Hunted
Harry started awake with a gasp. Bright green eyes darted around the small clearing he had stopped at in the early hours of the morning, when exhaustion had finally forced him to stop for rest. The sun was high in the sky and Harry growled in frustration. How long had he been here? He had only meant to stop for a few short hours to rest his body and cool down the bike. Forcing his tired and battered body to sit up from the nest of grass, leaves and clothes he had slept in for the last several hours, Harry searched for his rucksack while he stretched and tried his hardest to remain alert of his surroundings. Finally finding the bag he pulled an apple from its depths and bit into it hungrily.
He had slept with his clothes and shoes intact and now had that dirty feeling of being unwashed going on for him. Quickly packing up his belongings as he finished his apple, Harry checked the scrapes and bruises that littered his body from his escape. The ache from the Cruciatus was still present and he had found his leg twitching at odd times during the night without his say-so. It seemed that some nerves had been damaged by the curse. 'Just great.' thought Harry as he made sure to properly mess up the ground where he had rested, making sure the print his body had made in the long grass was not visible; ensuring no evidence of his time in this place was present was crucial if he intended to stay a step ahead of those tracking him.
Finally he swept his invisibility cloak off the bike that sat under the trees and stuffed it into his bag before strapping it to his back. He had to get moving. There was no telling how close Bellatrix and the others were on his tail. Making sure that the box holding the strange pendant was still in his jacket pocket, he shook his hair free of leaves and dirt and jammed the helmet over his head. Harry checked his wand and the several daggers strapped conveniently to his body, and finding no fault, swung his leg over the motorcycle.
Gunning the engine he raced off down the tiny track that wound through the trees all the way through the woods. It had been a good place to stop for rest. Secluded, yet not too far from the road if he needed to leave quickly. Harry was pretty sure that Voldemorts minions were already looking for him and would at this moment be scouring all towns and cities close to Little Whinging in hopes of finding him. By sticking to the outskirts of cities and losing himself in the wilderness he would throw them off track. He frowned and snapped down the visor of the helmet as he wove in and out of the trees. It would take him maybe five or six days to get to London if he travelled like this. Not nearly fast enough. Not with Voldemort pulling his every resource trying to find him. There were a few different routes to London, but they would all take days before he could reach headquarters. Unless . . .
He burst out of the woods and onto the road with a squeal of breaks. The smell of burnt rubber filled his nostrils and he sped off down the highway. There was a way he could reach London in only a couple of days, but it was a risk. A big risk. He would have to get to a large city and find the Gateway. He gritted his teeth. He could be leading his hunters straight to those who had needed protection from them in the first place. Harry knew he would not be turned away from the Gateway, no one ever was and that was the whole point of Sanctuary.
He darted the bike between cars as the highway became busier. The road shimmered with the midday heat and sweat was beginning to drip down Harry's back. If he could safely get though a Gateway it would have to be sealed behind him. If a Death-eater gained access to Sanctuary . . . Harry didn't think he could deal with the guilt that the hundreds who would die would bestow upon him. Knowing he led their enemies straight to the innocent and defenceless would destroy him far quicker then any Death-eater could.
He would be easily traceable once he entered the cities. Death-eaters were on full alert for his presence and to win such a prize for the Dark Lord would boost even the most plebeian of Death-eaters into the Inner Circle. He wondered if Hedwig had made it to Headquarters yet. He tried not to think of the possibility that she may have been intercepted. 'Well not much you can do about that now, is there?' thought Harry to himself. He glanced down as the tiny red light on the bike began flashing again. 'Damn . . .'
He was running low on gas. All he needed now was for the bike to clunk out in the middle of nowhere, leaving him an open target for his enemies. He sped up, increasing the speed dramatically. First he needed to find a gas station. From there he'd figure out what to do next.
