In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 94: Triggered
Ron moaned as he woke Saturday morning to the soreness beneath his todger, no morning wood. Hermione drew her wand, pressed its tip against his crotch.
"Ow," Ron muttered.
"They're dying," Hermione said.
"What?" Ron stammered.
"Restitue Salus!" Hermione exclaimed, wand aimed.
"Well?" Ron asked.
"Slowing it down," Hermione said, "I need Harry."
"He's not—" Ron started.
"You need him," Hermione said.
Ron thought of Harry, disapparated. Ron apparated into the hospital room, Richard turned beneath the blanket. Harry working on his assignment in his lap.
"Ron!" Harry said.
"Need to talk—privately," Ron said.
Harry laid his assignment down, the materials, and stood. Harry followed Ron out of the room, a fast walk, Ron left the hospital, into the woods behind it.
"Bit—could've used a closet," Harry said.
"I need…" Ron said, eyes onto those green ones, "My bollocks, something's gone wrong. Hermione says we need your help, save them."
"Stop talking," Harry said.
Harry held Ron, they apparated into the middle guest room. Hermione flipped through Glenburn's Guide to Sexual Dysfunction, on the bed.
"What's going on?" Harry asked.
"Trying to figure out what's wrong," Hermione said, "Yours were much easier. This time, those implants had already leaked poison, complicates this. I need more time."
"Need your healing charm," Ron said.
"Spell work's her specialty," Harry said.
"Intricate, not power," Hermione said.
"I'm not that—" Harry protested.
"Yes you are," Ron said, studied those bottle green eyes, "A Healing Charm, don't hold back."
Bottle green eyes that focused, the holly wand aimed, the swish and the flick.
"Restitue Salus!" Harry exclaimed.
Ron felt it, the sensitivity that returned.
"Buys me time," Ron said.
Harry leaned back against the mirrored wall.
"Should go and visit…" Harry said, "They'd appreciate that."
"Richard's alright?" Hermione asked.
"His sister isn't," Harry said, explained.
"You were serious?" Ron asked.
Harry nodded.
"So we now have a new muggleborn wizard," Harry said.
"We've filled that house with magic," Hermione said, "Suppose…could. It's all speculation, assuming the father wasn't a wizard."
"Got eleven years to clean up the shithole we call Hogwarts," Harry said.
"Hogwarts—" Hermione started.
"Yes it is," Ron said, "Unless you're not remembering the Great Hall?"
"I won't forget," Hermione grumbled.
"Let's get back," Harry said.
Hermione stood.
"Portkey?" Hermione asked.
"Apparate," Harry said, "Maintenance has a closet, should be fine."
"I…" Hermione said.
"We'll follow," Ron said.
"Ain't safe for us outside," Harry said, "Ready?"
Hermione nodded. Harry held her hand, and Ron's, closed the eyes. Ron felt the contraction, the squeeze, their feet collided with the buckets.
"Need to get better at it," Harry said to Hermione.
Harry went to the door, turned the knob, and glanced outside. Harry opened it, Ron waited as Hermione left. Ron followed them both.
"Ready to meet Paul?" Harry asked, hand to the door knob of room 35-A.
Ron's stomach growled, loud.
"Should get something—both of you," Hermione said.
Harry opened the door, Hermione went in, Ron did. Kurt held the boy in his arms, Ron peered over at it.
"Life, and death," Kurt said, "Weird."
Ron's stomach growled again.
"Get Harry," Hermione said to Ron.
Ron held Harry's shoulder.
"I'm not—" Harry started.
"Two days?" Ron said, "Too long, come before we make a fuss."
Gia's blue eyes focused on Ron's, the appreciation. Harry grumbled as he spun around.
"Any food in here?" Ron asked.
"Blandness in the cafeteria," Harry said.
"Let you lick the ketchup off me," Ron said.
Ron snickered at that glance.
"I'll lend my body if it helps you eat," Ron said.
"Your dream?" Harry asked.
