Sirius couldn't tell how long he and James had been running for; there was nothing to indicate the passage of time, if such a thing as time existed in the world of the dead. There was no more random flashes of other worlds, just solid walls of blue-grey enclosing them. What Sirius had noticed though was the gradual drop in temperature. Before, the air had been just slightly cool, which Sirius had hardly registered due to his thick coat but now he was beginning to shiver slightly. James of course didn't feel anything but he noticed his friend's discomfort.
"What is it?"
"Nothing, it's just getting colder, that's all."
After a short period of time though, the cold was beginning to seriously affect Sirius, whose shivering was making his teeth chatter and breath come out in thick plumes. James was getting more and more worried but Sirius was determined to carry on, perhaps this was some kind of test. He'd spent thirteen years of continuous mental torment in Azkaban and survived; a bit of cold wasn't going to stop him now. Soon Sirius could hardly walk, the frozen air was searing his lungs and his shivering had turned into full-blown muscle spasms that racked his body. James frantically pawed the floor with his hooves then slid into his human form, rushing to the black dog and falling on his knees beside him.
"Sirius! Sirius! Change back, perhaps you can conjure a fire, blankets, anything!"
Sirius moaned and lay on the floor, James' words hardly penetrating the buzzing in his ears and the rattling of his chest.
"Sirius! Change back! I can't help you, I can't do magic here. Please, Padfoot, change back!"
Padfoot…the name seemed familiar to Sirius. He struggled to pick out James' voice. What did he want him to do? Change back…to what? The voice was insistent, Sirius wished it would just go away, he wanted to be left alone, but it kept nagging 'change back, Padfoot, change back'. Slowly it registered; it meant turn back to human. But wouldn't he be colder? He was warm now, he didn't want to go back to that cold again, he wanted to stay where he was. The voice was fainter but still there, "Padfoot, don't go! Wake up! Padfoot!"
With an immense effort, Sirius opened one eye and looked at the black haired man who was shouting at him. Would he go away if he did what he said? With great reluctance, Sirius concentrated on returning to his human form and slowly his body elongated and clothes appeared, giving him little protection against the howling wind that had started again, but it seemed to please the man who collapsed on his chest crying.
"Padfoot! Here, use your wand! Sirius, don't give up now, we can make it! Padfoot!"
Oh no, he wanted him to do something else now. It was too much effort, he couldn't feel his body, his face, anything, Sirius' world had narrowed to James' voice and wanting it to stop so he could go to sleep. He was so tired. He was in his best friend's house, in the bed in the attic and sun was shining through the windows. He and James were going to finish the den today then practise Quidditch down by the lake and pretend they were back at Hogwarts. Only three weeks left until they went back though, not long, then they'd be in their second year. He couldn't wait.
James' voice was fading further and further away, he must be calling up the stairs, soon he'll rush in and pull the covers off, telling him to stop being so lazy. He's some room to talk, Sirius thought, it was often James who was late to breakfast after spending all morning lying in bed daydreaming about winning the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor even though he wasn't even on the team yet. He kept telling Sirius that when he was a famous Chaser he'd buy mansions next to each other and they could drive identical Mustangs. Sirius grinned, he couldn't wait.
James saw Sirius smile and it was like a knife to his heart. The last time he'd seen Sirius smile like that was when he'd first held Harry and been told he was going to be a Godfather. The joy in his eyes was something James would never forget, and seeing the same joy on his best friend's face now, he knew he was going to lose him. He cradled Sirius' head in his arms and wept.
The watery morning light, pale as it was through the grimy windows, woke Harry who was stretched out on a sofa, a mouse-nibbled cushion wedged under his head for a pillow. It smelt very musty but Harry was so tired he didn't care. After he'd thrown the letter into the fire, he had spent the next few hours trying to devise a plan of how he was going to get to Snuggle's Cave. He'd thought longingly of his Firebolt but he didn't know where that was, perhaps still sat in his trunk in the play area, and anyway, once he'd managed to get up to Scotland, he didn't actually know where Hogwarts was. To travel the Muggle way, he'd need money and as he didn't have any on him, once again raiding Karkaroff's room was the only option; the wizard must have had some to buy food.
