Disclaimer: Standard stuff (I don't own anything, I won't be making profit, any resemblance to previously published content is purely coincidental, JK Rowling is the coolest, etc.). If I make any legal errors regarding copyrighted material, inform me and I will correct them immediately.
Harry Potter and the Lightning Scar
Harry arrived at the edge of a the Pine Barrens just after 12 PM. Giving himself one last pat-down to ensure he had everything, he pulled out his map booklet (which helpfully included the known trails), and set off confidently toward the trail which would lead him (eventually) to the Blue Hole. That confidence received a stiff blow almost immediately, though, as Harry stepped into the forest. He felt a brief tingling sensation, and realized that it must be the effect of whatever it was about the Pine Barrens which made it impossible to apparate or portkey in or out. He quickly confirmed this theory by attempting—and failing—to apparate both outside of and deeper into the woods.
"So much for the emergency portkey," Harry muttered.
This thought gave him significant pause. He had informed Remus and Sirius of his idea for the trip, and they had approved; however, he had not found out that portkeying and apparating would be impossible until after his conversation with his two quasi-guardians. It was entirely possible that they would not have approved, if they had been aware that his emergency portkey would not be of any use within the forest. Even he was suddenly uncertain if this was a good plan.
"I've escaped giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest, killed a basilisk with a sword, and dueled to the death an adult wizard possessed by Voldemort," Harry reasoned aloud. "I'm sure I can handle a little camping trip in the woods." Confidence restored, Harry lit his wand with a murmured lumos (as the light within the forest was dim, even at noon), and strode onward. He did notice, however, that the wandlight—though as bright as ever at his wandpoint—didn't seem to carry as far as it normally would. Harry chalked it up to being an effect of the substantial levels of ambient magic present throughout the Barrens; he theorized that it was likely that all spells would respond slightly unpredictably.
Harry followed the trail, ducking through vines and stepping over fallen trees, for nearly three hours before stopping to rest. He sat for several minutes, sipping from his canteen and generally catching his breath, and then pulled out his map. After a glance, he sat up in surprise—the trail he was on, and which he had never left, had been significantly different from what was shown on the map. However, the trail ahead (at least the part that was in sight) seemed to match, curving in precisely the manner depicted. Could he be on the wrong trail, and this curve was just a coincidence? He decided to keep moving, and if the turns kept matching, he would assume he was on the right path, and if not, he would go back the way he came. That way, he'd be able to make it out before sundown.
He moved on with a new sense of urgency—if it turned out that he was on the wrong trail, he wanted to know quickly, to begin his egress as soon as possible. However, these fears were soon calmed; the trail was clearly the same as was indicated on the map. Every time he looked back, though, the path seemed unfamiliar. Perhaps that was another odd effect of the magic which permeated the forest so deeply. Harry was briefly concerned about how he would get back, but a quick look at the map reassured him that there were several trails leading out of the forest from the Blue Hole—even if a path was only viable once, he didn't have to take the same path back out again. If all else failed, he always had his Firebolt.
Around 7 PM, the sun began to fall below the treeline, and Harry knew it was time to make camp for the night. Conveniently, he almost immediately found a likely-looking clearing off to the side of the path, and, with several flicks of his wand and a carefully-controlled incendio, he soon had his tent erected and a roaring campfire burning. He completed his campsite with, a Notice-Me-Not charm, a general aversion and repulsion charm, and a caterwauling charm. This way, no animals would notice his campsite, and if they came too close, they would be compelled to move away; even if they made it through, the caterwauling charm would help to scare them off and alert Harry.
Pleased with his preparations, he cast a finite on one of his boxed meals and sat down to eat. A hefty portion of fried chicken and biscuits (the kind served in the southern states, rather than dessert biscuits, which Americans referred to as "cookies") later, Harry looked at his progress on the map. It seemed that he was nearly to the Blue Hole; he would probably make it there before lunch tomorrow, and if all went well, he would be able to reach the edge of the Pine Barrens before nightfall. He put away the map, and took out his mirror, intending to update the Marauders; just before activating it, he realized that it would be well after midnight for them, and that they probably wouldn't appreciate being roused from much-needed rest just to hear that Harry was in the woods.
