War Is Over: Chapter 13/17 - On the Run
Bedroom. Cloak. Wand. Turn on the spot.
He wasn't quite sure who they were, the people downstairs. But they must have had some connection to the Ministry, his mind raced, or Kingsley would not be the one warning him from them. Why it was that the Minister for Magic chose to warn him rather than stop them in whatever it was they were doing, he couldn't yet begin to speculate.
He'll worry about that later.
His first priority, however, was to get away. So he Apparated to the place that had become home in the past six months - the Burrow. It was a few seconds of nauseating travel, and he was at the gate of that wonderful house. From this gate, and gazing at the house that was full of bright light and warm fire, his hurried departure from Grimmauld Place felt ridiculous. He didn't even stop to get dressed, and now he was standing in the muddy snow barefoot and in his pyjamas. What a ridiculous way to appear at the Weasleys' doorstep. He also berated himself for panicking so quickly at Kingsley's message - must have been the whiskey, he thought. He still believed they must have been Ministry employees - which meant there was nothing they could do to him, was there? Granted, breaking into his house was at least a breach of protocol, if not downright illegal, but what else were they going to? If anything, this automatic response was a good indication that he still couldn't put the war behind him. That would be something he'd have to unlearn, he thought to himself as he walked down the path.
He continued walking towards the Burrow, but at the same time considered returning to Grimmauld Place. It would save him a lot of awkward questions, like what was he doing there in the middle of the night in his pyjamas. He wondered how well the Weasleys would react to a joke about sleep-Apparating. Probably not too well, he smiled to himself. But the warm, inviting windows of the Burrow called him. At least, they called him until he realised that at that hour, none of the Weasleys should be awake.
Why were all the rooms lit? Why was there movement inside the house? And why did Mr Weasley just open the door, at half past midnight?
"I still don't think this is necessary," Harry could hear Arthur saying irritably to someone inside the house. "I will call you if he shows up. Why wouldn't I?"
Harry froze, glad to have thrown his Invisibility Cloak on himself before leaving Grimmauld Place.
"Well, Mr Weasley, don't take it the wrong way, but we have no reason to assume you will cooperate with us, rather than warn Mr Potter - or even hide him here."
"You say it's for his own good. Well, if Harry's health is compromised obviously I would want to help him - "
"Ah, Mr Weasley, that's just it. There's no 'if'. And until we're sure you realise that, we can't really trust your judgement."
In the light pouring out from within the house, Harry could see Arthur's face becoming redder. "Well, I am the head of - "
"I know who you are, Mr Weasley, and I wish no disrespect, to you or to Mr Potter. The sooner this sorry business is dealt with, the better. But I have my orders, and until they are countered, I will follow them. We won't bother you at all, just keep a watchful eye here to make sure he doesn't turn up."
Harry's heart sank, and he started retreating back towards the gate. A part of him rebelled - he was Harry Potter, the wizarding world's biggest hero. So what if they knew he was there? What did they think they were going to do? Arrest him? On what charges? Why should he run, he thought for one wild moment, a split-second in which he seriously considered taking off his invisibility cloak and face this nameless bureaucrat right there and then. But then, sense came back to him. He would rather maintain his freedom, and try to understand what had happened and why, rather than make a point the rest of the wizarding world would probably never hear of and get arrested in the middle of the night like a thief or a murderer. He needed answers, first. He could always get himself arrested later. It didn't seen like a terribly difficult task at the moment.
But before answers - or before getting arrested, he thought to himself dryly - he need to find somewhere to go. The Burrow was obviously out of the question, and he had every reason to believe Grimmauld Place was likewise watched. He walked back quietly through the path and outside the gate, trying to think of a place to crash. If they came to the Weasleys, they would probably show up at George and Angelina's as well - and anyway, they lived in Diagon Alley. Not a good spot. Hogwarts would be likewise out of the question, he thought sadly as the image of the old school - and Ginny inside it - came to his mind. He needed a place no one would expect him, a place no one would guess. For a moment he toyed with the idea of appearing at Privet Drive, but only for a moment - that place he had left, never to return. He would not go back there, even if it weren't very likely he'd be refused entrance, especially showing up at the middle of the night and in muddy pyjamas. He needed a place he would be accepted in.
A place like Andromeda Tonks's house.