Harry eased himself off the sofa, rubbing his neck, which had a crick in it. Pulling on his shoes he wished that he had a fresh set of clothes after spending the past two days in the ones he was currently wearing but unfortunately that couldn't be helped. He retraced his steps to Karkaroff's room, all the time making sure the professor wasn't hanging around. He'd heard a couple of thumps from the floor above during the night but nothing since. Karkaroff's room was even messier than when he had left it yesterday, so Harry quickly skimmed through the wreckage. He found a moneybag in the inside pocket of an overcoat and notes worth a hundred pounds were inside. Harry raised his eyebrows but remembering the trouble Hagrid and Mr Weasley had with Muggle money, Karkaroff probably didn't realise how much he had. Harry felt a twinge of guilt at stealing money, but Karkaroff did kidnap him so he didn't have much choice.
Once again leaving through the front door, Harry made his way down the drive and set off along the lane.
An hour later Harry heard the sound of traffic in the distance. Nothing had passed him on the lane, otherwise he would have flagged the vehicle down and asked for directions to the nearest town, possibly even a lift but his luck was currently having a week off. After another fifteen minutes walk he came to the main road. In the distance he saw a bus heading towards him, and turning the other way, at the bottom of the hill was a bus stop, which Harry hurried to. When the bus crested the hill and descended towards him, Harry was surprised to see the destination labelled as 'Guildford'. So he was still in Surrey then. He remembered Aunt Petunia dragging him to Guildford in the past if she wanted something from one of the large department stores, but another thing he remembered about it was that it had a train station, and therefore - trains.
The bus hissed to a halt and Harry stood up along with the other passengers. After getting off the bus he looked around trying to get his bearings and he remembered vaguely the place where he was though he hadn't been here for at least six years. Crossing the main road he bought some lunch and asked the woman behind the counter for directions to the train station. When he got there he bought a ticket for London and sat down on a bench to read a newspaper somebody had left until his train arrived.
It was about four O'clock before the train reached King's Cross. Harry had had a quiet journey contemplating how he was going to get to Scotland and he'd had a brainwave, which hopefully would work. It was beginning to drizzle again as he alighted onto the platform and walking through the station, he saw the barrier which admitted Hogwarts pupils every September the first. Harry walked over to it and trying to look inconspicuous, pushed against the metal. As he expected, nothing happened but he felt it was worth a try. He left King's Cross and walked towards the only other magical place there he knew, The Leaky Cauldron.
The old pub was the same, standing wedged between two other buildings and being blissfully ignored by all the Muggles walking past. Harry crossed the street and slipped inside; pulling on a plane black cap he'd bought to cover his distinctive hair and most importantly, his scar. He didn't want anybody recognising him, especially and of Voldemort's followers seen as he didn't know what had been happening over the weeks he'd been away, for all he knew, the press could have started making up lies about him again. Harry kept his head down and sidled around the edge of the busy tavern, spotting Tom having an animated conversation behind the bar with a man wearing a long black coat and top hat, but squeezed past before he was noticed. Even for usual standards, the Leaky Cauldron was very busy, giving Harry some trouble as he tried to make his way to the back door without being stood on or having his cap knocked off. The whole place was buzzing with conversation and copies of the Daily Prophet were being read and waved around. Harry caught a couple of details from the people he passed:
"Second time this month…"
"Still not found…"
"…and they were just left there…"
"Just like last time."
Noticing a Daily Prophet that had been kicked underneath a chair, Harry crouched and picked it up. Sidestepping an old man gesturing wildly with a goblet he walked out into the back yard of the Leaky Cauldron and lifted the paper. Blazoned across the front page was a grainy photograph of a building engulfed in fire. Flames leapt up into the night sky, illuminating the faces of various witches and wizards running to and fro trying to put the fire out. Some were stern, others shocked, all appalled as the orphanage behind them burned beneath a grinning green skull, a snake protruding from its mouth. Harry felt sick, so Voldemort was back, and by the look of it, ready for revenge.
With a leaden heart, he opened the front cover and scanned the inside pages. Arrests, murders, reported sightings, a letter from the Ministry telling people not to panic. 'Second time this month', the man inside the Leaky Cauldron had said. What had been happening while he'd been away? With fresh determination he threw the paper into one of the dustbins and tapped the bricks that would open the passage into Diagon Alley. Even before the wall had finished rearranging, Harry was striding off down the street.
Gringotts was mostly empty and Harry had no problem in finding a goblin to change the remainder of Karkaroff's money into wizard money. Harry wished he could enter his safe but his key was in his trunk. 'Next time', he promised himself, 'I'm going to carry around some money in case I ever get kidnapped by a crazy Death Eater again'. Hopefully he wouldn't be but you never know, especially if you're Harry Potter.
