VERY IMPORTANT VERY IMPORTANT VERY IMPORTANT
A/N: A short chapter since I'm not sure where this is going. Well, I know, but I have no idea if it's a good track... There's a reason I post my work online instead of keeping it hidden to myself- I want the feedback from others so I can improve. It's better to get harsh, helpful advice now while I'm too young to enter any competitions of any value then to enter contests and competitions later with mediocre writing and get slammed for it.
Feedback is much appreciated. Do you guys want to see more of the Harry Arc? Or do you want to just read the reunion and be done with it all? It's important for me to know.
Disclaimer: If I owned it... Just if I owned it...
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Four years passed.
Harry could only see ruins and rubble, maybe the occasional house with a small cache of food in it. He was surprised he hadn't died of sickness or starvation yet; maybe that was all due to his nature as a wizard. Harry doubted it though. Wizards had died in all sorts of ways in Azkaban; why hadn't he fallen prey to nature yet?
He was alive though; perhaps that was all that mattered in the long run. He would find someone, someday.
As if on cue, a large cloud of yellow rose on the horizon. Harry squinted at it. His glasses had been shattered to such a degree that not even magic could repair them, so he had to pick a lightly cracked set up off the hardwood floor of a dust-filled house a year or two back. They weren't quite the right prescription, so everything had a light blur to it and if he wore them two long, Harry would get a headache which wasn't worth the trouble.
Harry took off running. Small chips and chunks of dirt fell of his legs as he got closer and closer to the cloud. He could feel his legs burn as muscles he had long ago vowed not to use were over extended. Dirt and grime would occasionally slide into the corners of his mouth and he would have to stop to spit, but perhaps the grime could have waited.
The cloud grew more distant.
Harry kept on running.
Two figures playing in the dust slowly appeared in the horizon. People, Harry thought. He wanted to yell to them, scream out his joy, but his throat was too rusty. Four years in a dusty world was a long time to go without speaking, and perhaps that had done Harry's voice in. But Harry kept trying to get closer and closer, close enough so they could see his state of disarray, close enough so he could try to whisper in their ears and tell them his story. A wizard without a wand and a family, a wizard with a dead brother, a wizard without a life and dust coating his entire self.
The two figures got closer and closer now, and Harry could see that they were crammed into a small car like a pair of clowns. They were both perfectly happy.
Just like him and Loke a long time ago.
He tried not to think of Loke; that was certain. Harry tried to focus on living, not how he was too weak to try and find someone with his magic or how his brother was dead (I don't see anyone. There's no bodies, no hands, no strange creature parts. I think everything's buried under the rubble.), or even his past. It was just Harry and the desert with no room for anything else.
The small car skidded to a stop next to Harry. He straightened up and tried to brush as much dirt off of himself, cleaning his hands off the most.
One young man with hair that couldn't quite be considered pink, since it had a slight bit of an orange tint to it, crawled out of the car. He had a long dragon skin tunic on which was reminiscent of the one Charlie had always insisted that Harry needed. His buddy in the car had pale skin and black hair that seemed to want to strangle the man. Both wore black dog collars and had the faintest smell of a campfire.
Harry held his hand out to the man.
"Oi," the man said, completely ignoring Harry, "There's no one here. I swear, I'll kill you if you lead me to one more dead end, got it?"
Harry stared at him in shock. This person would ignore a dirt-covered man standing in front of his very eyes?
"Ain't like you are searching for anything real," the black haired man motioned for the salmon haired man to get back into the car. "Ghosts are just myths, and you know that as well as anyone. Your wife is worryin' her ass off about you; you should just give it up."
The pink haired man sighed and got back into the car. "No kidding. With the kid on the way, who knows what else she might do? Metali, you've got some experience with that bit. Mind giving me some tips?"
The black haired man laughed and revved the engine of the car. "Nope. Not at all."
Harry blinked once, twice, and then upon realization that large drops of mud were rolling down his face, he sniffled and made his way over to the rear of the trunk.
The car was his only way back to civilization.
And if these two men were so blind that they couldn't see Harry, then someone else would be bound to be able to notice what was right in front of their faces.