Chapter 2
One Way to Liverpool
Hermione Granger happily conversed with three of her muggle girlfriends in a restaurant not far from her parents' home in southern Essex. Despite her constant worry over the state of the magical world and the well-being of her best friends, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, she could not avoid enjoying a taste of her former life as a muggle. She realized how much she had missed in her years away, and felt slightly ashamed when she did not recognize the names of the famous singers and actors that her friends gushed over.
Happily participating in the conversation, the seventeen-year-old witch suddenly informed her friends that she needed to leave. Despite their protestations, she quickly gave her regrets and rushed outside to briskly walk the half mile home. From her seat in the restaurant, she had noticed a snow-white owl perched on a wire outside of the window, staring directly at her. Hedwig never did anything so brazen before, and Hermione could not help but feel that the owl appeared out of sorts. She rushed home so that she could open the letter attached to the owl's leg.
"Hello, Hedwig," the young witch spoke softly as Hedwig landed carefully on Hermione's arm, carrying the owl to a table in her backyard. Now past nine at night, the July sun had set but darkness had not yet completely fallen. Hedwig indeed acted nervously, and Hermione's heart began to race. Something must have happened to Harry.
"There you go, girl," she comforted the anxious bird, placing a plate of water before it. Her heart still pounding, she sat at the table and in the receding light read Harry's brief note.
"I just left home, and I'm not going back. The Ministry is watching me, and I need to leave before it tries to do anything. I'll be OK. I have money and can get by for awhile. When I have the chance, I'll call you. Please take care of Hedwig for me. Be careful. Once the Ministry knows I'm gone, they may want to follow you. Don't worry about me. I have a lot of thinking to do, and this will give me some time.
Wish me luck, Harry"
"Harry!" she whispered to herself, exasperated. Unknowingly she stood and began pacing around the table, her mind attempting to read between the lines of Harry's letter, for she knew that her best friend would not disclose everything to her. In fact, the note disclosed precious little. His previous letter, which he sent a few days before, seemed more distant than normal, and now she knew why. Harry believed that his mail was being intercepted by the Ministry.
On occasion in the past, Hedwig stayed overnight with Hermione, so she carried the owl to the corner of her dresser that she reserved for her. After assuring her comfort, she sat on her bed, quickly reread Harry's note, and started thinking.
Where would Harry go? She knew that he lived in Surrey, south of London, and certainly London would be the easiest city for a wizard to melt into the muggle world. Most wizard families, such as the Weasleys, preferred to live in rural areas, all the easier to hide from the muggle authorities. Thus, while a fair number of wizards did live in London, especially half-bloods or muggle-borns already familiar with the muggle world, the chance of running into one would be minuscule. Moreover, the Ministry preferred not to take action in London, if possible, due to the sheer volume of muggles. Only so many minds can be modified at one time.
London seemed the obvious choice, but Hermione knew instinctively that Harry would not go there.
Hermione's home in southern Essex also was situated not far from London, only an hour or so to the northeast of the giant metropolis. Unfortunately, Harry did not have her address, and could not come on his own. In any event, he would not come, as he quite correctly anticipated that her home would be watched by the Ministry as soon as his disappearance became known. He did have her phone number, however, so she could only hope that he would call.
She sat on the edge of her bed, and stared at herself in the mirror above her dresser. This was the big time now. No more Dumbledore directing the show. No more hiding behind the wards of Hogwarts Castle. No more pretending that the future would never arrive. On top of everything, it seemed Harry had to fend off the Ministry while at the same time trying to locate and destroy the horcruxes. When and if he accomplished that enormous task, then the final confrontation with Lord Voldemort awaited.
Impossible. It all sounded impossible, yet this is what faced her great friend, and indirectly Ron and Hermione too. They had faced much in their six years of friendship - trolls, basilisks, hippogriffs, death eaters and more. The option of letting Harry face this alone did not exist. The three of them would either triumph together or fail together. But what should she do next?