Sirius was about to breath his last when the pathway he and James were lying in suddenly shuddered and darkened to a stormy black. James, inconsolable, hardly noticed until he was suddenly thrown sideways from the motion and Sirius rolled to the opposite side. James stood and tried to reach his friend's body but the floor was weaving, the entire tunnel twisting as though in great pain and he was thrashed around. The walls were also thinning again and James could see forests and mountains. Fighting his way from the edge back towards Sirius, he eventually managed to grasp Sirius' arm but before he could get a better grip, the floor buckled and he was thrown backwards into the wall, which collapsed beneath him, sending him spinning off into the abyss. Sirius, about to leave the dark house and run into the dazzling sunshine within his memory, was pulled back from the edge by the first jolt. The voice crying 'Sirius' for a moment became louder, but then faded again and disappeared. Also the blazing light was dimming and he tried desperately to run towards it but it was slipping away and James was leaving him again. He called but no sound came out but a strangled gasp. The world was spinning and the edges were closing in, he couldn't escape. Then there was a feeling of nothingness… he was falling. Down, down…into the black.
The apothecary was empty when Harry walked in, the jingle of the bell bringing the shopkeeper eagerly to the front at the chance of a sale. Evidently the school rush had not started yet and business was slow. Upon seeing Harry though, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he took in the boy's bedraggled Muggle clothes and cap shading his face.
"Can I help you?" The shopkeeper asked.
Harry fished around in his pocket looking for money.
"How much is a tub of floo powder?"
"I'm afraid we're fresh out unfortunately, you'll have to look elsewhere. I suggest Knockturn Alley." A defiant expression settled on the shopkeeper's features and Harry could see him gripping his wand. He sighed and pulled off his cap, the effect was instantaneous.
"Mr Potter! I'm so sorry, I didn't recognise you, I thought you were…well, you can never be too careful these days eh?" The shopkeeper gave a nervous chuckle. "A tub of floo powder? Of course, what size would you require?"
He indicated to a selection of different tubs on the shelf behind him. Harry pointed at a medium sized one and the he took it down and placed it in a brown paper bag.
"Would Mr Potter require anything else? Any school supplies? You're in early this year sir, if you don't mind me saying."
"No, that's all thank you." Harry did not feel inclined to explain, as it would probably take a lot of quick thinking and plausible lying, when all he wanted was a hot bath and a decent meal. If he told the man he'd been kidnapped by a mad Death-Eater who happened to be the former headmaster of a well-known magic school, he would either be considered crazy, or a liar or the story would be all over the papers by this time tomorrow and Harry had had more than enough of that over the past few years. The shopkeeper was obviously disappointed with this lack of information but hid it well.
"Right, of course, here we are, three galleons please."
Harry paid then pulled his cap back on before leaving the shop. Now he had to find a fireplace. There were several around the corner, especially designed for people travelling to Diagon Alley via floo powder as well as an area for witches and wizards to apparate. There was no one else around and Harry walked over to the nearest grate, prising the lid off the floo powder and taking a handful of the small grains. He threw it into the fire which immediately leapt up to head height, and after taking a last looked round to make sure nobody was watching, took off his cap and glasses, which he stuffed into a pocket, then clearly said 'The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmead.' Walking forward into the flames, he closed his eyes and with a whoosh had disappeared.
Madam Rosmerta had just finished the lunchtime shift and was stacking glasses when a crash from the direction of the upstairs fireplace made her start and drop several mugs onto the floor. Mending the breakages with a sweep of her wand, she turned and marched upstairs, ready to give an earful to whoever had flooed into her best parlour, probably spreading soot everywhere while they were at it. Throwing the door open, she came across the site of a slightly dazed Harry, who'd used too much floo powder and gone skidding across the floor into a couple of chairs. Rosmerta gasped at the sight of him, this filthy sixteen year old who looked more and more like James every time she saw him. Not his eyes though, made even greener by the removal of his glasses and blacked face, Lily's eyes, a girl who frequently came to the Three Broomsticks with her friends and was always ready with a smile and "Hello." Deciding that questions could wait, the witch hurried over to Harry and helped him up, using a cleaning spell to remove the worst the worst of the soot.
"Madam Rosmerta! I'm sorry, you're the only person I could think of, I…"
He was hushed by the bustling witch, who rearranged his jacket and tried to smooth down his hair. Harry tried again.
