Happy New Year one and all!

Chapter 13 : In Harm's Way

The journey from Ramsgate to Tilbury was, as the saying goes, plain sailing. The weather was fine, the sea was calm, everything was aright with the world.

Therefore Harry was worried.

It was like waiting for the other boot to drop of for a punchline that never comes. As the hours ticked by Harry's nerves grew worse and worse; by the time the Griselda had entered the Thames Estuary proper Harry was feeling as nervous as he had just before The Third Task!

Every since leaving Ramsgate Harry had that all too familiar feeling of being watched. But there was only Sam and himself on the small craft. Surely he couldn't be feeling anxious about Sam after all the time they'd spent together and the amount of support Sam had given him?

But the feeling persisted.

His scar had been playing up too.

It hadn't burnt hot and fierce as it had done in the past but it was rather like an itch you wanted to scratch but couldn't. The irritation was making Harry ratty and short-termpered. Sam seemed to be aware of the change in Harry and instead of his usual chatty companionship he displayed whilst steering, Sam was silent, concentrating on his task. Once or twice Harry had glanced at Sam and each time he found him looking straight at Harry's eyes. On the occasions Harry tried to smile back but strangely found great difficulty in doing so and ended up turning back to stare out to sea.

Dusk fell around them as they sailed up the estuary. Street lights appeared on the northern shore and Harry could make out the illuminations on a pleasure pier and seafront. "Wow! That looks brilliant!" exclaimed Harry. He was gazing raptly at the funfair at the beginning of the pier. "Where is that?" he questioned Sam.

"How should I know?" Sam responded; he definitely sounded cross to Harry so he didn't ask anything else.

Sam's response rang a warnoing bell. Harry silently reasoned that Sam should know where it was and what it was. Hadn't he told Harry that he'd brought the Griselda to these waters before? Surely that would mean he knew the area even if only slightly.

"We'll be at journey's end in about 40 minutes Harry." Sam had spoken to Harry's back as Harry had resumed staring out to sea.

"OK." Harry acknowledged quietly.

Their time together on the Griselda had, overall, been enjoyable for Harry. True they had had one or two scares on the journey from Southampton but by-and-large Harry felt he had benefitted from Sam's friendship and support. He didn't want to lose that with Sam after they'd docked, so he asked "Sam, can you let me have a note of your home address so I can write to you?"

"Later Harry. I'm too busy right now."

This evasiveness seemed out of character somehow and again it puzzled Harry. Thinking further on Sam's words Harry thought "perhaps he doesn't want to keep in touch and just says that to fob me off. Why can't people just be honest and say what they really mean!"

The silence became more and more intense as the minutes stretched by. When he could take no more Harry went below without saying a word to Sam.

He thre himself on his bunk irritably and stared at the wooden slats of the bunk overhead, his brow screwed up in puzzlement. Hadn't Sam told him that it was his, Sam's, destiny to help him? Thee couldn't be another HP could there? So why this evasiveness all of a sudden?

It just didn't make sense.

Or did it?

Sam had been his normal, chatty, friendly self when they had been shopping in Ramsgate. Everything had been fine then.

Wormtail!

Harry had not been 100 certain that the rat he'd seen just before their departure had had a silver paw but now he was sure of it.

It was the only thing that made sense but what had he done?

Had he bewitched Sam? Had the Imperius Curse been put on him and if it had, what had he been ordered to do?

Harry could guess at that. The chance was Sam had been ordered to either kill Harry or capture him and hand him over to the Death Eaters. Remembered back to his last vision of Voldemort, Harry reasoned that Sam had been ordered to make sure that Harry did not escape from the Death Eaters when they reached shore. That meant that he, Harry, would have to part company from Sam the first chance he got.

"Right then!" Harry said to himself "Better get ready now." He rose from his bunk, pulled out his rucksack and put everything inside it. Looking over his few meagre possessions Harry wished he still had his wand with him. The loss of it made him feel far more vulnerable that he liked.

Would he ever get a chance to recover it? It was brother to Voldemort's own wand, the wand that had killed his parents and left Harry with the scan on his forehad. Perhaps it would be getter if he got another wand but until his name was cleared Harry could see no way to get another wand. He couldn't very well just walk into Ollivander's and buy a new wand. The Aurors or the MLES would have him in an instant and he'd be in Azkaban before you could say "Phoenix Feather!"