Ron snorted as they passed the nurse station in the waiting room. Side by side, they went for the automatic sliding door, feet to the crack and stepped outside toward the gray sky above.
Boom! Whiz!
An explosion ten feet in front of them, six blades flew, one hit Ron's right arm, the arm fell, severed below the shoulder. Ron toppled backward with Harry, their eyes swelled shut, their hearing faltered. Time that seemed to last forever, being jostled around, a mask that went over Ron's face. Ron struggled, but was held down as he lost consciousness.
Hermione read through Harry's notes from the Bomb Defusing and Disposal class. Gia next to her.
"Boys," Hermione said, "Interesting, like this'd ever be useful to us."
Hermione turned the page, as Kristen was in a fast trot as she entered the room.
"Gia, Hermione," Kristen said, "Come now."
Hermione set the notes to the side, stood. Gia with her, they walked Kristen, who stopped them by another door, one with two officers outside it.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked.
"It'll be a shock." Kristen turned around. "Somebody planted a mine in front of the entrance. Harry and Ron—"
"Let us in," Hermione said.
"There's been…damage," Kristen said.
"You don't know their track record," Hermione said.
Hermione and Gia went for the door, the officers yielded, and they entered. On the two beds, Harry to the left, Ron to the right, bandages over both heads, including eyes; more bandages over Harry's left arm. Ron's was heavily and tightly bandaged in a sling along with some splints.
"Up in no time?" Gia asked.
"This won't stop them," Hermione said.
"Your eyes." Gia reached for Harry's bandages.
"Caught the blast," Harry said, "Doctor claims the contacts saved them."
Hermione felt Ron's left hand, worked into the pads of the fingers.
"If somebody said the moon was falling, I'd likely believe them with how this week's gone," Kristen said, "We're investigating why a mine was even placed at a hospital, one that had the blades that severed Ron's arm. Doctors are optimistic that with the reattachment and therapy, it'll work again."
Hermione's fingers moved, fidgeted with her holster, worked in, felt the vial there.
"Kristen," Hermione said, "If you'll excuse us, please?"
"Muggle stitches," Ron said, "Wait until—"
"Fascinating," said Arthur Weasley entered, his eyes wide at the equipment.
"I called—funny answering service," Kristen said, "If you'll excuse me."
Kristen left the room.
"Something about a mine?" Arthur said, "Some sort of muggle thing?"
"It went bang," Ron said, "Think that class's a joke now?"
Harry sighed.
"Trouble again?" Ginny asked as she walked in. With her, she pulled a waddling Edward.
"I can't see and it's still too damn crowded!" Ron snapped.
"Have better manners for when Dumbledore arrives," said Fred as he entered. Matching green and gold suits, George was two steps behind.
"Dumbledore?!" Harry complained.
Hermione wanted to open her holster.
"An explosion? A mine?" Lupin entered. "Moody is checking—"
"SILENCE!" Hermione barked, her glare, the one that intimidated, "Everybody else—out! Get the door Gia!"
"But—!" Gia protested.
"I need to play doctor," Hermione said, "Out, everybody else out—queue up if you want."
"He's my brother!" Ginny pointed at Ron.
"OUT!" Hermione snapped, glared at Ginny.
"Bitch!" George snapped.
Hermione drew her wand, aimed. "OUT!"
"Best to do as she says," Arthur said.
Arthur led the small exodus. George, Fred, Ginny with Edward, Lupin, and Gia left the room; Gia got the door. Hermione cast the Imperturbment Charm against it.
"Gia could've stayed," Harry said.
"You need rest." Hermione fingered the vial out of her wand holster. "After…"
She worked the bandages off Ron's right arm, pulled the vial out.
"What's with your brain?" Ron asked.
"Said I'm playing doctor," Hermione said, putting a tear to the arm, the wounds began to vanish, "Though, be sure to thank Dobby, he got these from Fawkes."
"Aw," Harry said.
Hermione put the bandages back on Ron's arm, went over to Harry.