"I'm sorry about the mess, I always have trouble with floo powder."
She looked at him kindly, "Don't worry about it, I can't stand the stuff either, completely ruins my hair. Come on, sit down."
She ushered him to a cream sofa which Harry was hesitant to sit on considering the state of his clothes but Madam Rosmerta pushed him down then left, calling over her shoulder, "You stay there while I just shut the bar, and then you can tell me why you came crashing through my fireplace, eh?" She winked then disappeared. Harry leant back and closed his eyes, relief at getting there in one piece and Madam Rosmerta thankfully not being angry at his unannounced arrival washing over him. Smiling gratefully at the chance to recollect his thoughts, he listened to the tapping of Madam Rosmerta's heels as she shut up The Three Broomsticks and locked the front door. By the time she reappeared bearing butterbeer and sandwiches, Harry had decided that the only way was to tell her the truth, however crazy it sounded.
For several minutes, the only sounds were Harry hastily eating as many sandwiches as he could and the soft chiming of the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. Rosmerta watched Harry, dying to ask questions but realising that Harry needed to tell his story in his own time. Eventually, Harry finished chewing and sat looking at the rose carpet, a bit embarrassed at appearing so greedy but glancing up into Madam Rosmerta's eyes, all he saw was concern.
"Harry…"
He felt pressure on his arm and looked down at Madam Rosmerta's long red nails, the several rings on her fingers flashing in the afternoon sun. He didn't know where to start.
"Harry," she repeated. He looked up again and she smiled. "Tell me what happened."
And he did, the whole story starting with the Weasleys not arriving to pick him up, all the way through to waking up in a deserted mansion after having been kidnapped by Karkaroff. Harry reached the part where he bought floo powder,
"I used one of the fireplaces in Diagon Alley and flooed here, I didn't know what else to do. I need to find some way of contacting Professor Dumbledore."
Madam Rosmerta had listened in horrified silence apart from gasping at the mention of Karkaroff's name, she evidently remembered him being around during the Triwizard Tournament. She then surprised Harry by clasping him to her and repeatedly saying, "You poor thing, you poor, poor boy." Her strong perfume was beginning to make his eyes water by the time she let him go, but Harry was thankful that at last somebody believed him, after so many times previously being called a liar.
She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, leaving slight smudges from her mascara, but she was smiling.
"Well, at least you are alright now. We need to send a letter to Professor Dumbledore, he's a brilliant man, and you can stay here free of charge until everything is sorted, is that okay?"
Harry nodded and thanked her profusely, but she brushed it aside, "It's the least I can do after all you've been through." Harry was worried that she'd clasp him to herself again but instead she stood up, her manner becoming business-like.
"I have an owl but she's away on a delivery at the minute so we'll have to get you one from the post office, it'll be closed by now so we'll have to go first thing in the morning."
Harry suddenly remembered why he was there.
"The problem is though, I need to get to a cave in the hillside outside the village. I said I'd meet the Weasleys there if they got my letter."
Madam Rosmerta looked puzzled. "A cave? Why would you want to meet there?"
Harry shrugged, he felt the part about Sirius not actually being an escaped murderer, as well as being too painful to go into, was also a bit too much for Madam Rosmerta to take. "We found it while exploring a couple of years ago and it's been a kind of secret hideout."
"I hope you don't sneak out of school, especially during times like these. Though considering who your father was, I'm hardly surprised," she replied disapprovingly, but the twinkle in her eyes gave away her amusement. "It's still light, we could go now and see if they're there if you want?"
Harry nodded and rose from the sofa, the leftover sandwiches on the plate reminding him of sending food to Sirius while he was hiding in the cave with Buckbeak. He wondered where the Hippogriff was now, probably still in Grimmauld Place unless Dumbledore had given him back to Hagrid to look after. Suddenly what she had just said filtered through his musings.
"What?" Harry exclaimed, "No, it's okay, you have the pub to run. I can go on my own. You've done enough for me."
Rosmerta stopped clearing away the butterbeer bottles and stood with her hands on her hips. "Mr Potter, there is no way I'm going to let you go gallivanting around the countryside on your own, no matter how capable you are to look after yourself," she said, correctly interpreting the annoyed expression on Harry's face, "Especially now You-Know-Who is back and you've already been kidnapped once! I'm coming with you and that is final."
