IV
Petunia Dursley walked slowly down the isle of the supermarket, the trolley rolling ahead of her. Her hands reached for items, left and right, seemingly as if she was an android. However, if you looked close enough, you'd notice she moved with the grace and efficiency of a person who had done this very thing an untold number of times.
Ham, bacon, eggs... There would be roasted ham this evening. Vernon Dursley was not a man who liked to change things and he liked his routines, his food at the table at the same time each evening, like clockwork. Each night had a menu that had not changed much for at least twenty years, not even after the doctor had recommended he started eating right.
Petunia sighed. If her fool of a husband kept eating like this, she'd become a widow before long and Dudley without a father. Not that Vernon had been such a good influence on their child. In fact, she felt there were only two things her boy had learned from his father. Eating too much, and if you did not care who you stepped on, it was perfectly possible and acceptable to bully your way through life. You had to know who to bend your knee to, of course, but the rest of humanity was inconsequential.
She was loathed to admit it, but her nephew was the only one who seemed to have had any positive influence on Dudley. That summer night, when Harry had saved her son from those...those... Dementors, she had been so angry, so afraid.
Not only for Dudley, but for Harry as well. He was after all, her only living relative. She knew in her heart of hearts that Harry had saved her boy, despite the way she, Vernon and Dudley had treated him all those years. And Marge, of course. Oh, how she detested that woman...
And he would, she knew, save Dudley again if called upon. He was Lily's son, after all, and she had always seen a lot of her sister in Harry. Even so, she had done nothing to help him in the aftermath of the Dementor attack, aside from revealing her knowledge of those monsters, which had calmed Vernon a bit, since he no longer believed Harry was responsible for the state Dudley was in.
She had not even protested when Vernon demanded Harry left their home, not until Dumbledore sent that letter of his. Harry was not to leave home before his seventeenth birthday, no matter the cost.
As to Harry's influence on Dudley, there could be no doubt her boy had changed after that encounter. Despite never seeing the things for himself, Dudley instinctively knew Harry had shown extraordinary bravery, when facing those horrors, while he had been unable to do anything.
He stopped mistreating his cousin after that. Once school started, she received no more letters from teachers complaining over Dudley's behaviour or his bullying of other, weaker boys. He also got rid of those friends of his. She was glad of it, but to her everlasting shame, she never even thanked Harry for his effort.
Petunia put the groceries into the bag without much thought and drove home. She carried the bags into the kitchen and put them away. She called out, but received no answer. Dudley was out, apparently and her husband would not be home for several hours, just before supper, as usual.
For some reason, her mind was very uneasy and she paced the living room for a while, before she decided to clean the house. Doing so always soothed her, no matter what was going on in her life. Ruefully, she wondered when she would wear the carpet down so much that they would need to replace it.
An hour later, she found herself outside Harry's room but could not, and not for the first time, bring herself to enter. Nor could she turn away. Steeling herself, she turned the knob and the door slowly edged open. The utter silence that filled the empty room seemed to scream at her and she almost recoiled away from it. She stepped over the threshold and slowly made her way over to the window. As she cleaned the glass, she eyed the repairs done after that flying Ford Anglia had pulled the bars from Harry's window.
Vernon had insisted on the bars quite strongly and she had gone along with it, somehow hoping they would keep those damn wizards away. Before Harry had even joined Hogwarts, she'd tried her best to hide the admission letters, trying in desperation to keep her nephew from ever learning of this hidden world.
Vernon had assumed she was just as desperate to appear as normal as he was and she more than played her part to make it seem that way. One day, if she got the chance, she would have to beg his forgiveness for how far she went.
Perhaps Harry would have been safe if he'd never known. It was wishful thinking of course, but she had been so determined to keep him safe. After all, that blasted world had stolen her sister away, in more ways than one.
And it seemed that cursed place had finally claimed Harry as well. Almost two years had gone by since he had disappeared without a trace. She had screamed at his bodyguards, who arrived a little later. They had supposed to have been there for his protection!
They'd taken her outburst in stride, but seemed a little surprised at her anger. Petunia could not fault them, really. The wizards knew how Harry was treated at her home and she vividly remembered their words on King's Cross when Harry had arrived for the summer holidays after his fifth year.
The night Harry had disappeared, it had been her husband who'd been the recipient of the worst of her ire, though. After Mr. Lupin and Miss. Tonks left, Vernon had approached her. Not understanding her outburst, he'd thought she was as happy as he was to be rid of that boy and all the trouble he brought.
A few minutes later, Mr. Vernon Dursley found himself on the front lawn, holding a duffel bag in one hand and a tooth in the other. Her full armed slap had knocked it out. He was not to come back until he was ready to apologize for his words. Vernon had taken care never to mention Harry again in her presence.
Petunia sat down on the old bed, distraught. On the desk, she spied a picture frame lying face down. In stark contrast to an otherwise impeccable room, a layer of dust covered the frame. She had not been able to touch it since Harry's disappearance, for she knew whose picture it was. This time however, she reached across, grabbed the wooden frame tightly and turned it around.
Looking back at her were the smiling faces of her sister, her husband and Harry, who was a few weeks shy of a year old. A tear fell onto the glass and Petunia quickly wiped it off with the cloth, but the floodgates had opened and she could not stem the tide. She brought the picture to her chest and rocked herself back and forth, weeping silently.
Oh, Lily. How she missed her sister. They'd been the best of friends, almost inseparable when they were young. Then came that fateful day, when the letter arrived. Her sister was a witch and would be able to do amazing things, with the flick of a piece of wood once she had been given her lessons.
Her parents had been overjoyed, of course. Their beautiful Lily was even more special than before. Petunia remembered the intense jealousy when she found out, the anger and resentment that followed, made only worse when she somehow managed to send a letter to Hogwarts, asking to be admitted.
She was refused, of course, in a letter containing meaningless platitudes and well wishes. Soon after, she distanced herself from her sister and almost stopped talking to her altogether. Lily did not understand, but this was the way it had always been. Lily had always been their parent's favourite. They had always tried to hide it, tried to treat them the same as most parents do, but it was painfully obvious. Lily was prettier, more intelligent, more popular...