"Knowing you two," Hermione said, "Felt like a wise idea, didn't expect it so soon."
Hermione took the bandages off Harry's arm, dribbled one on, moved to his shoulder.
"Should be enough," Hermione said, "Ask Dumbledore to lend Fawkes again?"
"We shouldn't have been caught like that," Harry said.
Hermione worked Ron's head bandages, pulled the bandages from the eyes, the puffy closed ones. More dribbling, the cuts worked themselves away.
"Thank you," Ron said.
Hermione went to Harry, unwrapped them. Green eyes dull, she dropped tears into each one.
"How long since you changed your contacts?" Hermione asked.
"Um…" Harry muttered.
"Been too long," Hermione said, "Likely need a new prescription after this."
Harry's scars, save the old one on his forehead, vanished.
Knock! Knock!
"Best think of excuses," Hermione said, "Couple of miracle cases."
Hermione walked over, parted the curtains on the door, Dumbledore and a pair of nurses.
"Letting them in." Hermione opened the door, let the three and Gia in, shut the door in the face of Charlie.
"She's mad," Charlie said.
Hermione turned back for Ron and Harry.
"Need to change…" the one nurse said.
"Yeah," Hermione said, "Was becoming a bit of a zoo."
Gia stood with Hermione, Dumbledore steadied himself on his cane, all watched as the bandages were removed, changed.
"Remarkable healing," the second nurse muttered.
Both nurses left.
"I'd speculate there was more to that," Dumbledore said, "Speculation only."
"I wanted to play doctor," Hermione said, "And Hedwig could use a bit of company."
"Naturally I'm concerned," Dumbledore said, he conjured up an armchair, and sat near the foot of both beds.
"Bit of a headache," Ron said, "We walked out the door and it went off."
"Mrs. Osborn described it as a mine," Dumbledore said.
"Could be," Harry said, "Plenty have motive."
"Assuming you're the intended targets," Dumbledore said.
A bit of silence.
"Doubt that'd make her feel any easier," Hermione said, "Somebody randomly mining hospitals."
"How much on our heads?" Gia asked.
"Though it's likely connected," Dumbledore said, "How many people spotted you at this hospital?"
"Um…" Harry said, "Tried to be a bit careful."
"Moody's now searching to see if there's any more," Dumbledore said, "And yes, if there's one, there's easily more."
Ron's blue eyes roamed, Hermione felt them trying to penetrate, the habit, similar to Harry's. Ron's left arm reached, pulled, the bed ratcheted upward.
"Cool," Ron said, "Muggles…give a bed to my Dad, keep him busy for hours."
Dumbledore snickered.
"Door," Harry said.
Hermione turned, Moody's head and magical eye on the other side. Hermione went, opened the door. Moody entered, carried a bundle in brown burlap. Lupin followed. Hermione closed the door.
"Greetings," Lupin said.
Dumbledore's chair turned around as Moody conjured up a table. Moody set the bundle down on it.
"Nothing to fear," Moody said, "It's been neutralized."
Moody opened the burlap, a tight sphere with six wide blades protruding from it, missing a core that was laying to the side.
"Mostly a muggle explosive," Moody said, "What's more interesting…" He held up a small translucent white sphere, about the size of a marble, "See them? In this, I'm guessing a core, a proximity detector, with three minute hairs. I see black, red, and brown."
"Ours?" Harry asked.
"How many have you found?" asked Dumbledore.
"This is one of two near that I found near that school," Moody said, "Never seen this used before, guessing You–Know–Who has a research and development program."
Lupin walked around the table, his eyes on the device.
"Common idea from muggle warfare," Hermione said, "The land mine, the victim steps on it."
"Touch this," Moody said, handed the small marble sized sphere to her.
Hermione touched it, it flashed; it gave off a small halo of a green skull, emerald eyes, and a serpent tongue.
"Likely the latest from Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said, "Newest thing in their arsenal."
"Explains who," Hermione said.
