Chapter 2: The Advance Guard

I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from writing this whatsoever. The Harry Potter franchise is the property of Warner Brother's and J.K Rowling.

"He killed all of us, except for me. Even then, I think it was just to send a message. They can medically clear me all they want, detective, but as soon as I go home tonight I'm a dead man."

"We can offer you protective custody, Mr. Evans, put you someplace safe."

"Don't you get it? There is no place safe! He burned me, and when the Rider burns you, he burns your soul. And that can't ever be repaired."

- A recorded hospital interview with Jasper Evans conducted at Grady Memorial, Hell's Kitchen by Detective Brett Mahoney of the fifteenth precinct.

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Grimmauld Place was in disarray.

Dumbledore had sent word that Harry Potter had been expelled from school by the Ministry for casting underage magic. Johnny didn't understand most of the inner workings of the magic world just yet, but based on how everyone was freaking out, he assumed it was bad. Molly was choosing to cope by feverishly cleaning, ushering Johnny, the twins, Ron, Ginny and the brown haired girl to clean out nests of dead Puffskein's from underneath all of the sofa's upstairs. Last he saw of Arthur and Sirius, the former was furiously scribbling something down on a piece of paper, and the latter was pacing in the kitchen, having to be stopped multiple times from walking out the front door by Remus.

"Filth! Disgusting creatures! Blood traitor's and mudblood's defiling the noble house of Black!"

The portrait was of Sirius' mother, Walburga. Apparently they had tried multiple times to take it down, but failed. It screamed more obscenities at them as they arrived on the second floor. But when it first said 'mudblood' all of the Weasley's faces took on a dark look. The girl, Hermione, was her name, he'd learned, had a perfectly neutral expression.

"What are Puffskein's again?" He asked one of the twins, couldn't be sure which one it was. Before he could answer though, Hermione had spoken up.

"A Puffskein is a small magical beast covered in soft fur and spherical in shape. It is a popular wizarding pet found worldwide."

Fred, or George, rolled his eyes and turned to look at Johnny as they walked to their first room. "Small little fluff balls, long pink tongues."

"Nice." Johnny remarked.

The cleaning was boring, and although the twins could do magic legally outside of school, they preferred to huddle together in the corner of the room, whispering to each other. That left Ron, Ginny, Hermione and him to clean up the dead creatures. The two girls mostly stayed out of his way, and though he and Ron weren't on exactly friendly terms, Johnny still hovered mostly around him.

"What's a 'mudblood'?" He whispered to him as they swept a particularly large pile of Puffskein's out from underneath a couch.

Ron frowned at him, but answered after a moment. "It's a terrible name for someone born with non magical parents."

This, if anything, just made Johnny more confused. "Like me?"

"Nah," Ron said, pushing the pile into a larger one not too far off. "You're just a muggle - non magical person - I mean-"

"-someone like me," Hermione said. Showing up behind Johnny. "The proper term is muggle-born. Wizarding society is very class based; mostly dominated, at least in terms of people in powerful positions, by pure-bloods. Wizards and witches whose ancestry can be traced far back. The general idea being that pure-bloods are just better than everyone else."

"It's a load of bollocks," Ron added helpfully, "Hermione's the smartest person in our year."

She smiled at the compliment.

"I think we got them all," Ginny said, joining the trio before narrowing her eyes at the twins, "no thanks to you two."

Johnny was impressed, she looked much like her mother when Molly had yelled at the twins earlier for making water shoot out of Sirius' ears. Something which the man himself laughed at. The twins seemed to think the same thing, for they now looked wary.

"Sorry little sis."

"We'll do better next time."

"Really knock your socks off."

Johnny let out a surprised laugh at that, which he immediately regretted, as it seemed to only fuel the twins more.

"Been meaning to use one of your own yank phrases on you, Johnny boy."

"Took us a while to figure them out."

"Got a lot of really silly terms in America."

"Like blowing popsicle stands."

"Whatever that means." They finished together.

He felt like an idiot for finding it funny, and it was then that the door opened, and Molly poked her head in.

"Johnny, could you come downstairs please?" She said, tone falsely cheery and expression a little strained. "We're about to have a meeting."

"Yeah, sure."

