Disappointment cloaked them on their way back to Hogsmeade as surely as the invisibility cloak did on their way to Hogwarts. Both of them were silent; Harry kept his gaze straight and his shoulders back. Ginny was quiet enough that he might not have known she was there but for the warmth of her along his side and the way their arms rubbed against one another. And what exactly, he thought, annoyed, does Dumbledore do on his sabbatical?
They were on the outskirts of Hogsmeade when Harry realized that they no longer had anywhere to go: they could hardly go back up to the cave, not if they wanted to be torn apart by Inferi. "Well," he said, heavily, "where should we go?"
"I was thinking the Hog's Head," Ginny said instantly.
Harry shuffled them in the right direction. It was a good choice, he thought, mildly surprised. "Good choice," he grunted.
A little alcove provided enough cover for them to slip off the cloak. Ginny's hair was now truly as wild as his own, strands of it lifting into the air of their own accord, giving her a mermaidish look. Smirking a little, he gestured her up the rickety wooden steps and into the door. On first impression, he might not have traveled twenty years in the past at all. The Hog's Head was exactly as he remembered it: low, dingy light left the walls in shadow. The scuff marks of hundreds of shoes marred the wood floor. Even the old man at the bar was as grumpy-looking as his older counterpart, mopping up the bar with a grey rag.
"He doesn't look any younger, does he?" whispered Ginny.
"No," Harry mouthed.
He walked up to the bar, about to order him and Ginny a butterbeer, when he remembered neither one of them had a knut to their name. "Can we have a couple of waters, please?" he asked, the back of his neck growing hot.
Scowling, the barman flung his rag onto the bar, grabbed a pair of dirty glasses, and ran them under the tap. "Here," he grunted.
Ginny had found a booth in the most shadowy corner. They slid into opposite sides. Harry set the glasses down, nudged one toward her, and leaned his head up against the back of the booth and closed his eyes. The question of what they were going to do next receded; as shabby as this place was, it still had walls. There were barriers between themselves and the Inferi. It was not the near impenetrable barriers of Hogwarts, but it was something.
The quiet was a bit of a respite.
"Maybe it's for the best," Harry said, after a long, long silence. Perhaps an hour had passed as he sat there, unmoving and hardly thinking.
"What's that?" Ginny asked.
He cracked his eyes open. "We weren't supposed to go to him," he said. "Sirius wanted—"
"I know what Sirius wanted," Ginny muttered. "And I still don't know if he's made the right—"
"But if he did," Harry pressed. "I'm glad we've had a bit more time to think." He settled again. Their flight to Hogwarts had been the panicked response, but was it the right decision? All of Sirius's points still held. "I'm just glad we've had a chance to reconsider… we ought to have at least talked to him."
"And when would that have been?" Ginny said, sharp and loud. "When we were being chased by Inferi, should we have paused to have a lookabout for an owl?"
"Well, no," Harry admitted. "But still—"
"This involves me, too," she said, fierce. "And I think we should've tried to go to Dumbledore first thing; he's the best chance we've got."
"And what if that changes things just enough that when we do get home, Voldemort's overrun—"
"DON'T SAY THE NAME!"
The roar of the bartender startled Harry so badly that he knocked over his glass; water sloshed down his front. He gaped at the barman, then at Ginny. For an old man, he moved quickly, dragging himself over the bar and toward their table. His lined face was a bright red.
"You two are just kids," he muttered, gruffly, as though to himself, "you've got to hide."
"What?" Harry said blankly.
"Don't know what fool idea it was for you to say the name, but you've got to hide. Now."
"But—"
The barman's voice rose over Ginny's. "I'm giving you a chance, girl," he said, pointing a long, bony finger at her. Then, jabbing his hand toward a dingy door, he said, "go up there. Find a place to hide… I'll try to stop them."
