Chapter VII: 172 Stony Road
"Malfoy, where are you going?" Harry asked and then followed him out of the meeting room and down the corridor.
"What is it to you, Potter? If you must know, I'm going back to my training. I have a match next week. Unlike you, I have a rich career."
Harry stopped short. "I don't think there's going to be another match."
"What?" Draco turned around. "And why's that, just because a Muggle or two might see us? I can do what I want, Potter. No Muggle is going to stop me!"
And with that, Draco hurried away from Harry's sight. It didn't surprise Harry that Draco seemed unconcerned about Muggles seeing him. All he needed to do was flick his wrist and kill any Muggle that bothered him. But it wasn't that simple. Someone had to have broken the enchantment that hid Hogwarts and other magical buildings from the Muggles' eyes. Harry knew only a wizard or a witch could do that, and with Voldemort and his followers gone, the Death Eaters and the Blue Bloods, it didn't give many suspects.
Someone like Draco could do it, but what would that do for him? And how would he know how to do it without help? In actuality, the departments that enforce magical security would be heightened; they would try to limit such luxuries as Quidditch games and guard them constantly. Of course, Draco's pay would be cut in order to fund such security features. It didn't make much sense for Draco to do any of it and jeopardize his 'rich career'.
"Mister Potter," Professor Snape said as he approached from the corner of the hallway. His voice was still deep, commanding and chilling all at the same time. "I would advise you to stay right where you are. We don't need you running a muck."
"That isn't fair. Malfoy just left, and you can't expect me to stay here when all the action is out there!" Harry yelled and pointed toward the window. Immediately, he pulled his arm back when he caught sight of the Muggles off in the distance pointing back at him.
"I will not repeat myself again, Mister Potter. Stay in whatever room suits you best," said Snape; then, he leaned forward, perked his lips and whispered into Harry's ear. "The parchment should be of great use to you now. Use it."
Still in Harry's pocket was the blank roll of parchment that Snape had given him not too long ago at his party. After Snape left, Harry stood in the corridor with his hand fidgeting into his pocket. Deep inside was a somewhat smooth surface having some crinkles along the edges. Harry pulled it out and unfolded it carefully.
"I still don't see what's so special about," Harry paused. It suddenly hit him, and he couldn't believe why the thought never occurred to him again. Two years ago, it had been taken away from him. He didn't know how or why Professor Snape had it but that didn't matter now.
In Harry's other pocket was his wand. Harry clutched it tightly and hovered it over the paper. In his head, he went over the words, making sure he still remembered them. After a few seconds of murmuring to himself, Harry finally pointed his wand at the paper and shouted,
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"
And just as Harry had imagined it, dark letters bled through the paper forming names he thought he would never read again. Wormtail… Moony… Prongs… Padfoot… And then, after a few seconds, Hogwarts appeared just as it had many years ago. Small dots with names attached to them scurried about the building. He could see Severus Snape heading down the corridor not too far away.
There, in the boys' bathroom, was a name that did not belong. Harry read it again to himself just to make sure, but it was spelled exactly as it should be. Immediately, Harry whispered, "Mischief managed," flicked his wand and just like that, the words disappeared. He shoved the map into his pocket where it had been before and raced down to the boys' laboratory.
When he entered the room, he felt a sudden chill down his arm. Goosebumps surfaced and ran all throughout his body, spine and neck as well. Slowly, Harry curled his right hand into a fist and started knocking on each black stall. After the third one, Harry was about to check underneath the doors when he heard the faintest, nasal voice reply to him.
"Occupied," it said.
Immediately, Harry jolted back. Then, he tried to open the door using his shoulder. He ran forward at full speed and slammed into it. However, all he got was a surging pain down his right side. Harry stopped and then cupped his hands around his mouth like a Muggle megaphone.
"I thought you died," Harry shouted.
"I did."
A ghostly figure flew through the bathroom stall's door. It was only a boy, a young teenager perhaps with thick glasses and a transparent body. He hovered near Harry and stared at him intently, squinting his eyes. Then, he turned his head toward the window in the bathroom and back to Harry. In the same, nasal voice, he said,
"Did you do that?"
"No," Harry replied. "I'm sorry."
"About what?"
"You shouldn't have died," Harry said. "Ron told me he saw your body two years ago, in the corridor outside his Astronomy class. Chad Corryton. Your mother was put on trial for being," Harry paused. He wasn't sure if bringing up that subject was very smart, especially with Chad as a ghost.
"For being a Death Eater? It was the truth wasn't it," Chad laughed. "My mother married a Muggle! Why on earth would she have supported Him? And now look at me. Harry, look at me!" pleaded Chad as he pulled on Harry's robe.
"I can see you… Well, sort of. Does your mother know that you're, um, like this?"
Chad shrugged. "I don't remember having a funeral. I don't even know if my mother is in Azkaban or not."
"She sounds innocent to me, but I know even the innocent are put away there."
Sirius… He was the first person to come to Harry's mind. Good wizards like him were still being put away into that dreadful place. It made Harry's stomach twist and churn in its own bubbling acid. Harry had to do something about it but with the Muggles able to see Hogwarts, he didn't know what to do. Muggles…
"Chad, where does your father live?"
"I think he's still in our old home."
"And that is…?"