This went on for years. She started seeing Vernon mostly because her parents and sister disliked him and eventually she married him. She'd even refused to have her sister as a bridesmaid, something she had always regretted. What she regretted the most, however was the way she had let her feelings bleed into her treatment of her nephew.
How awful she felt whenever she let herself stray towards those thoughts. If only she'd had the strength to overcome herself and give that boy the home he had deserved. Petunia sighed as she felt herself slip even deeper into her regrets.
While Lily had always been very happy with James, Petunia had sometimes wondered over the years, whether she would ever have married Vernon, had she not been so angry and resentful. Those thoughts had assaulted her more and more often lately.
As her crying faded, she collected herself and left the room, carrying the frame in her hand. Her gait purposeful, she went into her husband's toolbox and brought out a hammer and a nail, which she brought to a living room wall.
She struck the nail in with a couple of hits of the hammer and then she grabbed Harry's picture and hung it on the wall, next to the picture of her parents. She was done being ashamed of her sister and nephew and if Vernon had a problem with that, she was certain he knew the address of a suitable hotel in the city.
The village was distinctly average, nothing special about it. It was more of a hamlet, really. One street, houses lining each side. Harry watched the settlement from his vantage point on a nearby hill. Most of the houses had cars by them, so this was a Muggle village. For the most part, at least. It was nearly noon and Harry made his way down the hill, his eyes constantly scanning the environment for any dangers.
His stomach was rumbling, so a stop at the local restaurant would not go amiss. He mostly avoided places like restaurants, cafés and other places where you would be in close proximity with others. It lessened the danger of him being recognized. As he neared the town, he spied a signpost which read; Bullswick. A fitting name, Harry supposed, as he imagined there had to be a fair number of farms around, with all those fields and meadows.
As Harry walked along the singular street, he would eye the houses as he passed by. They were all very well kept, the fences painted and the lawns clearly well maintained. Their owners obviously took pride in their homes, but unlike the sterile feeling that surrounded Privet Drive, these houses had... souls. All in all, it was a lovely place and Harry decided he liked it more than a little.
There were several people about and Harry nodded to them as he walked on. He would hear a few of them remarking on him being there, that surely it was a bit early in the year for backpacking? The cobbled street angled a little to the west as it stretched its way through the village, and beyond. Suddenly, Harry was assaulted by the smell of roasting flesh, his mouth almost salivating at the sensation. He chased down the smell to a small restaurant in a nice little house at the other edge of town.
The place was empty. Good. Harry entered "Katie's" and was greeted by a beautiful woman, who he decided was in her late forties or early fifties; she had a pleasant, matronly air about her that reminded him a bit of Mrs. Weasley, even if she was less stately than his surrogate mother. She looked up at him and smiled.
"Good day, love. I'm Katie. Fancy a bite?"
"Yes, I would like that very much. Some venison. A little red, if you please."
Nodding, the woman took Harry's money and went to the kitchen to prepare his meal. Harry found a table in the corner and placed his back pack on the floor by his seat. He removed his long coat and hoodie, but kept his wool cap on, as he would have a hard time explaining the shape of his ears, before sitting down.
Removing the hoodie revealed the leather arm braces he wore over his shirtsleeves, but he did not much care. There was little chance of anyone knowing what they really were, anyway. Hand under his chin, he gazed vacantly out the window and soon found his mind wandering into his memories once again.
Harry sat on the floor in Gryffindor's laboratory, his eyes closed. He was breathing in a steady rhythm. Deep, slow breaths. Gryffindor had told him 'in through the nose, out through the mouth, focus the mind to the inside, visualize the magic within you.' Harry did well to hide his boiling impatience.
Over a week of this and nothing else, and nothing had been gained. Well, that was not entirely true. While every day was mostly spent breathing while sitting in whatever position Harry was most comfortable, Gryffindor had lectured Harry on various topics, such as magical beasts, spells and techniques.
Harry found his respect for Gryffindor increasing day by day. The man was a bottomless well of information and knowledge and wisdom. Some of the beasts and beings Gryffndor spoke of, Harry had never heard of. Some were extinct by now, while others were so reclusive, there were still to this day, arguments to be had whether they even existed at all. Harry had heard of some of them, of course.
The Fay, he had only ever thought existed in the tales of the mythical land of Tír na nÓg, a land of eternal youth, gods, fairy tales and adventure. Gryffindor had chuckled at that and agreed with his protegée. There was no proof the Fay were anything more than a bed time story, despite the existence of house elves and goblins and other such beings. Harry found it fascinating to listen to anyway. Especially the tragic story of Oisín and Niamh.
An Irishman, Oisín was a Fiannan warrior and a poet, who was loved by a faery woman named Niamh. She came to him one night and professed her love for him and took him to the land of the gods. After a while, three years in fact, Oisín succumbed to his desire to visit the Emerald isle once more and Niamh lent him her magical horse, Embarr for the journey.
She warned him that time flowed differently in Tír na nÓg, and he should expect some three hundred years to have gone by in the time he had spent by her side. He was not to dismount the horse for any reason, for if his feet would touch the ground of his birth, the years would catch up to him and he would turn into a feeble old man. And as all such stories went, Oisín could not resist dismounting once he was back home and died of old age soon after.
Gryffindor watched as Harry stood up and stretched his limbs. He would get nowhere with the meditation today, either. Harry had too much trouble relaxing his mind, to focus. It was partly due to his altered physical and mental state; he had not gotten used to it yet. His mind would wander too easily, every sound or smell would break his concentration. The boy had to learn to control his senses and quickly.
Perhaps physical training was the way to go. Some Occlumency would go a long way as well. Usually Gryffindor would recommend mastering the mind, before attempting to master the body, but perhaps that was not the way forward in this instance. If the boy was tired enough, perhaps he could relax for long enough to enter the trance required to find your magical centre. He would also have to focus on his body to learn the various fighting techniques Gryffindor planned on teaching him. The boy leaned against the table and looked at Gryffindor expectantly.
"Harry, I think we should give the meditation a rest for a while and focus on some physical training. I'm fairly certain you know nothing about fighting. Although, I do believe you have inherited some abilities from the spirits you have inside of you, as every animal has an instinctive ability to defend themselves and fight if necessary. Those instincts should conform to the human psyche, as you mastered them and as such, I think you will be a fighter to be reckoned with.