Ron and Ginny looked a little put out at losing a pair of hands. Hermione just looked on with a frown and furrowed brow.

"Oh, and, I've finally gotten the stains out of your old clothes, so you can put them on whenever you want."

"Thanks, Molly." He said, giving the woman a small smile.

She beamed in return, and left without another word.

"Oh yeah," Ron mumbled, "been wondering where your jacket had gotten to."

Johnny nodded. "Your mom doesn't appreciate the smell of blood, apparently."

"Mom." Ron repeated with a frown. "Bloody yank."

"The amount of jokes I can make about your slang far outweighs America's shitty idiom's, Ronald."

Ron's face went a little red, but before he could retort, Fred and George spoke up.

"Please don't talk about you making jokes."

"I don't think my heart could handle it, Forge."

"Nor mine, Gred."

He threw a broom at them.

A few minutes later, changed back into his own clothes instead of hand me downs from Sirius, and seated at the large dining table, Johnny had his first proper meeting as an Order member. He didn't really say much, just sat and listened to the other's talk.

Moody suggested two teams. One to watch the area and send a signal for the other team once they knew the area was clear, and another to help Harry Potter escape his relative's house. Johnny thought he was being a little too paranoid, but nobody voiced an objection, so he stayed quiet. If someone was out there, at least they'd be prepared. Sirius desperately wanted to go, and Johnny couldn't blame him. However, he also agreed with everyone else when they said he could not go anyway. A wanted fugitive running around in public wasn't good for anyone, no matter how late it was.

Tonks had the good idea to call Harry's relative's and tell them they'd won a contest, thus making them leave the house for at least a few hours. Different kinds of signals and backup plans were formulated from their, as well as the members for each team.

Sturgis Podmore, a man with the squarest jaw Johnny had ever seen, along with Elphias Doge, Emmeline Vance, Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle all volunteered to go. Moody, Tonks, Kingsley and Remus were all coming as well.

"I want Johnny in on this too."

Everyone looked at Sirius. Most were surprised, and some looked like they wanted to argue. Honestly it was mostly Snape. But nobody could speak, for Dumbledore, who had been sitting at the head of the table quietly as the meeting had gone on and people had strategized, raised a hand to silence the room.

"Explain, Sirius." He said.

"He needs to go on a mission sometime, why have him join if not to help?" Sirius asked to the room. "I can't think of a better time than now."

"And you'd trust someone you've barely known two days to go and rescue Harry, your godson?" Moody asked.

"No," Sirius said simply, "you're right, it's far too early for that." He held Johnny's gaze. "But now would be the time to earn some."

He didn't know why Sirius felt so strongly about this, but in that moment, Johnny knew he wouldn't let the man down.

"Besides, you outnumber him greatly anyway."

There was an underlying threat there, betray us and we'll all get you for it, and while Johnny believed to be unnecessary and not that scary to him, he nodded anyway.

"Then it's settled," Dumbledore stated, before getting up and leaving. Some members pooled out after him muttering furiously to the old man, including Snape, who looked very much like he wanted to say something to him. The man gave Johnny a cold and calculating look, before exiting as well.

A hand was on his shoulder before he could stand. It was Sirius.

"Come on, I'd like to show you something."

He followed obediently, letting Sirius lead him into a room by the stair case that he hadn't gone in before. He had assumed it was a guest room. Johnny entered the room after Sirius, and it was mostly empty. Drab green walls with the same dark wooden flooring that was in the main hall. No decorations or desks or anything. All that was there, was a motorcycle, complete with a rather large sidecar. It was a glossy black colour, and seemed to be in fantastic condition. His mouth must have been agape, for Sirius laughed when he turned to look at him.

"Had a feeling you'd like it," he said, "You'll be taking it, of course, when you go get Harry tomorrow. I can have Arthur removed the sidecar if you'd like, shouldn't be a problem. I've had this since the seventies, you see, only recently got it back from Hagrid. Was a right mess when he brought here a few weeks back. Arthur and I worked tirelessly to fix it up. Have a look for yourself."

Johnny did, and it was perfect. There were multiple buttons on there that he didn't recognize. "Special additions from us," Sirius assured him, "good in a chase." Once he was done gawking, Johnny turned to Sirius.