The warm sun was beating down on the backs of the pedestrians and assorted characters that filled the streets of London. Vibrant colours and harsh smells assaulted the werewolf's senses as keen brown eyes scanned the crowd for anyone that smelled of Dark magic. All he could find was the occasional soft scent of magical muggleborn children, who had not yet reached the age when they would receive an invitation to a magical school. He smiled at a little witchlet with golden curls who tugged on her mothers sleeve for attention as she passed him. She couldn't have been more then six years old and she seemed to be brimming with magical energy. 'A powerful one she will be.' Thought Remus, chuckling to himself as he opened the Styrofoam lid of the steaming cup of coffee he had purchased from a street vender.
Remus leant against a high garden wall that round it's way around the borderline of the park he had just finished his patrol through. It was nearly midday and there had been no news from any of their sources as of what had happened to Harry. Snape had not yet returned from Voldemort's gathering so they had no idea what the Dark Lord was up to. Remus knew that Voldemort would try his best to take advantage of the situation, and if Harry remained out in the open it would only be matter of time before Voldemort would take the Boy-who-lived. And if Harry was ever captured . . .
Remus shuddered, taking a long sip of coffee from his cup. He loathed to admit it be he was also sort of worried about ol' Snivillus. They hadn't had any contact with him since his summoning the night before. It was a rare occasion that Voldemort would call Snape away for such a length of time, as Dumbledore may become suspicious of his Potions Master's absence. Usually when such an occasion arose it meant that Voldemort had some top-secret plan or a high profile prisoner and couldn't afford for the information to be leaked by careless followers or a spy. Both of these possibilities spelt bad things for the Order. They desperately needed Snape's information on the Dark sides plan of action, and having him trapped at the Dark Lords headquarters was not a good thing for the snarky Professor or the Order. And if the high profile prisoner theory was true . . . Harry would not be killed quickly. Voldemort had been plotting his revenge for fifteen years. He would have had to come up with some pretty creative methods of death and torture in that time.
Remus forced himself to take another sip of coffee and was shocked to see his hands shake slightly. He had amazed himself with the deep feelings of concern he had for the son and godson of his best friends. He had spent the better part of his life shying away from human contact. From the day they had arrested Sirius to the time three years ago when Dumbledore had written to him asking if he would like to join the teaching staff at Hogwarts, Remus had lived in quiet solitude. The Marauders were all gone. James murdered while protecting his wife and son. Peter killed – or so everyone had believed – in one of the most infamous massacres the wizarding world had ever seen. Sirius rotting in Azkaban for said murders. Remus was all that had been left. He had spent over a decade reliving his mistakes that cost his friends their lives and sanity. Once a month he would chain himself in his basement for the full moon and then spend the next week recuperating only to repeat it the following month.
Then Albus' letter had come. It had taken Remus over a week to work up the courage to pen a reply. He had been apprehensive about accepting Dumbledore's offer. A werewolf teaching Hogwarts' children would not go down well with the Governors. But Dumbledore had finally persuaded him to agree. Then the day on the Hogwarts Express had come. Remus had been beyond exhausted. The full moon had only been three nights before and he had yet to return to full strength. He was fairly sure he had fallen asleep before the train had pulled out the station. Then he had awoken to find the previously empty compartment filled with young students and a Dementer of all things. It was then he had met Harry Potter.
It had been a shock to say the least. There was no mistaking James and Lily's son anywhere. He was wholly his parents' child. The ruffled black hair, high cheekbones and deep emerald green eyes had bought memories of Remus' former life rushing back to him. He had often wondered during the weeks after their first encounter, whether the gods were playing some cruel game with him. What had made Harry and his friends choose that particular compartment for the journey. Had Harry known it was the same compartment the four Marauders had met for the first time as first years? Had he recognized something from his past in Remus' face?