Even so, I must recommend you train in the right forms and techniques. Instinct, reflexes and speed will only get you so far. They will work very well against beasts and animals, but eventually you will find yourself up against an opponent, who not only possesses some of the same qualities you do, but has more experience and knows the proper forms as well. Such a fight will only have one outcome. Now, I'd like you to pick a weapon, please."
Harry went over to the weapon racks and looked over the weapons. As he wondered which one to select, he walked slowly along the racks, his fingertips brushing each weapon as he passed them, trying to get a feel for them.
"Might I suggest the longsword, Harry? Or the Bastard sword, perhaps? They are very basic weapons and most people start there. They're also highly versatile."
Harry removed a bastard sword from one of the racks, and gripped it tightly in his hand. It was rather large for a Bastard sword, almost a greatsword, in fact. The overall length of the sword was about fifty inches, the blade itself an exact forty. The blade was surprisingly narrow, given it's length, about the same as the longsword. It weighed around three pounds, light as a feather for one as strong as Harry.
The pommel was shaped as a lion, the grip was wrapped in cold iron wire. The guard curved slightly forward, and the surprisingly long, pointy ricasso angled into a fuller, which ran almost three quarters of the blade's length. The blade was razor sharp and surprisingly rigid, given the length and how narrow it was. On either side of the blade, a long series of runes Harry had never seen before, had been etched into the Silverite.
Harry swung the sword about a little, and twisted it in his hand, before gripping it with his left hand, also. He brought the weapon up over his head and swung it down, hard and fast, the blade whistling through the air. It felt right in his hands, the weight and length perfect. Harry looked over to Gryffindor and nodded.
"I like this one, Mr. Gryffindor. It fits perfectly."
"Are you sure, my boy? Very well. We shall turn you into a master of the Bastard sword before long. Now, here's what I want you to do..."
The smell of cooked meat brought Harry out of his reverie and he looked up at Katie, who stood behind the counter, waving and calling to him. She looked as if she'd been trying to get his attention for a while. Harry stood up and approached the counter, a sheepish look on his face.
Katie waved and called to the young man and he finally seemed to hear her. He stood up,a sheepish look on his face as he made his way over to her. She eyed him curiously and found him somewhat fascinating to explore. When he had come in, he'd been wearing a long, form fitting, charcoal grey coat, a pair of dark cargo pants and a black hoodie, along with a wool cap. By now though, he'd stripped to his shirtsleeves, but kept the cap on.
What caught her eye, however, were a pair of leather armbraces he wore over the sleeves of his shirt. They had strange markings, intricately worked into the dark brown leather. He looked like a character from a fantasy novel, or film. Well, no matter. To each their own.
"I'm sorry, Katie, I was completely lost in thought."
"Oh, it's quite all right, think nothing of it, love. I would have brought it to you, but I seem to have unusually many visitors today."
Harry's eyes calmly followed her gaze and landed on a group of seven coming through the door. While outwardly calm, he berated himself severely in his mind. He should have heard them long before they had even entered the small restaurant. They were a shady looking bunch, Harry thought and smiled darkly as he did. He was pretty damn shady himself, if he was honest.
Harry grabbed his plate, and made his way to his table and subtly changed his seat, so that he could watch the newcomers. They all ordered food and took their seats here and there in the room, but they seemed to avoid looking at Harry overly much, who simply sat at his table eating his food, making it look like he was in no way interested in them.
Nothing could be further from the truth. As soon as Harry had sat down, he had been listening closely to the newcomers, but they did not speak of anything worth noting. But that was not what made Harry curious. It was their elevated heartbeats and sweating, which really peaked his interest. They were afraid. They reeked of fear.
They were dressed in a manner that was obviously meant to make them look inconspicuous; a group of friends having a day out in the countryside. But the way they were behaving, refusing to look at him, even though he looked the way he did, made him instantly wary of them. He picked up a pen and a napkin and wrote a few words on it before folding it together.
Some time later, Katie brought out their food and they began to eat in timid silence. One of the men reached for a salt stick and Harry spied a wand in the pocket on the inside of the man's coat. Not only that, but a familiar, dreaded mark sneaking it's way past the man's cuff, as he reached across the table.
Harry's mood darkened and his brow furrowed as he looked at the man out of the corner of his eye. He also found it surprisingly careless of the man. Rookies. Seasoned Death Eaters did not make such mistakes. After a while, Katie came over to him to collect his plate. She flashed that lovely smile at him and lifted the plate of the table.
"All good, love?"
She noticed Harry's look and attempted to follow his gaze, but felt a slight touch on her arm, demanding her attention. She turned her head again, and saw Harry shaking his head slightly, a serious look on his face. He passed her a folded napkin, which she took. This all happened very quietly and went unnoticed by the Death Eaters.
Katie made her way to the kitchen, clutching the lad's note tightly in one hand, his plate in the other. She unfolded the note and stared at it alarmingly. It stated that the people who arrived after he had were very dangerous and that she should leave through the back door and go home that instant. She put the plate down, grabbed her coat and all but fled through the back door.
Harry's sensitive ears heard as Katie left her own establishment in an frantic hurry, fumbling a little with the door as she did. Then he heard a loud crack outside, followed by a few screams and crying children. Harry closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Yet another battle, more senseless violence and death. A deafening roar tore through the walls this time.
A Giant. They brought in a bloody giant. So this was the reason Fawkes had sent him there, in the middle of nowhere. Things had been rather hectic for a while, but this place was a bit out of the way, compared to the other places that had been hit over the last month or so. Clenching his fists, he stood up and took a deep breath as he turned to face the Death Eaters...
The Burrow was a crowded place this day, as many of the people who came in for Fred and Georges' birthday had decided to stay for the night. Lunch was just about over, when a man in deep blue robes burst through the front door, his breath heavy and laboured.
"There's a Death Eater attack on in a village called Bullswick! They brought a giant, by the report."
At first everyone simply stared at Kingsley Shacklebolt, who bent forward and placed his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. A second later, the Burrow exploded with activity. A couple of people, nurses, ran outside at full speed, to the edge of the property, where they Apparated away.