"Why are you telling me this? Moody was right, you'd really trust me?" He asked. Wanting to shut up and just accept it but not being able to.

Sirius looked at him for a moment, before speaking. "Look," he said. "I watched that memory, I've seen what you are. More than that though, I saw what you were trying to do. When I saw that boy, bloodied and beaten, I felt just as furious as you did." Johnny looked away, regret nearly consuming him. That child's parents were no doubt utterly destroyed by their sons death, if they even know about it yet. "Now I won't pretend to understand what you are, but I have to believe you're doing this for the right reasons. The thing is, we really have almost no idea what Voldemort's planning. Snape is a spy for us, and even he's being told almost nothing. All we know is that he wants in to the department of mysteries. A place in the ministry where very few are permitted. We've had guards posted there, but it's been quiet so far. Now more than ever, we need all the help we can get." He grasped Johnny's right shoulder with his hand tightly, and Johnny couldn't help but look at him again. He saw a man still recovering from his time in a hellish prison. Twelve years for a crime he didn't commit. "So is trusting you like this dangerous? Yes. Half the Order certainly has no problem pointing it out. Some of the other's might not say it either, but they're thinking it."

He shook his head, muttered something Johnny didn't catch. "My point is, I trust you. And while it may be an uphill battle, the rest of them will too. Dumbledore already seems to and Snape... is Snape, he'll never voice what he's truly thinking unless it's an insult. Moody's just paranoid, but he'll come around. Nobody else has seen the memory but us four. The rest have been told the general idea, except for the kids of course."

Johnny needed time to truly take this all in, but he knew one thing for sure. He grasped Sirius's shoulder, returning the man's intense gaze.

"I won't let you down."

Hermione couldn't sleep.

It wasn't insomnia, nor was it an inability to actually close her eyes and do so. No, it came down to her want to sleep. Or rather, her lack thereof.

After asking Sirius about the newest member of the Order, to which she received eye rolling ribs for, Hermione was able to learn that he was from New York. Though she couldn't think of a way for this new information to help. She wouldn't be able to get her hands on any newspapers. It was maddening. What she saw that night, she'd never forget. How surreal it was, how curious it made her, and when she got curious, that meant hours spent in the library, researching said point of her curiosity. Only Johnathan wasn't something to study, and none of the Black family books thus far have been able to help in her search.

She frowned at the one in her hands as she laid in bed. Ginny snored softly in the one across the room. Hermione liked her far better than her dormmates at Hogwarts. One could only stand conversations about boys and gossip for so long. Not that Lavender or Parvati were terrible, only a little one-track minded. Hermione reached for the glass of water on the nightstand next to her bed, only to be disappointed when it was empty. She inwardly cursed that she wasn't old enough to do magic outside of school yet as she got out of bed to refill her glass.

Taking special care to not wake up Mrs. Black's portrait, she crept her way into the kitchen.

Hermione turned on the ornate looking sink, thanking Sirius for the addition to the home. Grimmauld Place had never previously had that, or the small muggle television set that sat in the corner on top of a stool. It was an ungodly early in the morning, everyone else was still asleep. So it follows that the front door burst open.

She jumped, nearly dropping the now half full glass of water onto the floor. Her heart was in her throat as rather loud footsteps thundered from the hallway into the kitchen area. She didn't have a direct view of the entrance, but as soon as she saw that leather jacket, Hermione knew who it was.

Johnny hit the table hard, slouching over it. He hadn't seen her yet. The sleeves of his jacket looked singed, and a few sparks were coming off of him.

"How dare you-!" Mrs. Black's portrait began to yell, awoken by Johnny's entrance. But his head snapped towards her, still just able to see the portrait from his position, apparently. Hermione could barely see an orange light in his left eye. Mrs. Black promptly shut up.

If she was being honest, she was a little scared at the moment. Where had he been at this hour? Why did he look so terrible? What should she do, just stand there and pray he didn't notice?

"Dumbledore won't like that you've been leaving the house without telling him."

Kill her. Kill her and hide the body.

He flinched violently, but thankfully did not react as badly to her as he did to the portrait. "Dumbledore will learn to live with it. And you, need to stop doing that."

"Sorry," she said. A moment passed in which he just looked at her, right in the eyes. The orange glint was gone from his eyes, maybe she imagined it before? "What were you doing up anyway?"