The steely look she gave him challenged him to continue arguing but Harry stopped himself. His main concern had been about revealing the location of Snuggle's Cave but he supposed sadly that it didn't really matter any more. While following Madam Rosmerta down the wooden stairs, Harry reflected that she could probably give Mrs Weasley a run for her money when it came to being stubborn.
Harry and Madam Rosmerta walked through Hogsmeade to the outskirts, seeing nobody on the way. It was a mild day with a good breeze blowing but apart from the rustling of the trees there were no other sounds. Harry, used to being in Hogsmeade with hundreds of other Hogwarts pupils all trying to be heard over each other thought this was strange, even creepy.
"Is it usually this quiet?" He eventually asked. Rosmerta looked around as though she hadn't particularly noticed.
"This time of year? No noisy school kids for a start," she gave Harry another wink, "but now you mention it, it is very quiet. Some people have left though, the news of You-Know-Who rising again was too much for those that lost people last time." Her voice was barely a whisper and she turned to Harry with fresh tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry about your parents Harry, they were good people. They didn't deserve…what happened. Nobody did."
Harry, used to hearing people saying that though he was, felt his heart constrict as it always did when somebody mentioned his parents. They continued in silence until they reached the edge of the village and climbed over the stile. Walking through the long grass, Madam Rosmerta having a bit of trouble with her heels catching hidden bumps, towards the stone outcrop which contained Snuggle's Cave, Harry considered what she had said about his father. In his third year when he had overheard her conversation with the Hogwarts professors about Sirius, he got the impression that she knew them well. If she knew James and Sirius, perhaps she knew his mother as well.
"Madam Rosmerta, can you tell me about my parents?"
She looked surprised for a few seconds but soon smiled.
"Of course, and call me Rosmerta, none of this Madam stuff."
Harry grinned back. Rosmerta chuckled.
"The first time I saw your mother, Lily, she was furious with some boys in her year called James and Sirius who apparently had ambushed her and her friends on the way here from the school and jumped out at them from the Forbidden Forest wearing Halloween costumes, frightening them so much one of her friends tried to climb a tree and got stuck half way up it. It took them about two hours to get her down again. I think those two were the bane of hers and many other students' lives with their eternal mischief making. They were well liked though, hung around with two other boys, Remus and Peter. Remus came back a year or two ago, he taught at your school actually."
Harry flinched at the mention of Peter, but made a noise of assent, concentrating on the uneven grown and smiling at the thought of his dad and Sirius jumping out from behind a tree dressed as werewolves.
"I know Remus is a werewolf, but I remember him as the sweet boy who always tried to be a calming influence on the other two. You would never have guessed he was really a dangerous animal."
"Only on the full moon though, and if he takes Wolfbane Potion he isn't dangerous."
Rosmerta realised that she'd hit a sore point and hastened to make amends.
"Of course, it's amazing what they come up with these days, and when I saw him again he was just as cordial as ever, though he looked very ill. Must be the side affects of…"
She looked sideways at Harry, who decided to let the matter drop. He didn't blame her, if he himself didn't know a werewolf and knew that they were really only dangerous once every month, then he'd probably hold a prejudiced view against them too. It's what the wizarding community had grown up with.
"Did they go into The Three Broomsticks a lot then?" he asked. Rosmerta looked relieved that Harry hadn't taken further offence.
"Yes, they were always in there, most of the time when they should have been at school I might add but I so loved hearing about their stories, and they were so charming too. Always buying butterbeer and disappearing with it back along whichever secret passage they used to get here I expect."
Rosmerta laughed out loud at Harry's expression.
"I don't know why you look so shocked, I went to Hogwarts too you know. Many years ago mind you but I still got to know one or two of the castle's secrets, including one of the secret passages some boys in my year stumbled across. I don't know if it's still open, it was behind a mirror."
"No, it's caved in now," Harry told her, though he was impressed that she knew about it. Having had access to the Marauder's Map and the unmatched wealth of knowledge which was the Weasley twins, Harry hadn't thought about other people before them looking for and finding the alternative ways out of the castle, though now he thought about it considering how long the castle had been there for and the number of pupils it must have had residing in it, all the passages must have been found at one time or another. They had reached the bottom of the stone outcrop and begun to climb up a faint path between the boulders. Rosmerta looked wistful.
"Yes, I remember clearly my time in Hufflepuff."