Remus had found himself wracked with guilt in those first moments that Harry had opened his eyes after the Dementer attacked. This was Harry. James and Lily's Harry. The child he had become an honorary uncle to thirteen years previously. The little boy he had last seen a week before the Fidelus Charm had been performed. They had been sitting on the floor of the nursery at Potter Manor. The baby had been giggling happily as he and Sirius piled blocks in front of him for Little Harry to send crashing down. Remus had remembered that particular scene as he had stood out in the corridor of the train after he had excused himself to speak to the conductor. He could remember the soft green on the walls of the nursery, the bright sunlight flooding the room. There had been tiny crystal sun catchers hanging from the ceiling, casting rainbows over the floor. Padfoot had been making bubbles shoot out the end of his wand and they had filled the room, catching the sunlight and making Harry giggle in delight.
Remus had spent that entire year trying to make up for his neglect through the years of Harry's childhood. He had relished in the times they had spent in his office going over spell theories and training Harry in the Patronus charm. Remus smiled as he remembered the heartfelt talks he'd had with Harry about his parents back when they had attended school. He had been astounded by how little Harry knew of them. If it had not been for Dumbledores wish that Harry be left without the responsibilities his inheritance would bring, Remus would have taken Harry to Potter Manor on one of the Hogsmeade weekends they had spent together in Remus' office. As far as Remus knew, the manor had not been touched except for the odd house-elf or groundskeeper, since the night the Potter's had fled with their son in the dead of night to one of their holiday homes, Godric's Hollow.
Remus smiled and drained the last of the coffee, crushing the Styrofoam cup into a ball and chucking it into the trashcan. Harry had started talking a few months before his family had gone into hiding. Lily had been delighted with him and had made cookies with the house-elves to celebrate. Syllables were something that had escaped the baby entirely though, so Remus had been dubbed by young Harry as, 'Moo'. James had thought it to be hilarious. He had even gone as far as to give Remus a cow print coffee mug with the words Uncle Moo printed across it.
They had all been his family, his pack. And he had abandoned his young cub when Harry had needed protection the most. Remus scowled as he remembered Hermione's words the previous day. 'Whenever Harry's Uncle used to get too violent with him.'
Remus growled low in his throat. Child abuse. Why had no one noticed? Why hadn't Harry said anything to him? To Dumbledore? To anybody? Remus' eyes flashed amber as he remembered picking Harry up with the Advance Guard the year before. The locks on the door he had missed in the dark that night, but not Harry's thin and wasted appearance. He had assumed at the time that his anxiety after Voldemorts return had left him with bad eating habits and careless personal care. Moody's discovery of black energy in the house had been a sore topic for all who were aware of it. Black energy was often connected to trauma cases and was often found in dungeons were imprisonment and torture had taken place.
Remus felt sick as he thought of what Harry must have suffered in that house. He remembered how Harry would flinch or stiffen at human contact. No wonder. The only physical contact Harry had ever had with his relatives would probably have been a backhander to the face.
Remus was no stranger to the idea of child abuse. Sirius' father had been a tyrant and it was many a night during the summer holidays that Remus would wake up to a bloody and bruised Sirius hovering on his broom outside his window. Mr Black had not taken kindly to the fact that his son had been sorted into Gryffindor and was friends with James Potter, whose family had represented the light for countless centuries. He took much of his anger and frustration out on hi son. It took until sixth year for the rest of the Marauders to convince Sirius to leave his family. The Potters had taken him in for the summer holidays until the boys had graduated and Sirius bought a flat of his own as well as the bloody motorcycle. He wondered what Sirius would do if he had been around to discover this about Harry. 'Probably burst into Privet Drive wand blazing.' Remus thought as he smiled sadly.
One thing was for certain, and that was when Harry returned – Remus didn't want to think about him not returning – they were going to have a long talk about this. He would take it to Dumbledore if he had to. Harry would not be going back to Privet Drive again as long as Uncle Moo had anything to say about it!
He pulled a slip of paper out of his muggle jacket. Seventy-four Gleefield Park.