"Seriously?"

"I'm sorry!" She whispered. It was a problem, being this curious, this inquisitive.

He kept looking at her, before shaking his head. "Just a nightmare, so I went out for some fresh air."

Then why do you look like you've been blown up? She wanted to say, but held back from doing so. Hermione felt a twinge of sympathy for him, thinking of Harry and how terrible he must be feeling. They stood there awkwardly for a few moments, Hermione having no idea what to say. What could she say? She hardly even knew him.

He wasn't Harry or Ron; the former who could be reassured by a hug and the latter by a constant flow of encouragement. Or maybe he could, but that just proved her point more. There were a million things she wanted to say, be them questions or some kind of comfort, but she didn't know if it would make him upset or not. More than he already was, anyway. Johnathan surprised her then, by speaking.

"How much did you hear, that night? When I was being interrogated?"

"Everything," she answered.

He nodded, as if expecting this. "So that is why you were in the library, the next day," It was rhetorical, but she nodded anyway, "did you... find anything?"

The hesitant curiosity in his voice surprised her. "No," she said, not feeling very proud of the fact either. "At least, not the one's that I've read. But there's still plenty more to go through."

That was answered with another nod, this time a little relieved. "I have abilities," he said.

"I figured that."

"It won't be close to anything you imagined."

She took that as a challenge, but left it alone for now.

"You'll... you'll make sure Harry get's here safe when you go tomorrow, right?" She asked, worried about him, not concerned about sort of revealing that they'd been listening in on meetings. "He's my best friend, and I've been a rather poor one this summer, though Dumbledore forbade me to tell him anything." Guilt had plagued her the entire time too. It was hard, and if Harry showed up upset at her, well, she wouldn't blame him at all.

And maybe he got that, the whole being an awful friend part, for he nodded and said, "Yeah, I'll get him back here."

For some reason, she believed him.

Harry was lying in one of his apathetic phases, staring at the ceiling, his exhausted mind quite blank, when his uncle entered his bedroom. Harry looked slowly around at him. Uncle Vernon was wearing his best suit and an expression of enormous smugness.

"We're going out," he said.

"Sorry?"

"We - that is to say, your aunt, Dudley, and I - are going out."

"Fine," Harry said dully, looking back at the ceiling.

"You are not to leave your bedroom while we are away."

"Okay."

"You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions."

"Right."

"You are not to steal food from the fridge."

"Okay."

"I am going to lock your door."

"You do that."

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry suspiciously, clearly wary of his lack of an argument, before leaving the room and locking it behind him, his footsteps still easy to hear as he made his way to the front door. There was the startup of an engine, and the sound of the Dursley's car sweeping out of the driveway.

Harry didn't care about them leaving, it made no difference in the end. He continued to lay on his bed and stare at the ceiling. It was quiet for quite a while, and Harry could not find the energy to even get up and turn on the light so that he could see. The silence was broken abruptly when out of nowhere, Harry heard the loud rumble of an engine. It couldn't have been the Dursley's, they'd barely been gone an hour, and Harry didn't recall any of his neighbours owning such a loud car. It parked outside the house, and he sat up straight. He listened intently for a few moments, and then, quite distinctly, he heard a crash in the kitchen below.

His immediate thought was burglars, when voices followed the crash. But the Dursley's didn't really own anything that was worth a lot, and even then, burglars would probably try to keep their voices down, something the people below didn't seem to care about. Harry grabbed his wand from the nightstand, and nearly jumped when the bedroom door gave a click and opened seemingly by itself. He tried to listen for any more sounds, but when none came, Harry grudgingly moved silently out of his room and to the head of the stairs.

His heart shot upward into his throat. There were people standing in the shadowy hall below, silhouetted against the streetlight glowing through the glass door; nine or ten of them, all, as far as he could see, looking up at him.

"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," said a low, growling voice.

Harry's heart was thumping uncontrollably. He knew that voice, but he did not lower his wand.

"Professor Moody?" he said uncertainly.

"I don't know so much about 'Professor,'" growled the voice. "never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

Harry lowered his wand slightly, but did not lessen his grip. Nor did he move, remembering the nine months he'd spent being fooled by an imposter Moody, and feeling completely justified in his actions.

