In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 104: Flight
It was past midnight when Harry and Wood made their way up to the Astronomy Tower.
"Nothing like a midnight flight," Wood said.
"You were late," Harry said.
"Sorry about that," Wood said.
"Got a wand holster?" Harry asked, "And your wand?"
"Yes," Wood said, "You're not expecting—"
"Trouble?" Harry said, "This broom's got a quirk, so you might need it."
Harry summoned the broom, it hovered.
"Haven't a clue where you're hiding that Potter," Wood said.
Harry swung his feet over.
"Grab what you need," Harry said.
Harry felt the mass, of Wood on his back.
"This isn't going to slow you down?" Wood asked.
"Not really," Harry said, "Ready?"
"Yes," Wood said.
A jump, Harry flew the broom off the astronomy tower. A U–turn, and he cast it, a horizontal yellow mark across the width of the tower, circumscribing as they flew around.
"Graffiti?" Wood asked.
"Making sure we know which Hogwarts is ours," Harry said.
"What?" Wood asked.
Harry pointed above, the rips in the sky.
"Um…" Wood muttered.
Harry dropped and flew. A thought, he'd never seen it before, not in person. An acceleration, the land that passed below, over the ocean.
"How far?" Wood asked.
Even faster, the sky above, the clouds blew past in seconds. Buffeting, before it calmed. Lights ahead beneath the clouds overhead, rows of motorcar taillights, water directly underneath them.
"Blimey," Wood said, "Where are we?"
A turn, and it came into view directly ahead, the lady in green, pillars of structures to the more distant right.
"That's…blimey!" Wood said, "That's really the Statue of Liberty?"
A helicopter nearby, above, it, as Harry came in across the water. A disillusionment charm, and he flew in front of the statue, the spikes to the crown on her head, the arm that was raised to its torch. Up the Hudson, the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center to the right, Harry worked between the buildings, to the Empire State Building.
"Want to land in…that park?" Harry asked.
Above, some tendrils and rips in the sky. Honks of cars below, the headlights that flashed their high beams. Harry circled to a path with some people, and they landed on the grass. Their disillusionment dropped as Harry turned around. This time, the lights illuminated Wood well.
"That's…" Wood said.
"It's only half of it," Harry said, "I can go as fast as I want on this thing, I'm not sure if there is a limit outside my imagination. It's not a broom, it's a wand."
Wood's eyes on Harry.
"You can use this broom as well as using my wand," Harry said, "That's why it didn't perform for Euan, Ron's about as bad on it."
Harry handed it over while Wood examined it.
"Not legal for league play," Harry said.
"Teams provide brooms," Wood said, "There's been too much cheating otherwise."
"Want to see the other half?" Harry said, "It's why I asked you to get a wand holster, for I don't know what to expect, it's always…different, every time."
"There's more?" Wood asked.
"Come on," Harry said, "Best to stick to London or Hogwarts, we'll know the lay of the land."
A tap to Harry's shoulder.
"Excuse me."
Harry turned around. He studied this woman in a jacket, the slacks, the brown hair, a clipboard in her arm.
"Bit young to be homeless?" she said, "Where are you two camping?"
"Britain," Harry said.
Wood snorted.
"It's going to be a bit chilly," the woman said as she handed over a pamphlet, "Got a shelter over on third avenue, not too far."
"Will he be there?" Harry said, "He'd…he'd find me there."
Her eyes that grew concerned
"Voldemort wants to kill me," Harry said, "After that, he'd destroy everything, you'd die, this whole village will die. If we're not very careful, it's the end of the world."
"Um…" she said, "I can show you the way."
"Nice offer but I'll be home before that," Harry said.
"He makes a lot of sense," Wood said.
Harry studied her eyes, worried behind them, whether she should be calling social services.
"Got one night left," Harry said, "We thought we'd…you know, sex. Don't worry, home is a broom ride away."
An implantation, a thought, and she turned around. Harry reached, held Wood's hand, a focus, and disapparation, apparation. They stood on top of the observation deck of the south World Trade Center.
"So you can apparate," Wood said, "Bet you're not—"
"Licensed?" Harry said, "It'd be rejected if I tried, likely on Voldemort's orders."
Harry grabbed the broom, mounted it.
"Um…you called us gay," Wood said.
"Then bang me if you must," Harry said, "Come on, gotta get back."
Wood got on the back, the hands that held, weak.
"Tighter," Harry said, "Seriously, I want you back, and apparating to Britain's further than I've done it."