Ron's bed went up a bit more, those blue eyes spotted the mind.
"Muggle explosives can be unstable," Ron said.
"It's harmless," Moody said.
"Get it out!" Ron snapped.
Moody complied, wrapped it up in the burlap, went for the door.
"Store it at the manor," Lupin said.
Moody disapparated. Lupin walked over to Harry.
"Mother's eyes," Lupin said, "Think Madam Pomfrey should—"
"No," Harry said.
Ron shook his head.
"I can speak to Poppy," Dumbledore said, "Consult with Miss. Granger."
"She—she cooperated!" Hermione said, her eyes glared, "Because of her, I couldn't fight back when I was being violated. She castrated them!" Hermione pointed at Ron. "I do not trust her, for she broke her oath."
Hermione glanced at Ron and Harry, their eyes, the approving look at her.
"Hermione," Lupin said, his eyes on her, "You're out of healers."
"I don't even trust her guidance," Hermione said, "Sorry, it's not happening."
"Remus," Dumbledore said as he stood.
Lupin went for the door. Dumbledore took a deep breath, conjured up a vase with flowers, set it onto the table against the wall.
"I certainly hope you two get better soon," Dumbledore said.
"This crowd's about to riot," Lupin said at the door.
"One at a time," Hermione said as she turned the latch.
Hermione opened it, Dumbledore and Lupin left, while Arthur entered; Kristen managed to slip before Hermione closed the door.
"It's a mystery," Kristen said, "Save for the fact the mine was there."
"Lucky they were close to a hospital," Gia said.
A snort.
"Even had to misregister them," Kristen said, "Got around that no treatment order."
"Thank you," Arthur said to her.
"Bounties," Hermione said, "That'd explain it."
"Nor am I permitted to investigate on their behalf," Kristen said, "However, the live explosive at a hospital endangers many, so I'm obligated to have that investigated."
"Weasleys band together," Arthur said.
"Correction," Kristen said, "Those two are Harry and Ronald Whitefield, fraternal twins about to have a birthday."
"Always seemed like it after they met," Arthur said.
Kristen left.
"Can we handle family now?" Arthur asked.
"Um…sure," Ron said.
Door opened, the sea of red entered, Snuffles moved beneath the end of Harry's bed. Richard walked in, hand to a cane as he limped, Jen with him. Kurt carried Paul in.
"Told them they could've moved you in," Richard said.
Hermione unsure how Harry's book–bag made it in, pulled a chair up to the small table, sat. Harry's notes were at least distracting her, and Hermione wanted that. She wasn't sure what to do for a healer, not in the long run for these two.
Albus Dumbledore settled back down into his chair behind his desk in the Headmaster's office. A shift, the creak, and the thought of whether to fix it, when the doors opened. Snape entered.
"Busy?" Snape said, "You sent for me."
"How soon until that potion's ready?" Dumbledore asked.
"A month remaining," Snape said, "That is the fastest it can be brewed."
"Thank you," Dumbledore said.
Snape left. Poppy Pomfrey, in white, carried a flask with a cup as she entered.
"Firewhiskey?" asked Albus.
"Not in a school," said Pomfrey, "I added as much cocoa powder as I dared to."
"I appreciate the thought," Albus said, poured it into the cup. "Cheers."
Albus lifted the cup, the bitterness, the vileness. Albus unable to discern it from turpentine, forced himself to swallow, the thought of abandoning Harry against Riddle was dreadful to consider.
"Heard that Weasley and Potter needed some help," Pomfrey said, "I can—"
"That will not be necessary," Dumbledore stated.
"They're in the care of muggles," Pomfrey protested.
"A penance," Dumbledore said, "I know you served as you did because the other option—"
"Would've been worse," Pomfrey said, "Surely they understand—"
"To them, you violated your oath," Dumbledore said, "They have made their wishes clear, they do not trust you."
Pomfrey stood there, the eyes that welled up. Albus understood, the shattering of years of nursing them back to health.