But his wand was not the only possession Harry was missing at the moment. The knife Sirius had given him in his fourth year would be handy right about now. It could be used to open any lock but it had been almost totally destroyed in the Department of Mysteries when he had tried to enter a locked room. A room that contained ….. what? Harry mused on that room for a few minutes. Could that have been the room that Dumbledore was meaning back in June? Harry screwed up his brow again, trying hard to recall the words….

"There is a room in the Department of Mysteries that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than the forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most myusterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all."

Power! What power!

Right at the moment Harry did not feel very powerful at all! He felt weary, he felt confused, he felt alone, so very alone!

But one thing he did not feel was powerful and if he were captured again by Death Eaters then he would end up feeling powerless.

This thought brought him back to the task in hand. One more quick check through his bag ensured he had all his things. He was ready to leave and get as far away from Sam as he could at the first chance.

"Get up here Potter! We're about ready to make berth."

Potter? Sam never called him that, it was always Harry! What was going on? Not willing to show that he suspected that something was wrong – very wrong! Harry replied as cheerfully as he could. "Coming right up!"

As he stepped up on to the deck the cool evening air felt refreshing and revitalising to Harry. The northern shore of the river grew closer and closer and he could make out the buildings illuminated by dozens of lights. Their small craft was making its way slowly to a dock marked "… Ship Repairers and Marine Engineer" the name being in darkness, one of the sign's lights was obviously not working.

Harry nimbly jumped ashore holding one of the Griselda's mooring lines in his hand. He made her fast to the bollard on the dockside. Quickly and, he hoped, unobserved by Sam, Harry climbed back on board the Griselda. He picked up his bag and went up on deck. He hoped to be able to leave without Sam noticing but was Sam was right beside him.

"In a hurry, Harry?"

"Well, you know! You've put yourself out so much to help me I just thought you'd be gland to be rid of me!" He tried to grin but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Don't be in such a rush. Let me help you get your bearings. Wait here for me for a minute; I won't be long. Promise me you'll wait?"

Harry didn't speak but just nodded his head. Sam reluctantly walked to the yard's office and entered through the door.

As soon as Sam was out of sight Harry ran.

He didn't hve a clue where he was going but here it was too quiet. The harsh lights cast many velvety black shadows. There were too many opportunities for an attack. Moody's words "constant vigilence!" resonated like a mantra through Harry's brain. He ran towards a road where he could see traffic moving. Lorries and cars would mean people – muggles – but perhaps also a chance for a lift.

When he got to the road he slowed his pace and walked westwards – at least he thought it was west – towards London. Soon he found that the road simply wound its way to the heart of the main Tilbury docks themselves. He stopped and watched as a container lorry went past him and drove into a lorry park some 300 yards or so further up the road.

"May that'd be a good place to get a lift up to London!" thought Harry as he crossed the road and headed to the rows and rows of lorries.

Just at the entrance Harry saw a trailer parked at the roadside, the kerbside of which had an opening showing a counter with bottles of ketchup, mustard and brown sauce. Bright light spilled across the pavement to where a couple of grbbly looking patio tables stood surrounded by half-a-dozen odd plastic chairs and one overflowing dustbin.

Harry took in these sights quickly but the smell! It was wonderful and made his stomach rumble. Harry knew it had not been that many hours since he and Sam had last eaten but the smell of friends onions, burgers and sausages was making his mouth water! As he got nearer he could hear happy laughter from some of the men lounging in the chairs, cheerfully drinking steaming hot mugs of tea and munching on their burgers.

Sam had insisted in giving Harry a couple of £5 notes to keep for emergencies and he now debated whether to spend some on food or not. Eventually he decided against and turned mournfully away from the delicious aromas. One of the men had noticed him however.

"Hey kid!" He called. "What're you…..!"

Harry didn't wait to hear any more; he turned and ran. He still didn't feel safe. Grimmauld Place was still a long, long way off and he was determined to get their or, in Oliver Wood's words "die trying!"

The confused lorry driver turned to his companions. "What'd I say?" They just shrugged their shoulders in response.