Harry smiled, he didn't know what he was going to end up doing when he left school, but he knew he'd never forget his seven years of being a Gryffindor.
They climbed higher and Harry pulled out his wand, Madam Rosmerta copying him. There shouldn't be any way Voldemort or his Death Eaters had ever heard of Snuggle's Cave but Moody's repeated warnings of 'constant vigilance' echoed in Harry's ears. Perhaps if he'd taken more notice of this advice when he walked out of Privet Drive, he wouldn't have been in this mess in the first place.
Treading carefully around rocks and tree roots, they eventually came to the entrance of the cave and Harry halted, listening carefully for any noise but all he could hear was the whistling wind. Rosmerta was out of breath with the climbing and fanning herself furiously with her handkerchief, looked around the area then back down at Hogsmeade laid out below them. Harry thought it looked like a toy village and spotted the tilting roof of the Shrieking Shack to one side. Rosmerta turned back to Harry, who was satisfied that there was no one else there.
"I've never been this far up here before," Rosmerta said as she refolded her handkerchief and placed it back up her sleeve, "Are there a lot of caves?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know, we only came here a few times then decided that it was too far for us to walk. There could be I suppose."
Before Rosmerta got round to mentioning anything about it being a good hiding place for escaped convicts, he motioned for her to follow him inside. She hobbled in, her shoes obviously taking their toll and sat gingerly on a rock just inside the entrance, taking one heel off and rubbing her toes. Harry looked at her sparkly red stilettos and shook his head in incomprehension. Why women wore shoes that did that to their feet never ceased to amaze him. Aunt Petunia always wore heels even when she was just doing the housework.
Turning his attention back to the cave, he took in the old animal bones scattered in one corner and the scattered grass and heather. Madam Rosmerta sneezed in the musty air, "It looks like something has made a nest in here," she said, her voice echoing slightly. Harry shut his eyes against the painful memories and resolutely turned his back. Now wasn't the time to break down.
"There's nothing here," he declared. Rosmerta replaced her shoe and looked up at him. "What do you want to do now?" Harry sighed, why was nothing ever simple? Rosmerta stood up and clasped his shoulders reassuringly.
"Never mind, I'm sure they'll turn up eventually. How about we wait outside for a bit? Hmm?"
Harry nodded and they walked back outside, squinting as they emerged from the gloom of the cave into the afternoon sun.
"Shall we go to the top, seen as we're already half way up? Can you apparate yet?" Rosmerta asked. Harry shook his head.
"Not for another year, though things would be a lot easier if I could. No more using the floo network for one thing."
She smirked, "Well, it looks like we'll have to get there the old-fashioned way then."
Twenty minutes later they reached the top and looked out over the Scottish scenery. Harry could see Hogwarts in the distance and a brief glitter of water from the Great Lake. Even in the height of summer, the Forbidden Forest looked dark and uninviting. Rosmerta noticed where he was looking.
"I've only been in there once, for a bet in my sixth year. I got about ten metres then ran out screaming, convinced I'd seen a vampire. Turned out it was Professor Stranlov looking for wild mushrooms."
While they waited they watched the sun go down and Rosmerta entertained him with stories from her time at Hogwarts, including one about her head of year who always managed to turn up when you were breaking a rule and nobody ever found out how she managed it. Harry thought she sounded remarkably like Mr Filtch. Eventually it was getting too cold to remain sat on the exposed hilltop and Madam Rosmerta suggested that they come back tomorrow and try again after they'd sent Dumbledore's letter.
"I can't drag you up here again," Harry told Rosmerta, "I'll come by myself."
"Harry, I said before-
"I know, and I appreciate you coming up here with me but look, no bad guys," he said, turning around and indicating the empty countryside. "You need to keep your pub open otherwise people will want to know why it's suddenly been shut."
Rosmerta rolled her eyes and accepted his help in getting her to her feet again. They were about to set off back down the slope when Harry spotted the shape of a bird flying towards them. It could have been an owl for anybody in the village, or even not an owl at all but something made him stand there and watch its approach. When it got closer, Harry recognised the white plumage of Hedwig and grinned broadly as she raced towards him.
She landed on his arm with a screech, he knew she was annoyed at him disappearing but also excited about finding him again. A sharp nip on the ear confirmed this.
"I'm sorry Hedwig, I didn't leave you on purpose."
"What a beautiful owl," sighed Rosmerta, smiling when Hedwig graciously allowed her to stroke her feathers.