"I need other options," Dumbledore said, "Correspondence course."
"Healing's more than books and spells or even the potions," Pomfrey said, "It's years of training, residency, experience, to know which spell, which potion, leads to the best outcome. Any sharp fool can take the book and get results, but it's no where near what a trained Healer can do for them."
"Alas." Dumbledore poured out the next cup's worth, brought it to his lips. "I cannot force them to seek your services."
"Not to mention keeping an infirmary stocked!" Pomfrey continued, "Potions are needed in seconds when they can take weeks to brew, and go sour a month later. They're not prepared to be their own healer."
"Make a list of smart students who've graduated," Dumbledore said, "I need to see what options we have."
"Anybody affiliated with St. Mungo's is out," Pomfrey said.
"Not everybody's affiliated," Dumbledore said.
"Most are," Pomfrey said.
"Your last duty to Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, "Find somebody to hand him off to, one that Mr. Potter will trust."
"Yes," Pomfrey said.
Pomfrey left. Dumbledore turned to Fawkes, the bird flew to the desk, and Dumbledore stroked the feathers, knew this bird to be Harry's best ally.
Gia shifted Sunday morning as the cane entered the room, Harry and Ron sleeping on the beds; Hermione beneath the covers with Ron. Dumbledore entered.
"Hope I'm not intruding," whispered the old man.
"They're complying with the orders to rest," Gia whispered, pointed.
"Only way they comply with healers," Dumbledore whispered.
Gia snickered.
"Spot of tea?" Gia asked.
A slow tap of the cane, they both left the room, went as Gia guided, to the cafeteria. Gia picked out a couple of mugs, filled them, and they sat around a table.
"Always lovely Miss. Prescott," Dumbledore said, "You're gracious."
"They're all asleep," Gia said.
"Alas," Dumbledore said.
Gia sipped her tea.
"Certainly distracts them from what happened last week," Gia said, "Wouldn't it be wiser to simply drop out? Teach them privately?"
"It…the mess," Dumbledore said, "It's moved beyond school, you saw it yesterday. Harry can't attend a hospital without being struck."
Gia nibbled a biscuit, sipped her tea.
"Ignoring the bounties," Dumbledore said, "Reports are that Potter Eaters are striking everywhere. The pressure on the Ministry is only going to mount. At least by staying in attendance of Hogwarts, it'll be a refuge, at times."
"You don't see it," Gia said, "Every time a person's struck down, it hurts Harry. People are being killed in his name. Andy was about the only exception, everything else has been this… Is there any way he could strip himself of magic, renounce, and go on without it?"
"That'd only make Riddle's work easier," Dumbledore said, "Riddle is playing a very dangerous game, liable to kill everyone aside from himself. To stop Riddle, I need Harry, there's nobody else who can."
Dumbledore sipped at his tea.
"I thought you could," Gia said.
"I am a thorn in Riddle's plans," Dumbledore said, "I slow Riddle down, however, my time is waning, and once I'm gone, the only person able to counter him will be Harry, if Harry's ready, otherwise, it'll seal all our fates, muggles included."
Dumbledore set the tea cup down, empty, and used a napkin to wipe his lips.
"If that's all," Dumbledore said, "An old man needs to be heading back."
Gia stood, Dumbledore followed until she entered room 35-A. Gia went over, stood there with Jen, watched Richard on the bed, sleeping on his side, the blanket partially off.
"He goes home later today," Kristen said, in her police uniform, her face sullen red.
"Stay," Gia said.
"Kurt's at home with Paul," Kristen said, "Besides…"
"Shouldn't be working," Gia said, stepping up to her.
"I'm the police chief," Kristen said, "I need to set an example."
"Then set one," Gia said, "You lost your daughter; anybody with a shred of a heart will understand you taking time off. Show them, show your officers, that family matters, set the example that it's alright to grieve."
A moment, three.
"Richard needs you too," Jen offered.