Most likely to Nr. Twelve Grimmauld Place, where the wounded Order members would be taken, should there be any. The rest, however cleared the table and someone produced a map of England out of thin air. After several seconds, Ron exclaimed loudly.
"Found it! It's deep in the Midlands. Is it in the Portkey network?"
"Just outside the next town over, but it's over twenty miles away."
Ron swore. The art of Apparating was a wonderful invention, but it had its shortcomings, one of which was; you could not Apparate to places you had not been to before. If you needed to travel far by Apparition, you had to know the place you wanted to get to fairly well. Apparating could also be very dangerous; if you lost your concentration even for a moment, you risked Splinching yourself, leaving a part of your body behind.
Ron had experienced it before, but he'd been lucky, he'd only left behind half an eyebrow. Susan Bones had left behind her leg! In most cases it could be fixed, but it was always messy. There was also the Anti-Apparition charm, which prevented people from Apparating into certain places.
The Burrow was under such charms as they were a part of the wards, and you had to get to the edge of the Weasley's property if you wanted to Apparate. Portkeys were the solution they had settled on. The Order had set a number of people to the task of travelling to as many places in the UK and Ireland as possible as well as a few in France and place Portkeys at those locations, so they'd have as wide a network as possible. The Order had grown considerably in the time since Riddle's return, but their numbers were still rather limited. As a result, there were annoyingly large gaps in their Portkey network.
Sod it all, they'd have to disillusion themselves and fly the rest of the way. Hermione apparently shared the notion, as she came into the kitchen, holding a pair of brooms, one of which was Harry's Thunderbolt.
Ron took his friend's broom and followed Hermione and a number of other people into Mr. Weasley's shed, where the Portkeys were stored. Arthur, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie and Kingsley placed their hands on an old ball Kingsley had placed on a pedestal in the centre of the shed. A second later, the shed was empty.
Molly looked on sadly as these brave souls ran into the small building and a moment later, a small light indicated the Portkey had been activated. She turned around and found herself looking into Ginny's eyes. Her daughter looked angrily at her mother, who knew quite well what was causing her daughter's temper to flare.
"I should be going with them. I can't stand it any longer, Mum! It's not right that they run headlong into danger, and all I do is stay here. It's not right!"
Molly sighed wearily. How many times were they going to have this argument? She had made herself clear on so many occasions, but Molly was not a fool and realized, that she was fighting a losing battle. There was no denying her daughter when she became like this. She would have to relent eventually, but not yet. Not yet.
She advanced on her daughter and stopped a few inches from her face. Her eyes were dark and angry and she knew the effect she had on her older children when she became like that. It was the first time she showed her daughter she was capable of something like this, however and it was readily apparent in the way her daughter recoiled slightly from her mother.
"When you turn eighteen, you can join the Order, not a day earlier. All my other children are fighting in this awful war and I am not keen on sending my youngest child and only daughter off to war. But don't worry. You will have your chance soon enough, mark my words. Soon, you will see things that will make you wish you'd never joined the Order, that you'd never even been born.
You'll have nightmares and the memories, you will carry with you until the day you die. If you wish to join the war effort, make sure you're ready for that. There's no room for passengers on this train. We will not speak of this again until the day you do join, Ginevra Weasley. Now, help me tidy up the kitchen and go get your things ready. You're returning to Hogwarts in the afternoon."
With that, Molly stalked into the house to clean up after lunch and left her daughter alone outside, speechless and slightly afraid. She'd heard the first part of that rant before, but the latter half was new. She'd never seen her mother quite like that. She was like a different person; dark and angry.
Her mother had been a part of the Order the first time around, but she never talked about it much. Ginny knew her uncles had died in the first war, so her mother's fears were understandable, but everyone had to help if there was to be any hope of victory. Sighing, Ginny went inside to help her mother, the work done in bitter silence.
Harry looked at the Death Eaters, who had surprisingly been smart enough to stay spread around the room, wands at the ready. Harry looked at each one, his mind working, measuring, planning. Seven of them. It should not be too much of a bother, but he had to end it quickly, he was needed to battle the giant. What troubled him was the fact that they were not surprised by him being there.
They recognised him, Harry realised. Had this all been about catching him? A trap? No, Harry decided. He'd just been at the location of their attacks too often for them to be surprised and so, him being here was merely a coincidence as far as they were concerned. Besides, these dunderheads were too useless to be a part of some kind intricate plot.
The Death Eaters raised their wands and spells flew towards Harry, who dove forwards and swept the legs from under the closest two enemies, striking their temples as they landed. Rolling to his feet, he willed power into the armguards, brought his palms together and slammed a spear of pure air into three of the Death Eaters, who foolishly had grouped together in the middle of the room.
They crumbled to the floor in a big heap. That left two, who managed to send a pair of curses Harry's way. Harry weaved out of the way and advanced quickly. He punched the first one in the gut and brought his knee to the man's face as he doubled over in pain. The other backed away and found himself up against the wall. Harry strode slowly over to the last attacker and put him to sleep with a well placed hit to the temple.
Harry collected the wands of the enemy wizards and placed them behind the counter, after snapping them. Some time ago, he had started destroying the wands of defeated enemies, as they were usually released quickly by the corrupt Ministry. This way at least, these people were kept out of the fight a bit longer, seeing how Ollivander was dead and the other two proper wand makers in the UK had gone to ground.
Harry proceeded with tying up his attackers and remove their emergency Portkeys. It would not do to have them escape once this was over. Harry ran towards his Bag and opened it. He reached into it and brought out his sword, which he strapped onto his back. A few throwing knives were next, which he slid into their respective slits on the front of the baldric. After that he quit the house and found himself on the street.
What greeted Harry was a nightmarish scene. A few feet from the door lay the body of a woman, who'd tried to run away from the giant, her neck bent at an awkward angle. Her glazed eyes stared empty at the clear sky. Harry walked past the body and started running along the street, discovering more bodies along the way, the surprise in their eyes a telltale sign of the Avada Kedavra curse. Destroyed houses and cars littered the area and the smell of gasoline, leaking from damaged tanks assaulted Harry and served to fuel his fury, which was already close to boiling over.
He rounded a bend and came upon a few Death Eaters, who were toying with what looked like a family of Muggles, dangling them in the air, upside down. The poor muggles cried and tried to somehow free themselves One of the attackers seemed to be having a right old time.