No one would think to seek him there, he knew. After all, she was a Slytherin. She had lost her Muggle-born husband to an unmarked graved in a god-forsaken forest somewhere. She had lost her daughter and son-in-law when they saved the wizarding world from Voldemort. But all everyone could remember was that she was the sister of Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy. It had frustrated him; it had angered him; it had made him want to shout at the entire Ministry. But now, it was going to work in his favour.
As soon as he Apparated to the small house, he knew he was right. The house was completely dark, completely silent. There were no late night visits from the Ministry there, no unexpected visitors - except for himself, of course. It was a bit of a shame there was no one around, a more sarcastic part of him thought as he climbed up the path. Harry Potter, barefoot and in striped pyjamas, knocking on the door of the descendant of one of the most infamous families that had ever existed in their world at the middle of the night.
It took a few minutes before he was heard, and a few more before Andromeda walked down the stairs, wrapped in a robe, and asked suspiciously without opening the door, "Who's there?"
"Harry Potter," he answered.
He could hear her pausing at the other side of the door. Was he wrong? Had the Ministry been there, after all? But then, he could hear her undoing the bolts, and she opened the door.
The small lamp shone past him - of course, he thought, the cloak! And quickly, he removed it. She jumped, but only for a second, then looked at him critically, from messy hair and toothpaste stains, to the muddy feet.
"Come in," she said, and he followed.
She turned on the light when he entered - the house was spotless, almost shiny in its cleanliness. It made him feel all the more guilty - not only did he wake her up, he was also getting mud al over her shiny floor. He decided to stay at the entrance, rather than spread the mud into more rooms, but she just looked at him in confusion. Finally, and without a word, she aimed her wand at his feet. "Tergeo," she said the incantation softly, and the mud disappeared. Now Harry felt embarrassed even more - he should have remembered that spell. She must have sensed his embarrassment, as she smiled at him and gestured towards the living room, where a merry fire was already cackling in the fireplace.
"I'll make some tea, shall I," she said shortly, and he was left in the living room on his own.
'Living room' was not the best title for that place. In fact, Harry felt it was as far away from the truth as possible. It was the first time he had been to Andromeda's house since the funeral, and his embarrassment was growing and turning into guilt the more he looked at the room. He promised Mrs Tonks he wouldn't abandon Andromeda, but the room was a stark reminder of his neglect - his, and everyone else's.
It wasn't a room Andromeda sat in often, that was obvious. There were copies of the Daily Prophet in a basket near the armchair, and they were at least three months old. The floors and chairs were completely clean and tidy, as if only cleaned yesterday, but the dust on the bookcase hinted that no one had taken out any book for at least the same amount of months.
The dust didn't continue to the fireplace. The mantlepiece was so clean that it almost shone back at him in the soft light. And on it, a shrine: Tonks, when she was six or seven, her hair changing from purple to bubblegum pink while she was laughing; Ted Tonks, taking his daughter on his back, or jumping her up and down on his knee; The three of them - Tonks, Ted and Andromeda in a picnic, the later looking slightly displeased at the mess around them, Tonks chasing a cat around; Tonks, about his age, wearing proudly her Hogwarts robes for what must have been the last time; and finally - he picked up the photograph. Nymphadora Tonks, her bright white dress shining, but not enough to distract from her shining, happy face, and near her Remus Lupin, looking younger than he had ever seen him in life and wearing a suit - again, for the first time Harry had ever seen him.
"He was disappointed that day, that you couldn't come," Andromeda said quietly. Harry jumped - he didn't realise that she was behind him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"No, no, not at all," he said apologetically. He put the photograph back in its place, and turned to take the cup of hot tea from Andromeda's hand. "Thanks," he said, and sat down on one of the armchairs. Andromeda sat on another.
"They look so happy," he said quietly.
"They were so happy," she agreed.
"How are you and Teddy doing?" he asked. "I'm sorry I haven't been around more, I've been meaning to..."
"It's alright," she said, still serious. "I understand."
He nodded, and sipped his tea, looking for something else to say.
"So, Harry Potter, what are you doing here at this time of the night?"
"I... don't quite know," he answered honestly.
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't know how you came to knock on my door at 1 a.m. wearing your pyjamas and covered in mud?"
"I had to leave Grimmauld Place in a hurry."
"What happened?" she asked. "Death Eaters again?"
