CHAPTER EIGHT
Reunion and Infiltration
No matter how inadvertently it had been on their part, they had given Dolohov and his allies a month's head start. They couldn't afford to waste any more time. Despite this, Harry got his friends to calm down and return to the castle with him anyway.
"We need to take a minute and think about this properly," he told them as he led the way to their secret training hall. "Going in half-blind didn't do us much good last time, did it?" It was a harsh thing to say. While he didn't enjoy seeing their reaction to his words, it needed to be said.
The boys skipped their afternoon classes and took their meals in the training hall as they planned their next moves. It was a more difficult process than he would have expected. None of them could figure out a way to pin Dolohov down long enough to call in reinforcements from the nearest Citadel.
Ignoring Terry's third suggestion of cornering the Acolyte with a rampaging nesting dragon ("I can get to one through Callum!" He said excitedly. "He probably won't even get into that much trouble with the Beast Guild!"), Harry decided it was time to state the obvious.
"Look, when we divvy up all necessary tasks, there's only one person who's free to fight Dolohov," Harry said seriously. "Me."
Anthony wasn't having it. "You saw what he did to Captain Solace and, no offence, but you're not exactly on her level, are you?"
"Captain Solace fought him like she was the last line of defence." Harry pointed out. "I won't be aiming to kill, just to keep him from escaping before backup can arrive."
"Anthony's right," Michael said tentatively. "It's practically suicide."
"I've come out on top facing crazier odds." He omitted that was due to luck or fortuitous timing. No matter what arguments the others managed to levy against him, Harry remained stubborn that this strategy was the best they had. When they eventually gave up, he brought up the one matter that still concerned him. "Do you think you can get the enchantments done before I have to leave tomorrow?"
Anthony waved him off. "All the different types of Runic Complexes you'll need are difficult but doable. The only question is if they'll be able to keep up with the speed you'll be driving at."
"They'll only have to keep up with me when I'm walking." Harry smiled. "Remember, I can sense magic but they can't." Glancing at his watch, Harry got to his feet, levitating and scouring their plates and goblets as he did so. "We should get these back to the kitchen and go to bed. It's not exactly an early start, but the three of you will be roughing it tomorrow night. You should enjoy your beds while you can."
"I love how your plan has us sleeping out in the elements while you'll be shacked up with some cute girl, all toasty and warm," Michael grumbled as they headed down to the kitchens.
Harry felt a flush creeping up the back of his neck. "I never said she was cute."
"Oh please," Anthony rolled his eyes. "You were so awkward when you brought it up she can't possibly be anything else."
"You guys were so eager to come before. Don't tell me a little discomfort is enough to put you off."
Terry tutted. "You can be such a smarmy git sometimes, Harry."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Harry woke early the following day and drew his curtains back to watch as the weak winter sun lit the pale mountains west of the school.
In Scotland, the sun rose quite late in February, but Maia's appointment was for half-past ten. Harry had more than enough time, perhaps too much time, to ruminate on his plan. Had he chosen the correct course of action? Did he have the right to lead his friends into danger? Would Captain Solace agree with his plan? These were the thoughts that spun through his mind as he stared at the vistas beyond his window.
His brooding only came to an end when Argos landed on the ledge outside and tapped on the glass, asking to be let in after his nocturnal hunt. Harry went to the bathroom to prepare for the long day ahead. Returning after a quick shower, he dressed in the clothes that he'd laid out the night before.
It had been a year and a half since he'd last purchased Muggle clothes for himself- two and a half since he'd last purchased appropriate seasonal wear- and he'd grown considerably in that time, both in height and stature. Fortunately, The Marauders kept Muggle clothes on hand for when they were strapped for cash and needed to sell magically repaired furniture and items to non-magical shops for a quick payday.
The previous evening, Harry had picked out a pair of white trainers, loose-fitting jeans, a thin grey fleece and a baggy green cargo jacket from their secret clubhouse. He made sure they were a size or two larger than he would normally wear so he could fit his summer-issued Auror gear underneath. If all went according to plan, he would be entering the wolf's den; it would be folly to do so without the necessary protection.
Still, it was uncomfortably warm.
He stepped through the fireplace at Brightstone House at exactly eleven- having made his way from The Leaky Cauldron after a necessary stop at Gringotts- and was about to head for the garage when the sound of footsteps made him freeze. He wasn't doing anything wrong (yet), but he'd timed his arrival for when he knew the house would be empty: Remus was overseeing Saturday Detention, Maia should have left for her Mind Healer appointment a half hour ago, and Nicolas should be in his laboratory. So who-?
"Harry?" Nicolas popped his head into the sitting room. Harry felt stupid for assuming that his master would be unaware if someone entered his home. "Eos told me you were here. I didn't know you were coming home today." When the Phoenix soared into the room and perched itself on the back of an armchair, Harry gave it a betrayed look.
"I just needed something from my room," Harry said shortly. "You can go back to whatever it was you were doing."
It was an awful sight, seeing a man as great as Nicolas Flamel shrink into himself. "Right. Of course." He turned to exit the room, pausing in the doorway to glance back at Harry as though hoping he would stop him from leaving, before leaving with a despondent air.
Harry was still furious at him for all the lies that were slowly being revealed as time went on, but even though he was unsure if he could even trust Nicolas anymore, he still didn't like seeing him upset. He supposed that was the downside of having people to care about, as he no longer had the freedom of cutting ties as easily as he once had.
Shaking his head to snap out of his sudden gloom, Harry quickly headed to the garage. He knew that Maia would return in under thirty minutes, and he wanted to be long gone before then. It was a good thing that Nicolas was the one he'd bumped into. Of all his guardians, he was the least likely to discipline Harry for any troublemaking or perceived recklessness.
Harry removed the sheet that was covering Hugo II before drawing his wand. Even though he could start the engine with just a tap of his wand, he would need to keep the keys on hand for this particular endeavour. "Accio keys!" Unexpectedly, two keys shot out from the lockbox that Maia kept on the shelf and zoomed into his hand. It took a moment to figure out which one was his and which belonged to Maia- a moment in which he slid each key into the ignition and tried to see if it would turn- before putting his godmother's back.
