A/N: What is this? A new chapter? Yes, dearest reader. Oh let's be honest, yes mum. I recently got a job and have been in a constant state of tired, so I haven't had much of an inclination to write or brainstorm plot. But I did this at least. Hope you like it :)
Chapter Nineteen: Trash and Treasure
Friday, May 15, 1998: Late Morning
Harry tried not to hear the shouting coming from the other side of the door. He pressed himself against the opposite wall, willing the stone to swallow him up. His teeth were clenched in supreme discomfort. Maybe he should just walk away, pretend to still be asleep until they came for him. Their arguments had become far less frequent since the battle, and he'd hoped that the rabid pair would finally settle down. Like Mr and Mrs Weasley. Most of the time anyway. He never fought with Ginny, a fact for which he was unimaginably grateful. Actually, he couldn't remember the last time the two of them had talked. Properly talked, not just friend stuff.
They had been apart for so long while he was off hunting Horcruxes, the Carrow-infested castle providing only pain and suffering in their absence. He knew some of what had gone on the past year, but needed to find out everything from her. Would she make the news easier to bear, or intensify his ever-growing urge to break something.
The battle was nothing more than a blur of compressed events in his head, a whirlwind of action that hadn't let him take a breath until the light left Tom's crimson eyes. Mrs Weasley had saved her life. One curse from Bellatrix could have ended his girlfriend forever. And he had done nothing, had only watched on as the fighting sparked and raged around him. He had asked for space, for time to process. And she had given it to him with a tiny tear-stained smile.
Now there was no excuse for his insatiable desire to be alone. And he felt little happier when his wish was granted, inexplicably hating the oppressive silence and the pointless thoughts swimming inside him. Why didn't he want to spend every waking moment with her, with anyone? Why did he feel so broken, his being totally consumed by soul-deep aches and a hollowness he couldn't hope to fill. Why did he keep pushing everyone away?
The door opened, and Ron stood there looking irritable. "How long have you been standing out here?" he asked, stepping back into the room.
Hermione poked her head around the door, still looking tired from whatever ward-related work she had carried out yesterday. "Oh, hi Harry," she said, almost managing to smile at him. "We'll just be a minute."
With that, she slammed the dormitory door and Harry went back to being alone. He absently moved a jagged hunk of stone around with his foot. The people tasked with cleaning this part of the castle must have missed it. Examining it more closely, Harry could make out finer details in the small rock. Patches on its surface sparkled with silver light, refracting the sun as it shone through the high windows. He bent down and picked it up, shoving it deep into the pocket of his trousers. It was nice to look at. Where had the chunk of debris come from, and why did it make his head stop spinning quite so fast?
The dormitory door opened a few minutes later and his two best friends emerged. They didn't appear quite so irritable anymore.
"Come on, Harry," said Hermione briskly. "The flats aren't going to look at themselves."
He followed the pair down several flights of spiral staircases and into the Gryffindor common room. The inhabitants of the various portraits waved down at them and called out a quick hello as they passed. The trio mumbled something in return, and they climbed through the portrait hole and down the Grand Staircase at a pace that meant business.
"You sure you want to do this, Hermione?" Harry asked one last time. She ignored him, and he tried to restrain his sharp exhalation.
He had been having second thoughts about Hermione's plan for the next chapter of their lives. The more he considered it, the less he wanted to leave the castle and strike out on his own again. He hadn't enjoyed it at thirteen after he blew up Aunt Marge, and he would rather forget than think about the events of the past year. But she continued to insist that it was the right thing to do, and he didn't have the heart or the energy to try changing her mind. Ron had no preference either way, but said that he would rather not get in the middle of whatever was going on between them. In his own words: "I'm already dealing with more angry Hermione than any good person deserves."
Hermione led the way across the grounds and out the castle's main gate. The dirt road beyond was smudged with hoof prints and other foot traffic, the wind lifting clouds of dust and making Harry wheeze.
"Can we Disappareate yet?" he asked through yet another heavy bout of coughing.
"Almost," replied Hermione, glancing back over her shoulder at him with an apologetic look. "Just a bit further to go until we're completely clear. Technically we already are, but even a trace of the anti-Apparition wards could disrupt the spell. I don't fancy any of us getting Splinched again."
"It's not so bad," said Ron. "It grew back, didn't it?"
"Only because we were prepared for that eventuality," replied Hermione. "Do you have any Murtlap tentacles or Essence of Dittany in your pocket? I know how to heal a Splinch, but it's going to hurt more than a wallop from the Whomping Willow. Now come on, just past this tree stump."
"Thank Merlin," exclaimed Harry, devolving back into chest-burning coughs and wheezes.
"You should probably get that checked out, Harry," said Hermione. "I don't remember dust being an issue for you before."
