J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter
Chapter Twelve
The Leaky Cauldron was nearly empty now, he noticed as they stepped inside. There was only the bartender and the man who had watched them earlier, who seemed as alert to any movement in the pub as he had been before.
They crossed quickly back to the street outside, where he couldn't help but marvel at how utterly plain everything seemed, at the grayness and drabness of the everyday living of everyday Muggles who knew nothing of the color and vibrancy of the world hidden just out of their sight.
The atmosphere felt oddly chilly for July, and passersby shivered in their summer clothes. Alec's grandmother pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and looked worriedly up and down the street. Mark did not like to see her so concerned, and it did not help when she said, "Let's get back to the station quickly, please."
"What's up?" Mark asked Alec quietly, as they set off at a rapid pace.
"Dementors," he said tersely.
Mark's heart rate doubled instantly. "Where?" he asked, trying hard not to panic.
"Somewhere in the vicinity. That's why it's so cold." Alec looked just a touch proud of his knowledge.
After a minute or so of walking, the chill lifted, and they slowed a little. No one spoke much, however, until they reached the station.
"Well, this is it," Alec's grandmother said. "You should be safe here, as safe as anywhere these days anyway."
They said their goodbyes, which involved hugs and promises to meet more often on the women's part, while he and Alec sufficed with an awkward handshake and a "See you in September." Then he was left standing with Gran outside the station, watching his friend's receding back.
"Well, that was a lovely outing," Gran said, "but we really must get back. I do want to call your mother first and let her know you'll be on the afternoon train." They stepped into a nearby telephone booth, which finally gave Mark the chance to put down the packages he had been carrying for too long.
He people-watched idly, massaging his aching arms, as his grandmother dialed. A sweet-looking elderly couple ambled past, holding hands; a man whom he thought he vaguely recognized passed the booth in a great hurry; a family walked by conversing so loudly in German he could hear them through the glass.
"Hello, Laura?" Gran said. "Yes, it's me, I just wanted to - what?" A middle-aged man in a Beatles shirt with a dog on a leash was right next to the booth; the dog wagged its tail at Mark.
"No, I haven't seen the news at all! What's happened?" Gran was saying. Mark really did not care what was on the news. He was tired and hungry and very much in the mood of getting home as quickly as possible. He returned his attention to the street, somewhat more irritably than before. A teen with a WalkMan jogged by, intent on her run and her music.
"Oh no!" Gran gasped. "How many were killed?" Mark stiffened, distracted from the street, barely registering the two familiar figures at its end. "Wow..." she said, in a soft, sad voice. "Twenty-seven dead... And it was a new bridge, too... Horrible, horrible." Still looking outside, unfocused, as Alec and his grandmother approached, Mark wondered what exactly had happened this time, and whether You-Know-Who had been behind it.
"Doesn't Samantha live near there?" Gran said into the phone. "Is she alright?"
Wait. Something was odd.
Why were Alec and his grandmother coming toward them - hadn't they left in the other direction? Had they forgotten something? And who were the two men in lockstep behind them; were they walking together? The men were holding wands, so they surely had some connection. The man on the right was the one who had stared at them in the Leaky Cauldron; Mark hadn't realized Alec and his grandmother knew the man.
But no, Mark realized, something was terribly wrong with this picture. The subconscious unease he had felt watching them rose to the front of his mind as he recognized the expression on Alec's face as one of fear. It turned to alarm when Alec stopped to tie his shoes and one of the men snarled something at him and prodded him sharply in the back with his wand.
Then everything sharpened in a sudden burst of adrenaline as Alec caught sight of him through the glass and mouthed, "Help. Death Eaters. Help."
Author's Note: The Jewish High Holiday season begins this week, continuing until Yom Kippur on October 5. It is a time of reflection, repentance, and prayer, and as such, I will be taking a brief break from writing to be able to better focus on my religious obligations. The next chapter will, God willing, be published on October 7, but it might wait until the following week. Thanks for your understanding, and apologies for leaving off on such a cliffhanger! -Rosh Kadar