It was an area close to Hermione's parents home. Sanctuary for the hunted and condemned. The people there had helped Harry when he needed it. He needed help again now. Would he run here? Remus slipped the paper back into his pocket and began walking back through the park. Whether or not he found Harry there, he intended to thank them for their service to Harry over the years. From what Hermione had said it sounded though Harry was deeply involved and indebted to this Sanctuary, judging by his efforts with their security.
Remus had checked the history of Harry's Gringotts vault, and just as Hermione had said huge withdrawals had been made over the years. Millions of galleons and they were only from the allowance vault James and Lily had set up for him after his birth. There was supposed to be enough gold in there for Harry to complete his schooling very comfortably. After that was a second larger vault he was to be given control of on his sixteenth birthday that contained enough to keep him very well off for a great many years. On his seventeenth birthday he was to be given control of the entire Potter fortune and all the family's lands, estates and titles. Harry would have his hands full come July next year. He was to be schooled in the proper way to deal with his inheritance over the next year. There was also the family's seat at the Wizenmagot once he reached his majority and finished his schooling.
Remus fully intended to be there for him when this was all revealed to him, but for now he would have to try to contact this Sanctuary, to see if they had any clue to Harry's whereabouts. Well that and plotting with Mad-eye over what is to be done with Harry's relatives . . .
Tonks sat next to the bed in the darkened room as she gently wiped Marcus' forehead with a damp cloth. He groaned slightly and shifted in his sleep. His face was deathly pale in the little light the candles cast over the small bedroom. The young auror grimaced as she noticed blood seeping through the bandages that covered his bare abdomen. The slashing curse one of the Death-eaters had used on him was made so the wounds weren't healing properly. They desperately needed old Snape to return from the summoning. Marcus was in need of some very complicated potions, and those who were currently at Headquarters were not skilled enough in Potions to brew such potions correctly. Even Madame Pomfrey was being cautious in which potions she administered to the badly wounded man.
She straightened the coverlet, and played absently with a length of cotton that had unravelled from the blanket. Madame Pomfrey was indeed worried about Marcus' condition. The injuries inflicted by the Death-eaters combined with his magical genes being altered slightly by the Key, were both proving to be more dire then first thought. There was no record of this kind of gene mutation in any of the medical journals that Madame Pomfrey was familiar with and she had a large group of medical scholars researching at Saint Mungo's for anything important that mentioned magical mutations bought on by magical objects.
Tonks lifted her hand and gently pushed some strands of hair out of Marcus' eyes. She examined his tired and worn face worriedly. She wished his blue eyes would lit up as they used to when he laughed, or that he would curl his fingers in his coppery brown hair as he did when nervous or concentrating. She smiled. She always used to berate him for doing that, telling him he would get a bald spot. His skin should be a rough tan from all the time he spent outdoors but he was much to pale. 'It must be from all that blood he lost.' She thought dejectedly as she ran her hands through his hair. She started as Marcus' eyes fluttered open, and she jumped backwards knocking a glass of water off the bedside table.
"Oh don't stop on account of me . . ." he murmured, a humoured smile gracing his lips. "I think I'd like to wake up like that every morning."
Tonks blushed and quickly flicked her wand at the mess the glass had made on the carpet. It disappeared instantly. "What do you mean morning?" she asked with a grin. "It's past noon!" she smiled as he grinned at her. "How are you feeling?"
Marcus shrugged his shoulders slightly, and winced from the pain caused by his tiny movement. "A little sore." He admitted. "But I'll heal. Always do."
"Hmmm." Murmured Tonks. "You were always getting into trouble back at the Academy." She said with a grin.
Marcus laughed hoarsely. "I was always getting into trouble? More like you were always getting me into trouble! The number of times we both ended up in the Infirmary . . ."
He grinned up at Tonks. "How times change huh?" he said gesturing around at all the potions, charts and medical supplies that lined the walls of the make shift sickroom.
Tonks laughed. "Merlin, I've missed you Marcus." She said wrapping her hand around his. "When I heard you were on a top secret mission for Dumbledore . . . I was afraid I'd never see you again."