Harry shared an incredulous look at Ginny, then obeyed. A wary instinct had him leaving the invisibility cloak where it was, tucked inside his robes. It happened that the door led to a set of uneven stairs. The second creaked loudly when he stepped on it. Ginny, who was lighter, leapt upward until she was at the top. The door closed with a clunk; it was not Harry's doing. The barman's fear was upon him; Harry's stomach was clenched tight. But still, he remained rooted to the spot. What was he expecting to happen?
The muffled bang of the outer door opening startled him.
"Harry, come on," Ginny said in the loudest whisper he had ever heard.
"I need to know what's happening," he refused.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," said the barman, in a far more welcoming tone than Harry had heard from him so far, past or future. "What can I get for you?"
"Don't bother," said Malfoy.
The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up and did the wave. Lucius Malfoy, surely.
"Did you not want anything to eat? To drink?"
"And you're going to serve me, are you?" was the cold reply. "I'm not so sure you would. I have heard a rumor that you are perhaps not so respectful as you pretend."
"Since when is my respect in question?" the barman grunted. But whatever he said next was said in a voice so low that even though Harry strained closer to the door in order to hear it.
"My wedding day is none of your concern. What concerns me at the moment is any… injudicious words being spoken in your establishment."
"I don't give no truck to either side!" the barman said, fierce and angry. "I let anyone come in here, you know that, Death Eater or no."
Something crashed; there was the sound of breaking glass and shattering wood. Harry cursed under his breath.
"And now you're destroying my things!" the barman said. "He Who Must Not Be Named himself has been in here, Malfoy; what, exactly, are you injuring my things for? I'm just trying to make an honest living, I am."
"And I am protecting the Dark Lord's interests." There was a pause. "And what of you? Are you protecting your own? Or that of your guests?" Lucius Malfoy snorted, loud enough Harry heard it even through the door. "Does anyone deign stay here?"
The barman grunted.
"Harry!" Ginny hissed. "Now!"
Harry did not delay another moment, but crept backward up the stair, wand out, careful to step as quietly as possibly. The voices of the two other wizards faded, but Harry could tell the barman was attempting to keep Lucius Malfoy from searching the rest of the inn… but he did not think Malfoy would be dissuaded. The last thing he heard, before he reached the top of the stairs, was that Malfoy had placed an Anti-Apparition jinx around the place.
"C'mon," Harry muttered. "We'd better hide."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you."
Walking as silently as possible, they crept down the hall. Each door was locked; the knobs rattled. Sweat formed on Harry's back. Halfway down the cramped, dingy hall, just under the single, low light, Harry heard a whooshing sound, and felt a wind pluck at his dirty cloak before it swirled around Ginny and then disappeared back the way it came. Not even a minute later, the door banged open.
"There are people up here," said Malfoy.
They sped up down the hall. There was a sitting area without a door at the end of it. They ducked into it, though it offered little protection. Ginny went swiftly to the small window, jerking at the lash; it would not open.
"Here," said Harry, "we've got to use the Cloak."
"What we have to do is get out of here," said Ginny.
"We will," Harry promised. "We'll figure something out, but we've got to hide." They had some time; Malfoy, who seemed certain that he had the barman's guests pinned exactly where he wanted them, was making a show of breaking down each door. There was a triangle of space between faded couch and wall; Harry stepped over the back of the couch, and swung the Cloak over himself. Ginny followed him.
"Harry," she whispered. "We have to go to Dumbledore. We can't keep on like this—"
"Yeah," he said, resenting it a little. Why had Malfoy had to have shown up? "I suppose we'll have to."
"We can trust him," Ginny pleaded. "You know we can. He's Dumbledore! He's the best chance we've got."
But Harry's attention was caught on the portrait on the opposite wall. There was a young girl painted on there, one with a knowing smile on her face. Could portraits see through invisibility cloaks. She winked at him as he stared at her. The sounds of Malfoy were getting closer. Within one of the rooms, a male voice shouted imprecations. He was silenced swiftly.
"Ginny," Harry breathed, "look!"
The portrait had swung open, revealing a tunnel behind her.
Beside him, Ginny groaned.
"C'mon!" he whispered.