Harry pushed back, Wood against him.
"Out of time," Harry said as he heard the door, the feet.
Harry pushed off, they fell together and Harry pulled up. Above, some rips in the sky, the vibrant colors.
"Less here than home," Harry said, "Still, hold on."
Harry accelerated, the clouds a blur, the moonlight that returned in the gaps of them, ahead, the large shapes in dry warmer air.
"Are those—the pyramids?" Wood asked.
Harry circled closer, the near blanket of a rip around them. A tendril reached out, seized the broom, and they fell. Wood's fingers dug in, held on tight as Harry regained control. Ahead, two large pyramids stood mostly there, the tops removed, the third one nearly gone. Harry cast the Disillusionment over them both, and went down.
"Should go back," Wood said.
"I want to know why," Harry said.
"This isn't Hogwarts," Wood said, "I'd say you've strayed out of hours."
Harry snorted, flew over to the pyramid. Men in robes of black, wands that pushed and levitated the stone out, onto the waiting conveyor. That large stone moved along, down the pyramid, above a large grinder. Stone was dropped into it, fed down as the mechanical teeth churned, rendering out a fine stone powder into another conveyor belt.
"I don't get dropped into these without a reason," Harry said, "It's like I have to see it, the pyramids are crying out."
Harry spotted the trucks, the large dump trucks being filled up with the powder, the ones with Riddle and Co on the sides.
"Why's Voldemort destroying the pyramids?" Harry asked.
Harry glanced above, the large blanket shrinking fast.
"Hold on," Harry announced.
Harry pulled up, felt Wood on his back, as he aimed for it.
"Heading toward it?" Wood asked.
"It's our only way back," Harry said.
A shockwave approached, the burning on the horizon, the fire that approached. Harry flew fast, into the tendril that pulled them through. Another fast fall, a regain of balance, and flew level around the pyramids, all still there.
"I don't understand this," Wood said.
Harry aimed the broom, flew, the wind and air across him. Light from a web of tendrils, and they fell; his broom gone. Harry apparated them both to the ground, the grass into their toes, the moonlight threatening to fade. Harry opened his holster, the wand and broom within, both sizzled against his fingers, however, the spare was usable.
"That's Hogwarts," Wood said.
Harry glanced at the Astronomy Tower, without the mark. Stars above seemed vaguely familiar though not current.
"No it's not," Harry said, "Not our Hogwarts."
"Level with me," Wood said.
"My broom crosses realities," Harry said, "Something is tearing them wide open, and we've been pulled over into an alternate reality. Be careful, there's likely another Oliver Wood about."
"And you've got any idea how to get back?" Wood asked.
"Sure," Harry said, "We find out what's going on here."
Harry took the lead, walked over to the door at the base of the Astronomy Tower.
"Get good with your Disillusionment," Harry sad.
"I…my wand's in my office," Wood said.
"I told you—" Harry said.
"Like I had time to go to Ollivander's," Wood said.
"You're a wizard," Harry said, "Should never be without a wand."
Harry took out the spare, cast it over Wood and himself. Put the wand back. Harry opened the door, entered. No effigies, no obscene paintings or pictures, this Hogwarts more tame. Up stairs, they walked along, and Harry felt a tinge behind the scar, one he hadn't felt in a long time.
"Wait," Wood said, "That's…"
Professor Quirrell², with the head wrap, carried a letter. Ahead, two approached.
"When you get good at flying Potter," said Wood², with the younger Harry², "Remember you can aim for the ground, pull up at the last minute, that's the Wronkskei Feint."
Ron² laughed, the young freckled face, the blue eyes, the first years that went down the corridor.
"See what you mean," Wood whispered.
Harry went fast, decided that Professor Quirrell² was the best to try first, and went to the office, door left open. Unoccupied, Harry went to the desk, on it a letter that detailed every step to the third floor, from Fluffy onward; Harry recognized the handwriting.
"Why's Hermione…?" Harry muttered.
"Harry?" Wood asked.
Harry's eyes roamed upward, to Wood.
"It's complicated," Harry said, "It's clearly my first year here, and our Hermione gave Professor Quirrell directions on getting the stone—handwriting's way closer to our time than this time."
Harry took out the wand, renewed the disillusionment, and walked fast, but ducked to the side as the sea of screaming students moved along the corridors away from the Great Hall.
"TROLL! TROLL!"
Harry turned, went with them up to the third floor.
"This…this was forbidden that year," Wood said as Harry went to the door.
