They drove in silence. The only words spoken were the brisk directions Harry gave to Bella. Carlisle had told him at one of their Wednesday chats how to find their house if he ever felt like coming over to introduce himself properly to the family. He had never gone, and thought he never would. He hadn't expected Bella to work things out quite like she had, though.
Harry wasn't entirely sure it wasn't his fault. He had been stupid enough to write down everything he had about them and then leave the book in a visible place. True he had hardly been expecting any guests in there and had he known they were to be moving their tutoring session to his house, Harry would have made sure it was properly hidden. He suspected it wouldn't matter what excuse he used, the Cullens would be angry and would take it out on him. Harry's stomach churned uneasily at the image of Carlisle's face that formed in his mind.
There was no other way to put it: Harry was scared to see the Doctor again. Every waking minute he could still see the look of horror and shame on the man's face when Harry had spilled all his darkest moments. Even in his sleep he couldn't escape the haunted look which had been burned into his mind's eye. Harry had sensed the return of the awkwardness between himself and Edward, proving to him that the supposed confidential meeting had been discussed between the two family members. Harry was disappointed the vampire couldn't keep his privacy and wondered what else the two had discussed about him.
"Turn off the road here," Harry said, pointing at a narrow entryway that would be unnoticeable to anyone who did not know of its existence. Bella didn't speak as she turned her truck off the road and onto the winding lane. She held the steering wheel very tightly; Harry could see her knuckles were white.
The noise of the rundown Chevy could be heard from miles away even without vampire hearing, leaving Harry no doubt that their arrival would already be known. He could imagine them preparing their human act, wondering why Harry had brought Bella with him to their house. He decided to save them the effort.
"Don't bother," he said at a normal volume as they pulled up in front of the large house. "She knows." He saw out of the corner of his eye Bella look at him uncertainly, but he did not turn. He got out of the truck, keeping his eyes on the front door which opened to reveal the man who would ultimately decide Harry's fate as the first to break their mutual secrecy.
"Bella. Harry," Carlisle greeted them. Harry thought Bella wouldn't know the man well enough to notice the slight hesitancy in his welcome. "Please, come in."
The inside of the house was just as impressive as the outside. To any ordinary person, it would seem like a perfectly normal house, well-furnished and kept for a wealthy family. Knowing the truth of who lived here, Harry found himself slightly surprised. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting; certainly nothing this normal. He almost snorted when he saw the large crucifix hanging on the wall over the stairs. The humour died in his throat at the looks he was receiving from two of the Cullens; Jasper and Rosalie were fixing him with glares far more threatening than any he had received at school.
"I didn't say anything," he said to them both. "I swear it."
"He didn't," came the small voice of Bella's beside him. Harry could sense her unease. He could imagine how they must hear her heart pounding and smell her fear. Instinctively, Harry repositioned himself slightly to be more in front of Bella.
"We won't hurt you, Bella," Edward said kindly.
"You don't know that, Edward!" Rosalie snapped at him.
Harry sighed in irritation. "I had hoped we could skip this rubbish?"
"Which part was that?" Rosalie asked sarcastically. "You mean the part about how every person in this house right now could kill her without even trying?"
Harry opened his mouth to retort but he was interrupted.
"Why don't we all come in and sit down?" Carlisle, ever the peace maker, suggested. "Harry, and you as well Bella, haven't yet met my beautiful wife, Esme."
Beautiful hardly did the woman justice, Harry thought. The one person he had not recognised had eyes shining with love and happiness, two emotions that Harry didn't feel comfortable with these days.
"I've heard so much about you both, it's such a pleasure to meet you at last," she said sweetly. Harry nodded and gave an awkward smile. The last thing he needed right now was a reason to think the Cullens were all kind people.
They entered the sitting room, everyone taking a seat except for Harry and Edward, Harry by the door and Edward beside the window. Bella, feeling very awkward and intrusive, had to be encouraged to relax.
"So, Bella," Carlisle began, "may I enquire as to how you became aware of the… situation?"
Bella didn't respond. She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times but no sound came out. She turned to Harry for help who kept his eyes on her as he spoke, still refusing to look at Carlisle.
"She found a book of mine that I usually keep hidden," he said matter-of-factly. "Inside it I write about all sorts of dark and terrible things. There is a page about all of you." Harry's voice was challenging, as though he dared one of the vampires to stand up for themselves.
"I see." Harry could feel the doctor's eyes on him. He knew they would be filled with his usual concern, but he couldn't bear to see more disappointment. "Then perhaps you know already, Bella, that my family and I do not harm humans."
Harry tried very hard to not scoff. He wasn't sure where this hostility was returning from. He looked at Bella who seemed to still be unsure if she was dreaming or whether this was real.
"Why did Harry know but I couldn't?" She asked. Harry frowned; of all the questions he had expected Bella to ask that had not been one of them.