Apparently, Maia and his dad had a few run-ins with the police during their youth. Her lack of legal documentation had proved a sticking point that Memory and Confounding Charms couldn't always remove, so she ensured that Harry had the proper paperwork for his bike. He had found this hilarious, as he didn't look anywhere close to seventeen as his licence claimed.
He removed his licence and vehicle documentation from the lockbox and put them in the tiny storage compartment between the seat and the handles. Harry paused before he reached tentatively into his bag, grabbed hold of the invisible Artifice that Anthony had created at his request and placed it atop his documents.
Knowing that he couldn't return until the mission was done, Harry glanced around the garage contemplatively, wondering if that was everything. Realising that he'd forgotten his spare helmet, Harry paused before opening his bag again. It would be more suspicious if I showed up without anything magical at all.
When he finally accepted that he was indeed ready, Harry opened the garage door and wheeled the bike outside before closing it behind him. Knowing that Nicolas would be able to sense him leaving the property anyway, Harry didn't bother being subtle. He mounted the bike and turned the ignition, roaring towards the forest before taking off the ground and soaring into the cloudy sky.
Flying from the Isle of Wight to Surrey would be the longest journey he'd ever made on his bike. As much as he dreaded flying through the freezing February air, he dreaded going over the Solent even more. This was why he was amazed to find out how much he enjoyed the experience.
Maia was right. It was exhilarating.
His whooping was muffled by his closed helmet and carried away by the strong winds as he dropped down beneath the clouds and skimmed the peaks of grey waves with his wheels before pulling back on the handlebars and shooting back into the sky. Harry had ridden broomsticks before, he'd even ridden carpets before, but there was something about being in control of this fearsome machine that felt thrilling. No wonder Maia enjoyed this so much.
Eventually, Harry reached the mainland. Even though he knew he should probably bring the bike back down to earth so he wouldn't get lost (like the last time he'd flown to Surrey), he couldn't resist flying the rest of the way there.
However, the fun had to end at some point. For Harry that was when he spotted the familiar sight of Little Whinging from the sky. Descending rapidly, he touched down on an empty residential street on the outskirts of town and- without losing any speed- continued to the town library where he'd stashed his friends a couple of hours previously.
"You were gone for ages," Michael complained when Harry joined them in the children's section. He and Anthony were slumped on a pair of beanbags, flicking through books to pass the time.
"Not long enough," Terry said excitedly from where he was playing on the computer. He proved his intuitive genius once again by already figuring out how to use it without instruction. He was happily keeping himself occupied by playing an educational children's game. "This thing is brilliant."
"Two hours of this," Michael sighed. He'd grown up with a librarian and teacher as adoptive parents, so he was unimpressed with Muggle technology.
"I had to make a stop at Gringotts before going home." Harry withdrew four crystal flasks from his mokeskin pouch and handed one to each of his friends. "Liquid Luck," he explained. "To help make sure all of us come home this time." As he only had five flasks remaining, it had been a difficult choice for him to part ways with four of them. However, if he didn't give them to his friends and then something terrible happened to them, he would never forgive himself.
Besides, he still had one left for when he found a way to free his mum and dad.
Michael and Anthony seemed pleased by this, which made it all the more surprising that Terry was the one being cautious. "Remember, this is only a performance enhancer," he warned them. "It doesn't actually make you lucky."
"We know, we know," Michael grumbled as they each pocketed a flask.
Anthony did the same before returning his focus to the mission at hand. "Did you really need to get your motorbike for this?"
Harry nodded. "It'll support my story as long as I don't, you know, fly it." He kept his voice low. While his friends were all wearing their Ouroboroses, he'd left his in the Artifice that was in his motorbike's storage compartment. "What am I walking into?"
"There's no one but her in the house. Anthony put up a Runic Complex that will let us know if anyone enters or exits the property, so we'll make sure the two of you remain alone." Terry said without removing his eyes from the colourful, interactive screen, before adding, "Which is a little creepy now that I say it out loud."
Harry knew that already but didn't voice it. "Remember to keep watch in shifts and only drink the potions when we're on the move. It should last about twelve hours," he guessed, glancing at Terry to confirm. When the smaller boy nodded back at him, he continued. "I don't want a single gap where one of you loses eyes on me." Waiting for them to nod, he asked, "Have you decided who gets first go?"
Anthony climbed to his feet and picked up one of the three Nimbus 2000s that they'd nicked from the broomstick storage room. While Hogwarts couldn't afford Firebolts for the Quidditch teams just yet, they did have Nimbus 2001s which meant that their preceding model was available to any student whether they played Quidditch or not.
They hoped to complete the mission before their disappearance was discovered. Getting caught going rogue because Professor Hooch noticed three broomsticks were missing was just too embarrassing to contemplate.
"Are you sure about this?" Anthony asked again as they stepped outside. Of all of them, he was the one most concerned about the first step of the plan. "You'll be on your own."
"Even if your Artifice malfunctions- and I seriously doubt it will- I'll still be able to summon my Invisibility Cloak if things go wrong," Harry reassured him. "The worst thing that can happen is that we fail to find Dolohov because there's no way anything is going to happen to me."
"Famous last words," Anthony muttered, but he didn't raise any more protests. As their target was able to see through the Veil, Anthony made sure to disillusion both himself and his broom, giving his parting words before taking off. "Good luck, Harry. I hope you know what you're doing."
That makes two of us, Harry thought as he popped open his flask and took a tiny sip of Felix Felicis. It was hard to judge without measuring, but he was sure he only took enough for two or three hours, saving the rest for later. Climbing onto his bike once more, he turned the engine and drove off.
Barking dogs were left in his wake as his bike roared down Privet Drive. While a cloud of self-assuredness had settled over his mind, Harry still felt a little bad about that. The Dursleys had been criminally neglectful of him, but their neighbours had treated him with kindness growing up. Even though it had been borne from pity, he still appreciated it and the odd jobs they had given him for pocket money.