Chad wiped his nose on his sleeve as if he were still living. "172 Stony Road on the edges of Newham. The Waltham Forest is right behind him."
Luckily, Harry had seen that part of London on a map once. He could take the night bus there if he had to. But then again, Muggles could see the bus now, couldn't they? That could just make matters worse.
"Are you going to him? To tell him that I'm dead?" asked Chad.
Harry nodded. "Yes. But I need a way to get there from here."
"Take a ferry then. There are plenty of them that go right near his neck of the woods. The Royal Docks they go to. He's not royalty, no, but he likes to think he is."
Harry smiled politely and nodded once more. "That's great." Harry knew that finding a ferry at that time of day and with all the reporters out there would be impossible, but getting a boat was a possibility. "Do you want to come with me?"
Chad shook and laughed at the same time. It was quite strange indeed. "My father would go mad seeing me like this. I'm sure he knows I'm dead, seeing that I never returned home and all after my first year. And of course Dumbledore would have told him. I probably did have a funeral, but I just don't remember it."
Harry didn't want to disappoint Chad but he found it unlikely that he did have a proper burial at the time. His death came right when the Blue Bloods began to attack Hogwarts, and the giants and centaurs raged outside. His body could have easily been left on the battlefield, but Harry did not want to tell Chad that. Some things are better left unsaid.
A small, square building stood on top of a mossy hill. Around it howled the screams of wolves and scurry of animals fleeing. High above the house was a shining, silver moon dancing among the fiery stars glistening so brilliantly. Each star blew sparks to one another as if exchanging air kisses and bits and pieces of these sparks fell onto the house below. They twirled into the smoking chimney made of brick and clay.
Down into the fireplace they crackled, shooting sparks into the lap of a middle-aged man. He sat rocking on a wooden chair with a plaid sheet over his lap. In his arms was a book written by a Muggle author named Shakespeare. He hummed to himself as he read; he was alone and quiet in his home. Not too far away from him was a set of house keys sitting on a side desk and next to them was a tube of lipstick.
Pop. A woman Disapparated beside the man and placed down her wand on the table. She took off her long scarf and hat and placed them on a coat hanger. Then, she walked back to the man and hugged him slightly.
"I hope no one saw you do that," the man said.
"Doesn't matter now. Haven't you been watching the news? The common street Muggle is seeing all magical things! Even if I were more careful, some one could have seen me."
"Justine, please," the man said and now turned to her. He placed his clammy, wrinkly hands on her smooth, youthful palms and squeezed. "Stop disappearing like that. Just stay here where you'll be safe."
"Safe? You can't be safe anywhere! Someone could be knocking on our door right now, a Death Eater perhaps, ready to kill us both and then leave his ugly, green mark high above our home so that every neighbor will know!"
"Shut up, Justine, shut up!" the Muggle rose and lifted his hand as if to slap her. "You are talking as if you want to be killed."
"Maybe I do, Warren," she said now in low, humble voice. "Well, of course I don't, not in that way. I just want to see him again."
"That's not the way to see him," said the man and sighed. "Shh. Did you hear that?" Both stood quietly. Then there was a clank and then squishing. "That, did you hear it?"
"Yes. Someone's out there."
Harry continued to row the wooden boat down the waterway. It wasn't easy leaving Hogwarts. He had to allow Chad to create a distraction for him. Chad had gathered all the ghosts he could find willing to help Harry, which were more than Harry expected. Even Peeves joined in, not to help out but just to cause some trouble. While they did their worst, throwing water balloons was Peeves' favorite activity, Harry watched closely on his map where everyone was. He snuck out a door toward the river and stole the boat that Hagrid used to take the first years on. It wouldn't do him much good anymore.
When Harry could no longer use the map, he knew he was a safe range from Hogwarts and put it away. Using a spell, Harry sped up the boat's rowing speed, allowing him to travel a great distance with as little rowing as possible. Even though Harry had only been using the oars for ten minutes, it felt like he had been rowing all day. It was then that Harry wished he had gotten his license to Disapparate sooner. He still needed much practice.
Finally, Harry spotted a row of roofs and underneath them small cottages lined up in a row. It took him a few minutes to figure out what street he was at and another few minutes to try to remember where Stony Road was. The Royal Docks were nowhere in sight.
After another ten minutes, Harry came across a thick brush of wood and way off in the distance was a larger dock. There was nothing royal or spectacular about it, but it did look very old. On top of a hill was a beautiful home, and inside, Harry could make out two shadows standing. With any luck, they could tell Harry where 172 Stony Road was.
Harry anchored the boat at the muddy shore and jumped out. The grass squished underneath him, splashing mud all around. There, only a few dozen feet away, was a warm home that Harry only dreamt of living in all his life. It was so quaint, yet loving. Harry's legs began to ache after pulling himself up the hill, but eventually, he found himself standing outside an arched doorway.
Knock. Knock.
"Warren, someone's at the door," Justine whispered and grabbed the wand she had just placed down.
"Really? And I thought Ulysses figured out how to use the door."
"Oh, hush, you know my cat already can do that."
Warren smiled and then looked back at the door. Very cautiously, he tiptoed toward it and then extended his right hand. In his left was the book he was reading. Hamlet. Perhaps he thought he could clonk the intruder on the head with it. Slowly, he turned the knob.