"It's all right, Harry. We've come to take you away." A second, hoarse sounding voice said.

He knew that voice too, though he hadn't heard it in over a year.

"Professor Lupin?"

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" a third voice said, this one completely unfamiliar, a woman's. "Lumos."

When the stairway was illuminated, Harry saw that Remus Lupin was the closest one to him, smiling broadly. He tried to return it, but doubt he managed it through his shock.

"Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would," the witch who was holding her lit wand aloft said. She had a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," a bald black wizard standing farthest back said; he had a deep, slow voice and wore a single gold hoop in his ear. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired wizard at the back said. "Lily's eyes."

Mad-Eye Moody, who had long grizzled gray hair and a large chunk missing from his nose, was squinting suspiciously at Harry through his mismatched eyes. One of the eyes was small, dark, and beady, the other large, round, and electric blue — the magical eye that could see through walls, doors, and the back of Moody's own head. "Are you quite sure it's him, Lupin?" he growled. "It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any veritaserum?"

"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" Lupin asked.

"A stag," Harry said nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye." Lupin confirmed.

Harry descended the stairs, very conscious of everybody still staring at him, stowing his wand into the back pocket of his jeans as he came.

"Don't put your wand there, boy!" Moody roared. "What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!"

"Who d'you know who's lost a buttock?" the violet-haired woman asked Mad-Eye interestedly.

"Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket!" Mad-Eye growled. "Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers about it anymore..." He stumped off toward the kitchen. "And I saw that." he added irritably, as the woman rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

He caught the smirk of a man in a leather jacket, who watched the exchange without saying a word. When the man saw him looking, Harry turned back to Lupin, who shook his hand.

"How are you?"

"F-fine, I guess."

Harry could not believe this. Four long weeks of almost no communication, and suddenly the Dursley's leave him alone for a night and there's ten witches and wizards in his house. He glanced at the people surrounding Lupin; they were all still gazing avidly at him, except for the man in the leather jacket, who observed Harry with more of a professional curiosity.

"I'm - you're really lucky the Dursleys are out..." he mumbled.

"Lucky, ha!" the violet-haired woman said. "It was me that lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling them they'd been short-listed for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They're heading off to the prize-giving right now... Or they think they are."

The image of Uncle Vernon's face when he realized there was no such competition, was extremely satisfying.

"We are leaving, aren't we?" he asked. "Soon?"

"Almost at once," Lupin said, "we're just waiting for the all-clear."

"Where are we going? The Burrow?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Not the Burrow, no," Lupin said, motioning Harry toward the kitchen; the little knot of wizards followed, all still eyeing Harry curiously. "Too risky. We've set up headquarters somewhere undetectable. It's taken a while..."

Mad-Eye Moody was now sitting at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, his magical eye spinning in all directions, taking in the Dursleys' many labor-saving appliances.

"This is Alastor Moody, Harry," Lupin continued, pointing toward Moody.

"Yeah, I know," Harry said uncomfortably; it felt odd to be introduced to somebody he'd thought he'd known for a year.

"And this is Nymphadora -"

"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," the young witch said with a shudder. "It's Tonks."

"- Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," Lupin finished.

"So would you if your fool of a mother had called you 'Nymphadora,' " Tonks muttered.

"And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt" - he indicated the tall black wizard, who bowed - "Elphias Doge" - the wheezy-voiced wizard nodded - "Dedalus Diggle -"

"We've met before," Diggle squeaked, dropping his top hat.

"- Emmeline Vance" - a stately looking witch in an emerald green shawl inclined her head - "Sturgis Podmore" - a square-jawed wizard with thick, straw-colored hair winked - "Hestia Jones." A pink-cheeked, black-haired witch waved from next to the toaster. Lupin then indicated the man with the leather jacket. "And Johnny Blaze." He was the youngest looking of them all, couldn't have been much older than Harry himself, with dark brown hair and intense eyes. "A surprising amount of people volunteered to come and get you." Lupin said, smiling at him.

No kidding.

"The more the better," Moody said darkly, blue eye still whizzing around in its socket. "We're your guard, Potter."

"Not that I'm ungrateful but, are all these people necessary?"