"And Kurt, and Paul," Gia said, "There's always going to be work tomorrow, next week. Be a mother, a grandmother, first."
Gia reached, hugged her, the relaxation.
"If you've got any doubts," Gia said, "Let's ask your officers outside Harry's and Ron's door."
"Arranged a memorial for Ant?" Jen asked.
Kristen shook her head.
"At school?" Jen asked.
"I'm not sure," Kristen said.
"Church?" Jen asked.
Kristen snorted.
"I'll ask," Jen said, "They canceled school, right?"
Kristen nodded.
"Stay here," Gia said to Kristen, "I'll get back to Harry."
Gia left the room, came back to the other one, entered. Both Harry and Ron on their beds; Ron asleep, though Harry and Hermione weren't. Blanket to the side, Harry was sitting up on it, his ribs showed on his skin.
"Morning," Harry said, "They won't let me out to do a run."
"Take it easy for once!" Hermione said.
Snuffles sniffed at Gia, laid back down beneath Harry's bed.
Ron sat on the edge of his hospital bed as he watched. Dr. Wesham held the chart in front of Harry, on the other bed, and pointed. Harry moved his hand, rotated, as the doctor moved along.
"Remarkable," Dr. Wesham said, "I'd like to write up about your case… to have vision better than before."
Harry shook his head.
"Understandable," Dr. Wesham said, "I would've expected weeks, instead you're walking out now."
"Your excellent care," Ron lied.
"Still," Dr. Wesham said to Harry, "See an ophthalmologist to give you a thorough examination for your eyes."
Ron's left hand felt up the right arm, sore beneath the elbow along the circumferential scar on his bicep. The doctor came over, lifted Ron's right arm.
"Works?" Dr. Wesham asked.
"Give me a chance to wank," Ron said, flexing his fingers.
A snort, the doctor aimed his light into the eyes.
"Ouch," Ron muttered.
The pen light flew.
"Sorry about that," the doctor said.
"Are they good to go?" Hermione asked.
"Should see their general practitioner this week for a followup," the doctor said, "Otherwise, yes."
Harry stood first. Harry's feet moved him first, the fastest, and headed for the door; Snuffles followed. Hermione went out. Gia held Ron back, as the doctor left.
"Ron," Gia said, "Hermione needs attention, yours."
Ron studied those blue eyes, unsure. "Huh?"
"Know boys can be clueless," Gia said, "Unlike you, she hasn't gotten past that ordeal."
"We're not exactly over it," Ron said, "Can't exactly…not the same, neither with Harry."
"I know, but she's worse off," Gia said, "Rapes are painful to deal with, and she was gang raped by the whole school. You need to help her by being there for her, focus on her. Help her get her ego and self respect back up. The sooner, the better."
Ron sighed.
"No banging either," Gia said, "At least don't start there, let her take the lead."
Ron moved, with Gia, to the door, Harry and Hermione to the other side, Snuffles below.
"What was that about?" Hermione demanded, her eyes on him.
"Going home," Ron said as he pulled out the Portkey.
Harry paused, turned, watched. Ron activated the Portkey, Hermione held on. Ron and Hermione landed in that middle guest room at Fred's and George's. Ron leaned over, kissed Hermione's cheek.
"What's that—?!" Hermione stammered.
"Why not?" Ron asked.
Hermione glared, Ron returned the glare. Ron knew the danger he was in, Legilimency not required, the bags and darkness beneath those brown eyes obvious. Ron wagged his tongue at her, and her eyes flashed. Ron had to know, he pulled her in for an embrace.
SMACK!
Her hand slapped across his face. She recoiled, a tear to her eye, she stepped backward, her hand covered her mouth.
"Oh my," Hermione muttered.
"Here," Ron said, hands to her shoulders. He sat her down on the bed.
Ron grabbed the chair, turned and sat on it. He studied her, focused on that face.
"A bloke like me," Ron said, "I needed Gia's reminder, despite… I hate Hogwarts too."