"No... I think this time it was the Ministry."
Her face turned cold, and she took a long sip from her tea, as if trying to buy some time before starting to talk again. "I didn't think they will come after you - I thought Kingsley had more sense than that."
"Well," he looked at her awkwardly, "I'm not completely sure what it was all about. But Kingsley was the one who warned me."
She looked at him sharply. "They were at the Burrow, as well?"
"Yeah."
She nodded. "You can stay here as long as you'd like, Harry. I don't mind." He could hear the words that were not being said - it would be nice to have some company.
"I'd love to," he answered.
"Very well. I'll go and arrange a bed for you."
She turned to leave, but he called her again before she could get away. "Andromeda... how are you holding up?"
"About as well as anyone else, I'd imagine," she said. He knew she couldn't see him nodding, but it didn't stop him anyway. It sounded about right.
He didn't really sleep that night. Andromeda's bed was comfortable, and the slight dizziness that had accompanied him all through that evening demanded he closed his eyes, but whenever he did that, he could see those three Death Eaters, turning around in unison. Except that they weren't three faceless, nameless pawns now. One of them had the lumpy, leery face of Amycus Carrow, except that his eyes had that frightened expression fixed into them, that same expression he had last seen on him, the result of the Cruciatus curse. The second was Lucius Malfoy, not the way he looked the last time Harry had seen him, desperate and afraid, but as Harry remembered him at the height of his power and popularity, sneering at Harry from Voldemort's side.
The third, of course, had the snake-like face of Lord Voldemort.
It changed a bit, whenever Harry closed his eyes. Once, it was his face as he aimed his wand at him, right before Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable; another time he had that hunger in him, the same terrible expression he had first seen on him, that night in the graveyard; and other times there was no expression at all, just his dead eyes, staring at nothing.
He gave up any attempt of sleep shortly before 4 a.m. It wasn't doing him any good, anyway. He tiptoed out of his room, afraid he would wake up Andromeda, who deserved her sleep. For a moment, he slid into Teddy's room. The boy was fast asleep, a smile on his face, his hair brown, but with streaks of green that Harry was sure would disappear by morning. He looked like Tonks, mostly. They same shape of the eyes, the same fingers, the same chin. But in his nose, he recognised Remus Lupin.
"I'm here now, Teddy, and you'll be alright," he whispered to the sleeping baby, who didn't even stir. "Everything will be alright," he whispered, more to himself than to Teddy.
He continued to look at him for a while longer, then stepped down back to the living room, pulled a book, and started to read.
That was how Andromeda had found him, four hours later, curled in front of the fire, deep into the book.
"I thought you would have preferred sleeping, after all of the excitement yesterday," she said softly.
"I fancied reading," he answered light-heartedly. Yesterday's events seemed less daunting now, when the sun was almost up and he was warm and comfortable.
"What are you reading?"
"A history of Goblin revolts in the Middle Ages."
"I've never figured you for a history buff," she said, and he shrugged.
"I guess it was a latent interest. I only discovered it myself about four hours ago."
She laughed softly. "Come, I'll make us some breakfast."
Over breakfast, Harry discovered Andromeda had quite the interest in the various and long goblin wars throughout history. Somehow, she managed to make that topic much more interesting than Professor Binns ever did. Andromeda laughed when he said as much, and suggested that perhaps it wasn't Professor Binns who had been boring, but simply Harry who had been bored. He had to agree with her that now that he had actually known some goblins, and had known more about them, he naturally found them more interesting; but he still insisted that he would have been more likely to succeed in his History of Magic O.W.L.s had Professor Binns had any talent at teaching.
Well, that and not being subjected to visions by Voldemort, but that was besides the point.
Breakfast passed without any unexpected events. The only interruption had been a knock on the window, that made Harry jump - but it was only the owl, bringing the morning Prophet.
"No wanted posters?" Harry asked dryly, but was only half-joking.
"Nothing on the first page - oh," Andromeda spread the paper for Harry to see. Apparently, the break-in to Grimmauld Place last night and the Ministry settling in at the Burrow had become an article claiming that he was 'missing'.
"'With fears growing for Potter's health, the healers of St Mungo's have requested to be notified if Potter is seen. He may be confused or disoriented... blah blah blah... As the entire wizarding world is worried for his general being.' Of course they are."