No one seemed quite sure how to answer. Harry had known because he had exposure to the magical world, a past about which the Cullens still didn't know any details. He had never explained to Carlisle or Edward how he had known about vampires, choosing to remain silent whenever he was asked the question.
"No one told him, Bella," Edward said.
"I just have a vivid imagination," Harry said sarcastically. Bella turned to him to give her popular 'I don't believe you' frown. She opened her mouth to respond but she was interrupted.
CRACK
Everyone in the room immediately jumped to their feet at the sudden gunshot-like noise from outside. Only Harry remained unmoved, as he had frozen in place out of fear. He glanced at Carlisle for the first time since arriving to find him staring back. Of course he was; he would recognise that noise too. He knew what it meant.
Someone like Harry had arrived.
"It's a woman," Edward said from his spot by the window. "She's here for Harry."
Harry however had already begun moving to the front door, opening it and storming into the yard. Anger had quickly replaced the fear, the blood now pumping in his ears as he glared at his old professor.
"Harry –"
"How did you find me?" His voice shook with barely supressed rage. "No one is supposed to be able to find me."
Professor McGonagall eyed him carefully. "Kingsley trusted me and me alone with the information should we need –"
"He had no right to do that," Harry seethed. "He promised me privacy. That I would be left alone." Was there anyone who valued his secrecy?
"Kingsley was murdered, Harry."
It was a blow like he had not felt for many weeks. While he had expressed bitterness toward Kingsley since settling in Forks, there was no denying he had helped Harry considerably. He had not argued when Harry wished to leave Britain. Instead he had set him up on the other side of the world where he could try to live in peace. And now he was dead. Another to add to the list. It took him a moment to realise McGonagall was talking again.
"You need to come home, Potter. I fear the wizarding world once more requires your assistance." Harry almost laughed. She had the gall to come halfway around the world and demand he return home?
"The wizarding world needs better taste," he said humourlessly.
The Professor was losing her patience. "Potter –"
"Tell me, Professor," Harry suddenly said very loudly. "Who is the wizarding world blaming for Kingsley's death, hmm?"
The Professor's mouth thinned but she stayed silent. That was all the answer Harry needed.
"Typical," he sneered. "I risk my life for them time and time again. I fight in their war. Destroy Voldemort for them. And just like always they turn their backs on me. You see, Professor, they've never deserved my help, so why the bloody hell should I risk my life for them again?"
"The people who matter know the truth, Harry, they –" Harry's neck snapped up.
"You said no one else knew where I was!"
"And they do not," the Professor replied calmly. "They know you left and understand your decision, but they are not aware of your current location." Harry pondered this. He knew exactly who she was talking about. There could only be one group of people left alive who might care about him. His blood became cold as he remembered he had caused the deaths of two of their sons.
Professor McGonagall took advantage of Harry's silence. "Harry, the Death Eaters are still at large and I have my suspicions about the new Minister, a Madame Prestwick." Harry's ears perked up at the name.
"Hold on," he said slowly. "Prestwick? But I know that name. She's the one who almost caught me at St Mungo's. She's got my invisibility cloak," he added bitterly. That still rankled with him.
The Professor nodded. "She is the one leading the public defamation of you. Undesirable Number One with a 10,000 galleon prize on your capture. I fear she is in cahoots with the remaining Death Eaters and is behind Kingsley's death. I believe once she came into possession of your cloak she realised that Kingsley was not, in fact, on her side and had aided your escape. She then had him murdered for treason," she finished, her voice tight.
Harry had stopped listening. The world had grown silent around him. He hadn't felt himself fall to his knees, didn't notice the damp seeping into his jeans from the frosty grass.
It had been his fault. Again. All his fault.
His hands fisted, rough fingernails pressing into his palms until he felt the skin break. He felt the pain. It helped bring him back again.
How many more would there be before he got the message? When would he stop allowing people in? It only brought them to their early deaths. How many more years of life would have been lived without his interference?
A small hand grasped his shoulder tightly. Instincts taking over he leapt sideways, brandishing his wand as he stumbled to his feet. As quickly as he had pulled it out, he felt his wand leave his hand as he was disarmed. This, finally, brought him fully back to his senses.
Professor McGonagall was standing only a short distance away with two wands in her hand: her own and Harry's. She was watching him through slightly misted eyes, worry etched into her lined face. Harry briefly thought she had never looked so frail.
"Understand this, Potter: it is not your fault Kingsley is dead. He knew the risks." She spoke slowly but forcefully as though determined for the words to penetrate Harry's mind. He didn't believe her; she had to say that, just like they always did. But there was something in her words that did get to Harry, faint memories of how he once respected this woman. His old Head of House.
"Don't make me go back," he pleaded. "I can't do this anymore."
"We need your help, Harry. That woman is planning something bigger and innocent lives will be lost I am sure of it." There it was again; his duty. He could feel the anger returning.
"Good. Let them be lost!" He growled. "Let all those who frame me, who ridicule me, die! I owe them nothing, Professor, and they owe me everything. They've taken my friends, my home, my world. Good riddance, I say." His anger that he had been holding in was bubbling over. For weeks and weeks he had wanted to say these words, shout his hatred to the world.