"Such filthy apes, these Muggles. Can't even defend themselves against a simple levitating spell. A child could do better!"
That comment brought laughter and sneers from the other dark wizards. None of them had noticed the lone figure creeping up behind them. Harry slipped a knife from the baldric and placed it against the torturer's neck. He was seething with anger. It took real effort to keep his hand still, to not slice open the man's throat.
"Bring them down slowly and perhaps you live. If you don't..."
The man's eyes nearly popped out of his head with shock. There was a man behind him. Not only that, he felt a blade press against his throat harder and harder, drawing blood. He slowly lowered his wand and brought the muggles down.
The Muggles stared in disbelief at the wizards, frozen in place, too scared to move. Harry knocked the man he was holding on the head with the butt of the knife's handle, knowing the other three would attack as soon as he did.
Before they managed it, however, Harry again willed power to his armguards. Palms facing upward, he raised his arms quickly, and tore a few stones from the cobbled street. This caused his enemies to hesitate for a single breath, but that was enough. Harry spun on the spot, his hands moving in a dance like move. The stones flew outward and struck the Death Eaters in their heads with force, causing them to lose consciousness.
Those idiots seemed to be the last of the Death Eaters. Harry retrieved their Portkeys and wands, then proceeded to place them on the bonnet of a nearby car, wands snapped as before. Leaving the Death Eaters tied up, similarly to the earlier group, he turned toward the Muggles. Harry returned the knife to it's sheath and walked to them, palms forward.
"You don't have to fear me, I will not hurt you. I'm here to help. I know you're frightened, but I need you to hide. This little skirmish is far from over and it will get worse, I'm afraid. You know of a place to hide? Good, go there and grab anyone you see, if it's safe."
One of the Muggles nodded in acknowledgement. He grasped Harry's arm and mouthed his thanks, before taking his family behind a nearby house. Well, it was a bit too much to hope the man would think of someone else than his own family.
He saw the giant making its way along the street, swinging it's club left and right, leaving death and destruction in its wake. Then Harry spotted a crying girl, no older than seven years old on the ground, a ways ahead of the giant. With a cold, sinking feeling, Harry knew he would never be able to concentrate enough to Apparate safely to the child.
He sprinted onwards, running faster than he had ever done before in his life. The giant would surely murder the girl if he was too late. As he ran, he started gathering and focusing his energies, planning his next move. He was almost upon the girl now. With dismay, he saw the giant notice the girl. The giant flexed it's muscles and stepped forward, about to swing the club upwards, after destroying a nearby car.
Harry made it just in time. He lunged forward, his right hand leading the way. The earth shook and a cliff like wall of rock rose from the earth, blocking the giant's path to the girl, which caused the it to hesitate for a second. The wall was as brittle as a porcelain doll, Harry knew, but it would have to do. He landed by the girl and scooped her up in his arms, turning as he did.
He heard the giant roar and felt as the beast brought its club to the wall. At the same moment the club came crashing through the wall, Harry wrapped himself and the girl in a ball of air. The club made contact and Harry, holding the girl in his arms, went flying through the air, eventually crashing through a second story window of a nearby house.
Harry slid across the floor of the room, coming to sharp stop against a wall opposite the window and his head knocked into the wall. Harry could taste blood in his mouth, he had bit into the side of his cheek at some point. He also felt blood running down the side of his head, from when it hit the wall. He knew he had at least three broken ribs, most likely a concussion and a sprained ankle.
There were several bleeding cuts on his arms, none life threatening, by themselves, but were bleeding quite a bit. What was dangerous, however, was the large glass shard embedded in his thigh, and the wound was bleeding freely. Fortunately, it did not seem to have hit an artery, but the bleeding had to be stopped.
Thankfully, the giant seemed to have lost any interest in them, since the art of destroying cars was, evidently much more fun. Struggling to retain consciousness, Harry carefully unwrapped his hands from the girl, who seemed to be fine, all things considered.
Shaking like a leaf, she held onto Harry's shirt hard enough to turn her knuckles white. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, as if asking him to never let her go. Harry set her on the floor next to him, smiling what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He needed to calm the girl down. The girl smiled weakly back.
"What's your name? He asked gently.
"Sarah. What's yours?"
"Hello, Sarah, my name is Jack. Are you OK? You're not hurt?" Harry asked and she shook her head. "Good. That's good. Could you look away for a moment, sweetie? This will be unpleasant and not something I want you to see."
Sarah sat down by the wall and hugged her legs, her forehead resting on her knees. Wincing, Harry propped himself up against the wall for support. He tore open his trouser leg, and examined the shard embedded in his thigh. He felt his hand grow warm and glow, as he felt power gathering in the palm of his hand.
In this situation, the only way to stop the bleeding was to cauterize the wound, after removing the penetrating object. Harry slipped a knife into his left hand, his glowing right hand gripping the blade. After a while, the blade was white hot, ready to be used. Harry yanked out the shard and stuck the knife in, barely stifling a scream as he did.
A moment later, he removed the blade, the smell of burning flesh making him feel sick. Sarah heaved next to him, her expression quite ghastly. Damn it, he had asked her not to look! Well, at least the bleeding had stopped. Breathing heavily, Harry replaced the knife and stood up slowly. Sarah had made his way over to him and looked up at him with concern. This little girl was something else. With all this going on, she was concerned for him?
"Are you all right, Jack?"
Harry made to answer, but instead brought his finger to his lips. There were footsteps outside the room. Harry stepped in front of the young girl and gathered power to the armguards, ready to face whatever came through the door. A familiar smell found it's way to his nostrils and he took several short whiffs, before calling out.
"Katie, it's all right. You can come in."
Katie heard the man and opened the door warily. Inside she saw the young man she'd serviced earlier and young Sarah Burton, who seemed fine, if a bit shaken. The man was in bad shape, however. The right side of his head was covered in blood, and he hunched slightly over to his left. A nasty wound could be seen through a large tear in one leg of the trousers and she saw a blood covered piece of glass on the floor, which she surmised must have been removed from the leg.
