Harry sat leaning against the door of the bathroom listening to the voices of the Minister of Magic and Professor McGonagall as they rose in pitch and ferocity. He pulled at his hair and then drew in a calming breath, counting to ten until he didn't feel like blasting through the wall.
When he felt better, Harry flicked out his wand, pausing to imagine how each of the Dursleys would react in turn to a gaping hole in the side of their house. Instead, he cast the cleansing charm on the bathroom floor, a devious smile on his lips. He turned around and laid on his back with his legs running up the door, bunching the velvety robe under his head as a pillow, and rested his hands on his belly feeling smug in his small rebellion.
He hoped that Ms. Midgeon would be among the instructors who would visit him until the Center was inhabitable again. While her lessons often felt a bit silly, they were the ones that he drew on most when he felt like everything was falling apart. He tried to imagine Ron stretching alongside him and giggled.
Professor McGonagall's hard-heeled boots sounded in the corridor outside the toilet, reverberating through the floor along his spine. He sighed and started to slide his legs down the wall when she rapped on the door.
"Harry? Are you all right? You've been in there an uncommonly long time. You're not ill, are you?"
"I'm fine," he sighed and sat up. He reached for the sink and pulled himself up. "I'll be out in a moment."
He felt for the faucets and turned on the water. Placing his glasses on the glass shelf above the sink, he bent over and splashed cool water on his face. He ran his hands through his hair and then felt for the towel hanging by the sink. As he pressed the towel against his face, he took in another deep breath, replaced the towel, then groped for the knob and opened the door.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Professor McGonagall interrogated. "Come, come. The Minister of Magic is waiting for you."
He was surprised she was still standing outside the door and he took a step back. She stepped forward and grasped his wrist, pulling forward. He yanked his hand down.
"Please, Professor McGonagall. Stop. Grabbing. Me," Harry seethed. "I know you're trying to help, but I can get around on my own just fine."
Professor McGonagall was quiet for an unsettling long amount of time and Harry blinked and held his breath while he waited for her response.
Finally she drew in a long breath and said, "You're right, of course. I apologise. I will work on it."
He hung back, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head. They'd already had this conversation before.
"I promise. Truly," she sighed. "Harry, the Minister!"
"What about him?"
"The Minister of Magic came to call on you! And you disappeared into the toilet!" she hissed. "Where are your robes? Your glasses?"
Harry felt for the door, then followed it to the floor and reached behind it until he located the pile of robes. He lifted them up and ran his fingers along the edges until he found the neck and swung it around his shoulders. He was fiddling with the clasp at the neck trying to figure out why he couldn't get it to line up.
"Er. You've put them on inside out," Professor McGonagall said, her feet shuffling as if she were coming forward to assist him and then thought better of it.
Harry blew a frustrated breath that made his fringe fly up. He swung the robes out again, turned them around and was able to get the clasp to fasten this time. The robes were suffocating and hot and he disliked having to wear them. He tried swallowing his resentment, but it lodged in his throat.
"Come now. What is going on with your hair?" She pressed a hand to his head and he yelped in response.
"Er. Pardon me. Just grab your glasses and let's return to the Minister," Professor McGonagall said, turning briskly and walking away.
It took Harry a moment to find his glasses where he'd stored them. He was fuming which didn't help. He shoved them back on his face and stepped out into the hallway.
The Minister and Professor McGonagall were again engaged in a tense conversation. "Mr. Potter needs to be kept safe and we can do that much more effectively at the Ministry," the Minister insisted.
"I respectfully disagree, Minister," Professor McGonagall said, her voice dangerous as it was calm. "While I have my concerns about the Dursleys, there is a reason why Professor Dumbledore felt that Me. Potter was safer here than in a wizarding household or the ministry. The Ministry agreed with him over ten years ago when the debate raged about the best safe harbor for the boy."
"But I wasn't the minister at that time! And Healer Jordan has notified the Ministry of the bruises and signs of malnutrition that he exhibited. We are deeply concerned about Harry's well being," the Minister had stood up and was pacing back and forth.