Together, with much jolting, they scrambled over the top of the couch. Malfoy was now breaking down the door of the next closest room; Harry's heart pounded. His fear made him clumsy, and he nearly dropped the Cloak. Swearing inwardly, he tossed Ginny up into the tunnel behind the portrait, then clambered in after her, flopping on his belly and army-crawling the rest of the way. It was Ginny who pulled the portrait shut from the inside, lay down opposite him, and pulled the Cloak over them both.
The inside of the tunnel was rocky. His glasses pressed into his face. Was it safe here behind the portrait? Harry decided not to risk it, but kept flat to the ground. His shoulders were trembling; would his knees be the same way? Could he stand? It was better not to risk it…
Malfoy was speaking again. "I hope," he said, in a pompous voice, "that this has impressed on you the importance of – if not devotion – a respectful attitude toward the Dark Lord."
"I have never said anything disrespectful of him," said the barman. "Perhaps there was a mistake—"
"The Dark Lord does not make mistakes," Malfoy snapped. "You are lucky that I have a wedding to contend with; otherwise, I would tear this place apart, every bit of moldering wood of it. As it is, I hope you have learned your lesson. Do not make free of things you do not understand." There was a hostile laugh. "Otherwise, I will not return alone next time. The Dark Lord himself will come… someone has been speaking a bit too freely in Hogsmeade, this is not the first occasion in the last days, and he will want to know why."
"It is not me, Malfoy, and I think you well know it."
"But just in case you do know more than you're saying – DOBBY!"
A loud crack issued through the room, hurting Harry's ears even through the portrait of the young girl. Stunned, he heard Dobby greet Malfoy as Master, then promise to alert him the moment anything untoward happened.
"Or… if anyone is revealed to have been hiding," finished Malfoy.
"Yes, Master. I will do so immediately, Master."
Without having to see him, Harry knew Dobby was cringing… he was twisting his big, bat-like ears… he would use the particular magic that the elves had in order to turn him and Ginny into Malfoy. His insides flooded with ice. How long could they remain hidden behind this portrait? Was this a tunnel or a cave? Was there an end to it?
He remained very still, thinking hard, even after Malfoy left. He could no longer hear Dobby, but he imagined him in the sitting room… staring up at the portrait. Did the barman know of this cave behind the portrait? He had to.
"Lumos," he said, very, very quietly. Beneath the Cloak, the tip of his wand sparked. Light billowed out from it. Beside him, Ginny stirred. "Let's see if it's a tunnel," he whispered.
They stood together again, then shuffled forward awkwardly until they found a rhythm. His steps grew shorter, and hers longer until they marched in unison. After a few such steps, it curved down in a spiral, down and down and down until Harry was certain they were now below the inn, below even where a basement would be. Once it grew cold and damp, Harry felt it was safe enough to pull of the Cloak.
"You know," he said, as quiet as he had when they'd been behind the portrait, "I never knew there was a reason why people feared the name."
"Me either," said Ginny, as quiet as he. "I just knew my mum especially was terrified…" A small sob escaped her.
Harry halted. "Are you all right?" he asked, cautious.
She waved her hand. "I'm fine," she said, shaking her head. He might've imagined the sob; her face was set in fierce lines.
They walked on in silence. At one point, they stopped spiraling downward; now, the ground sloped upward, quite steeply. Twice, they had to stop to rest; and once, Harry had a hitch in his chest that made it hurt to breathe. His shirt was clammy with sweat. Despite the exertion, it was so cold beneath the earth that they were both shivering… their teeth were chattering…
It was only when stairs appeared before them that it grew warm again. The stairs were near as endless as the sloping hill.
"I wonder where it's going to put us out?" Ginny said.
"I hope not in the mountains somewhere," Harry said glumly.
"Seems like we've climbed enough…"
"Yeah, I know. Maybe it'll just be… the middle of the lake, or the middle of the forest, or something."