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Harry remained under his invisibility cloak for several minutes after he arrived at the small, outdoor train station in Little Whinging. Only rarely had Harry ever ridden on a train, other than the Hogwarts Express, and he did not know exactly how one goes about it. After eavesdropping on a few customers requesting tickets, he realized that he did not need to be a genius to figure it out.
Originally, Harry intended to take the short trip from Surrey to nearby London, but on his walk to the station, he reconsidered. As of this moment, in the darkening evening, his Ministry companion presumably did not know that Harry had departed 4 Privet Drive. No doubt they assumed that he would come out for his typical midday meanderings the next day, and when he did not, the Ministry employee would wonder why. Surely some time would pass before they determined with certainty that Harry had left Little Whinging for good. Probably he would have at least until the next afternoon before this would occur, or so he hoped.
London seemed the logical destination. The largest city in all of Britain, he theoretically could hide there if he took some basic precautions. Nevertheless, Harry felt uncomfortable that he would be so close to the Ministry itself, and doubtlessly, the Ministry would figure that London would be Harry's natural destination. Why not take a longer journey? After all, if his reckoning could be trusted, he had all night to travel.
Stepping out of view, he removed the invisibility cloak and placed it into his already overstuffed rucksack. As unobtrusively as he could, he walked into the station and glanced at the board next to the ticket windows. Major cities lined one half of the board with fares to the right. Harry had never even heard of a few of the cities, and he considered returning to his original plan of London, until he read "Liverpool."
"One way to Liverpool," he instructed the ticket seller. Harry did not have the foggiest idea why he chose Liverpool as his destination. It simply functioned as a random large city in which he could disappear for a few weeks. Besides, they had a good football team, as he recalled from his years as a muggle, and even he knew about the Beatles.
After a nervous forty-five minute wait for the correct train, during which time he tried to stay out of sight, he finally boarded and found an empty compartment. Darkness had fallen, and the sparsely filled train inched forward, allowing Harry to breathe a sigh of relief. He had escaped.
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"I would like to speak with Harry Potter, please," stated Evan Harrington politely to the tall, middle-aged woman who answered the door of 4 Privet Drive.
"You must be mistaken," she answered coldly, "nobody by that name lives here." She moved to close the door when Evan decided to quit the pretenses. He pulled his wand from its holster, causing Petunia Dursley to freeze.
"I'm coming in one way or the other," Evan informed her calmly, "I'd prefer not to have to cause a mess." Petunia instinctively knew that she should not cross this person. She pulled the door back and allowed the stranger to enter.
Evan stepped through and quickly glanced around the spotless, typical middle-class English home. By now, he strongly suspected that Harry Potter no longer resided in this house. The previous day, Evan had roamed all of the places where Potter normally passed the time, but the boy never appeared. The auror did not return to his office at the normal time, instead viewing the window of Potter's bedroom as night fell. The light never turned on.
Having passed this information on to his superiors, a frantic series of meetings ensued, and Evan returned the next day with orders to bring Potter in immediately, if in fact the boy could be found. Evan waited all morning, just in case the young wizard might have been away for one night. Highly doubtful, Evan knew, as Potter did not appear to have any friends in the area. After the young wizard did not show by lunch, Evan knocked on the door.
"Where is Potter?" Evan asked simply but with a tone that informed Petunia not to play games.
"Why should I tell you?" she replied nervously, "Where Harry goes is none of your business."
"That is where you are mistaken, Mrs. Dursley. It is my business." Evan stared at her intently, but did not lose his temper. He mused silently that she looked nothing like her sister, Lily Evans. "I am an auror with the Ministry of Magic. My advice is that you cooperate with me. I have no quarrel with you, and I have no desire to resort to more distasteful methods." Petunia paled at the words, and her momentary resolve dissolved.
"Harry's gone. He left, night before last. I do not expect him to return." She stared down and away from the auror, somewhat ashamed that she caved in so easily.
"Exactly what I thought," Evan replied evenly, "Where did he go?"