Instead, he opened up Henry Earp's spellbook, and whiled away the rest of the evening practicing different dueling spells. When he took a break from his casting to take a drink, he looked at his watch, and was surprised to note that it was nearly 11 PM. He decided to call it a night, doused the campfire, and went to bed, falling asleep as soon as he slid into his sleeping bag.
He did not get to rest for very long. At precisely midnight, a horrible screeching scream—like the deep reverberations from tearing through corrugated cardboard, crossed with the sharp, shrill shriek of fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard, as though the very air itself was being ripped apart—in the distance shocked Harry out of his slumber. Wand out, his eyes—wide with surprise and fear—shot from side to side, trying to discern the direction from which the terrifying cry had come.
Deep, empty silence settled upon the forest when the scream faded away. With a start, Harry suddenly realized that this was no different from before—now that he noticed the silence, it occurred to him that he could not recall hearing or seeing any animals, magical or otherwise, since he had entered the Pine Barrens. How could he not have noticed it? No birds chirped, no insects buzzed, no squirrels or woodchucks chattered...at this realization, Harry was starkly aware that something about this forest was wrong, and he should have detected it the second he had set foot in this place. A profound sense of unease sunk into Harry's very bones. He would get no rest this night; of that he was certain.
As if agreeing with his thought, another, louder scream echoed through the woods. This time, a low rumbling roar—much like that of a lion—was layered under the other notes. It seemed to be further away, but as a precaution, Harry silently pulled on his socks and boots, and carefully zipped up his rucksack. He sat with his legs crossed beneath his body, ready to leap up, with his rucksack's straps pulled tight across his chest. His wand in his right hand and his broom in his left, Harry waited, feeling like a submariner waiting out depth charges. The tension was almost unbearable as the minutes dragged on.
A quarter of an hour later, the scream pierced the forest again, this time from much closer. It couldn't be more than a few dozen meters away, Harry thought, gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles turned white, in sharp contrast to the dark ebony of his wand's wood. Then, his fear turned to terror, as he heard the sound of the bushes and saplings that lined the clearing being pushed aside, with fallen leaves and twigs crunching beneath the feet of something large and inevitably terrible. If it was within the clearing, then the creature had already passed through the aversion and repulsion charm. What if it was unaffected by the Notice-Me-Not charm? Even worse, what if it was powerful enough to brush aside his charms entirely?
His caterwauling charm, set inside the Notice-Me-Not charm's perimeter, provided an answer when it was activated. As the klaxon sounded, Harry realized that the beast had defeated Harry's Notice-Me-Not charm, and his decision was made.
"Reducto!" Harry bellowed, blasting the tent apart. In the brief flash of light from his spell, Harry caught his first glimpse of the beast, and could not contain his scream of horror as his feet froze in place, refusing to obey his mind's command to run, run, move, run.
The creature was truly monstrous. Its form was blurred, as though Harry's mind could not quite conceptualize what his eyes were reporting, but enough detail was perceptible that Harry instantly understood that it could not possibly exist naturally on this earth. It stood at least eight feet tall upon powerful reverse-kneed legs ending in cloven hooves. Its forelimbs were disproportionately small, but were still much longer and thicker than Harry's arms, and its hands had three fingers tipped with long, wickedly-curved talons. It held its large, leathery wings against its back, and its head was that of a ram, with heavy curled horns. The eyes, though, were by far the worst. They glowed red like hot coals, but held no warmth, instead promising nothing but pain and death.
Its eyes flashed in the darkness, and it screamed again in literally incandescent rage as Harry turned and began to sprint away. He didn't know when he had began to run, and he wasn't certain when he had lit his wand, but he quickly became certain that the now-oppressive weight of the ambient magic of the Pine Barrens had rendered his Firebolt inert, falling in a tangle of limbs and broomstick. He scrambled back to his feet and continued running, shrinking and stowing his Firebolt as he tore down the path, all of his previous weariness buried beneath a veritable sea of adrenaline.
After a few minutes of running, he realized that he might actually have the advantage. The path was narrow and winding, and the massive demon—for it could surely be nothing else—was too large to move easily through it, but not quite large enough to be able to plow through the trees. This hope was, of course, immediately dashed, as Harry heard another scream, this time from...above him!