Turning into Wisteria Walk, he parked Hugo II in the driveway of a painfully familiar house. As he approached the front door, Harry tried to ignore the rush of memories that flew through the front of his mind, both about the many days he'd spent here as a child and the chaotic skirmish that had occurred the last time that he visited. Pausing on the doorstep, he took a moment to centre himself before knocking, remembering Captain Solace's advice on undercover work.
It's just playing a role, he reminded himself. Whichever role is necessary to get her to believe what I want her to believe.
Putting on a nervous but hopeful air, Harry knocked firmly on the door before he could second guess himself.
Sara Bridger hadn't changed so much that she was unrecognisable to him when she opened the door, but the sight of her still caught him off guard. She'd gone through a serious growth spurt since he'd last seen her, standing at the same height as him for the first time, and now that her long blonde hair had been cut level with her chin and her left eyebrow and the top of her ears were pierced, she looked older than the fourteen years he knew her to be. Bizarrely, the sight of her new look made him feel rather juvenile in comparison.
Because of this, Harry felt pleased with the second it took for recognition to come into her eyes. He was glad she wasn't the only one to have grown in their time apart. "Harry?" Her voice was hushed, as though afraid that someone would overhear.
"Hey, Sara. It's good to see you. Can I come in?" He made a show of glancing over his shoulder. "I don't want anyone to see my face." Sara paused for a moment, but Felix was whispering that she was only caught off guard and not considering shutting the door in his face. That proved to be true when she finally stepped back and allowed him to move past her and into the house. "I'm sorry about what went down last time I was here. I was in a bad situation- still in a bad situation- but I should never have brought it into your home-"
"Hey, hey, hey." Sara flapped her hands around as though waving away his prepared apologies. "Slow down. You're in a bad situation?"
Harry glanced at the staircase. "Is your dad here?"
"No." Sara grimaced. "I'm sorry about last time. I was so confused, and he put me on the spot-"
It was Harry's turn to cut in. "Can we do this over lunch? I'm starved." He wasn't lying; lunchtime had come and gone while he was flying somewhere over West Sussex.
Sara smiled at him, and for the first time since she opened the door, he could see the girl he'd met way back at St. Greggory's. "Definitely. Pizza still good?"
Harry smiled right back. "Pizza is always good." He made sure to keep her in his line of sight as he sat down in the living room. He wanted to know if she called her dad. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed when the only words out of her mouth were pizza toppings.
Sara skidded back into the room on her socks. "So…? Bad situation?" She prompted as she sat down next to him.
Harry told her his prepared story, a lot of it stemming from the truth: how Hogwarts wasn't what had been promised to him, how a teacher had tried to kill him and he'd fought back in self-defence, and how he went on the run afterwards. "That's why I had dried blood on me that day," he told her. "I've been on the move ever since." He knew that the best lies had a semblance of truth to them.
"On the move? For how long? For…?" She paused to count how many months it had been since they'd last seen each other. "Nineteen? Twenty months? That's insane!"
Harry shrugged. "Desperation can make people do things they would never have thought possible."
Sara shook her head in wonder. "Where did you go? What have you been doing?"
Harry counted off the places he'd visited in the last year and a half. "London first, then New York, New Orleans and a little time out in Australia." He left out Antarctica for obvious reasons. "As for what I've been doing…" he shrugged again. "Anything to pass the time, to be honest." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and out the window where his bike was parked in the driveway. "I learned how to drive that."
"If you're trying to fly under the radar, you're doing a terrible job of it," Sara said as she leaned over him to peek out the window. Even though she was wearing a baggy jumper, having her move over him so closely was not good for his concentration. "No one our age drives anything with an engine."
"What about you?" Harry asked calmly, embarrassed that he even needed to employ Occlumency in such a mundane situation. "What have you been up to?"
"Nothing so glamourous as seeing the world on a motorbike, that's for sure." Sara sighed. "It turns out that school is rather awful when you don't have any friends, but you wouldn't know anything about that," she said dryly. "My mum got married."
"To the science teacher?" He remembered. When she nodded, Harry winced. "Oof. That sucks."
"No, what sucks is that she wants to give her marriage "a fresh start." That means minimal contact with the ex and her brats," Sara said bitterly. Harry had no idea what to say to that, but his opinion wasn't required just yet as she wasn't done. "My sister is living up north and has got a brat of her own now, so she's got no time for her kid sister, and my brother is who knows where just "figuring things out." Her voice was packed with disdain.
"And your dad?" Harry asked warily.
Her shoulders tightened imperceptibly. Her reaction didn't surprise Harry, but her answer did. He'd feared that her father would continue to let her down, but it was the exact opposite. "Things with my dad are all good," she said tentatively. Harry immediately understood that she was afraid of his reaction.
With good reason. The last time the man had seen him, he'd fired a taser at Harry's unsuspecting back.
As Sara having a good relationship with her father was exactly what he'd been hoping for, Harry didn't react the way she'd feared. "That's good." When her eyebrows shot up, he explained himself. "I know he only tried to hurt me because I'm a wizard. It was nothing personal." When she continued to look at him in disbelief, Harry got to the lie he'd been building towards. "Has your dad ever told you about the crimes sorcerers have committed on normal people?"
Sara nodded jerkily. "Wiping memories. Stealing property. Murder, assault a-and-"
"All sorts of things," Harry said darkly. "But believe it or not, I've heard that things are about to get even worse."
"What? How the hell could they get worse?"
"I've heard about this weapon-" Harry proceeded to explain all about Dolohov's Artifice, about the people he'd experimented on and then tossed away when they were no longer useful to him, taking care to emphasise how many non-magical lives had been lost in this process. "No one can find him. Not wizards, not their non-magical contacts, no one."
Sara was quick to pick up on where he was headed with this. "You want me to help you? Because he had Witch-Hunter allies?" When Harry nodded, she started shaking her head frantically at him. "My dad was in a terrible place a couple of years ago, but when you came back that summer, he finally snapped out of it. He started training again- started training me- and things have been good between us."
Harry nodded sympathetically, swallowing his revulsion that he'd accidentally inspired a Witch-Hunter to take up killing again. "I'm not asking for you to betray him. I just want you to introduce me to some of his friends. You'll be saving a lot of lives."
Sara's eyes were wide enough to see his reflection in them. "When did you become so selfless?"