Ron watched her eyes, the ones aimed downward at his crotch.
"What happened, happened," Ron said, "Wish it hadn't, but got two choices, let it sink us, or cope with it."
"Easy to say," Hermione said.
"It's not," Ron said, "I put up with a lot."
A slight grin to her face. "Sorry about that."
"You're the same beautiful witch I poked fun of years ago," Ron said, "I've grown to love you, respect you as a good friend."
Hermione toyed with the ruby ring on her finger.
"I see you suffering, and I want to help," Ron said, "I'm working to come up with ideas—they might not be the best of ideas, still, I'm trying."
Hermione snorted, her mind on it.
"How'd you two cope with it?" Hermione blurted.
"Don't think we have," Ron said, "Drinking helped, gave a misplaced reason to aim our anger."
Hermione stayed silent.
"Count on us to not relent until you're feeling better," Ron said, "Lousy ideas included."
Hermione snorted.
"See?" Ron said, "Bit better already."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"We can spend the afternoon glaring at each other," Ron said, "Or, try the national gallery?"
"Looking or banging?" Hermione asked.
"Start off by looking," Ron said, "You're better than all the paintings combined. Come."
Afternoon was late as Harry left the hospital with Kristen. Harry tensed up on his hand, the thought of the previous day's attempt. Gia, Richard, and Jen headed out with him.
"We could—" Harry started.
"Nonsense," Kristen said, "See you home safely myself."
They got to the police cruiser, though she wasn't in her police uniform.
"Bit…" Gia started.
"Intimidation," Kristen said, "Keeps them from trying."
Harry got into the middle, Richard to the left, Gia to the right, Jen into the front passenger seat. Kristen put the car into motion, drove.
"Good you've made it," Harry said to Richard.
"Like I can talk," Richard replied, "You're a miracle case."
Harry glanced out front, things sharper than before.
"They said you could see better?" Richard asked.
"Yep," Harry said, "Seems to work."
Harry wondered if the tears had anything to do with that. Harry leaned over, into Gia.
"Weird going back like this," Richard said.
"If I can't hold onto both of you," Kristen said, a sniffle, "I'll settle for one."
"My final words to her," Richard said, "Called her a whore."
Richard leaned against the pillar of the door, arms across his chest. Richard sighed.
"I'll have to live with that," Richard said.
They kept quiet the distance to Oak Street, drove and parked out in front. Harry ducked as he spotted the canary yellow, disillusioned himself and Gia, and apparated both out of the car into the warm air, some streaks of clouds above in the darkening sky.
"What?" Kristen asked as she stepped out.
"They're fast Mum," Richard said.
Jen got out, opened Richard's door.
"It's a locked door," Kristen said.
"See the people watching us?" Richard asked, "He's doing us a favor."
Kristen went for the door, Harry and Gia walked behind them. Richard and Jen followed.
Creak, Squeak
"That's…" Richard started.
"Your Dad's worried with everything," Kristen said, "House's coming off its foundation or something."
Harry and Gia managed to slip in before Richard and Jen stepped up. Harry dropped the charm.
"There you are," Kristen said, "Not nice to sneak—"
"People are casing the town looking for me," Harry said, "It's a learned habit."
Harry went with Richard up the stairs, a turn to his bedroom, a cry from the other one. Cut police tape dangled on the side, the furniture moved, the big red stain on the carpet. Harry leaned into the bedroom next to Richard.
"She…that's…" Richard muttered.
"Unfortunately," Kurt said, as he approached, bottle in hand, "Yes, that's where she killed herself. Your Mum doesn't want to get it cleaned."
Pat to Richard's back, Harry brought him into Gia's bedroom, she was already in there. Jen entered.
"Her final prank," Richard said, "Killing herself in my bedroom!"
"Harry," Jen said, "Can you do something?"
"Try a cleaning charm," Harry said, "That doesn't work, can get somebody who's a bit better at it, be gone by tomorrow."
"Let's…" Richard started.