Marcus smiled and tightened his hand around hers. "Do you really think I'd go off and get myself killed without paying you back for that prank with the bright pink feathers back during our second year at the Academy?"
Tonks snorted. "I'd almost forgotten about that! You still haven't got me back for that either! Lazy bastard . . ." she grinned fondly at him.
"Lazy? I've been biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment, to strike when you least expect it!"
"Biding your time? You just couldn't think up any original pranks!"
"I'm insulted! I happen to have a very good prank up my sleeve and waiting for you to let your guard down . . . Then we'll see who thinks up the most original pranks!"
Tonks laughed and ran her free hand through his hair. "Yeah you keep telling yourself that buddy." She said with a grin, cupping his jaw in her hand.
Marcus moved his head slightly and kissed her palm. Tonks froze shocked at his actions for a moment. He looked up at her and squeezed her hand. "I've missed you too Nymph . . ."
There was silence for a moment before Tonks slowly pulled away from him and settled her hands in her lap. "Marcus I – " she started softly.
"I was an idiot Tonks, please." He said softly, sapphire eyes almost pleading with her own. "Please, just think about it. I – I'll understand if –"
He was cut off as Tonks threw her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. Startled at first Marcus froze until Tonks warm mouth parted slightly and her tongue ran over his bottom lip, and he began to kiss her back earnestly. Tonks moaned faintly as his hands slipped under her shirt to settle on the soft skin of the small of her back. His fingertips traced her vertebrae. Their tongues danced together as they hadn't for over a year. Tonks went to shift her weight when Marcus cried out suddenly and his hand flew to his ribs.
"Oh Merlin! You okay Marcus?" asked Tonks as she quickly climbed off him. He gave a hoarse laugh and grinned at her. "Never better . . ." he answered softly reaching up to take her hand in his again.
Tonks blushed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Let's take this slow okay?' she said. Grinning she added. "At least until your out of bandages!" Marcus laughed gruffly. Tonks bit her lip before continuing.
"I've got some bad news." She said hesitantly. Marcus frowned. "What bad news?" He asked frowning as he tried to sit up.
Tonks helped him sit up against his pillows before answering. "The Key never made it to Headquarters."
Marcus' eyes widened. "What?" he whispered softly.
"Mrs Figg and I helped you into the fireplace and Flooed over to Headquarters. Harry had the Key with him and was going to follow straight after us. Only thing is he didn't get the chance. Death-eaters barged in at the last second and destroyed the fireplace. He got away –barely – along with the Key. Right now he's on the run from Death-eaters and is trying to get to Headquarters. Dumbledore's forbidden anyone from trying to track him, since You-Know-Who is trying to track him as well, and we could lead them all straight to Harry. So we have absolutely no way of knowing where he is or what kind of shape he's in."
Marcus looked at her, a dazed expression on his face. "So, Harry Potter, number one on Voldemort's list of people to torture and kill has been mislaid along with the Key to the Temple, the thing that Voldemort has been looking for since his first reign?" he asked in a disbelieving voice. "And they're together? As in Happy Birthday Oh Lord of Darkness, here are the two things at the top of your Christmas List, in one nice neat little package, sorry I didn't get a chance to wrap them?"
Tonks shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah . . ."
Marcus dropped his head back into his pillows. "We're doomed. We're all gonna die! I haven't even learned to do the cha-cha yet. You always said you were gonna teach me, and you never did. Now it's too late! Voldemort's gonna open the gate – and –and everyone's gonna die and it's my fault. I should have gone straight to Headquarters! That – that poor kid's gonna be tortured to death and – "
"Marcus calm down! It's okay. Harry's gotten out of tight spots before, and he will again. He's a tough kid. Nothing keeps him down for long. Merlin, he's been fighting off evil since he was reintroduced to the wizarding world five years ago. He's got more experience with this stuff then we do! If anyone can protect the Key, it's Harry Potter."