Lupin shrugged, but Moody nodded seriously. "You're our top priority right now. I'd rather be extra prepared than not ready at all." The woman, Tonks, rolled her eyes again.

"Very clean, aren't they, these Muggles?" She said, looking around the kitchen with great interest. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?"

"Er - yeah," Harry said. "Look" - he turned back to Lupin - "what's going on, I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Vol - ?"

Several of the witches and wizards made odd hissing noises; Dedalus Diggle dropped his hat again, and Moody growled, "Shut up!"

"What?" Harry said.

"We're not discussing anything here, it's too risky," Moody growled, turning his normal eye on Harry; his magical eye remained pointing up at the ceiling. "Damn it," he added angrily, putting a hand up to the magical eye, "it keeps sticking - ever since that scum wore it -"

And with a nasty squelching sound much like a plunger being pulled from a sink, he popped out his eye.

"Mad-Eye, you do know that's disgusting, don't you?" Tonks said conversationally.

"Get me a glass of water, would you, Harry?" Moody asked.

Harry crossed to the dishwasher, took out a clean glass, and filled it with water at the sink, still watched eagerly by the band of wizards. Their relentless staring was starting to annoy him.

"Cheers," Moody said, when Harry handed him the glass. He dropped the magical eyeball into the water and prodded it up and down; the eye whizzed around, staring at them all in turn. "I want three-hundred-and-sixty degrees visibility on the return journey."

"How're we getting - wherever we're going?" Harry asked.

"Brooms," Lupin said. "Only way. You're too young to Apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network, and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorized Portkey."

"Remus says you're a good flier," Kingsley Shacklebolt said in his deep voice.

"He's excellent," Lupin confirmed with a small hint of pride, who was checking his watch. "Anyway, you'd better go and get packed, Harry, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes."

"I'll come and help you," Tonks said brightly.

"No more magic! We've done enough already by breaking in." Moody barked.

She immediately backtracked.

"-Johnny'll go!"

The man in question frowned at her, but nonetheless followed Harry up to his room.

"Sorry!" She called out to them. "I was never any good at all those householdy spells!"

They packed in silence, and it took far longer than it would have if they'd been allowed to use magic. The pipes gurgled. Harry lost himself in thought about where they'd be going, but it was broken when the man spoke.

"Your friend's very worried about you," He said in an odd accent.

"W-what?" Harry said.

"Hermione," he stated simply. "She's worried about you. Feels bad about not sending letters or being able to tell you where she was and what she was doing."

Oh, right. He was actually still pretty mad about that. But how did he know Hermione? Was she where they were going?

"It's not her fault," Johnny Blaze said. "She was forbidden from telling you anything. Ron too."

"By who?" Harry asked, very curious now.

And he looked like he was about to answer, but then Moody's voice rang out from downstairs.

"Hurry up in there! We've only got a few minutes left until we're supposed to leave!"

They packed faster after that, and a minute later Harry was back downstairs, Johhny holding onto his trunk, and Harry himself having his Firebolt.

"Excellent," Lupin said, looking up as Johnny and Harry entered. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —"

"They won't," Harry said.

"That you're safe -"

"That'll just depress them."

"- and you'll see them next summer."

"Do I have to?"

Lupin smiled but made no answer.

"Come here, boy," Moody said gruffly, beckoning Harry toward him with his wand. "I need to Disillusion you."

"You need to what?" Harry said nervously.

"Disillusionment Charm," Moody said, raising his wand. "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go -"

He rapped Harry hard on the top of the head and Harry felt a curious sensation as though Moody had just smashed an egg there; cold trickles seemed to be running down his body from the point the wand had struck.

"Nice one, Mad-Eye," Tonks said appreciatively, staring at Harry's midriff.

Harry looked down at his body, or rather, what had been his body, for it didn't look anything like his anymore. It was not invisible; it had simply taken on the exact color and texture of the kitchen unit behind him.

"Johnny," Moody grunted, motioning for the back door.

The man nodded, and took a few short steps before crouching down in front of the door knob. He looked to be placing something inside of the key lock. He gave it a few twists, until the lock clicked, and he pushed the door open.

They all filed out, "Where'd you learn how to do that?" Tonks asked as she passed by Johnny, who merely smirked in return.