Wand back out, the door opened, and they entered. Trap door open, Fluffy²'s three heads asleep.
"That's…" Wood started.
"Hagrid's," Harry said.
Wand out, he blasted light and fire down the trap door, watched the Devil's Snare move out of the way of it. Harry jumped, grabbed a couple of roots, slowed himself down, and came to stand on the floor.
"I'll wait up here," Wood shouted, "In the corridor."
"Whatever," Harry said, "Be back."
Harry went through the door, the next one already open with docile keys up in the air. Ahead, the chess board that had reset itself, the swords blocked his way. Harry apparated past them. Room with purple and black flame, the potions on the table, again, Harry apparated past the flame, entered the final room. Mirror of Erised laid in shatters, the wood frame broken.
"He did it," Harry muttered.
"Harry?" came the call.
Harry spun, the wand back to his hand, aimed. Brown hair, Neville, eyes doubting their sight of Harry, the worry to the black magic required.
"Neville?" Harry asked.
"Where have you been?" Neville said, "It's all going to shit and you just—"
"I know it's going to shit!" Harry said, "Think the whippings three weeks ago would've hinted at that."
A sharp understanding behind Neville's eyes.
"When'd you leave?" Neville said, "I mean date in your time."
"20 March, 1997—wait, it was past midnight, make it 21," Harry said.
Harry understood, this wasn't Neville of his own time, but one who'd seen a lot more.
"That letter on Quirrell's desk," Harry said, "It's for you?"
"It slipped," Neville said, "Didn't mean to."
Harry caught the accident in the mind, the one who'd found it.
"You gave Voldemort the Stone?" Harry said, "Certainly fixes his problem."
"Hermione says to not make waves," Neville said, "It's good to see you again, it's been…too long."
Neville's arms fast, hugged Harry, the tightness, the head over Harry's shoulder.
"We need to get that stone out of his hands," Harry said.
"Agreed," Neville said as he let go.
Harry led the way, Neville behind, through the corridors. Harry grabbed the broom from the chamber of keys, to beneath the Devil's snare.
"You—" Neville started.
"On my back," Harry said, straddling the broom's handle.
Neville did this, and Harry flew them up.
"I need my broom," Harry said, "Kill the weed."
Neville aimed his wand, the fire, the light, the trap door that was still open, and they landed on the floor. A harp that had stopped. Above, the snot drooled down. Harry and Neville ran out the door, into the corridor.
"Where—he promised," Harry said, the corridor empty of Wood.
"Ron?" Neville asked, "It'd be nice to see him too."
"Oliver Wood," Harry said.
"Him?" Neville asked.
Harry broke into a run, to Professor Quirrell's office, still the door open, nobody within. Neville came to a halt.
"That's where Quirrell is," Harry said, "Voldemort would gloat."
A thought, they disapparated, apparated into the Headmaster's office. Fawkes watched on his pedestal. This Dumbledore² on his feet, unassisted, stable.
"To think of the maze," Professor Quirrell² said, "Intriguing, but ultimately not enough to stop me."
Blue eyes that twinkled, tried to assess Harry, the realization that Harry had years on the one in attendance.
"Voldemort is coming," Harry said, ignored the twinge behind his scar.
"It's why I'm here," Neville said.
"Well," Harry said to Professor Quirrell², "Let me congratulate you on a job well done."
Harry extended his hand, the curiosity from the Headmaster.
"Admirable to know when you've been defeated," said Professor Quirrell².
Hand that met Harry's, and Harry gripped it tight. The howl, the screams, and the struggle. Harry's left gripped the shoulder, and he watched as Professor Quirrell² disintegrated into a pile of dust. A step back as the shadow showed. The Headmaster's wand out, the shield charm that forced the shadow to hit the ceiling and leave.
"Thank you," Harry said.
Harry bent down, picked up the stone, and handed it to Neville.
"Hermione thanks you already," Neville said.
"Your age alone shows that something is amiss," said Professor Dumbledore².
Neville blushed.
"Voldemort returned," Harry said. He opened his holster, his wand, his broom, still stung. The spare did not. "And he's still here, to collect that."
"He already has, and he will again," Neville said, "That's why I'm here, to stop it, and I get him to focus on me, he'll stop terrorizing them."
"That's—" Harry started.
"Complicated," Neville said, "Don't ask me to explain, she's read that book you checked out, over and over. I think she's got the hang of it."