Marcus frowned and sighed. "I hope you're right Nympth, cause if you're not – it's Happy Birthday Mister Dark Lord and seeya later to the rest of humanity."
Harry pulled into the small roadside gas station with a sigh of relief. The little red light on the bike had stopped flashing about fifteen minutes ago and had stayed red instead. Harry had been pretty sure that wasn't a good thing. He had actually started promising any god that may have been listening that he would stop slacking off in Snapes classes, smile more at Filch and actually read Hogwarts; a History instead of having Hermione quote it every time he needed some information. Suffice to say, he had been getting quite desperate.
He pulled to a stop in front of the gas pump and waited until a young man with blonde hair started making his way towards him before finally cutting the motor and removing his helmet. He swung himself off the bike with a groan. He felt like shit. He had been in a partially exploding building, had been cursed with the Cruciatus, had spent a good eight solid hours on that damned motorcycle last night, had slept on the ground under a bush of all things, and then had to get back on that god-damned motorcycle for another stint of driving. Not to mention he desperately wanted a shower. He felt icky, and there was dirt in his hair that made his scalp itch.
Harry stretched wearily as the blonde guy approached him. "What can I do for ya?" he asked as he wiped his hands on his overalls.
"Fill her up and wipe her down." Ordered Harry as he grabbed his rucksack. "Have you got a bathroom around here?"
"Yeah, restroom's over that way." The gas attendant said tipping his head to the left side of the truck stop.
"Thanks." Said Harry with a small grin, and headed off around the corner. He pushed the door to the restroom open and closed it carefully behind him. He quickly checked under each of the toilet stall doors before dumping his bag on the ground.
He shrugged off his jacket letting it hit the ground, and tugged his t-shirt up over his head. Turning the tap on the sink he let water fill his cupped hands, and splashed his face and hair. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked into the mirror, leaning heavily on the basin of the sink. His mother's pendant hung against his bare chest and Harry toyed with it slightly before letting it drop back to his chest. He wondered for the dozenth time what the strange symbols meant. However right now he had more pressing matters to attend to. What was he going to do? He needed a good rest really badly. And a shave by the looks of things. He ran his hand over his jaw and grunted in irritation. He finished washing, and dried his hair and chest with his old t-shirt. Taking a sniff of the shirt he crinkled his nose and balled it up, chucking it into the wastepaper basket in the corner.
Harry pulled a fresh shirt out of his bag and pulled it on scooping the jacket up off the floor he pulled that back on. He had made up his mind. He was going to Sanctuary. The nearest entry couldn't be more then a few miles away. There was no way he could keep this pace up without killing himself. Sanctuary would offer him protection for a few hours of much needed rest, and he could take a short cut through the Gateways to London.
There, it was decided. He finally had a plan. Now he just had to find a Gateway. Most were easily recognisable to those who knew what they were looking for. Just look for the signs.
Harry pulled the box out of his pocket and flicked it open. The black gem lay glittering on a bed of velvet. What the hell was it and why was Voldemort after it? Harry went to touch its shining inky black surface but stopped a few inches away from the gem. He could almost feel the energy and magic surfacing from the depths of the gem. It was as if his presence had awoken it from a long slumber. His hand retreated and he snapped the box shut again. There was no way he was going to get involved with this thing. He'd had way too many experiences with strange magical objects to be fooled into touching something so potentially dangerous.
He slipped the box back into his pocket, pulled out a Kleenex and began wiping down the sink and anything else he had touched whilst in the bathroom. He used the Kleenex to open the door and carefully exited the bathroom, shoving the tissue into a pocket. He pulled a hunk of Honeydukes chocolate from his bag and broke off a chunk. He popped it into his mouth and sighed as his muscles began to relax. Warmth flooded his body and the twitchiness in his leg began to fade. One good thing out of all the time he spent in the Hospital Wing over the past few years was that he knew his remedies inside and out.