Harry walked back to Richard's bedroom, jumped to stand on the bed. Jen entered, Richard closed the door with his rear. Beneath Harry, he surveyed. The large stain, focused.
"Get rid of it," Richard said.
Harry summoned, the broom came out, the one in holly.
"Um…wrong thing," Harry said.
His broom hovered, the wand jumped into his hand.
"Sure about this?" Harry said, "Once I clean, last of her blood's gone forever."
"Keep the carpet," Jen said, "We'll remove it."
"Um…okay," Richard said, "Can't really sleep in here."
"Talk to your Mum about the carpet," Jen said, "Then come and stay at my house."
Richard nodded. Harry jumped, settled down on his broom.
"You fly that?" Jen asked.
"Can you check—?" Harry asked.
Richard opened the door, went out, checked, and nodded.
"Ta," Harry said as he flew into Gia's bedroom.
"Harry?" Gia asked.
"A spin," Harry said, "Want to see how fast this'll go. An hour or two."
Harry aimed his wand, the window opened.
"What about—?" Gia started.
"Ain't an idiot," Harry said.
Wand to himself, the disillusionment, and he banished his wand. Air to him as he flew out, past Hedwig, and went up. Along the houses beneath his feet, Harry moved. Canary yellow dots beneath him, one every few hundred feet, and Harry flew faster.
"Vigilance!" an echo of Moody's caution in Harry's head.
Harry went up, and aimed it faster, straight north, the hills, the roads below became a blur, to ground, the warming charm on himself as it grew deep cold. Water, ice, he flew lower and slower, the dots of white that moved in the darkness of the starlight. Curious, even lower, feet, they moved, the polar bears.
"Hmm…" Harry muttered, flying higher, wondering exactly how far he's gone.
Harry moved faster again, a light of blue that soared up into the night, from a bit of water. Harry slowed down, approached. Endless water to the horizon, this continuous bead with tendrils that ebbed upward. One of these tendrils reached out, grabbed Harry and his broom, and Harry couldn't move.
"Dammit!" Harry grumbled.
Harry yanked, a push, the electric shock that went through him, another yank, and the tendril released. Harry bolted upward as fast as he could, turned.
"Find London," Harry said.
His broom turned itself, pointed, and Harry accelerated. Water and ice repeated, back to land, the isolated lights of villages beneath him, he flew fast, more lights, recognized Edinburgh beneath him. A thought, a squeeze, his broom seemed to create its own tunnel as he went through it, a heartbeat to see the river Thames and the Tower of London, near the iconic Tower Bridge.
Harry turned, flew slower along the River Thames. Late night joggers on the path next to the river, the hustle and bustle of the motorcars below, the headlights, the horns. A tour boat trolled along the river. Harry flew underneath the Blackfriars bridge.
"What?" Harry muttered.
Ahead, another ragged bead of blue, from the buildings arched over, appeared, up over Harry, toward the Tower Bridge. It pulled Harry upward, toward it. Harry's attempt to command his broom failed, it drew him up into it, before it released.
Harry blinked. Around him, every other light of the town gone out, save the large one he'd flew through. An echo of a laugh, the familiar one he's heard before. Harry flew away from the light in the air, to the destroyed and crumbled Waterloo bridge. That sightseeing boat, overturned on a dried riverbed, bodies strewn about.
"What the—?" Harry wondered, the panic in him.
Shades of black against the stars flew toward him, the screaming back to his mind of his mother, the whips of the lashings returned, and Harry understood the effects these demeantors were having. He went back toward that light of blue, the arched one, the one that was rapidly shrinking. Again, its tendrils reached, pulled Harry through it, and the lights of London restored.
Panic within Harry, he disapparated, apparated on the bed in Gia's bedroom, she asleep on it, window open. Harry banished his broom back to its holster, rolled over into her, wrapped his arms and the comforter moved over them both. Harry wondered what he'd seen as he went to sleep.
Date: Thu Jan 4 09:53:35 2024