Chapter Two: Running Away
Harry cried out in pain, tearing off his glasses and throwing them aside in his haste to wipe the burning fluid away. He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hand, ignoring the concerned shouts from Dudley and the dull ache in the back of his head. All that mattered was that he get the stuff out. A brief memory of a giant snake shaking its head as its eyes were punctured filled his head for a moment, and he gave a sob.
As the dull headache sharpened, distracting him from his burning eyes, Harry felt a pair of strong arms lifting him up. The sudden movement caused the pain in both areas to intensify tenfold, and he quickly lost consciousness.
Several loud noises woke Harry. He blinked groggily, noticing that his eyes were no longer burning and that the headache had returned to a dull throbbing. However, he couldn't see anything, perhaps because of the bandages over his eyes. With a sigh, he sat up, intent upon telling his cousin that he wasn't going to stand for such loud music after he had saved his life, when the strangest thing happened.
All around him, he could hear people walking down the corridors, their footsteps echoing loudly, as if he were laying on the ground. As he heard them, he found that he could actually 'see' an image of them, very brief, almost like a radar screen he had seen once on a program Dudley had watched. Automobiles raced by and he cringed when he thought they were coming straight towards him, the same odd image imprinted on his mind. The drip, drip of an IV, talking, people shouting outside several streets away…it was all too much.
Dropping to the ground in a crouch, he covered his now sensitive ears with his hands and clenched his eyes shut. It didn't stop the noise though, or the imprint of 'images'. He began shaking, the dull headache throbbing harder, and in time with his own heartbeat and the blood rushing through his veins. The shock of being able to hear this, and actually 'see' it, made him tremble all the more, and he bit his lip wishing he would wake up from this crazy dream.
Voldemort must have sent it. It could be the only explanation. None of this could be happening. That thought brought a sense of peace to his mind, and he gradually relaxed as he cleared his mind of all thoughts and feelings. Soon enough, the noise from outside died down, and all he could hear was the thumping of his own heart. As he relaxed further, he stopped even hearing that and slipped back into unconsciousness.
When he woke again, he found himself back in the hospital bed, and he wasn't so drowned out by all the noise, though it was still a little overwhelming to 'see' things in a shadowy form every time a sound was made near it. Still, by clearing his mind, he found that he was able to focus on what he wanted to hear and keep all the rest in the background to some extent, although it was all still loud enough to cause a persistent headache. He sat up slowly this time and ripped the bandages off his face. He still couldn't see. With an aching heart he walked over to where he though the window was-judging by the warmth on his face and gazed out.
Oddly enough, the window was quite a ways away, and yet he had felt the heat of the sun as though it had been right there. Reaching out with his hands, he gently touched the glass and ran his fingers up and down along it. He could feel the tiny nicks and scratches that would normally be invisible to the naked eye. He smiled at the realization and began running his hands along every surface in the room he could fine. After what seemed like forever, he had memorized the entire structure of his room and could walk around in the confidence that he wouldn't bump into anything.
With a satisfied sigh, he lay back down on the bed and trained his gaze in the direction of the ceiling. Though he couldn't see anything, he could hear the electricity as it ran in currents through the wires, and he could hear the patient in the room above complaining about toe fungus. Harry smiled, but only half-heartedly now. Certainly his hearing and his sense of touch had increased-magnificently-but he was still unsure what was going to happen to him. He had already ascertained that he was in a Muggle hospital, else he wouldn't have heard those cars or the electricity. Did that, however, mean that the wizarding world had given up on him? After all, he was Harry Potter, and he was supposed to kill the Dark Lord. It was prophecy.
"How am I supposed to do that if I'm blind," he wondered aloud. He sighed. They must have given up on him. Who wanted to follow a blind man? Besides, if they were that concerned about his condition he would now be in St. Mungo's and not a Muggle hospital. Order of the Phoenix members had to have been following him that night, so why hadn't they taken him directly there? Probably because of the wards placed on him, and when they found out he was blind and could no longer lead them out of the darkness, they had left him.
Not that he blamed them, but he wished his friends had at least come to visit him. Surely they wouldn't have abandoned him, just because he couldn't do what he once had? Again, he couldn't help but believe that he was alone. His aunt and uncle certainly wouldn't take him back, now that they knew he could never again return to the wizarding world.
It was some time before sleep reclaimed him, as he lay there feeling sorry for himself. Then, just before he fell asleep a thought occurred to him. The wizarding world may have abandoned him, but he wouldn't abandon them. He'd just have to find someplace to go, change his name and train his newfound abilities along with whatever magical lessons he could manage in his state. He would be ready to face Voldemort when the time came, whether Dumbledore or the Ministry of Magic thought so or not. This thought heartened him, and he smiled as he fell asleep, Sirius' face smiling back at him in his mind and giving him the thumbs up.