He swung the rucksack back onto his back and made his way back over to where the attendant was finishing cleaning the bike. Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. Sellecting two fifty-pound notes he passed them to the blonde guy and shoved the rest of the cash back in his pocket. "Thanks. Keep the change." He said with a smile as he swung himself back onto the bike.
"Yes, sir!" exclaimed the man happily. Harry pulled the helmet on and gunned the engine as he disappeared down the highway.
Hours later Jack sat outside the gas station where he worked and stifled a yawn. It had been a slow day. He stretched in his chair and settled himself more comfortably. The only interesting thing that had happened all day was the dark haired, green-eyed youth who had tipped him generously. It looked as though the kid had been a runaway; they got enough of those around here. Though where he had gotten all that cash from, Jack didn't know or care. The kid had a wicked bike though. That had been a few hours ago and not a whole lot had happened since then.
He tipped his hat low on his face to block out the harsh glare from the sun and stretched his legs out in front of him. Nothing else was going to happen today so he might as well catch a few winks while business was slow. The only other person working today was Milly, the old woman who sold food and cigarettes behind the counter inside. She was an okay old bird and wouldn't dob him in to the boss man.
He sighed and started to slip into unconsciousness. A sudden scream jerked him out of his doze and he leapt to his feet pushing his hat back off his face. A bright green flash blazed out the windows and doors of the truck stop then disappeared. He froze in fear as he peered into the open door to the truck stop. There was complete darkness inside but he could hear a slight swishing noise and a low whisper. A figure emerged from the darkness.
"Milly?" asked Jack uneasily.
He stepped backwards as the figure exited the truck stop. The figure wore a long black cloak with the hood pulled up over their head, obscuring their face. "Hello muggle." Came a harsh voice from inside the cloak and a pale hand slowly lowered the hood. A woman with long sleek black hair and cold dark eyes smiled at him humourlessly. Two more hooded figures appeared from behind her and Jack started as three more appeared around the side of the building.
"What do you want?" he asked fearfully eyes darting from the woman to the cloaked figures that had surely cut off his every escape route.
"A great many things," said the woman softly. "But right now, I need information on a certain thorn in my side." Jack nodded. "I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt me."
She gave a dark smile and paused for a moment. Very well Muggle, I won't harm you." She dug a slender hand into her robe and pulled out a photograph. "Tell me where he is?" ordered the woman coldly and held up the photograph for Jack to see. It was a small head and shoulders shot of a teenaged boy. Jacks eyes widened at the familiar features. Bright green eyes – so green they seemed almost unnatural – ruffled black hair and a thin jagged scar across his forehead.
Jack nodded his head in conformity. "Yeah, yeah I've seen him."
The woman's eyes narrowed and a twisted smile appeared on her lips. "When?"
Jack swallowed hard. "Um – about three hours ago. Maybe – maybe four."
The sick smile on her face widened and a mad glint appeared in her eyes. She turned to the others. "Spread out!" she ordered. "I want him found! Any possible clue he may have left behind. Find it!" the three figures behind him moved away and went around the side of the building.
The woman turned back to Jack. "How long was he here for?" she questioned.
"I – I'm not sure . . . ten, fifteen minutes?" Jack stammered. He frowned in confusion. "What do you want with him? He- he seemed like a good kid . . . tipped me a good thirty pounds." Jack knew he was rambling but was finding it hard to stop.
"Yes, that sounds like Potter." Muttered the woman with a soft deadly sounding laugh. "As to what he did – he lived. He lived when every one before him had perished. But that child is living on borrowed time and he knows it. There is only a matter of time until he is the Masters and then the world will tremble before the Dark Lord!" she turned back to the stunned and frightened Jack. "Any other questions muggle?" Jack shook his head violently.
A shout sounded from around the corner and the woman looked up. "Bellatrix! I've found it!" came a man's deep voice. The woman – Bellatrix – set off around the corner. The other two grabbed Jack by the arms and pulled him roughly around the corner. The others were all crowded around the restroom. One of the men was squatting on the ground outside the door. He had a wad of material in his hands. "I've found his scent." He growled at Bellatrix.