"And not to mention the potential for study. There is so much that we could learn from him. No other wizard has survived the killing curse, and then when you add the Basilisk venom to the mix…" Mr. Croaker's voice reminded Harry of Dudley when he was trying to convince his mother that he really needed an expensive new toy.
Harry stepped back, leaning against the wall. His heart was threatening to suffocate him and he willed it to calm so that he could hear what they were saying. But it was more of the same. After a moment, he knew what he had to do. He returned to the toilet, pressed the lock from the inside, closed it quietly so that it locked. Then, he flicked out his staff and summoned his invisibility cloak out with the barest whisper. He undid the clasp at his neck and shrugged the heavy dress robes, letting them pool at his feet. He was tempted to just leave them there… the image of Aunt Petunia finding them almost making a giggle erupt from this throat… but then stuffed them back into his staff. He took a step, then paused to toed his shoes off and stuck them into his staff, too.
Harry swung the invisibility cloak over his shoulders and pulled the hood over his head. The fabric tingled against his skin, thrumming with magical energy. As he held it as his neck, his finger caught on a small eyelet that he hadn't noticed before and he wondered if this cloak also had a fastener like the fancy dress robes that he'd just been wearing.
An impatient harrumph from the Minister jerked him back to his present predicament and he lurched forward, then remembered he needed to be calm and quiet.
He held his staff off the floor so that the silver tip wouldn't give him away and padded across the sitting room doorway holding his breath.
At the front door, he whispered the navigation charm and then eased the door open again, listening to his staff's cues about the Aurors who were stationed outside. He slipped through the narrow opening and quietly closed the door behind him. He was careful to pull the door closed, but not so hard that the latch clicked. Holding his breath again, he listened carefully and walked between the Aurors in stocking feet, feeling for the edge of the stoop with his toes.
Once on the garden path, he stepped stealthily from stone to stone, pausing often to listen for clues that the Aurors had noticed him.
He didn't have much time until Professor McGonagall would check on him again, but he wanted to find Nio before left. He'd had enough of this tug-of-war. Professor McGonagall meant well, but he could tell from her voice that she was going to give way to the Minister and he was not going to allow himself to be poked and prodded by that Mr. Croaker bloke. He had a bad feeling about him and the whole Department of Mysteries.
One of the men sneezed behind him and Harry nearly tripped. He caught himself and waited, then taking in a deep breath, continued walking along the garden path following the guidance of his staff. Once he was through the gate and behind the house, he sped up and swung his staff in a wider arc.
When his staff tinged softly against the short stone wall, he bent forward, found the ledge, sat down, and called Nio in parseltongue. He waited for a moment, listening, then summoned both his new and old trainers from his staff. He put on his new trainers and unlaced the old trainers. He stuck those back into his staff and then felt for the eyelets again at his neck and tied the invisibility cloak in place with the old laces. He felt along the edges of the cloak and found other eyelets. He was able to pull one of the laces in half because they were so worn and with the short ends tie the bottom of the cloak to his wrists. It allowed him to wear the cloak without having to hold it closed.
"Sthei?" Nio called from Harry's right. "I can smell you, but I can't see you."
"I'm here, Nio," Harry said, waving his hand.
"I hear you, but I still can't see you," the little snake said as he grew closer.
"I'm wearing my invisibility cloak," Harry explained in a quiet voice. "You can't see my hands?" Harry moved them around testing out the ties that he'd fastened to his wrists. He stuck his feet out.
"No, you're as invisible to me as I am to you," the snake said.
"Can you see my feet?"
"Ah, now I see you. Just your funny coverings, though."
"You mean my shoes?"
"Yes, those—but only when you stick them out far as you just did."
"I suppose that's good."
A car driving by brought Harry back to focus.
"Nio, I need to leave. Do you want to come with me?"
"Where are we going?"
"I don't know, but I need to leave before they take me to the Ministry to do experiments on me."
"Yes, I'll go with you," the snake said as he wound his way up Harry's offered hand. "How will we travel? By owl?"