Reflexes forged by a decade of dodging blows from Dudley and his gang, and honed to a razor edge by three years of dodging Bludgers in Quidditch snapped into action, hurling Harry down onto his left side. The beast had, at some point during the chase, found enough room to spread its vast bat-like wings, and had crashed through the canopy to swoop down at Harry. He had barely dodged out of the way in time, and while the monster was picking itself up off the ground (having committed fully to the dive, it had plowed into the underbrush), Harry cast as powerful a cutting curse as he could muster at the beast's fallen form, striking one of its wings, and resumed his mad dash down the path as the demon roared in pain and fury.
Harry continued running, never slowing his pace; his almost all-consuming fear was giving him all the stamina he needed. He stopped, stepped off the trail, and crouched down, trying to listen for the demon while he sipped from his canteen. After a tense minute of absolute silence, he heard the telltale sound of movement, and realized that the creature, having failed at a direct chase, was now stalking him. Harry got up and began moving again, casting a caterwauling charm on the trail—this way, he'd know how far behind him the creature was. He did this several more times, and had gone about a hundred meters, before he heard the demon set off the first one.
Continuing on, Harry soon came across a large clearing, dominated by a mostly-circular lake approximately thirty meters wide. He could see the water's deep blue hue even in the darkness, despite the forest's limiting effect on his wandlight. He shrugged; the beast had not set off the second caterwauling charm yet, so he had a bit of time—why not at least get a bit of what he came for? Harry withdrew a glass jar, which he had charmed ahead of time for this precise purpose, and dunked it into the Blue Hole's water. The unbreakable jar filled quickly despite the space-expansion charm laid into it; thankfully, Harry had also layered on a featherweight charm (or else the volume of water, which was somewhere on the order of six hundred liters, would have made the jar impossible for him to carry), and Harry closed the lid and put the jar back into his sack.
As he withdrew the map to determine which alternate trail would lead him out of the forest, he heard the second caterwauling charm erupt. Harry quickly chose his route and set off at a brisk walk, knowing that the demon was now trying to tire him out rather than chase him down; that crash or his cutting curse must have done enough damage that it couldn't take to the air, or else the demon would already have been upon him again. Having concluded that it was tracking him by scent or some magical method, he realized that he had no hope of evading the demon indefinitely. He would either have to escape back to civilization—which would require leaving the Barrens—or kill the beast. Knowing that he was at least several hours from the edge of the forest (especially since he had actually been running deeper into it, towards the Blue Hole, and was only now turning outward), he reluctantly reasoned that it was likely that he would end up having to fight the demon to the death.
He considered the demon itself, and realized that it reminded him somewhat of a dementor. Despite the fact that it had virtually nothing physically in common with that other foul creature, it also exuded an aura that had affected Harry acutely when it was close by. While dementors ooze a sense of despair and sadness, this demon brought with it a distinct air of fear and wrongness. Maybe they were related, he thought, hope blooming in his chest for the first time since midnight. Harry knew that lethifolds were distant relatives of dementors, and they were just as affected by the patronus charm as dementors were. Perhaps it would also work on this creature?
However, it seemed somewhat more...solid, than a dementor. While a patronus was sufficient to chase off a dementor for quite some time, it might not be enough to stop this monster.
"I don't need the patronus to stop it entirely," he mused aloud. "If the patronus distracts it, maybe I can kill it some other way."
Most wizards would immediately turn to their thoughts to their wand. Harry, however, had killed two opponents without his wand while still a child, instead using his bare (albeit sacrifice-based blood-protection imbued) hands to kill Quirrell and a sword to kill a massive basilisk. So, taking a quick inventory of his equipment, he found that he still possessed the daggers that Sirius had made him take from the Black family armory. If it was too hurt to fly, he reasoned, perhaps that meant that it could bleed. And if it could bleed, that meant it had a heart.
Setting his jaw grimly, Harry drew the longest of the daggers, the runes engraved into the blade glinting dangerously in the dim light.
"This should do the job," Harry concluded, picturing where the creature's heart must be. "This should definitely do the job."
Author's Note
Cliffhanger! It's late tonight, and I've had a long day; expect the conclusion—for good or ill—of Harry's side trip tomorrow by late morning or early afternoon.