supported a dirty and haggard looking Professor Snape. Krux darted around them and went to her bag. She pulled out and enlarged a shrunken sleeping mat and smoothed it out on the ground several meters from the camp stoves. McGonagall and Moody lowered Snape to lie on the bag. Snape gave out a pained grunt as he settled on to his back.

Harry's stew boiled over.