"Are you sure Dollohov?" asked Bellatrix. "It's Potter?"
The man nodded a sadistic smile crossing his features. He raised the wad of material to his face and breathed in deeply. "Positive." He said, his eyes still closed. He tossed the balled up shirt to Bellatrix, who caught it, a hunger seeming to appear in her eyes.
"I have you now Potter." She whispered. "You're a deadman and you know it . . ."
The man who had found the shirt – Dolohov – got to his feet the sadistic smile back in full force. "When we catch him," he murmured as he took the shirt back from Bellatrix. "I want a few hours with him." He breathed the shirt in deeply. "Mmmm . . . Sweet young thing he is. Haven't had one like him in such a long time . . ."
Jack blanched, remembering the green-eyed youth who had smiled as he'd tipped him.
"We'll all have some fun with the boy, Dolohov. I intend to pay him back for that stab wound he gave me. If the Dark Lord permits it I don't see why you wouldn't be able to take your pleasure from the boy." She smirked. "Our Lord may even find it interesting entertainment." Bellatrix turned to him smiling darkly. "Anything else muggle?"
Jack shook his head fiercely. She turned away from him. "Very well. Kill him."
"What! No! You said you wouldn't hurt me!" gasped Jack as two cloaked men approached him, each holding something long and thin before them.
Bellatrix turned back to him smiling deceitfully. "And I'm not going to hurt you." She said sweetly. She motioned to the two men. "They are."
Jack opened his mouth to protest but before he could make his throat work a bright green light had engulfed him and he knew no more.
Bellatrix turned away from the body of the dead muggle and walked from the washroom.
"Come my friends," she cried as she turned to face the other Death-eaters. "Potter hasn't much of a head start and we hunger for the hunt. Remember, the Dark Lord wants him alive. You can make sport of him at the Masters desires after he is in chains. You have your orders.
"Now," she smiled evilly. "It's time for the Boy-who-lived to die."
Chaseme720: thanx for your reviews! I had to do a little doubletake when I first read your review asking me to have Harry stab Bellatrix. I'd already written two chapters following Summer Pains and as you can see Bellatrix had been bearing a stab wound! Looks around nervously . . .u can't by any chance read minds can u? As to whether Harry will have a slash or non-slash relationship – I'm undecided. I am a HUGE fan of Harry/Draco slash, but I'm not sure if I will have that ship in TTD. I'm kinda leaning towards Harry/OC. I DO have a Harry/Draco plot bouncing around in my head at the moment, but I don't think that will be out for a while yet. I'm still trying to get a plot into all the steamy boy on boy sex scenes I've got planned for my two favourite boys!
Smileyface2007: hope u enjoyed this chapter, thanx for the review!
Neo: oh you're making me blush with all these lovely comments! I was a bit worried about my writing, thanx for reassuring me! Like I've said above, I'm not sure about the pairings yet. Harry has always struck me as bisexual, especially after book five. Not sure why, I just feel that way. So it could be either way for slash. Stick around for the next chapter, and don't forget to review!
ADJ: ridiculously good and exciting? Oh yeah, I like u! thanx for reviewing!
BlueAdonis: thanks! U get a cookie! (::) mmmm . . . cookie . . .
h: happy new year to u to! Thanx for reviewing!
OniLion: thankyou so much! I'll try my best!
Saetan: yes Harry will be powerful in this fic, but not all-powerful. I figure that when wizards hit puberty their magic levels are unleashed along with all the pimples and bumpy stuff that comes their way. Harry's powerful for a wizard already, but with his adolescent powerboost and the effects of the key (cough cough telling secrets here so u'd better appreciate it!) he's bound to get rather powerful. He'll still struggle to learn how to control and use that power. I've always thought Harry had a little Slytherin inside struggling to get out . . . and now I've set him free!!! (Laughs evilly) Watch out Voldie, I'm coming to getcha!