"No one in Britain cares about what happens to me! All they want is someone who will abandon everything to come and save their pathetic lives. Where's the thanks? Where are the apologies? Everyone back there is dead to me. Magic is dead to me. My days of being a wizard are over. They can find themselves a new martyr."
Professor McGonagall stood there, face growing steadily paler and clutching her chest. "I know you do not mean those things, Potter. You are angry, I understand –"
"Except you don't!" He shouted. "Clearly you don't! If you did, you would already be gone! You wouldn't have come in the first place!" He levelled his gaze, putting as much emphasis on his next words as possible. "The Harry Potter you once knew is dead. You need to realise that."
The Professor's mouth became so thin at these words that Harry just about lost sight of it. His wand was tossed to him, landing at his feet. He didn't pick it up.
"I am sorry that that Harry Potter is dead. But I am sorrier that I had to meet with the man who has replaced him." She pulled an old quill from her robes and tapped it with her wand. It glowed blue. "I hope you understand what you are doing. Consorting with vampires could be unwise." And with a bright blue flash, she was gone.
Harry could still feel his pulse thumping in his head. He wanted to run, he had to get away and end things once and for all. If people were still going to be able to find him, then he had to make sure he could never be found again, permanently. McGonagall's words spiralled in his head. 'I hope you understand what you are doing.' He did now. It was clearer to him what he had to do than it had ever been before. 'Consorting with vampires could be unwise.'
Consorting with –
Harry's heart skipped several beats. In his rage he had forgotten where he was and who was in the house behind him. He turned around to find all of them, plus Bella, standing on the front porch watching him closely. Several emotions stared back at him: confusion, panic, amazement. Fear. Carlisle at the front. Disappointment.
"Harry –"
Harry stumbled backwards, scrabbling at the ground for his wand but refusing to break eye contact. He knew there was only one way to get out of his situation, and unfortunately that would mean using magic. Grasping his wand tightly, he thought clearly of his bedroom in Forks.
"No! Don't let him –" he didn't wait to hear the rest of Edward's warning to the others. He had no time to hang around, vampires moved too quickly. As it was, the last thing he saw as he turned on the spot was four shapes blurring towards him –
– and then he was in his bedroom, blissfully alone.
Harry collapsed on the floor against the side of his bed. He didn't suspect he had very long until someone came to look for him, but he was too exhausted to move. He needed to make a plan. The most obvious option was to leave before anyone else could come looking for him. With any luck he would be able to get away before he could impact the lives of anyone here any further and put them in any more danger than he already had.
Where could he go, though? He didn't know anyone in this country who didn't live in Forks. The only other place he had been was Seattle, but he didn't know if he liked the idea of a big city. He also didn't feel that was far enough away from the vampires who could easily track him if they wanted to, he was sure.
The only solution was to live the life Kingsley had tried to help him avoid. Endlessly roaming looking over his shoulder for those who would chase him. Only now he also had a pack of vampires to contend with.
Harry looked around his oversized bedroom. He would miss this house. While it had been far too large, sometimes feeling empty and cold, there were rooms in which he had felt at home. This was one of those rooms that he had always felt safe in, but something had taken that feeling from him now. When he initially apparated, he had assumed it was just the threat of the wizarding world bearing down upon him, but he knew now it wasn't that.
Someone had been inside his bedroom.
Standing up quickly, he was amazed he had missed it initially. There were drawers pulled open and clothes hanging out of them. His bathroom door was wide open and he could see the cabinets in there had also been ransacked. He suspected if he went looking around the rest of the house he would find similar scenes.
"Homenum revelio."
Nothing happened, telling him whoever had been here was gone. He wasn't overly worried. He had very few valuables in the house, and those items would look completely useless to any burglar. Common thieves would be more interested in monetary value. Still, he thought, it wouldn't hurt to check.
Harry raced down the hallway to the study to search for the little notebook that had started today's problems. He was thankful to see it still on the desk where they had left it. He pocketed it and returned to his bedroom.
The only other place he kept anything important was in the bottom drawer of his dresser. He opened the drawer and his heart immediately sank; while the drawer had been closed, it had obviously been searched thoroughly. The small beaded bag was still in place, as was his moleskin pouch full of small bits and pieces. Both of these he pocketed as well. Everything else in the drawer he pulled out, still looking for the one other, perhaps most important, item he kept in there.
When the drawer was empty, he panicked but refused to admit defeat. Pulling out every other drawer, he threw them to the ground, clothes soon covering the carpet. When they were all empty, he moved to his beside drawers, the bathroom cabinets, even looking under the bed. He tried summoning it, but nothing zoomed into the room.
Harry crumpled to the floor, panting. It was gone. The most important thing in his possession, and they had taken it.
The Elder Wand was gone.
–––––––––––– END PART TWO ––––––––––––