"Looks like you're going to stay here for a while," Andromeda said.
"Look, if it's - "
"Nonsense." She didn't even wait for him to complete the sentence. "I'd love to have some company. Believe it or not, but 10-months-old babies don't make the best company."
It was the perfect place, he had to admit. No one seemed to have realised he was there - and if there was someone who was close enough to think of Andromeda's house, they weren't telling the Ministry. She wasn't completely isolated - the house was located within a mainly Muggle village but there were few wizarding families around. However, as Andromeda was quick to point out, they weren't on the best of terms and the house, with its large garden, was left on its own most of the time. She also had books and books, and Harry soon discovered he could spend as much of his time reading as Hermione. A lot of history - goblins, Hogwarts' founders, Merlin's era, the 20th century - everything was there.
He also spent plenty of time helping Andromeda with Teddy. He had started walking with unsure steps, and could soon be found at any weird corner of the house, at all possible hours. He spent quite a lot of his time chasing Teddy around - the boy seemed to take pleasure in hiding in the most unlikely places, and Harry was becoming more and more positive that he could already control the changes in his appearance, because whenever he chose a place to hide in, his hair would change its colour to match its surrounding.
The rest of the time, he would watch Andromeda cook, after his own initial disastrous attempts; work in the garden, to make sure the gnomes didn't find their way through; dust all of the books in the living room, before he moved to the library; read Teddy a bedtime story every night; practice some of the difficult spells that could be found in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7; and go for long, quiet walks under his invisibility cloak.
It wasn't all house chores and reading. He had learned an appreciation for Andromeda, an appreciation he already had on an intellectual level, but never in his heart until then. She was kind, and sweet, and didn't let her grief destroy her, even when it was very visibly there, eating her from within. She would say something, then stop in pain, reminded of her husband, her daughter - even her sister. She never talked about Bellatrix, and he was grateful. For all his appreciation of her, he didn't think he could hear good words spoken about Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the worst human beings he had ever met. Andromeda knew this, of course - she told him a lot of tales of Tonks when she was a kid, or about the short time she and Lupin had spent there, but never talked of Bellatrix or Narcissa.
He had to admit that it kept a wall between them, an invisible wall that couldn't be breached. Her sisters, her upbringing, her life, they were all something he couldn't quite connect to, and with that between them, he had to admit - at least to himself - that as much as he had grown to feel genuine affection for her, she was not the person he'd choose to be locked up with. That's what it felt like - being locked up in her house, as he only allowed himself short visits to the nearby village, and even then, only under the invisibility cloak. He would have hated it at the best of times, but if he had any choice, he would have preferred to spend his time with Ron, with Hermione, with Ginny, with Neville, or with Luna. With Andromeda, there were some conversations here and there, but mainly silences and almost never laughter. He soon went back to books, cleaning, or playing with Teddy.
In short, Harry Potter was slowly but surely losing his mind with boredom.
And yet, when the cold and wet February morning came that forced him to go, he regretted having to leave.
He woke up to hear voices - loud voices. Andromeda's voice. Shouting at someone. His first instinct was to jump to her defence. Was someone attacking her? Was she in trouble? Did someone come for Teddy? - and then he stopped to think, did someone come for him?
"And I told you, I will not have you invade my privacy and my house!" Andromeda shouted. It was uncharacteristic of her, to say the least. Andromeda had been one of the quietest people Harry had ever met. She didn't shout when he broke plates in the kitchen, she didn't shout when he forgot to put on the barrier that would stop Teddy from climbing up the stairs, and she didn't shout when he forgot to de-gnome the garden for the third day running. He couldn't remember ever hearing her shouting.
But she was shouting now, and by doing so, piqued Harry's interest. He looked outside the window, to see who she was shouting at - and saw the Ministry robes and somewhat embarrassed demeanour on the small wizard next to her. They were right below his window, an odd place, considering the door was five feet away. She must have led the wizard there for some reason - and now, he realised why she was shouting. Andromeda wasn't angry, nor did she lose control of herself. She was shouting in order to wake him up, the only signal she could give him to leave her house, as quickly as possible. Finally, someone in the Ministry realised that Harry Potter was Teddy Lupin's godfather, and that Teddy Lupin was being raised by his grandmother, and now they came here, to check on that theory.