"S'fine," mumbled Harry, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his T-shirt.
The group stopped walking a moment later. When Harry looked around, he could see no difference between this stretch of dirty ground and all the others they had passed. Something must have stuck out to Hermione though. She stared hard at her feet for a few seconds before nodding in approval. Discarded cigarette butts lay scattered along the path's edges, nearby critters avoiding the area as if scared a stray smoker would return to claim them. Hermione wordlessly grabbed each of the boys by the upper arm and turned on the spot, Harry's cry of surprise lost in the tight, whirling tunnel that engulfed them.
They hit the ground hard, the familiar nausea threatening to bubble up Harry's throat before he managed to push it back down. Years of practise helped the three of them keep their footing, but it was a near thing. Shadows climbed the high alley walls and mounds of rotting organic waste, the unsavoury aroma made even worse by the stifling midday heat.
"I see you pulled out all the stops to find somewhere truly special, Hermione," said Ron, covering his nose and making a face. "How ever did you find such a picturesque locale?"
"Shut it," she replied dryly. "I'm just working with the budget I was given."
"And what budget is that?" Harry asked, somewhat confused.
"Exactly!" she retorted, taking a step towards the alley's entrance. "Come on, the first place isn't too far from here."
The group passed more rubbish and overflowing bins as they walked down street after street. Harry did his best to stay clear of the worst patches of filth, but the others weren't so lucky. Ron swore each time he burst a bag of something or stepped in what he loudly hoped was water. After a mercifully short journey, they arrived at a two-storey building that made The Burrow look like Malfoy Manor.
"I hate it," said Ron, staring up at the graffitied walls in disgust.
Hermione wordlessly dragged him towards the short flight of steps leading to the building's main entrance, Harry following a few feet behind them. The small flat wasn't the worst accommodation Harry had ever laid eyes on. The interior would have to be gutted and refurnished, and the walls only had a few holes to fill in. They'd probably be able to make it look decent enough with magic, but he suspected they would never be truly comfortable here.
"I stand by my previous statement," said Ron as the chipped front door swung forward to admit them. "Even my place is nicer than this dump."
Hermione looked as though she wanted to hit him, and was about a second away from following through with the inclination. "It's not as small as I expected," Harry lied. At the hopeful glint in Hermione's expression he went on. "The mess won't be a problem with—" he lowered his voice, "magic, and we'd only be sleeping here really." Ron shrugged but didn't say anything.
"It's also very affordable," said Hermione. "Each of us will probably only need to work a couple of shifts a week to make rent. I'm putting it in the maybe pile."
The day progressed far too slowly, and Harry desperately wished for it to end. Each flat was more unappealing than the last, and he expected his two best friends to break out their wands any minute. Hermione's pronouncement that there was only one place left to check out found the boys grateful, and in Harry's case, more than a bit relieved.
The stout building wavered on its foundation, its walls missing sizeable chunks of brick and stone. All the windows Harry could see were boarded-up by wood softened with rot. The unpleasant sight reminded him of droopy eyelids. He wouldn't have been surprised to see the tired-looking building collapse in on itself if someone knocked too hard. The solid metal door was the only part of the structure that might withstand any sort of physical trauma. Despite the small patches of rust on its otherwise smooth surface, there was no sign that it would fall any time soon.
"Is this a joke?" Ron asked, not even bothering to face his girlfriend.
"Actually," said Harry, moving his hand between Hermione and her wand. "It's my favourite place so far." Ron didn't appear to notice how close he had been to having his flaming hair cursed off his oblivious head.
Ron gave Harry an incredulous look, and the other young man shrugged one shoulder in response. "We could pretty much do whatever we wanted to it. There's no way anyone's going to care what happens to this thing. Was it ever even a house?"
"Maybe a small orphanage or something once upon a time," said Hermione, trying to stop her teeth from grinding too hard. "The lady on the phone said the tenant just wanted the thing off his hands. He's not offering very much for it."
"Then I think we've found ourselves a base of operations, so to speak," said Harry, giving Ron a you'd-better-not-say-anything look.
"Wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'll phone them this evening."
"We should probably at least take a look at the interior," said Ron slowly. "Just to make sure they aren't too many…" He gulped and shook his head. "Probably better I don't think about that too hard."
"I didn't know you could think hard about anything," said Harry, cracking a smile.
"Well, actually—" began Ron.
"Boyfriends first," said Hermione, pushing Ron towards the big metal door with more force than was strictly necessary.
"How many orphanages have big bloody padlocks like that though?" asked Ron, pointing at the ugly thing as he moved towards the entrance.