She smelled a strange odour in the air and her eyes went straight back to the wound in the young man's thigh, which was not bleeding. Had he cauterized the wound? The girl ran to her, hugging her close, sobbing violently. Katie stroked Sarah's hair gently and spoke to her in soft tones, trying to calm her down.
This was a nightmare and it had been less than quarter of an hour. She had seen more than one body on the street, after that thing had crushed them with its club. Houses, cars, even the street itself was in shambles. Her children had gone to London for a sporting event with their father and his wife, so perhaps they were safe, but she couldn't be certain. Looking at the young man, she decided now was not the time to worry about them; she had more pressing concerns.
Thing was, Katie had not always been a restauranteur. For ten years, she had been the head nurse of an ER room of a big hospital in London. It had taken a bad toll on her marriage, and eventually she and her husband separated. One night, she simply had seen enough, done enough and quit her job.
She moved with her children away from the city and opened her little shop. And so, she knew a badly injured person when she saw one and that young man looked like he'd been hit by a lorry. He looked at her pointedly and inclined his head towards Sarah. That was when she saw his eyes and realised he was badly concussed, or worse.
"Please take care of her, Katie. Her parents are gone and I need to know she'll be alright. At least until help arrives."
Katie looked on with apprehension as the boy took a single step and almost fell to the floor. Shaking himself, he turned towards the a nearby window and tore a piece of a low hanging curtain and with a pained grunt, wrapped it tightly around his thigh. Then he started limping out of the room. Thinking the boy was absolutely mental, she moved to block the doorway.
"And where do you suppose you're going?" She asked in a firm voice. "I best not hear you're going to fight that thing out there," she hissed and pointed to the window. "You can barely stand, for heaven's sake! You'll be crushed! You need to lie down, so I can tend to your wounds."
"There's no time, I must stop that giant before he kills anyone else. You've seen the death and destruction left in his wake. He won't stop. Not for anything. Please, step aside."
Katherine crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. A giant? So that's what that thing was. But that was impossible, giants were not real, surely. It was hard to deny it, when she could see it plain as day just outside her house, swinging its club around.
"If that is a giant, then what are you? Not only did you survive the blow from that monster, but also crashing through my window, which should have killed you. I want the truth, now."
Harry eyed the woman carefully and decided to tell her the truth. "I'm a wizard. I can wield magic, which is the reason we survived the attack from the giant. I wove a ball of air around us to dampen the blow. Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but I need to get a move on, before the authorities get here, Muggle or otherwise. The wizards can subdue the giant eventually, but the Muggles will get squashed; their regular guns won't do them much good against that thing. What you need is a good, strong, enchanted blade. Which, incidentally, I dropped out there somewhere. I need to go find it."
"Wait just a minute. Giants, wizards, and god knows what else are real? Why haven´t we heard of this before?"
"You want to go into this now? NOW?" Harryexclaimed. "Get out of the way, Katie, or I will be forced to move you myself. I will be happy to answer any and all questions you may have later."
Harry felt awful, lying to her like that, but he had to get moving. He limped towards the woman, who reluctantly stepped aside and let him out of the room. As he quit the room, however, he felt a hand grab his own. He turned around to find both Sarah and Katie looking at him with concern. Sarah grabbed his shirt, tears in her eyes. Harry felt a slight tremor in his temple at the sight of her, but a deep breath steadied him.
"I don't want you to go, Jack. You will die, just like my parents!"
Harry's heart broke a little, but he firmly held it back. "No, I won't. I will take care of that thing, then I will come back, all right, sweetie? Just stay here with Katie and be a good girl, yeah? It'll be fine, I promise."
The little girl let go of him, and turned around to sit down by the wall, her arms hugging her knees, same as before. Harry looked at Katie and bowed his head slightly before leaving the pair. Heading down the stairs, he went over that whole thing in his head. What had he been thinking when he promised her to answer all her questions?
The Statute of Secrecy was in place for a reason, damn it. Well, the Ministry would surely send some officials over here and take care of all this, including wiping their memories. How they would go about it he didn't know, with all those dead people, destroyed houses and cars? Well, they could fix the village easily enough, but the rest...
Harry found himself outside, searching for his blade, watching the giant a little further up the street. The big brute was oblivious to his presence, thankfully, so Harry moved with haste to where he had erected the wall and found his blade lying on the ground. To his immense relief, he found the weapon undamaged.
He squeezed the handle tightly and swung it around a few times, his ribs aching badly. He tested his ankle and found it was much better now, so he could walk without much trouble, albeit painfully. He just had to hope his thigh would not start bleeding too badly again.
It was time to end this, that giant was not hurting anyone else. Harry drew in as much power as he could into the armguards. He made a sweeping move with his left hand and a huge fireball erupted from his hand, flew down the street and hit the giant square in the back. While Harry knew it would not do much damage, as the giant's skin was very thick, it would be rather painful and certainly draw the giant's attention to him.
A decent sized rock would have been more effective had he been closer, but he was unable to generate any sort of power over that much distance with something so heavy. Howling in pain, the beast turned around to look for the source of the attack.
Harry grinned and walked slowly toward his enemy, his confidence growing with each step. He could do this, he knew. That thing was no match for him. It was a being of very little intellect, used to getting its way because it was so much bigger than anything else.
Well, Harry was about to show him that size was not everything. He was within striking distance of the club now and the giant bellowed as he swung the club down. The sheer speed and force of it blew the wool cap of Harry's head. He dived out of the way, grunting in agony as he felt his ribs complain.
Ignoring the pain, he sliced into the calf of the giant, resulting in the giant releasing a deafening scream. Harry just about managed to roll out of the way as the club came at him again, tearing a fair sized hole into the street. As Harry got to his feet, he shot an involuntary glance at the hole and shivered. One clean blow and that was it. Hell, a glancing blow and no more Harry Potter.
Again, he felt his ribs hurt, more so than before. He needed to finish this quickly, or he would be in real trouble. A hand gesture tore up a large rock from the ground, which Harry smacked into the head of the giant.
The giant was reeling, finding it difficult to find its balance, the club swinging about wildly. Recognizing the opportunity, Harry rushed in. With lightening speed, he cut through the Achilles tendons on both feet, and the anterior ligaments in both knees. The beast let out a wordless howl as it came crashing down.