"When did you become a fighter?" Harry countered. "Little Miss Ballerina turned into a warrior overnight."
"I've only trained a little with my dad." Sara tried to act embarrassed, but she was obviously pleased that he'd complimented her new hobby. "You and me, two kids from Little Whinging, growing up into a hunter and a wandering magical nomad."
"Wandering magical nomad? I think I'd prefer whatever you used to think of me as."
"Grumpy little sod?"
"I hate you."
"I've missed you."
"Is that so? Because the last time you said that, your old man took a shot at my back."
Sara grimaced at the memory. "I'll be willing to make up for that. If you'll let me." She looked at him with the same expression she'd worn that morning two summers ago. He'd deemed it curious back then, but he now recognised it from the same looks Lisa and Erica had given him since. He wanted to blame both Solace's training and Felix's urging- that not moving now would be detrimental to his mission- but in the end, he didn't need much of a push.
This time it was Harry who kissed her.
There was no taste of sugary cereal this time around, but her lips still felt as soft and warm as he remembered. He reached up to brush his hand along her cheek before running his fingers through the choppy ends of her hair. She hummed pleasantly, leaning into him to press her torso against his own, and a flare of heat shot right through his body. Her hands wandered up his arms and traced over his shoulders before cupping his face. Not to be outdone, Harry lowered his hands to her waist and, when she didn't protest, lifted her so she was half in his lap, and they were somehow even closer together-
The doorbell chimed and they broke apart.
"That'll be the pizza," Sara said breathlessly. She got off him and hurried to the door, pausing only to run a hand through her hair and to make sure her clothes weren't rumpled.
He listened to her interaction with the delivery guy with only one ear, this time wholeheartedly hoping he didn't hear anything suspicious. He could already feel the guilt building in his stomach, and it was warring with his affection for Sara. While he didn't know if he could trust her or if he could have brushed her off without comprising the mission, he did know that wasn't why he'd kissed her.
He'd kissed her because he wanted to. Lisa hadn't even been a concern in his mind, though he knew it would only hurt her.
As Sara returned with a pizza box held triumphantly high, Harry returned her smile as best he could.
Risking my neck to find Dolohov's Artifice doesn't make me a good person, Harry accepted. Being an Auror isn't enough. Being a good friend isn't enough. What right do I have to judge anyone else?
He captured that thought and buried it deep beneath his mental anchor, wanting to store it for when he saw Nicolas next. He needed to make amends with his master because Nicolas was a more honest man than him.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Harry woke the next morning with a weight pressing down on his chest.
Glancing down, he silently panicked for a moment before recalling the previous day's events. Sara had made a few calls within his hearing to members of the Witch-Hunters Guild that her father had introduced her to.
"We'll meet with the others at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon," Sara told him after she ended the last call. "One of them has to know something about your magic device and what it can do. Or at least know someone else who does anyway. Don't worry," she added when she noticed his expression. "None of them knows anything about you aside from your first name and that we used to go to school together. Alright with you?"
Harry nodded. "Alright with me."
The two then wiled away the rest of the day by watching television and reminiscing about their old primary school days when life had been simpler. When the Liquid Luck in his system had depleted, he became increasingly awkward, but she either didn't notice or was unbothered by it, which inadvertently put him at ease. So much so, that when it was time for bed, Harry felt brave enough to make another move on her, this time with more concrete reasoning. He couldn't know for sure that she wouldn't make any other calls while he slept unless he kept her close.
Which meant keeping her occupied until she grew too sleepy to go up to her bedroom and crashed down here on the sofa with him.
It took a while.
"Sara," Harry whispered. He gently nudged her awake with some urgency, both due to the time and because he needed to go to the bathroom. "We need to get going soon."
"Hmm? What-?" Her eyes opened a crack and peered up at him blearily from where she was drooling on his chest. When Sara realised where she was, she sat up with enough speed to fall off the sofa. "Yeah, yeah! We need to get going soon." Harry watched as she stumbled out of the room and ran upstairs, sighing in relief as she did so. He knew the Bridgers only had one phone and it was in the downstairs hallway.
While in the downstairs bathroom, Harry kept an ear out to make sure Sara didn't sneak downstairs to place any calls, but he didn't hear a peep. Either she was truly on his side, or the Witch-Hunters knew how to pass secret messages so subtly that even someone suspicious of them wouldn't be able to tell anything was wrong. Reaching into his mokeskin pouch, Harry removed the crystal flask before chugging down the rest of its contents.
"Are we ready to go?" Harry asked when she ran downstairs a few minutes later, which was more than enough time for Felix to begin its work on him. He smiled confidently at her as the potion told him her interest in him wasn't faked.
"I should hope so," she complained as she sat on the bottom step to lace up her boots. "We've only got a couple of hours to get there, and the train takes forever on Sundays-" Sara stopped when she finally noticed Harry spinning the key to his bike.
"I've even got a spare helmet for you," he said smugly.
Sara grinned. "If my dad wouldn't already kill you for being a wizard, then he definitely would for this."
As the two stepped outside and walked over to Hugo II, Harry spared a brief thought for his friends. He felt bad that while he'd spent his Saturday eating pizza, watching television and snogging a pretty girl, they had been camped out in the cold, taking shifts to ensure that the house he was in wasn't about to be attacked by Witch-Hunters.
Still, they were a resourceful bunch. Between Terry's genius, Michael's knowledge of the Muggle world and Anthony's talent for creating Artifices, they had almost definitely figured out how to keep themselves warm, comfortable and well-fed without his help.
Sara mounted the bike hesitantly behind him, as though unsure if she wanted to trust his abilities as a driver. Harry couldn't even blame her; he was still only thirteen. As soon as he made sure her helmet was securely fastened and she was holding onto him tightly, Harry switched the engine on and took off down the empty street.
He knew that whichever of his friends had been on watch would now call the others on their communication mirrors so the entire group could follow them from above. He joined the roaring motorway, picking up speed, and the cold wind felt like daggers of ice even through his layers. He couldn't quite imagine what it must be like for them up there.
Anthony believed Harry had given himself the most dangerous job. While he'd privately agreed then, Harry now thought he'd ended up with the cushiest gig.