But it was none of those options. At the top of the stair was a small wooden door. Harry glanced at Ginny, tossed the Cloak over them both, twisted the knob, and peered in. The room was empty of people, so they walked into it… the door slammed behind them and disappeared.
"What the—"
Their surroundings were formless and grey. But as he stumbled forward a step, the floor beneath them resolved. Then, suddenly, they were in a small, cozy room with a fireplace.
"Merlin, my feet are tired," said Ginny. As she said it, a chair appeared, then another, as though in response to her need.
Harry let his mouth fall open. "It's the Room of Requirement - you know, where we held the DA meetings!"
"I know where we held those," she muttered, flopping into the chair.
"Right," he said, sliding into his own. It had just the right amount of cushions: Harry thought he might melt right into it. "But it's got to be. I had no idea there was a way into it from the Hog's Head! How on earth..."
"It's the first bit of luck we've had since the whirlwind," said Ginny, sighing a little.
Harry cast a glance at her. In fact, she did look tired, with dark crescents under her eyes. She was curled up like a cat in the chair. After the morning they'd had, Harry could not help but think they might take a small nap. The urgency seeped out of him, melting with the rest of his body into the faded comfort of the chair the room had provided for him. There were not Inferi here. Lucius Malfoy would not find them here, surely. A sense of safety suffused his limbs and he sighed, feeling quite as tired as he had ever done. His eyes fell half-closed.
"How do we suppose we'll get to Dumbledore?" Ginny asked. Her question cut through his sudden calm, breaking it in half.
"Well, do we really have to right now?" Harry asked, not sure if he meant in this exact moment, or at all.
"What do you mean?" she said, bolting upward.
"I mean... look, now we've found the Room of Requirement-"
"-or it's found us." Now her arms were folded.
"All we need is food, and we could stay here," offered Harry, stomach rumbling a bit.
"We can't stay here forever," she said flatly. "It's only a room, Harry."
"But if we told Sirius about it, we could stay here-"
"You said we would go to Dumbledore," she said, jabbing her finger at him. "You said we would. Sirius doesn't know everything that Dumbledore does. And we aren't safe in that cave. Our best bet is Dumbledore."
"Right," said Harry, holding up his hands. "And we will. But what're we going to say? Maybe – maybe his motives aren't totally pure, but Sirius is right that we shouldn't let on anything that could drastically change where we're from."
"I don't care how much you tell him," she retorted, though her expression had relented.
His stomach rumbled. Now that he'd thought about how much he'd like some food, it was all he could think about. Even more than answers, Dumbledore might permit them to visit the kitchens. "What if… what if we just tell him that we did time travel? And we need his help to get back? But left everything else out?"
"I just said, I don't care," she insisted. "We just need to—"
But at these last, imploring words, the room began to shift. The walls parted to make way for a grand door. It rippled, as though it were made of great feathers; as they ruffled, what Harry would have sworn was gold turned to a bright, brilliant blue. The blue door had a bit of a glow to it. Ginny gestured toward it. Harry had the fleeting thought that she was likely as hungry as he was: her face was set and white.
With a small sigh, he heaved himself to his feet, reluctant to leave the comfort of the chair. The familiar feeling of ill-use welled within him. The door was manifesting what she required: the door appearing before them could only belong to that of the headmaster. "Ginny—"
"You can tell him whatever you want," she said, face still hard. "But we need his help to get back to where we belong."
"Fine," he said, thinking of the Inferi. "I suppose you're right."
But it did not feel quite right, not when he was unsure what he wanted to tell Dumbledore. And so it was with no small amount of trepidation that he followed Ginny to the ornate door, insides churning, thoughts scrambling, stumbling over the small step. Ginny betrayed no such hesitation, marching past him, back straight, red hair swinging, perfectly content to hand them over to the man who had – in the future – avoided and lied to Harry about his own life.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Author's Note: I know! This is a shorter chapter compared to the others. I do think it's an outlier in its shortness, but the next chapter was a bit unwieldy, so I am hoping this works anyway. Next chapter is super complicated, lots of stuff to juggle.
I hope you're doing well. :)