"I don't know. My husband and he argued, like they always do, but this time Harry said he had enough. He packed a few things and left. All I know is that he walked out the door night before last. He did not tell me where he intended to go. I doubt he even knew; it seemed like a spur-of-the-moment decision."
"What time did he leave?" the auror asked. Petunia glanced upwards as she tried to remember.
"It was after dinner. That's when the argument started. They went at it for ten or fifteen minutes. Neither one of them would listen to me. Harry went up to his room for half an hour or so to pack his things. He must have left around eight o'clock, though I'm not sure. It could have been a bit later."
"Thank you, Mrs. Dursley. I believe you are telling me the truth. I'll just check his room, and I'll leave you in peace. I apologize for the intrusion." Evan did not ask for permission to climb the stairs to Harry's bedroom.
Once inside, he grimaced when he noted that Mrs. Dursley had already cleaned the room, probably figuring that Harry would never return. Any clues which he may have gleaned vanished with Mrs. Dursley's cleaning rags. She had pushed Harry's trunk into the corner of the room, and Evan took a few moments to examine it as well as the closet. A few tattered clothes remained in the trunk, as well as other personal items, but the closet had already been emptied by Mrs. Dursley. Evan learned nothing.
He did not bother modifying Petunia Dursley's memory, as she would not gossip about something like this. Excusing his intrusion again, he left and returned to his office, leaning back in his stiff wooden chair. At the moment, the other auror with whom he shared the small office was away on assignment, and Evan had the room to himself. A few sheets of parchment and quills sat on the small desk, but he never let it become too messy, not like the overflowing work space of his roommate.
A thin smile unconsciously appeared on his lips. Maybe this mission would be more challenging than he first thought. Potter obviously noticed him. On a few occasions, Evan realized that Potter sensed something strange, but Evan knew that the boy could not see him. Somehow, Potter figured it out. Maybe Evan did not act carefully enough, but he knew that a typical wizard would not have noticed anything. Quite clearly, Harry Potter was not a typical wizard.
Evan thought back to Lily Evans and James Potter. Somehow, Harry's disappearance did not bother him much, certainly not as much as his frantic superiors. In fact, he almost felt happy about it. Nevertheless, his quarry's disappearance left Evan in a tight spot since the boy had a day and a half head start. Following protocol, Evan verified that no apparations had been registered in the Privet Drive area, or even in Little Whinging. Potter knew better. He left by muggle means, probably by train. He could be anywhere by now.
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Two days had passed before Harry felt settled enough to fully consider the problems that faced him. The train trip passed without incident, and he had roamed up and down the Mersey River and other parts of Liverpool, gradually orienting himself. Trying to blend in, he bought a red Liverpool Football club hat, which also allowed him to hide his scar. Of course, he did not blend in, for his manner of speech immediately informed any local that this boy came from the London region. In fact, Harry at times had to ask people to repeat themselves due to their thick Liverpudlian accent.
He rented a room at the Riverside Hotel, a small complex which in fact did not sit beside the Mersey but rather some six blocks to the east of it. The excitement Harry felt those first two days prevented any rational consideration of his situation. For once, he alone had decided the best course of action to take. He felt both exhilarated and astonished, but after the passage of two days, reality started to sink in.
Yes, he succeeded in escaping, but in no way had he improved his situation in general. Dumbledore could no longer help him, and only Harry could complete the work that the old man had begun. Harry needed to find and destroy the remaining four horcruxes presumably created by Lord Voldemort, after which Harry would have the privilege of trying to kill the dark lord.
Simple enough, he laughed to himself. Of course, he did not know where any of the other horcruxes were located, and in fact he only knew for sure what form two of them took - Hufflepuff's Cup and Slytherin's Locket. Dumbledore believed that Voldemort's snake, Nagini, might be another one, but Harry could not know that for sure. And the last horcrux? It could be anything. And anywhere.