Harry jumped from the window and into the room. There was no time to lose. He collected his possessions, as little as they were. Most of the stuff in the room belonged to Andromeda - he didn't get the chance to pick up anything from Grimmauld Place. Only his wand and his cloak, and they were now safely in his bag. He changed quickly from his pyjamas into the robes Andromeda had given him when he just got there - Ted Tonks's. He'd had to give them back, when he got the chance.
A quick flick of his wand, and the room went back to look empty, abandoned, as if no one had been there for months. He even added a small layer of dust. He didn't want the Ministry to give Andromeda a hard time for keeping him there, for not turning him in. And then, he threw the invisibility cloak on himself and Disapparated. At least now, unlike the last time, he had a pretty good idea where he was going. He had plenty of time to think about it.
-X-
The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, entered his office in a very bad mood. Nothing seemed to be working that week, nothing at all. Death Eater attacks had grown bolder in the past weeks; the goblins, who kept on insisting to be given more rights, making thinly veiled threats of what would happen if they didn't; the missing Sword of Gryffindor, which Kingsley was assuming would show up in the Daily Prophet any day now; missing centaurs; another Auror killed, meaning they would have to rush the current training session; and all of that before the plethora of other matters the Ministry simply had to deal with, from the colony of Dragons near Mount Snowdon getting out of hands to the Muggle Prime Minister still demanding compensation for the Muggle families Voldemort had murdered.
No, it had not been a good week.
If he hadn't been as distracted as he was, he would have realised it sooner. But now, with his keen Auror senses, he could feel it - there was someone in the room with him. He turned around sharply. Nothing. He looked behind the small door to his en suite. Nothing. But he knew he wasn't alone. He had been an Auror too many years not to feel the hairs at the back of his neck standing up, not to recognise this eerie feeling of being watched.
"It's alright, Kingsley," he heard the familiar voice of Harry Potter, and saw the boy - no, he corrected himself, young man - revealing himself from beneath his invisibility cloak. "I had to make sure you got here alone."
Kingsley nodded, and offered him a seat. As Harry sat down, Kingsley cast a well-chosen spell at the door, making sure no unexpected visitors show up.
"This isn't the best place for you right now," he commented.
"Yeah - can you please tell me why I'm on the run? Why do you guys want to arrest me?"
"Not arrest you," Kingsley explained. "Forcibly commit at St Mungo's."
"Oh. The whole brain damage thing."
He nodded.
"Why did you warn me, then?"
"I thought I already explained," Kingsley said, slightly surprised at the question. "If I thought you were any kind of a danger to society or yourself - stubbornness aside - I wouldn't. As it happens, you're not, and I don't think you should be committed. The rest of the council disagreed, and the director of St Mungo's issued the injunction."
"And you didn't fight it."
Kingsley sighed. It was going to be one of those conversations. He was getting slightly tired of having them with Harry, almost as tired as he was with having their direct opposite with Will Jones. "Frankly, Harry," he said in his most patient voice, "I thought it was a better option than the alternative, which was an arrest warrant. The council didn't give me much choice on the matter."
"You're the Minister for Magic."
Definitely one of those conversations. "Yes. I am. I could dismiss the council, make sure everyone knew I am the Minister and that my word is the law. Kind of like the Ministry was in the days of Fudge and Scrimgeour, don't you think?"
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Kingsley's patience had run out. It shouldn't - not with Harry. He knew he could never really express to this boy - barely a man, really - how much he appreciated him, how much he respected him, how much he even looked up to him. He would never really be able to appreciate it. Nor should he - that was one of the reasons Kingsley appreciated Harry so much. It was the ease with which Harry accepted all that befell him, his willingness to to stand up for what he believed in and those he cared about. The last thing Albus Dumbledore had told him was to trust the boy - and he never felt he had a reason to doubt Dumbledore's words.
But sometimes... oh, boy. Sometimes, Harry could be the most infuriating and stubborn person Kingsley had ever met, perhaps bar Dumbledore himself.
"You supported the moves I had made, Harry, only six months ago. I'm not angry - I'm happy. It was your support that helped me change the most problematic aspects of this role. We wizards have got used to never questioning the familiar order of things, never try new things unless we absolutely have to. The only reason those changes were accepted with such enthusiasm, rather than having the entire Ministry fight to their teeth with this new order, was that you supported it. In fact, you wanted it. We both agreed on that, remember?"