He followed Sara's directions once they arrived in London, having to stop more than once so he could listen to her guidance without the wind and their helmets muffling their voices. Somehow, they still made it to their destination a few minutes before two.
Harry brought the bike to a halt across the street from a dilapidated building on the outskirts of a graffiti-ridden council estate. "We're meeting your friends here?" Just because he'd slept in a cupboard growing up didn't mean he'd escaped the Dursleys' middle-class mentality, so he made sure to lock his bike securely when they disembarked and glanced around for shady characters as he did so.
Sara rolled her eyes at him. "You can stop clutching your pearls, your highness. I've been here loads of times and nothing ever happens." She crossed the street quickly and Harry followed at his own pace, eyeing his surroundings for movement. They approached the run-down building. There was a sign on the door that was too far away to notice earlier:
Blackwood Youth Centre.
And then below it in bold red lettering:
CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
Despite the sign, Sara was able to open the door due to a broken lock. They walked right past an abandoned welcome desk and into the hall beyond. There was nothing but a broken snooker table, half-empty vending machines and three teenagers, two boys and a girl, who were lounging around on damaged chairs.
Just looking at them told Harry where Sara got her new style. There were a lot of baggy, shabby clothes in this group and each of them had a least as many piercings as Sara. One, who looked no older than sixteen, had tattoos peeking out from beneath his collar.
"This him?" Asked Tattoo Boy the moment they were within earshot. From the way he was looking at him, up and down as though he were assessing a threat, Harry guessed he was the leader of this little band.
"Yeah." Sara made a gesture as though she were presenting him to the group. "This is Harry. We used to go to school together. He's alright."
Tattoo Boy didn't seem all that impressed with her ringing endorsement. "We need to search him before we even think about taking him anywhere."
Harry knew trying to get on Tattoo Boy's good side with the time limit he was under was impossible unless he acted subserviently, but the idea of that chafed. Deciding to take a gamble, he said, "I don't want you searching me." He then turned to the girl who'd appeared bored until he looked her way. "Now her on the other hand…" he trailed off suggestively.
It was a crass thing to say, and it would have done nothing but mortify him if it didn't work, but he'd read the room correctly. The girl laughed good-naturedly, taking it as the joke he intended it to be. The other boy cracked up too and started nudging his tattooed leader, enjoying the joke that had been made at his expense.
"I didn't mean it like that!" Tattoo Boy seemed confused over which he was angrier about: Harry insinuating that he was making a pass at him or Harry making a pass at the girl who'd been leaning into his side.
"Whatever." Harry shrugged. "Can we get this over with? I want to get the initiation done before I go home today."
Tattoo Boy jumped on that, as though trying to get one over on him now. "Why? Need to be in bed early for school tomorrow?"
Harry looked him in the eye and replied in a very serious tone. "Yes."
Not expecting that response, Tattoo Boy just blinked at him for a moment before opening his mouth again, but Sara lost her patience. "Give it a rest, Liam." She snapped before turning to the other two. "Amber, Tyler, get off your arses and search him."
Harry couldn't stop his head from snapping around the moment she started barking orders. It seemed he had misread the room. Tattoo Boy, Liam, wasn't in charge at all.
Sara was.
Tyler asked Harry to remove his jacket and went through his pockets while Amber patted him down, but not before giving him a wink as she did so. He was less worried about her feeling the Auror gear he wore under his Muggle clothes- as the summer issue was rather thin- and more worried about the way Liam was glaring at him as she did so.
Sara made a show of searching through his bag, making no noise of surprise as she poked around in the magically expanded interior. Harry was left with less and less of an idea of whose side she was truly on.
When they found nothing other than a couple of crumpled banknotes, a few coins and his keys, Sara jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Search his bike next." He ignored the way her authoritative voice made his stomach sink. Instead, he soothed his nerves by reminding himself that he'd already removed anything suspicious, and all the enchantment runes were etched onto the bike's interior workings.
When they opened the small storage compartment, Harry sensed the invisible box that Anthony made float out before they could reach inside and hovered above their heads. While they returned his licence and vehicle documentation to the compartment, Harry opened his bag and closed it when he felt the box float inside, all before the others could turn back around to face him.
"Is that everything?" Harry asked. "Or do you want to see my tax returns as well?"
"That's everything," Sara said quickly before Liam could butt in. She reached over to check his watch. "We should get going if we're going to make our delivery in time."
"Delivery?" Harry asked. This was the first he was hearing of such a thing. The two of them had gone over the plan last night, including what they would say regarding his background and who they would be meeting at the second location, but he wasn't aware that they had other business to take care of.
"It's no big deal." Sara shrugged. "Just some supplies."
Tyler snorted. "She means-" Amber shushed and elbowed him before he could finish.
Harry looked at them all again, this time with a more critical eye. While their clothes appeared ill-fitting and scruffy, they did match the style that a lot of stars wore nowadays, the grungy musicians that Nicolas took such care to emulate in appearance. It probably wasn't a cheap look to pull off.
Sara stared at him as though worried her involvement in illicit dealings would be enough to scare him away. "Let's get going then." He shrugged, and he saw her visibly relax.
As the others went to go get their mopeds for their group outing, Sara stepped close to him and tried to explain herself. "My dad is quite high up in the Guild. They listen to me because it'll bring them trouble from the higher-ups if they don't."
And you didn't think to mention that before? Harry thought, but out loud he said, "That's alright. You don't have to explain yourself to me." He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. As Sara smiled at him in relief, he silently begged his friends to hurry up so he could stop acting. His desire for her had evaporated now that he knew how deeply entrenched she was with the Witch-Hunters.
When the others returned, Harry and Sara got on his bike again and followed Liam-who was leading the pack- to their second destination. Even though his motorbike could overtake their mopeds on any open road, Harry struggled to keep up with them as they were able to zip between cars and squeeze into spaces that his bike couldn't safely fit into. Despite this, he just about managed to keep them within sight until they reached their destination: a massive industrial park.
Though you wouldn't know it from the way Liam was crowing.