Harry went over to Fawkes, stroked a couple of the feathers. The shrill that soothed within both. Neville came over, gave a couple of pats to the bird.
"Know Hermione's going to be interested in this report," Neville said, "Running into you."
"She's giving you orders?" Harry asked.
"Taken over after…sorry, shouldn't say more," Neville said.
Harry turned his focus back to Neville's eyes, the joy, the sadness, intertwined over a heart longing.
"Lets go and find Voldemort," Harry said.
"That was him on Professor Quirrell," said Professor Dumbledore².
"There's a second one here," Neville said, "I followed him."
Harry touched his scar.
"Not close," Harry said, "But this one has a body and experience."
Harry watched the color that drained from the face.
"You're in no shape to confront him," Neville said to Harry.
"I feel fine…" Harry yawned.
"Even if you're awake," Neville said, "It's not a good idea."
"Get him to go back," Harry said, "I have the feeling I'll be dealing with it later."
"Ha..ha," Neville said.
Harry went out the doors, Neville followed. Down the stairs, onto the second floor corridor. Professor Snape² walked past.
"You seem…familiar," said Professor Snape², his eyes on Harry.
"Get to your master," Harry snapped.
A glare.
"We're visitors," Neville said, "Came to watch tomorrow's Quidditch match."
"That's it…he'll gloat there," Harry said, "Still, be nice to know where he is, also need to find Wood."
"It's a big castle," Neville said.
"I know where," Harry said.
Harry's spare wand out.
"ADSUM!" Harry snapped.
"You don't have traps here," Neville said.
Up the stairs, the corridors, they came to the Fat Lady. Harry paused, thought it over, dug into the reaches of his mind.
"Password?" the Fat Lady asked.
"Caput Draconis," Harry said.
"You remembered?" Neville asked as the painting swung open.
Harry went across the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Third years is what we're after," Harry said, going up the steps for the boys' side.
"What's there?" Neville asked.
Harry found it, entered. All beds occupied, sleeping, however, the older Wood already sitting on the floor, watched the younger Oliver Wood² on the bed.
"Going to cause all sorts of headaches there," Harry said, "Wait until the match, watch him defend the goals."
Harry found the trunk, opened Fred²'s and sorted. He moved over to George²'s, found the parchment, carried it out to the hall.
"Come, stay somewhere else," Harry said to Wood.
"Is that what I think it is?" Neville asked.
Harry took the spare wand, aimed.
"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," Harry said.
Lines showed, Harry scanned the map, no mention of Voldemort nor Tom Riddle on it.
"Guess we wait," Harry said, "Mischief managed."
Harry folded the map, brought it back to George's trunk, closed it in. Wood still on the floor by the four poster.
"I'm curious too," Harry said.
"You can't go doing that!" Neville said, "Hermione said all the nasty things that happen to travelers who mess with themselves." Neville turned to Wood. "You too, best to get out."
Harry went up the steps to the top, the first year boys' dormitory, entered. On the five beds, asleep and unaware, Harry recognized his younger self and Ron². Harry went over, the picture on the desk, of his eleven year old self, birthday hat, with his parents and two smaller ones.
"Harry!" Neville snapped.
Harry checked the wand on the desk next to the glasses, not of Holly. A glance to the head of Harry², smooth, without a scar, however, the Nimbus 2000 propped up against the wall.
"What?" Neville stammered.
Harry went over, this Neville had a scar to the forehead. On that desk, the Holly wand.
"Oh," Harry said, "It's not your past, not our reality."
"It's…" Neville started.
"What is Voldemort operating?" Harry said, "It supports paradoxes, you've traveled realities, and I hope you get back."
Harry left the dormitory, went down the steps. Neville followed.
"You—go back," Harry said, "Once I sort out Voldemort—"
"You're not ready," Neville said.
Harry spun around in the common room.
"Then when?" Harry said.
"You weren't prepared when—sorry," Neville said, "Can't spoil things."
"Weren't prepared for what?" Harry asked, "What's happened to me?"
Neville stared at Harry, the eyes betrayed a brain that desperately attempted to hide it, the loyalty to Harry of the past, and Hermione of the future.
"It was noble of you to try but you weren't ready," Neville said, "You and Ron both went in. Voldemort gloated about it, your executions heralded in a new era, it's worse than you've experienced."
"Oh," Harry said.
"Maybe you can do better with a second try," Neville said, "Wouldn't mind my future becoming the alternate, know Hermione and Gia wouldn't mind."
"They live?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Neville said, "No more questions. You need the sleep."