"Yeah," the boy mumbled.
"Well, this is the price. My heads of office are paranoid, and damaged. Like our entire society. They don't think clearly, and they don't pay much attention to me when I try to convince them to think clearly. And they're pretty united in that. This is the other side of the coin. And you should have known it, seeing as you were raised by Muggles. Giving away some of my power to other people means that sometimes, these people may not be the best for the job. So I ask you again - what do you think I should do? Do you think I should undo everything we tried to do in the past seven months? Give up this idea of a council, this idea of balance, and making sure the Minister doesn't have all the authority? Should I decide that it's important but I'm exempt, because I'm me?"
"No, of course not, it's just - " Harry struggled for words, but Kingsley didn't help him. "It's just - this isn't how things were supposed to happen, Kingsley. Weren't we supposed to be better by now, with Voldemort gone? Wasn't that always the point?"
Kingsley didn't answer. Deep inside, he thought that if Harry had managed to maintain such faith, perhaps even naivety, after everything he had been through, he didn't want to be the one who brought reality crashing down around him. Even if it was happening, anyway.
"I better leave," Harry said eventually.
"Do you need help getting out?"
"Nah, I'm fine, I'll just go out the same way I came in."
"Good to know security in this place is so good that a teenager in an invisibility cloak can sneak into my office undetected," Kingsley said dryly, and Harry laughed.
"I'm very good at sneaking around," he said.
"I've noticed. But, Harry... be careful."
There was tension there - a bit like that first meeting after the the end of the war, when Harry came almost storming in, angry at the incarceration of the Malfoy boy. And, just like that day, he smiled now, and Kingsley felt the kind of relief that surprised him each time anew.
"Sure," Harry answered, and was gone.
Kingsley watched him disappear under the invisibility cloak. No, he knew, he never would realise what he meant to their entire society. Maybe it was for the best. If he fully understood the role he had yet to play, Kingsley suspected, he would have refused to participate altogether. And if Kingsley had any hope of stopping their world from falling into complete chaos, it was only with the help, knowing or otherwise, of Harry Potter.
-X-
"Harry," he heard someone calling his name, and jumped.
It was disappointing. He had done so well until then, trying to avoid being detected. He was in the Atrium, seconds away from his destination - but there was no way of getting there. He could navigate the corridors of the Ministry for Magic well enough under his cloak, but there was no hope to do the same in the Atrium. There were people everywhere, walking in both directions. Some were walking fast, hurrying to some meeting or duty they had to do, or in the other direction, attempting to get home as soon as possible. Others walked slowly with friends, laughing and gossiping about whatever it was that came to their minds. Some were crossing the big hall in weird zigzags or angles. Some were walking in a straight line, completely oblivious - or perhaps, intentionally ignoring - anyone in their path. And some moved in completely unpredictable ways, trying to navigate through the crowds.
In short, this was not the place to try to navigate while being invisible. He would have to stand there, in the corridor, and wait for some of the rush to die down, so he could sneak again through the barriers and outside of the Ministry. He retreated to a small corridor - the same corridor, he realised, he had hid in in his first visit to the Ministry after the war. The sweet, rotten smell that engulfed him was unforgettable, even though he had the feeling he had smelled it afterwards, too. Maybe such a smell stayed with you forever.
And now, someone was calling his name there. Even though he was invisible. He surveyed the corridor, not responding to the call. Maybe they were guessing, whoever they were? Perhaps he made some noise when walking into the corridor, and someone assumed, or thought... someone... there was no one in the corridor. It was completely empty. Where did that voice come from?
"Harry," he heard it again, and realised he knew the voice. Immediately, he knew where it had come from.
Albus Dumbledore was standing at his portrait this time, completely awake. Harry remembered with a pang that this was not the first time Dumbledore had found him, even when he was wearing the cloak. Somehow, though, he never expected his old teacher to be able to accomplish this feat while being dead.
"Hello, Professor," he said quietly as he stood in front of the portrait, still covered in his invisibility cloak.
"A rumour has come to my ears, Harry, that you're not as popular as you've once been," the portrait told him. Harry could have sworn that the eyes behind the half-moon glasses twinkled, even though they were just a painting.
"You shouldn't listen to rumours, Professor," Harry said, and the portrait chuckled. "I don't suppose you could give my some advice?"