"Trouble keeping up?" He snickered. "You should give this beauty to someone who knows how to drive her, kid." As Harry started to wonder if the ability to see through the Veil was all that was required to become a Witch-Hunter (because he couldn't see any other reason why this moron was allowed to join), Liam said, "Perhaps when this is all over, I'll be able to take it off your hands."
"Liam!" Sara snapped. For the first time, Harry realised he'd never seen her truly angry before, not even when they hadn't been speaking to each other as kids. "Shut. Up." A long, tense silence followed this order.
Finally, Amber cleared her throat. "We shouldn't keep them waiting." She gestured to a particular warehouse, the largest one in sight.
Harry began following Sara but paused when the others joined them. "Do we need an entourage to make a delivery?"
"The higher-ups like to see all the foot soldiers report in," Sara explained quickly. "Otherwise, they might "forget" to give you a portion of the pay."
Harry hummed before deciding to give them a break. Asking too many questions would only make them put their guard up even higher. "Don't the owners of the other buildings around here notice groups of people coming and going without cargo?" He asked. "It must make them suspicious."
He really did try to stop himself.
"Err, no," Tyler said nervously. His voice was a few octaves higher than before. "We own all the buildings in this park, you see."
"Really?" Harry made a show of looking amazed. "But if the Guild has so much money on hand, why would they need deliveries made by a group of kids?"
The group was silent for several moments. The only person who wasn't as tense as a violin string was Harry. He enjoyed the uncomfortable position he had put them in.
Liam snapped first. "Enough with the questions alright?!"
The others tensed and peeked at him from the corner of their eyes. Harry could see them slowly reaching for whatever concealed weapons they'd brought along. They only deflated when Harry shrugged and said, "Whatever you say, big man."
Even though he knew he was walking into a trap (which was made especially obvious by the warning Runic Complex that he had sensed when he first drove onto the premises) Harry had already classified it with his friends as a risk worth taking. They were either taking him to see another wizard who worked under Dolohov, or the Acolyte himself. If it was another Death Eater, Harry would have to figure out a way to get the information he wanted out of them.
But if it was either Dolohov or the Artifice? Then it would be time to call in the cavalry.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Felicia Solace hadn't always been so pathetic.
Years ago, she'd been one of Europe's greatest Aurors. She'd outstripped her accomplished parents and rose to meet every expectation her former Squad Captain had for her. The day he told her she was in line to take over the London Citadel remained one of the proudest moments of her career.
But then her parents had been killed.
It wasn't the mission itself that left her so jaded. Her mother and father gave their lives to protect a young Muggle-born girl that had exhibited accidental magic. A group of Death Eaters had attacked her at school to make an example of her. It was an honourable death as they could have hoped for. No, what caused her to abandon her career was how their comrades had reacted in the face of danger.
Due to being outnumbered and unable to call for backup, the entirety of the squad had abandoned both the primary school and her parents to their deaths.
It hadn't been told to her in so many words, but she'd been able to read between the lines when the report reached her ears. One person, two at the maximum, was enough to carry a message for backup. The fact that the entire squad had fled let her know that it was nothing more than cowardice on their part.
In the aftermath, Felicia had taken time off to take care of Alexandra. But she would be the first to admit that she'd been distant with her little sister during those weeks. She'd been overwhelmed by the disgust she carried for her fellow Aurors and the idea of returning and trusting those same men and women to watch her back made her stomach turn.
"You're making a mistake." Commander Boot told her as the two sat in his office, one night sixteen years ago. "If you don't want such a thing to ever happen again then you have to remain and make sure that it doesn't."
"I will only if you discharge that entire squad for cowardice," Felicia demanded in return.
Boot had hesitated. "You know I can't. Not without sufficient proof."
"You mean that you can't because of who their families are, right?" Felicia scoffed. She knew she was right. All the cowards either had high-ranking Aurors, politicians or prized donors for immediate relatives.
Perhaps it was the affection he held for his old student, but Boot sighed and leaned back in his chair, dropping his superior officer façade and speaking to her as a friend. "Felicia, the only way any of them would be discharged was if one of them confessed." He continued to speak but she didn't hear anything else he said. He'd already given her everything she needed.
She just needed a confession.
Unfortunately, kidnapping and beating one of the suspects until he was more bruise than man was not the way to go about getting one. Or at least one that could hold up in court.
"Do you have any idea of what I had to do to keep you out of a cell?!" Commander Boot bellowed at her.
The two were in her family home now. It was dusty and strewn with rubbish; she hadn't bothered cleaning after herself since Alexandra returned to school. Considering her sister had avoided coming home for Christmas and Easter, it had been a while.
When she gave him no visible reaction, he lowered his voice, though his anger was still palpable. "As you haven't reported for any of our meetings nor your mandated therapy, you were already halfway towards a discharge. This stunt carries you over the finishing line. Don't complain," he added sharply when she turned to face him for the first time. "That was the best deal I could get you, and it cost me all the favours I had."
"You didn't have to do me any favours." Her words came out with more petulance than she'd intended.
Boot grunted. "Apparently, I do." He glanced around the living room with so much pity in his gaze that it made her hackles raise. "Whenever I find myself in a difficult spot, I always think to myself, "What would my father have wanted for me?" I guarantee that your mother and father did not want this-" he gestured to the dirty room at large "-for you."
In retrospect, Felicia knew that the Commander only meant well, but all she could focus on was her parents being mentioned by the man who had failed to give them justice. "I don't give a damn what you think, Robert." She pointed to the door. "Now, get out."
Boot expelled a heavy sigh, but he still left at her request. No matter how many times he reached out to her over the intervening years, he went ignored.
Felicia didn't know if it was out of pride or shame, but she never told her sister how her career ended. Alexandra assumed that she'd withdrawn from the Corps when her seventh year of service had ended. She thought that would have been the end of it, but then her sister had to go and enlist when her Third Year at Hogwarts began.
Felicia talked to her calmly at first. Then she spoke with much less cool when she failed to get through her sister's thick skull. But there was nothing she could do and her sister was all too happy to remind her of that fact.
"I've got my WOMBATs," Alexandra said stubbornly. "You can't stop me from enlisting if I want to!"