"Um…sure," Harry said, "Wonder how going back…will I miss a night there?"
"It's funny," Neville said, "Sometimes you do, sometimes you don't."
Harry went over, laid on the sofa by the fire, and drifted into sleep.
Harry woke to a shake from Neville above, trousers off, the puddle that formed on the floor from him.
"Oh," Harry muttered.
"I'd forgotten how much you peed," Neville said.
Harry felt the embarrassment.
"A peeing friend is a living friend," Neville said.
"True," Harry said.
"Seen enough…not," Neville said.
Harry used a cleaning charm, restored his trousers.
"No, won't tell you who," Neville said, "Maybe that'd condemn them."
Harry didn't really want to consider himself dead. Harry felt the tinge to his scar hinted that they were about to be tardy.
"About time for the match?" Harry asked.
"Pretty much," Neville said.
"Best go," Harry said, "Voldemort's going to be there."
Harry moved his legs, he didn't want to leave the comfort of the sofa, but knew he had to, and stood. They went for the portrait hole.
"You have to worry about castration?" Harry asked.
Neville shook his head as they went along the seventh floor corridor.
"Otherwise, I'd tell you…well, my Neville," Harry said, "What I'd done to escape it."
"Ta… I think," Neville said.
Harry opened his holster, both his wand and broom stung.
"You're checking," Neville said.
"Means I'm missing something," Harry said, "Voldemort's here, right?"
"Mine came," Neville said, "That important?"
"I can't leave until he's left," Harry said.
"Taking you back with me would cause major issues," Neville said.
Harry didn't want to imagine those. Other students walked. Harry recognized a number of them, even Justin Finch–Fletchley and Cedric Diggory.
"Can't warn them either," Neville said.
Harry knew, they'd come across as weird as Sybill Trelawney. Cool and gray had set in as they left the castle.
"Hermione'll chew me out for not leaving immediately," Neville said, "But you're not of this time either."
Harry shook his head.
Their feet on the ground, down the path, they came to the familiar Quidditch pitch, the stands around it, filled up with people. Along the top row, Harry spotted them, younger Ron², Hermione², and Neville²; next to them, Harry's heart raced, older than he'd seen the pictures, James² and Lily² Potter with two younger kids.
"Harry," Neville said.
Harry's feet were already in motion, up the stairs, climbed fast.
"You're a stranger!" Neville shouted.
Harry walked along that top row.
"Excuse me," Harry said as he recognized the younger crowd, faces he's not seen in years, moved past them.
Neville² with the scar on his forehead, Ron² with his red hair and freckled face, shorter than the Ron that Harry wanted to see again, Hermione² with brown eyes and some measure of insecurity behind them.
"Do we know you?" asked Lily².
"Don't!" Neville snapped.
Concern in those bottle green eyes, ones that were like Harry's own.
"Who are these?" Harry asked, seeing the shorter girl and even shorter boy.
"Our kids," said James², "Aster and Michael. Who are you?"
"Move along," Neville said to Harry, a bit of a push.
Harry moved, went into the the crowd with the likes of Madam Rosmerta², Cornelius Fudge², even Rita Skeeter².
"Stay away from family and friends!" Neville said to Harry, "If you care about them, don't, because messing with them only makes things worse."
"Sorry," Harry said.
"Best hope you didn't start an accusation of cheating!" Neville said, "You're the son they won't remember having, because their Harry is down there."
Harry turned, watched the field, the players that lined up. In scarlet red and gold Quidditch Robes, the Gryffindor team younger Fred² and George², Alicia Spinnet², Katie Bell², Oliver Wood², Angelina Johnson², and himself, Harry². In Slytherin green and silver, Marcus Flint², Terrance Higgs², and the rest. Madam Hooch² walked across the field with her broom.
At the top box, Lee Jordan² handed the magic microphone over to Professor Dumbledore².
"I hate to start the match with such news," said Professor Dumbledore², "Professor Quirrell strayed into the off limits third floor corridor, he did not survive."
Gasps.
"Professor Snape will assume temporary duties as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor until a suitable replacement can be found," Professor Dumbledore² said, "Therefore, I dedicate this match to the memory of Professor Quirrell. Please Madam Hooch."
Eyes to Madam Hooch², one Harry remember perishing, the instructor his Oliver Wood went on to replace.
"Now," Madam Hooch² said, "I want a nice fair game, all of you."
Harry remembered that line, as his scar began to inflame.
"We can't afford to simply watch," Harry said to Neville.