Where should he start? Liverpool did not seem to be the most logical site, and Harry second-guessed himself about coming to the port city, yet despite these problems, he felt more calm than he had in weeks. For the moment, he needed to lie low in Liverpool, staying out of sight to keep the Ministry off his trail. He would think some more, but his next important moment would be meeting with his aunt on his birthday to receive the mysterious object left by Dumbledore. That left him almost two weeks to enjoy his new surroundings.
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Evan Harrington had met Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour on a few brief occasions over the years, but never had he participated in a high level meeting with him. Seated in his ornate office, the Minister grilled the auror for half an hour about Harry Potter's disappearance, and the distress and anger in Scrimgeour's voice could not be completely suppressed. For whatever reason, Evan understood that Potter's disappearance constituted an emergency of the highest level.
"As I explained, sir, we have no idea to where Potter fled. London seems an obvious choice. It's close to Little Whinging, it's close to the home of his best friend, Hermione Granger, and it is so large as to allow him to disappear into the muggle world. Potter grew up as a muggle and presumably knows well enough how to operate there." To do something with his hands, Evan opened the Potter file and scanned a document. "We are making inquiries in London, but we have no assurance that Potter is there. Of course, Granger will be watched as well. But for all we know, the boy could be in France by now."
"Potter will not go to France," Scrimgeour declared, "He believes he has business in Britain."
Evan nodded, "I agree, sir. The point I am making is that he could be anywhere, in a large city, small town, the country, with a friend, by himself. At the moment, we simply have no idea. We are checking any unusual magical events everywhere, such as apparations, but so far nothing appears to have anything to do with the boy. My guess is that he'll try to limit the use of magic as much as possible. As you know, we cannot identify a magical event with any specific wizard, so it is largely searching for the needle in the haystack."
Minister Scrimgeour grimaced at Evan's report, but he did not appear to be surprised. Scrimgeour had been around the block a few times in his life and did not lose his composure when events conspired against him. Nevertheless, Evan easily sensed the disquiet in the Minister's countenance, the tightened eyebrows and squinted eyes. For reasons which still had not been explained to him, the Ministry considered Potter's disappearance as a major crisis. It did not make sense to the seasoned auror, but he knew better than to voice his opinions.
"Thank you for your report, Harrington. You have already been informed of the importance of finding Mr. Potter. I realize the difficulty, but you must devote all of your efforts to finding him and bringing him in. It is as much for his protection as for the protection of the magical world." The Minister stared intently at the auror. "I'll inform your superiors to remove all other responsibilities from your agenda until Potter is found. Your reports will reach me, rest assured."
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"Your imbecility is exceeded only by your carelessness, Wormtail," Lord Voldemort sneered at his servant, Peter Pettigrew. The death eater's sin, according to his master, involved dropping and temporarily breaking a vase in Voldmort's sleeping chamber. Pettigrew repaired the vase with the reparo spell within seconds, yet Voldemort missed no opportunity to demean him.
"I am sorry, Master. You are correct as always. I will attempt to take more care in the future," responded Pettigrew fearfully, though he had experienced similar rebukes dozens of times in the past. By the time he finished speaking, Voldemort had already forgotten about it.
"We will soon be leaving this most comfortable house, Wormtail. I believe we will stay two more days. Have everything prepared for our departure."
"Certainly Master."
"Now, bring me the Malfoy boy. I wish to speak with him before I retire to my bed."
Voldemort and his death eaters preferred the dark for their activities, and though the large grandfather clock opposite the bed displayed 3:30 am, few if any death eaters were sleeping. Voldemort generally slept at 4 am for only four or five hours, not requiring more. Of course, he expected Pettigrew to be ready when he awoke, which resulted in Pettigrew's constant sleep deprivation. The short, pudgy death eater bowed slightly and shuffled out of the room.
A few minutes later, Pettigrew led the thin blond teenager into the room, then taking his leave. Draco Malfoy tried to prepare himself as best he could for the conversation. Only seventeen years of age, the trials of his sixth year at Hogwarts combined with a few weeks living with jaded death eaters had aged Draco noticeably. His blue eyes dulled to a slate grey, displaying deep weariness, and his thin blond hair hung limply to his shoulders. In his younger years, he believed the life of a death eater to be glamorous, but he quickly discovered his error.