"I've got to ask you a favour though," Harry softly told the owl, "Can you fly to Dumbledore for me and give him this note?" He pulled it out of his pocket and waited for Hedwig to either go into a huff or allow him to tie the parchment to her leg. Luckily she did the latter and Harry fixed it on with a piece of string.
"If he's not at Hogwarts it doesn't matter, you've already flown far enough today. I'll get a post owl to deliver it tomorrow."
Hedwig looked indignant that Harry would even think of using another owl and as though to prove her strength she immediately launched off Harry's arm and silently glided off across the village towards Hogwarts, it's lights twinkling in the gathering dusk.
Harry and Rosmerta returned down the stony path they'd walked up earlier. When they reached the bottom they wove their way back across the field, Rosmerta taking off her shoes after she stumbled for the fifth time. Harry suddenly remembered the paper he'd picked up that morning in the Leaky Cauldron.
"What happened at the orphanage?" he asked Rosmerta, who was silent for so long he wasn't sure she'd heard him. He was about to ask again when she suddenly spoke.
"It's happening again. Last time was terrible, people frightened to leave their homes, not knowing who was on whose side. Neighbours turned against neighbours, families turned against themselves, everybody suspected everybody else. The murders and all the cover ups that had to be created so that the Muggles never suspected."
Harry shivered; the night suddenly seemed much colder. Nobody had ever explained what living during the last war between Voldemort and the Light was like. Mr Weasley had mentioned it when Harry first asked about the Dark Mark at the Quidditch Cup but those witches and wizards old enough to remember often didn't want to. Rosmerta took a deep breath and fixed Harry with a penetrating look, not unlike Dumbledore when he particularly wanted to get a message across.
"Parents demanded their children's return from Hogwarts and Professor Dumbledore battled hard to convince them that Hogwarts was the safest place for them if they stayed within the school boundaries where the warding spells would protect them." Her voice was now barely a whisper.
"Occasionally those from Muggle families never came back."
Harry stared, horrified. It could happen again, so easily, the Muggle parents of those who went to Hogwarts now obviously wouldn't know much about Voldemort and the exact same thing would occur. But this time, who could stop him?
"Harry, people lived in permanent fear, wondering if it was going to be them who were next, wondering if it was their house and their family that they would come home to find destroyed, the mark of You-Know-Who, a death mask, in the sky above it. I never want to live through that again."
They walked back to The Three Broomsticks in silence.
Harry woke early the following morning and looked around the bedroom Rosmerta had shown him, to see if Hedwig had returned. It was empty so Dumbledore must have been somewhere else apart from Hogwarts. Harry wished that he had his trunk so he could look at the framed photograph of his parents, swirling forever amongst the autumn leaves. If only life could be paused in the same way, a perfect moment that remained unchanged forever. But life wasn't like that, he thought bitterly, life was full of pain and death and there was nothing he could do to change it.
He got out of bed and shut the window left open for Hedwig and studied the view across the back garden of the Three Broomsticks. There were several picnic tables people could sit at and enjoy their drinks in the sunshine but it was empty now apart from a black and white cat stalking a leaf through the flowerbeds. He quite missed Crookshanks and his oddly squashed face. Cats were the mortal enemy of Aunt Petunia, along with her other immense dislikes: slugs, snails and Harry, which was part of the reason why he liked them. He thought Rosmerta was more the type to go out and pet it though rather than chase it out of the garden with a rake and sure enough, Harry heard the back door open and Madam Rosmerta placing a saucer of cream on the floor. 'Why would anyone want to destroy this?' Harry thought. It was all about power, that's all Voldemort wants, and to destroy everything in his way. Harry turned away from the window and began to get dressed.
Downstairs he met Rosmerta coming in from the kitchen.
"Would you like some breakfast?" she asked, "I've made a bit of everything as I didn't know what you liked."
Silenced by this generosity from somebody he'd never really spoken to before yesterday, he let himself be ushered to one of the tables. Nobody else was staying at the pub so Rosmerta joined him and asked him about what Hogwarts was like now, often forgetting to eat as Harry recounted the full version of the Philosopher's Stone, the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets (tactfully leaving out Ginny's name, just saying that it was a girl from one of the younger years who had been involved) and the Triwizard Tournament. Being behind the bar, Rosmerta had heard a lot of different theories and stories from customers, and of course the Daily Prophet but as often the case, the truth is stranger than fiction.