When he woke again, there were people in the room. He kept his eyes closed and listened to the sound of their breathing and their heart rates. They were all awake then, but weren't talking. Could it be Death Eaters? He concentrated on one of them, listening for the tell-tale rustle of a cloak that would give them away. He heard it, but were they the enemy? His fears were confirmed as one of them raised a wand (he heard the motion, and felt the wind it created) and muttered a spell. Avada Kadavra.
Time seemed to slow considerably, and he actually felt the spell coming towards him. Taking a deep breath he rolled ever so slightly to the side so that the spell would miss him, but would look like a direct hit to the Death Eaters. Lucky for him they weren't surrounding him, but all standing on one side. A plan had formed in his brain. The only way he'd be able to escape England without worry of being followed, was if everyone thought he was dead. So, after the spell should have killed him, he concentrated on slowing his breathing and his heart-rate so that it looked as though he no longer lived.
Sure enough, he heard the dark wizards rejoicing.
"Our master will be pleased," the one who had performed the spell whispered, "let us go and inform him of Potter's death."
"He will be pleased with you," a feminine voice whispered back, sounding quite bitter, and almost afraid. Her voice was one he would remember forever, and it took all Harry's strength not to betray his charade and attack the woman who had killed his godfather. There was no way he would win now, but he promised himself that she would be the first to go when he finished his training.
"Hush Bellatrix," the first voice said again, "You are the one who let Potter destroy the prophecy, and The Dark Lord has forgiven you. That is enough, for you I think. Now, let us take our leave."
Harry waited until he heard six 'pops' before he began breathing easier. As far as he knew, most of Voldemort's death eaters were in Azkaban, but they could have escaped. Especially with the dementors joining Voldemort. Then, before any of the nurses or a doctor could come and check up on him, he quietly crept out of the hospital room, stumbling every now and then in his haste to escape. He had no idea where he was going to go, but he knew he had to get out. He debated a little over whether or not to get his stuff from his trunk, but decided not to. His wand could be traced, and he didn't want anyone to find him. Not until he was ready.
After getting taken in by a muggle family and given decent clothes (he had told them that he had no memory of who he was and besides, he couldn't see all that well and they had felt sory for him) he had them take him to where he knew the Leaky Cauldron was. Without his glasses and with a baseball cap covering his scar and distinctive hair, he was fairly certain no one would recognize him. All he needed to do now, was find his way into Gringotts, empty his vault and get out.
"Oy, you there!" Harry jumped at the shout, then realized that it was somebody who had come up close to him talking in a normal voice. His new keen hearing would take a lot of getting used to…if he could just use it and his sensitive sense of touch, he knew he'd be able to do something-anything.
"Er…" he said when he realized the other person was waiting on an answer, "Yes?" He tried to make his voice sound as American as he could, like the muggles who had been kind enough to give him the clothes he was now wearing.
"Not from around here eh?" said another voice.
"Then we'd like to show you…"
"A great new shop that's just opened up…"
"If you'll just follow us…" The two voices chimed together at the last part and Harry's stomach clenched uncomfortably. He would have to run into Fred and George first off, wouldn't he?
Harry smiled in what he hoped was an innocent tourist-perfect victim for the twins-manner and proclaimed, "Well, first I've got to get some money. Fraid all I've got is the muggle kind. I like to fly on airplanes. Not as good a broom mind you, but interesting enough."
Though Harry couldn't see them, he knew the two were grinning in an identical evil manner. "Why certainly," said one of the twins, "Wouldn't want you to miss out on all the best buys."
"Definitely not," said the other, and if Harry had known which was which he would forever have been able to tell them apart, just by their voices. That was certainly useful.
Harry smiled again and turned towards where he thought Gringotts was only to stop when one of the twins placed their hand on his shoulder. "Er…could you tell me where to go? I'm lost."
"You're also blind," said the twin who had stopped him, "Want us to…"
"…take you there? We don't mind. Our sister's minding the shop for us today…"
"It's no bother," they said together.
Harry shook his head in the negative. "No no…I can help myself…I just need directions is all. North, west south east…"
Finally, the twins had reluctantly given him directions and he quickly stopped inside Gringotts, went to his vault, scooped out as many galleons, sickles and knuts as he could fit into his pockets and the backback the muggles had given him, and exchanged some for enough muggle money to make it to America on a plane. He really didn't know if that was where he wanted to go, but it seemed a good enough place. Think goodness the goblins never asked questions. As long as you had the key, then you were allowed in.
On his way out, he didn't run into the Weasley twins again, which was a good thing. They would eventually have found out, and probably soon. Those two were far from stupid as they had proven again and again in their time at Hogwarts. He took the knight bus to the airport (having a witch who was leaving the Leaky Cauldron summon it for him after telling a tale of woe and lost wands) and was soon on his way to New York City. What he was going to do once there, he really didn't know, but at least he was on his way. He sighed and settled back for the long flight, intending to get some sleep.
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