"My Lord wished to speak with me?" he spoke with a slight bow, trying his best to sound submissive, yet the echo of the elitist Malfoy drawl could not be disguised. Having met the dark lord more than once these past weeks, Draco knew not to speak further until prompted.
Voldemort eyed the young wizard for a moment, but Draco could not determine his mood. Of course, he had never seen the dark lord in a good mood and doubted that he ever would.
"Sit Draco!" Voldemort hissed softly, apparently in an attempt to make the boy feel comfortable. Draco's level of discomfort only increased, but he took a high-backed chair across from Voldemort's and waited for the dark lord to speak again.
"I realize, Draco, that you are not a friend of the Potter boy, nor would I expect you to be. He is far beneath your level. Nevertheless, I understand that you know him well, in your own way."
Draco hardly expected to be questioned about his worst enemy, and he forced himself to suppress the sneer that his lips tried to form. Better to show no emotion.
"I do know him well, My Lord, though as you say he is quite the opposite of a friend. Of course, we were in different houses at Hogwarts, so I did not see him often outside of classes and such." Draco's eyes focused on Voldemort's feet, which appeared to be swollen.
"What do you think of his talents, Draco?" Voldemort asked ambiguously, immediately noting the sneer on Malfoy's face, "Do not let your hatred for him skew your answer. I need your best judgment, for better and worse. I need to understand Potter better than I have in the past."
Draco immediately removed the involuntary sneer from his face and considered his answer. Though he hated Harry Potter with all his might, he still could not avoid a certain discomfort in being asked to tattle on a schoolmate. Nevertheless, the thought of not answering never entered his mind.
"Overall, Potter is quite mediocre; however, he is a talented flier and always does well in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He's pitiful at potions, and I understand that he is only average at charms and transfigurations. Perhaps his greatest 'talent' is that mudblood friend of his, Granger."
"Tell me about his friends, Draco. I have heard of this Granger mudblood."
"Hermione Granger is her name. Muggle-born, obviously, but even still, she is quite intelligent. Not especially talented with spells and such, but she is an insufferable know-it-all. Reads endlessly. She's devoted to Potter, though I know of no romantic ties between them. Then there is Weasley, Ronald Weasley, Potter's best mate."
"I am well acquainted with the Weasley family," Voldemort interrupted softly, "Blood traitors, but more dangerous to our cause than many of my advisors believe. Your father has always underestimated Arthur Weasley. Tell me about the boy, Ronald."
Draco intended to disparage the Weasley name as had his father dozens of times in the past, but Voldemort's comment saved him from that embarrassment. He decided to moderate his opinions.
"Weasley is not especially bright, just gets by with his scores. I hear that he is an excellent chess player, but that is the only area in which he excels. Potter and he are great mates, though they've had their rows. The girls tell me that he is fond of Granger, though I couldn't say myself." Draco lifted his eyes slightly to gauge his master's reaction, but noting none, he continued, "Of course, Potter is fond of Weasley's younger sister, Ginny. I don't know much about her, except that she flies well. A fine chaser. Potter and she were together, I'm told, at the end of the term, though I was working so much on my project that I saw little of them myself." Draco paused before concluding, "Is there anything specific that you would like to know, My Lord?"
Voldemort leaned forward slightly, and Draco's skin crawled as he felt the dark lord's gaze penetrate his skin. Neither spoke for nearly a minute, and Draco began to wonder whether he should quietly leave.
Finally Voldemort breathed in deeply, asserting, "You underestimate Potter, Draco, but for that I cannot blame you, for I have committed the same error. It is an error I must not repeat in the future." The dark lord flicked his wand at the fireplace to increase the fire, for as usual he felt chilled. "Leave me now; tell Wormtail to return."
"Yes, My Lord," Draco responded obediently, backing away two steps before he turned for the door.