Harry snorted at the idea of Hedwig carrying him. "Actually, I was thinking of flying on my broom," Harry said. "And don't worry. I'll keep you safe. But we need to hurry. They are going to start looking for me soon."
Harry transferred Nio to his neck, tucked his shirt into his pants, and summoned his broom out of his staff. He swung his leg over the broom and placed his staff into the notch on his broom, changing the navigation to vibrate.
"Can you see the broom?" Harry asked as he tried to catch all the loose ends of the cloak and tuck them in, while remaining covered up and balanced on his broom.
"Just a little. Mostly it is not visible," Nio said. "We'll come back later, yes?"
"Er, I don't know. You don't have to come with me, if you want to stay here with your family," Harry said, though it ached to say it.
"So we're off on another adventure… to return who knows when? I guess I'm a flying snake, now," Nio said with so much conviction that Harry's eyes stung and his throat grew tight.
"You're a good friend, Nio," was all Harry was able to manage.
From inside the house, Harry could hear raised voices and guessed that they had noticed he wasn't there anymore.
"Okay, hang on. Here we go," Harry said, launching them into the air. Nio tightened his hold on Harry's neck.
"Ease up, Nio! You're going to choke me!" Harry coughed, putting a finger between his neck and the snake.
"You're going to hit some trees!" the snake hissed.
Harry wobbled a bit on the broom as he put his hand back on the handle, focused on the vibrations again, and brought them up short so that they made their way over the trees instead of through them. A branch grazed his foot, but didn't catch. One of the edges of the cloak was flapping behind him, pulled away by the wind. He sucked in a deep breath and rose higher, hoping that his legs weren't visible to the Aurors searching for him below.
"Are there any clouds? Do you think they can see us?" Harry asked Nio, but the snake didn't answer and Harry worried that he'd been selfish asking Nio to accompany him. After a little bit the snake seemed to relax and stretched out his neck to peer down.
"I can't see the garden anymore. We are far, far away, Sthei, and all the moving chairs are like aphids."
"Moving chairs?" Harry asked, thinking of Besel's wheelchair.
"Like the one your angry man squeals around in—after the sun rises and as it is setting."
"Oh. Cars. He's not my angry man," Harry sighed, and felt relief to be flying away from Privet Drive and all of the Dursleys.
"Still don't know where we're going?" Nio asked.
"No idea. I just needed to get away."
Harry's mind was racing through all the possibilities: Ron's in Egypt, Hermione's in France… and besides, that's where they'll look first. I don't know how to get to Gemma's, though I suppose I could ask her with the slate she gave me, but I probably can't go to any friend's house because they'll find us there. Hogwarts and the Center are out. I wonder if I could fly to that island that Mei goes to? How far can I fly on a broom? How long would it take? Days? I wish I had Aminah's flying carpet. I should have brought some food. I should probably go someplace where there are other wix, otherwise they'll be able to detect my underage magic. Where? Diagon Alley? Too crowded… I couldn't sneak around in my cloak without bumping into people. Hogsmeade? Where could we stay in Hogsmeade without anyone noticing us?
"Navigant north," Harry spoke to his staff in his broom and maneuvered so that he was heading north. He wasn't sure what was north, but somehow it felt better to be heading a direction, rather than just away.
He was thinking about the photo albums he had stored in his staff… the photos that he'd looked at with his digitus that transformed the flat images into three-dimensional shapes that he could feel. There had been a cozy cottage where his parents lived when he was a baby… he remembered the name written beneath one of the images of the three of them standing in front of it.
"Navigant Godric's Hollow," Harry said in a tremulous voice.
"So you know where we are going now?" Nio asked with a slight squeeze of Harry's neck.
"Yeah, there's a place I want to visit. It may not be where we stay… but maybe I can find some answers there. And I'm not sure anyone would think to look for me there."
"We can always find the Adelphi in the area and stay with them," Nio said and Harry wondered if he'd be able to survive on a diet of earthworms and beetles.