"I find," said the portrait, "that it is best to allow the living to find their way without encouraging them to cater to the whims of old, dead men."
"I figured you'd say something like that," Harry sighed. "You know, just once, I'd like to see what would happen if you made something simple."
"That, I'm afraid, will probably be the end of the world as we know it," his old teacher said in such earnestness, that Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Careful now - you don't want to be overheard! And now, I must leave you. Professor McGonagall seems to have mislaid her collection of vintage pens again. I should probably return to my portrait at her office and advise her that I have last seen them on the top drawer of her desk."
And with that, he stepped outside out of the frame, and all that was left was the painted background of an armchair and some sweets.
Harry's gaze turned away from the portrait and towards the Atrium. It was mostly empty now - time to make his move. He started edging towards the entrance, preparing to mutter an incantation to distract the guard just at the right time, when a distraction occurred all on its own - two goblins pushed through, walking right into Harry - and one of them fell down.
They started shouting at each other in Gobbledegook. Harry panicked for just a moment - was it possible the invisibility cloak moved a bit, revealed him for a moment? It didn't seem to be the case - all eyes were directed at the two goblins, who were making a racket all through the Atrium.
"Oi! You two! Shut up and keep going, will you?" the security wizard was clearly unhappy with the noise. The goblins ignored him, and kept on shouting at each other. "I said," he advanced towards them, "knock it off!"
Harry took the opportunity and passed through the gates, completely unnoticed. He was about to continue on his way, when a yelp and a scream behind him made him turn back to the Atrium.
The security wizard had done a terrible mistake - he had tried to separate the two goblins by magic, aiming his wand at them. The goblins would have nothing of it - immediately, they stopped their own squabbling and turned on the wizard. He didn't even have time to react before they disarmed him.
"Now, what are we going to do with you?" asked the nastier-looking goblin, aiming the wand at the security wizard. The wizard, in turn, stared at the goblin in utter terror.
"You can't do that!" he spluttered. "You can't take my wand! Give me my wand back!"
The goblin looked at him with malevolent little eyes. "Maybe I won't," he said quietly. "Maybe I'll keep your wand. Maybe I'll kill you with the wand, and then claim it as my own."
The other goblin looked at him, shaking his head. The first goblin seemed about to shout again, but in the end relented and threw the wand away in disgust. "Who needs wands anyway, just weak humans," he hissed at the security wizard. "Here, have your wand. For now." The two goblins then turned their back to the wizards in the Atrium and left through the barrier.
"I'll be reporting you!" the security wizard shouted after them. "You'll see, don't expect to come here again!"
The goblin who had taken the wand said something to his friend in Gobbledegook, and they both laughed. There was something in their laughter - in their whole demeanour, in fact - that had caught Harry's attention. He sneaked a look at the security wizard, then at the goblins again, and on almost nothing but a whim, started following them.
He had expected them to walk to Diagon Alley, into Gringotts. Only as he followed the goblins did he realise he had no idea where goblins spent their time in London, outside of the bank - if there even where goblins in the rest of London. But these two didn't seem to be going towards Diagon Alley. Instead, they turned into a network of small service tunnels outside of the Atrium. Of course, Harry thought. That was their way of getting in and out without being seen by Muggles. He continued following them.
The tunnel became smaller and darker. The ceiling was getting lower - he had missed its downwards slope at one point, and hit his head on it. For a moment, he was afraid the goblins heard him - but they didn't turn around, didn't look suspiciously behind them, just kept on walking and talking in their rapid Gobbledegook. He wished he could understand what they were saying - all of a sudden, the notion of studying languages at Hogwarts didn't seem so ridiculous. He remembered arguing with Hermione about it - he would have to admit to her that she was right. Who knows, he thought, maybe he was following them simply because they were in a bad mood, and he would have known it had he been able to understand their language. But as he thought back to the scene at the Atrium, he became more and more sure that something sinister was going on. The way they looked at each other, their words to the guard - it couldn't be random.
The tunnel's ceiling kept on getting lower and lower. Harry was becoming worried - what would happen if he could no longer follow the goblins? After all, they were much shorter than he was. But just before it became unbearably lower, they reached the end of the tunnel.
There was a gate at the end. The goblins opened it and left the tunnel, stepping into London itself. Harry caught the gate and turned the handle, attempting to follow - when everything went black.