Months later, when Alexandra passed Basic Training and returned from her first mission without the rest of her squad, Felicia thought she would see reason. But she was more stubborn than ever.
"This is all I am, Felicia," Alexandra whispered from her infirmary bed. "I can't live with being anything else."
Nothing she had said had dissuaded her, and Felicia spent years painfully certain that the Auror Corps would take away her little sister just as it had her parents.
And in the end, she was right.
Felicia thought she knew what hatred was when her parents had been killed, but it was dwarfed by what she felt now that Alexandra was gone. She hated the Corps for failing her family, she hated the Death Eaters for killing her family, but most of all she hated herself for letting her sister think she had to shoulder the weight of their family's legacy all on her own. Perhaps if she'd remained an Auror, Alexandra wouldn't have been so desperate to prove herself.
That realisation did little good for her now. Now all that was left was the burning need for revenge.
The Auror Corps were too big and- it pained her to admit it- too important to the world for her to try and dismantle it. The Death Eaters who'd killed her parents had been masked (or it was just another thing the surviving squad members had lied about) so she'd never been able to exact vengeance on them.
But not this time.
Dolohov's name had been passed along by the Cadets Alexandra had been training, and it reached her ears via Commander Boot when he'd come to her home to break the news. He hoped she would find the information consoling. He didn't want her to think her sister's killer had escaped into shadows and obscurity. Felicia took it as something else entirely.
A lead.
Felicia had spent weeks working her way up the chain. She'd started with an old teammate turned Spook, calling in a favour to track down an active Witch-Hunter cell based out of Newcastle. While the Spooks had certainly tried this tactic and had reached a dead end due to Witch-Hunters' natural ability to resist the Mind Arts, Felicia had avenues open to her as she was no longer concerned with the law.
In this case, torture was effective where the Mind Arts were not.
She'd worked her way up the chain, killing her victims to get rid of the evidence so that nothing could be traced back to her. Eventually, she made camp within sight of an industrial park in London.
Felicia had been there for days now, observing the comings and goings of the Witch-Hunters' London cell, and she grew more impatient with each passing hour of inactivity. Her last victim had sworn on her mother's life that this was where Dolohov was recovering after his duel with Alexandra, but if it wasn't for the Runic Complex around the premises (that let the caster know whenever a sorcerer entered the premises) she would think she'd been tricked.
She had to be careful with what she did from now on. She didn't have the numbers necessary to erect an Anti-Apparition Barrier, so if she made a move and he escaped, she would likely never get close to him again.
Now, she was camped out in a tent atop the roof of an office building that had an unblocked view of the industrial park. As her attention was beginning to wander away from her surveillance and towards her dinner, she stiffened as she felt another sorcerer step across her alert system. Stepping outside, she immediately spotted a gang of poorly dressed teenagers getting off their mopeds and motorbikes before walking onto the premises.
Normally this wouldn't be a problem but considering that one of those kids was Harry Potter, she knew that her stakeout had been brought to a forcible end.
With her carefully laid out plan now in ashes, Felicia packed away her tent with a wave of her wand and leapt off the roof.
It was time to make her move.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Kanishk Agarwal was beginning to doubt Dolohov's renowned genius.
He'd been prepared to bring all he had to bear to find the Acolyte's location, but he located him so easily that he was left to wonder if anyone else had been even trying.
It was common knowledge that Goblin Silver was more precious than gold, so it stood to reason that the amount Dolohov needed for both his experiments and Prometheus itself couldn't be moved without someone taking note.
This meant that Dolohov had likely cut out the middleman and hired a Goblin to smelt it for him directly.
It had taken Kanishk over a month to work his way through his list of suspects. They were a cross between the most qualified Silversmiths the Goblin Nation had to offer and duplicitous crooks that'd be willing to do work under the table for a wizard. Eventually, he found the right one in Peru.
"You have three children, Bagrot," Kanishk said softly. "I know what that can be like. I have exactly three of my own if you can believe it. I know just how hard it can be to keep food on the table." It was a lie, as he was childless and had inherited great wealth, but interrogation called for a rapport to be built. "I know you only did what you felt you had to, but I need you to tell me what you know."
"I don't know anything! Please!" Bagrot pleaded. The Peruvian Goblin was strung upside down. "I've never even met a Death Eater before you!"
Kanishk sighed before walking out of sight. Bagrot couldn't see what was going on from his position, but he heard the sound of his wife's shrill screams before they were suddenly cut off. Kanishk walked back into view, his right fist clenched as he spoke to the now-wailing Bagrot in the same calm tone as before. "That was for calling me a Death Eater," he hissed the hated words. "I am a Knight."
"Y-yes. You're a k-knight." Bagrot stuttered through his sobs, eager to keep him calm.
Kanishk sighed again. There was no use trying to convince a lesser creature of its innate inferiority, so he got back on track. "I know that you've seen Dolohov, so unless you want me to take more pieces from your family-" he opened his fist and two pointy ears fell to the floor- "I'd start talking if I were you."
Bagrot admitted the truth soon after that, but Kanishk killed the whole family anyway.
Kanishk now sat in a Portkeymobile he'd filched from the British Ministry. It was a risk but one he deemed necessary to avoid mingling with the Muggle filth that infested this city. It was a comfortable ride, the interior as large as a small family home, so he was able to relax during his week-long stakeout.
It would have been his pleasure to simply wade inside and do away with the wretched filth that dared raise weapons against their betters, but the chances of Dolohov escaping in the confusion were too great. He'd considered calling in reinforcements, but the idea of sharing the glory with a team that had only joined him at the last minute was abhorrent, especially as the Dark Lord had only just begun to pay him special attention.
Still, as the days dragged on, he began to doubt his initial decision. When days turned into a week, he reached the end of his patience. However, just as he'd decided to swallow his pride and call in reinforcements, he spotted a familiar face.
General Cushing had spread the image of The Boy-Who-Lived amongst her comrades and subordinates. How she'd gotten the notoriously media-shy boy's image was unknown to Kanishk. Even though he was wearing Muggle clothes instead of the Ravenclaw Quidditch uniform and had grown considerably since the picture had been taken, he still recognised the boy on sight.