The giant writhed pitifully on the ground, trying desperately to get on his feet once more, but the legs would not work as intended. Harry cautiously walked toward his fallen enemy, his sword clutched tightly in his hand. This was it, the fight was over. All that was left was to put the giant out of his misery.
Restricting the giant's movements with ropes of air, Harry walked to its head and raised his blade above the neck of the beast, pointing it downward. He pierced the neck of the giant with a thrust powerful enough that the blade sank almost a foot into the ground.
Harry winced as the giant convulsed several times as it died, life leaving its body one drop of blood at a time. This was not the first time Harry had taken a life. He had killed vampires and werewolves and even a number of Death Eaters, but it never got any easier. In fact, Harry found it more and more difficult. As time went by, the regret and anguish kept piling up and he feared that eventually, he would reach a point where he would hesitate at the wrong moment. Stay his hand and die...
Finally, the giant stopped thrashing about and Harry yanked the blade free and carefully wiped off the blood. He replaced the blade on his back and hunched over, as his ribs protested the movement. It was getting awfully painful now.
Painful as it was, he wasn't in any immediate danger. He would just need some time to recover, that was all. He looked over at the house where he'd left Katie and Sarah and found they were standing by the broken window, staring.
Sarah was pointing at him excitedly, tugging at Katie's arm. Harry looked back at them for a while, his hand running through his hair slowly. Ah, of course. Not only had they watched a man kill a twenty foot giant, he imagined they had also noticed his very prominent, pointy ears. Blasted things.
Harry turned around and retrieved his cap from the ground and stuck it on his head. Stealing one last glance at the duo by the window, he turned around, heading to Katie's restaurant to get his things. He heard the faint sound of people flying in on brooms and landing beyond a curve in the road. It was time to leave.
An angry shout had him faltering slightly, before he squared his shoulders and strode on deliberately. Some achingly familiar voices found their way to his ears. That's when he started running desperately in the other direction. He had to get away from those voices, lest he be unable to leave.
Katie stared at the twitching corpse of the beast, her breath caught in her throat. She exhaled slowly, and heard Sarah do the same. Katie berated herself for not making certain the girl had not seen what had transpired down on the street. The girl had seen enough death already, for heaven's sake. She felt Sarah pull at her arm, pointing at Jack excitedly.
She followed the girl's gaze and could understand the younger one's excitement, the boy had, after all just defeated a monster of legend. Looking at Jack closely, she noticed he had dropped his cap, revealing a head of short black hair and very prominent, pointy ears.
Wait, pointy ears? What in the world was that man? The young man looked over at them and ran his hand through his hair, seemingly noticing for the first time his hat was missing. He bent over, grabbed the thing and crammed it on his head.
Looking back at them, he seemed to make a decision as he turned around to walk in the other direction. He clearly wasn't coming back. Katie frowned angrily and ran downstairs and onto the street. Sarah followed closely behind. She would make him hold to his promise.
"Jack, stop! You promised me answers!"
The boy faltered slightly before striding on, determination in his every move. Katie moved to follow him before she heard voices coming from down the street. She looked over to find the source of the noise, before shifting her eyes back to Jack, who was sprinting away, running faster than she thought humanly possible, his hand clutching his side.
Ron flew faster than he had ever done in his life. Following behind, his companions barely kept up with him. It had been several minutes since they'd seen the smoke rising from the small village of Bullswick. Ron could feel the anger slowly work its way into his system.
How long would this have to go on? He slowed down a little bit to allow Hermione to catch up with him, her hand reaching over to him, squeezing tightly. They had been to Death Eater attacks before, of course, but it was always hard.
They came upon the village and could literally smell the death and destruction in the air. Ron gritted his teeth as he landed. Dismounting and drawing his wand, he motioned for the others to do so as well. Ron had somehow taken the lead from the outset, even with the more experienced Arthur and Kingsley with them.
The group advanced slowly, cautiously taking in their surroundings. Even though there was no destruction in this part of the village, at least, there was not a soul in sight. There were quite a few empty driveways, so at least some of the muggles had escaped or not been home. On they went, and the smell of gasoline suddenly filled their nostrils as the rounded a bend in the road.
And found themselves in Hell.
Bodies lay on the ground here and there, a few of them crushed as if they'd been crushed by a huge forceful blow. Cars sat burning next to destroyed houses, a few more dead souls could be seen scattered around.
Several yards further along the street, they saw a few people tied together, by a light post, struggling to break free. Ron's first instinct was to run up to them and let them loose, but a motion by Hermione made him stop. She was right, this could be a trap.
"Everyone, be on your guard, this could be a trap. Let's just keep moving at the pace we have been going. I'll call out to them," he said cautiously.
Ron did so, but he did not expect the reaction from the unfortunate sods tied up to the post. Their struggle to break free doubled, but to no avail. They were not getting free. Ron and the rest came upon them in short order. The frightened looks they received were somewhat alarming, but even more alarming were the three snapped wands and broken pendants lying on top of the bonnet of a nearby car.
Whoever had tied them up had known they were wizards. Moreover, they had known other wizards would come here and placed the wands for them to find. Ron cautiously moved to one of the men and pulled up his sleeve, revealing the dreaded Dark Mark. Disgusted, Ron let go of the man's arm, as if he had been burned. Those bloody, filthy cowards.
Kingsley stepped forward, clasping Ron on the shoulder tightly. He was the best interrogator in the Order and he did not need to resort to violence. His skill in Legilimency was too good.
"Let me at them, Ron. I would ask that your father remain with me, while I interrogate them. The rest of you should press on. Who knows, perhaps there are people in need of assistance further ahead. Go, lad, we will be fine."
Ron nodded his assent. Kingsley was right. He turned around sharply and motioned for the others to move on. After walking in silence for a few minutes, they saw a large, heavy shape on the street, a giant by the looks of things. They came upon the body, and it was rather ghastly. The thing was all bloody, its eyes stared at the sky unseeing. There was a wound in its throat, which had obviously killed it, as the blood had barely stopped flowing yet. Hermione knelt beside the beast and examined it.