"Clear night," Moody grunted, his magical eye scanning the sky. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you," he barked at Harry, "we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Lupin'll be covering you from below. I'm going to be behind you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed -"

"Is that likely?" Harry asked apprehensively, but Moody ignored him.

"- the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they'll join you."

"Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he'll think we're not taking this seriously," Tonks said sarcastically.

Moody looked sour, and Johnny, who was beside him, barely held in his laughter. He did not have a broom, instead, Johnny got on a large black motorcycle and started it up. There was a sidecar, in which he placed Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage.

Red sparks shot into the sky, and Lupin spoke sharply. "Mount your brooms, that's the first signal!"

Harry swung his right leg over his Firebolt and gripped its handle tightly.

Green sparks exploded above them in the sky. "Second signal," Lupin shouted. "Let's go!"

Harry kicked off hard from the ground. The cool night air rushed through his hair as the neat square gardens of Privet Drive fell away, shrinking rapidly into a patchwork of dark greens and blacks. For a few glorious moments, all his problems seemed to recede into nothing, insignificant in the vast, starry sky.

"Hard left, hard left, there's a muggle looking up!" Moody yelled from behind him. Tonks swerved as instructed, and Harry stayed right behind her. Johnny was to his right, motorcycle flying through the air gracefully, easily keeping up with their brooms.

"We need more height. Give it another quarter of a mile!"

And so they soared upwards, and Harry felt his eyes water. He could barely see anything below him at all now except for tiny pinpricks of light that were car headlights and streetlamps. Two of those tiny lights might belong to Uncle Vernon's car. The Dursleys would be heading back to their empty house right now, full of rage about the nonexistent lawn competition and Harry laughed aloud at the thought. He had not felt this alive in a month, or this happy.

"Bearing south!" Mad-Eye shouted. "Town ahead!"

They soared right, so that they did not pass directly over the glittering spiderweb of lights below.

"Bear southeast and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!" Moody called.

"We're not going through clouds!" Tonks yelled angrily. "We'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!"

Suddenly, Harry heard what sounded like an explosion going off very close in his right ear, and Johnny was no longer beside him, but falling to the town below. The motorcycle was on fire and making some of the loudest noises Harry had ever heard. Mad-Eye yelled for the man, but nobody moved to help him. Shockingly, it was no longer Johnny driving the vehicle, it was a skeleton with its head ablaze, and it seemed to now be operating the bike.

He realized then, that it'd never been falling at all.

"What the fuck is that!?"

"I don't know, just keep driving!"

They swerved onto another street, the sound of police sirens were fading away, instead replaced by an impossibly loud motorcycle. It was supposed to be a simple job, some rich swot with a large safe. They even had a way in with the maid, who wanted a cut of the money. Now David found himself in a van driving well over the speed limit with his partner, a dead billionaire and the maid in the car with him, all freaking out as a skeleton with a flaming head chased after them like a bat out of hell.

"Go right go right! He's almost on us!"

In the split second he took to look in his rearview mirror, David saw the skeleton aiming a small double barrel shotgun at them. It fired, letting out an ear-splitting bang, the maid screamed, and one of the tires burst completely. David struggled not to crash the car, gripping the wheel painfully hard. Another shot, another tire exploded. The van spun out, and the passenger side was pushed inwards as they struck a lamppost. David opened his door groggily, and felt hot chains wrap around him. He felt his clothes melt into his skin as he was dragged kicking and screaming towards what was surely the skeleton. A gunshot rang out, and David looked up in time to see Mike with his pistol aimed at the demon. He shot again, directly hitting it in the chest, but it didn't react at all.

He raised his free arm, and fire shot out at Mike, burning him alive.

The maid stumbled out too, and a chain shot out from underneath the skeleton's leather jacket to wrap around her too. But suddenly, their was a brief struggle of sorts, as the skeleton's head jerked awkwardly, and the chains on the woman released. She still stayed on the ground screaming, strips of her skin melted no doubt. It turned back to him, grabbed him gruffly by the collar of his dirty sweater, bony fingers digging into his collarbone.

It said one word; "Repent."

Every terrible thing he'd ever done flashed by, and he felt every bit of pain he'd ever inflicted on someone else, both emotional and physical.

It didn't end, until quite suddenly, David felt his heart stop.