"Ones that care about security?" Harry guessed. "It's held up pretty well, we probably don't have to replace it." He stepped up next to his best friend, and almost shouted out in surprise. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Opening the door," said Ron, giving Harry a confused look as he steadied his wand hand.
"Honestly!" Hermione pushed past the two boys and took out a chunky old-fashioned key, unlocking the door with only a few seconds of jiggling and muttered curses.
"Oh right," said Ron sheepishly. "That would do it. Sorry," he went on. "You've been going first until now. I didn't think."
"Of course you didn't, Ron," said Hermione, patting his hand as she stepped inside. "Ooh! It's actually…"
"A right mess?" Ron asked, moving past her to take in the huge open space.
Warm afternoon sunlight poured in through the open doorway, illuminating a sight that would have best been kept in darkness. Wooden crates and ripped-up cardboard boxes were scattered across the floor, their contents spread out like some abyssal buffet. Hermione hoped she was mistaken, but at least some of the powders, pills, and other substances looked less than legal. Cobwebs lined the walls and ceiling to an almost comical degree, and several looked to be occupied. Small animal bones, probably rats and other vermin, were piled in the corners, and the whole place stank of death.
Harry's throat burned, but he fought the unpleasant sensation back down with grim resolve. Ron had put them all through worse during their year in the wilderness. The floor was coated with a thick layer of dust and dried mud. There was no obvious source of the rancid smell, but he supposed they would figure it out eventually. Countless animal tracks contributed to his general impression that this place wasn't as abandoned as the owner believed. "I mean," he began. "Once we clean it up…"
"Exactly!" Hermione agreed, her voice a bit higher than normal. She pulled out her wand, but Ron put a hand on her arm.
"Let's save the spring cleaning until after the poor bloke sells us this dump. He might bring up the price if it's not quite so disgusting."
Hermione shook her head in disgust, both at Ron's words and the situation she had gotten them all into. Was this really a good idea? Living here would surely put their health at risk, but it wasn't as though she had anywhere else to go now.
The three of them spent several minutes inspecting the warehouse, for that must be what this place was, to make sure there weren't any surprises lurking in the shadows. They found nothing living which was a small blessing, but all the animal corpses didn't make them feel any better about eventually living here.
"Hey Hermione, how are you going to call the owner?" Ron asked, his head shooting up from investigating the skeleton of some unfortunate bird. "You can't use Muggle technology in Hogwarts."
"The same way I've been doing all my research," she replied. I've been visiting public libraries around the country. It's not like a Death Eater is going to jump out from behind a bookshelf and murder me." She shrugged, looking back down at the small notebook she was writing in.
"I don't think I like how flippantly you said that," said Harry turning to face the pair, his lit wand held loosely in one hand. "What are you doing anyway?"
"Cataloguing every disgusting thing in this place so we know what we're dealing with during the clean-up." Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "And so I can hopefully purchase this dump for no more than a pound."
"Is that a lot?" Ron asked, backing away from a spider web whose inhabitant had just bared its teeth at him. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes,not bothering to respond.
"Can we go now?" Harry tried not to whine, but he was more than over the novelty of their excursion. Looking for a house might be fun in theory, but the unimpressive dwellings had taken the wind out of his sails hours ago.
"Yes, yes," said Hermione. "In a minute, I've just got a few more items to highlight."
"Don't forget the overly aggressive spiders," said Ron, whose face was only a little pale.
"Hostile… deadly… insects," Hermione muttered as she scratched out the words. "Okay, all done. Let's get back to the castle. It's almost time for dinner."
"Thank Merlin for that," sighed Ron. "I'm starving."
They returned to the Apparition point they had used that morning. Dinner was pleasant and uneventful, a change that Harry was still getting used to. The three best friends ate in companionable silence at the Gryffindor table. Hermione left a short while later to call the owner of the warehouse, and the boys wiled away the evening with several close games of chess. School in a few months would be good, Harry thought, cringing as Ron took his queen for the third game in a row. In the meantime he'd visit his godson, try to remember everything he'd forgotten from sixth year, and make the filthy animal cemetery feel at least as homely as Grimmauld Place.
He wondered about his godfather's childhood home. It was probably the headquarters of any Death Eaters still around, despite the Ministry's best efforts. At the very least, there was no way the old house was safe for any of them to live in now. And besides, he'd still prefer rat corpses to Mrs Black's constant wailing.
A/N: Apologies if the quality has dipped since my last upload. I obviously have some writing rust to scrape off. I've already started on the next chapter, and I'm enjoying the process a lot more. I really wanted to wrap the Hogwarts crew up and work on some Cailean and Draco stuff, and I think we've left Harry and the gang in a good place for now. I will hopefully go back and edit all this eventually (maybe change some of the names if you catch my drift), but for now it is what it is. See you next time I have the courage to sit down and write.