Kanishk clenched his hands. The Dark Lord had declared Potter off-limits until further notice, though any knowledge of his movements was to be immediately reported to General Cushing. Because of this funnel of information, Kanishk knew the boy was now an Auror Cadet, which meant the entirety of the London Citadel was about to fall onto the Witch-Hunters' base like a hammer on a walnut.
He no longer had any choice in the matter. If he allowed the Aurors to capture and interrogate Dolohov, the punishment General Cushing would enact upon him would be horrifying. He would prefer a small chance of victory or even a quick death in battle than having to endure that agony.
It was out of his hands now. It was time to make his move.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Harry remained calm as the large warehouse door opened with a massive rumble. A burly man in overalls poked his head outside and scanned the darkening industrial park furtively before ushering the group inside. The man was trying to remain composed, but Harry saw his eyes flicker nervously towards him.
"Get in. Quickly." The moment they were all in, the man swiftly closed the door behind them. Harry allowed a hand to push him forward without complaint, as it gave him the space he needed to pull the invisible box from his bag.
The lights turned back on a moment later, and Harry was utterly unsurprised to find himself surrounded by armed Witch-Hunters. There were fifty in total and they moved in sync with him, step by step, as he moved to keep his back to the nearest wall.
"I told you my daughter would be able to get him here," Mr Bridger crowed. "Didn't I say-"
"Yes, yes." Oliver Sterling was standing on an upper-level walkway and raised his hand to silence Bridger. "So, you've told us numerous times." He then turned to address Harry with a superior look. "Harry Potter. This is the second time in as many months you've fallen into an ambush laid out by me-"
"Did you get the sack?" Harry interrupted. "I used to see you reading the news on the telly every night, but now you seem to have more free time than you know what to do with. All you seem to do is hang around these losers." He ignored the grumbling and insults that were thrown his way, focusing his attention on the girl that had brought him here. "Et tu, Sara?"
Sara regarded him coldly as she moved to stand beside her father. "Did you think we were square? Lupin messed with my mind!" She suddenly shouted, and her mask was completely gone. "My family's minds! We were all happy before he came, so anything bad they did afterwards was because he put it inside their heads!"
Harry glanced at Mr Bridger, wondering what vile lies he'd put into his daughter's mind to hide his shortcomings as a husband and a father, but he decided not to get into that right now. "Okay, you've got me. But," he smirked, "did you think I came here alone?"
He made a show of glancing up. Enough of their eyes followed the direction he looked in, so he was able to draw his wand from the invisible box without notice, hiding it behind his back. "He's lying!" Sara denied. "I was with him all day! He didn't have time to call for reinforcements!"
"She was with me all night too." Harry waggled his eyebrows. He laughed when Mr Bridger tried to throw himself at him but was held back by his comrades. "Seriously though, I knew I was in the right place the second I sensed the alert system drawn around the park. Now that I'm this close, I can almost smell Dolohov's diseased magic." He winked at Sara. "Thanks for leading me right to him, Little Miss Ballerina. You're a real pal."
Nox!
The lightbulbs couldn't handle the force of his spell. The sound of shattered glass echoed throughout the warehouse, muffled only by the noise of fright from the panicking Hunters. However, the quickest and best trained of them would have struck him when they opened fire on his position a split second later, but Harry was no longer there.
Aeris!
The bullet of air launched him up with enough force to reach the overhead walkway. He grabbed the railing and hauled himself over it before putting on his Invisibility Cloak as the first torches were switched on.
"What the hell-?!"
"Where did he go?!"
"Find him!" Sterling was roaring on the same walkway that Harry was standing on, not even twenty feet away. "Find him right now!"
Chuckling at their collective panic, Harry pointed his wand at the glass ceiling. "Why don't I make it easy for you and send up a flare, eh?" He said this loudly enough for Sterling to hear. By the time he whipped around, Harry had already cast his spell. "PERICULUM!"
He might have put a little more power into that spell than was strictly necessary, but he wanted it to be seen for miles around.
With an ear-splitting screech, a scarlet, Quaffle-sized fireball was launched from the end of his wand. It smashed through the overhead window and showered the inhabitants below with shards of broken glass. When it reached the apex of its flight, it exploded into the largest firework display any of them had ever seen, illuminating the entire park in its red glow.
Alright, he had definitely put too much power into that spell.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
At that exact moment, the five sorcerers observing the warehouse were stunned by the ostentatiousness of the pyrotechnic display.
Felicia had been running across the street when she first heard the explosion coming from overhead. She threw herself forward to find cover behind a short brick wall before realising the noise had come from a firework launched from the warehouse she'd been surveilling.
Agarwal had made it onto the roof before the overhead window was blown to bits by the firework. He was torn between reflexively touching one of the many cuts that had been made on his exposed skin or protecting his ears from the deafening explosion.
Just on the outskirts of the industrial park, three disillusioned Cadets were hovering as they waited for their teammate's signal. They flew into the premises the moment they saw the colossal explosion, knowing that every second counted.
"He wasn't joking when he said we wouldn't be able to miss it!" Terry called to the others. Despite his fear of heights, he held his broom steady due to Liquid Luck.
"Sometimes I think he does stuff like this for a laugh, I swear!" Michael shouted back.
Anthony bellowed from where he was leading the way. "No time for jokes!" He snapped, cutting the banter short. "We'll be fighting the second we get in there, so get in the right mindset!"
"You got it, boss!" Michael shouted, only half-joking.
"It's only Witch-Hunters and a half-dead Death Eater!" Terry grumbled. "What's the worst that could happen?"
He immediately wished he hadn't spoken.
There, clear as day under the red glow of Harry's still fading firework, were two figures rapidly approaching the warehouse. One was sprinting through the industrial park, their wand and duelling gear visible in the brief flare, while the other was already on the roof and running towards the massive hole that had been a window a few moments ago.
His mercury bone mask and Death Eater garb were clear to see.
"You just had to open your fat mouth!" Anthony tutted.
Terry could only groan.
Together, the three Cadets dived for the warehouse. It was now a race to see who could get to Dolohov and his Artifice first, and Harry was the last to know.