"There are several injuries here, but none of them fatal, except the stab wound in the throat. See the cuts on the knees and ankles? Brought it down, then stabbed it in the throat, killing it. Quick and clean, as painless as possible. No Muggle, nor a normal wizard did this. But there was some strange magic at work here. I checked earlier, but I could not see any traces of a wand. Judging by the looks of the giant's wounds, and the marks on the ground, these spells were much too powerful for a wizard to perform with wandless magic."
"Excuse me, but who are you? By any chance, could you be wizards? Are you here to remove the giant? It's such a ghastly thing."
All the assembled wizards turned as one, wands at the ready, shock evident on their faces. Before them stood a woman in her middle years and a young girl. The girl clutched the older woman's hand tightly and eyed Ron and the others warily. The woman, looked Hermione in the eye, and the Hogwarts graduate could see a strength in her, a strength she found very impressive. +
Not only had she survived this hellish ordeal, she had kept that child safe. She also seemed to recognise them as wizards. Hermione stepped over to the woman, her hands raised. She lowered her wand and put it in the back pocket of her jeans.
"We are the Order of the Phoenix, or a part of it, at least. We are sworn to fight the one who ordered the attack on you village, Mrs..."
"Katherine Walker. We could have used your help an hour ago, miss. You can rest easy, the fighting is done, it seems."
Hermione nodded, noting the slight accusation in the woman's voice. She could hardly blame her. She looked around and saw several more people warily making their way to them, crawling out of whatever hole they had found to hide in while all this had been happening. They all looked at the giant, whispering to one another, pointing and shaking their heads.
The world had, for all intents and purposes, come crashing down over their heads. Hermione felt her heart ache when she saw people finding loved ones lying on the street, men, women, even children. There were wails of sorrow and cries of anguish, each one tearing at her very soul. This was the harsh reality of war, but it never got any easier and she refused to get used to it.
She grit her teeth. Things like this were not supposed to happen; good people losing their loved ones, especially when it was a war they knew nothing about and had nothing to do with, even if they were the supposed enemies of Tom Riddle. She and the other Order members bowed their heads, keeping a respectful distance.
Then Hermione noticed a man standing a ways off, looking their way. He was too far away for her to discern any details, except he was tall, wore a long coat and carried a backpack. Of course he had been here. That certainly explained things. A few moments longer they looked at one another, before suddenly, he disappeared. She looked at Katherine, who gave her a strained smile.
"He's the one who saved us. He fought these other wizards and slew the giant. Without him, I doubt there would be a living soul left in this town. He was strange, though. Not human, by the looks of things."
"Jack saved my life too!" Sara exclaimed.
Hermione looked at the little girl, who seemed to suddenly come alive at the sight of the stranger. Jack, she had said. So, he had talked to some of them, at least, given a name, even. The girl seemed quite taken with him.
Jack was not his real name, he obviously did not want to come into direct contact with the Order, else he would have come to them. Well, he had worked with them on a few occasions, but otherwise kept his distance and only spoke with Moody. Katie cleared her throat to get her attention.
"Hmm? Not human, you say? What makes you say that?"
"Well, he was very tall, had emerald green eyes with the strangest pupils I've ever seen. Almost cat-like, in fact and they seemed to glow. Oh, and jet black hair, slightly ruffled in the back."
Now that got Hermione's attention, who stared at Katie with such fierce eyes, that older woman felt somewhat uncomfortable. Emerald eyes, black hair, unruly at the back. She knew one person whose description might go along those lines. She was grasping at straws, but she had to ask.
"Did he have a lightening shaped scar on his forehead? Did he by any chance wear glasses? You know, those big, round ones?"
"Not that I saw, no. Well, he was wearing a wool cap when he came into my shop earlier to eat, before all this began and he certainly did not wear glasses. He seemed like a normal young man. Until the fighting started, that is. I only saw him fight that beast, but the speed, the strength. The magic. He threw boulders around as if they were nothing and great balls of fire, as well, almost as if he was manipulating the very earth itself. And of course, there was that big sword of his; the one he used to slay the giant. We were terrified, but we had another shock when he dropped his cap."
"Oh?"
"Well, he had pointy ears! Big and pointy. So, not human, I should think. I'm a certified nurse, so I would know the human body well enough. He was badly injured, though. Mental, you know. Absolutely mental. Who cauterizes a wound by sticking a knife in their thigh? Bloody mental..." Katie said and grumbled a few obscenities. "That young man just came out from my restaurant, where I´ll wager you´ll find more of those evil, rotten bastards."
"I thank you for your time."
Hermione returned to Ron and related back to him what Katie had told her as they made their way along the street, finding more dead bodies, more destruction. Ron shook his head wearily. This stranger had been showing up all over the place for months, battling Death Eaters and other foul things in Riddle's employ. It was the first time they had been given such a good description of him, though. Well he would not worry about that now, that was certain.
Ron sighed. The giants had attacked a few times before, but usually more than one. And to think this was the damage done to a village by a single giant after less than an hour. Not surprising, really, but daunting non the less. It put things in a certain perspective and Ron shuddered to think that if one giant could do this, what could an army of these things do? Fortunately, Riddle seemed reluctant to allow these things free rein. He voiced his thoughts to Hermione as they walked through the street.
"Best not dwell on it, Ron. It will do us no good. Giants are notoriously individualistic, so perhaps we will not have to worry about a collective effort. At least I hope so. Let's go, Ron, I want to go check out that restaurant."
The pair finally came upon Katie's and entered the building, only to find several people inside, all of them tied together same as the earlier group, wands safely away. What Hermione always found interesting was the lack of any wounds upon the Dark wizards the stranger fought.
Only a few light bruises and broken pride. He clearly was not a fan of unnecessary violence. She had noticed the clean way he had dispatched the giant, but it was strangely comforting to know he was seemingly free of any cruelty.
They heard steps approaching, followed by the appearance of both Kingsley and Arthur. They looked weary and uneasy. Kingsley sat onto a chair and ran a hand over his face.
"We got nothing of use out of them. Riddle seems to have completely erased from their memory anything that might help us gain any insight into his organisation. We learned their names, but that was about it. These poor bastards will be much the same, I'm afraid. I suggest we go home now, the ministry will be here shortly and I don't want to be here when they do. The others have already left." What followed was a series of pops as the Order members Apparated away.
So, chapter four. Hope you enjoy.