Harry moved along the top row, glancing. Neville followed.
"And their off!" cried out Lee Jordan².
Brooms of the players moved with them up into the air, the Quaffle that moved, Harry² that loitered above on the Nimbus 2000. Harry spotted it, with the Slytherins, Professor Snape² muttered with a whisper from Voldemort into the ear.
"He's…" Harry muttered, began to run faster, however, Voldemort disillusioned.
Above the top of the stands, that Harry²'s broom began to buck. Harry tried to summon his own, still wouldn't come. Ron with binoculars, glanced above. Hermione moved. More bucking, that Harry² tumbled, the glasses fell, and the broom soared.
"Potter FALLS!" Jordan² announced.
Harry aimed his spare, summoned the Nimbus 2000.
"Harry!" Neville snapped.
"My name's on the team roster," Harry said as he gripped the old, yet familiar broom. His feet to the brace, Harry flew off the stands. The gasps, as he noticed Lily² rushing down to the field.
"SNAPE'S ON FIRE!" Jordan² announced.
That Nimbus 2000 that Harry rode, again began to buck. Harry caught a glimpse, the red slit eyes, the ones that were working the jinx, took Harry up higher, and the broom shattered. Harry fell, he apparated to the ground, laid next to Harry².
"Who are you?" Lily² asked Harry, her green eyes worked out the similarities, the resemblance between the two.
"Harry James Potter," Harry said as he stood up, "Is he…?"
"Week in the Hospital Wing," said Madam Pomfrey² as she tended Harry².
Harry glanced about the stands, the Dark Lord no longer there.
"Where's Voldemort?" Harry asked.
Disbelief in Lily²'s eyes.
"He came with Neville," Harry said.
A flash of green, Oliver Wood² above fell, broom in hand, as Marcus Flint² scored. Madam Pomfrey rushed over, along with Harry's Wood.
"Is he…is he…" Wood said, "I tried…"
"Dead," Madam Pomfrey said.
"Focus," Harry said to Wood, "He's Oliver Wood. You're Oliver Wood. Take his broom and get in the game."
Wood did this, flew up to guard the goal. Harry opened his holster.
"I accept the risk," Harry said.
His broom came out, the one of Holly, and he mounted it. Upward, he circled fast, outpaced Terrence Higgs², caught the Golden Snitch, and went down.
"HARRY POTTER!" came Voldemort's voice loud, "Do not follow or he's dead."
Harry spotted Neville, in the clutches of Voldemort. Both vanished, and Harry knew, Voldemort had what he wanted, and the sky above turned dark. A ribbon of light above, the tear, started to shrink. Harry landed fast.
"Sorry," Madam Pomfrey said as she pulled the white sheet up over Harry².
Lily² cried. Harry spotted the anger in James²' eyes.
"DAD!" Harry said, "I'm sorry."
Thoughts of bewitchment behind the eyes.
"Voldemort's messing around in time," Harry said, "My reality, he marked me, killed me years ago."
"Not the Longbottoms?" Lily² asked.
"Your charm, your sacrifice worked," Harry said, "But I never got to know you, because Dumbledore sent me to the Dursleys."
"No…no," Lily² said.
"Harry," Wood said, hand to the shoulder, "Can we leave?"
"Yes," Harry said, seeing the flame approaching.
Harry mounted the broom, Wood to the back.
"Bye," Harry said to his crying parents.
Harry flew the broom, he didn't want to leave, but had to. Up to the red, a tendril of light grabbed them, a fall in the blackness of the night. Harry recovered, the Astronomy Tower with its yellow line, landed on top. Stars and moon where they were supposed to be.
"They're dead," Wood said, "Aren't they?"
"Yeah," Harry said, "They all seem to collapse."
Albus Dumbledore had thought about going to bed, except the tea was enough, and he stayed at the desk. Through the doors, Oliver Wood entered.
"I…I…" Oliver Wood stammered, "I asked Harry to see his broom perform, and I saw myself die. Don't think it was even a minute to New York."
"Sounds like he was being slow," Dumbledore said.
"Slow?" Wood said, "Even faster to the pyramids, then…"
Wood began to describe it, the demolition.
"Fascinating," Dumbledore said, "Know where it was heading?"
Wood shook his head, and covered the adventure at Hogwarts, the match.
"Voldemort got the stone?" asked Dumbledore.
"I'd think so," Wood said.
"That's…disturbing," Dumbledore said.
"And here I'm worried about him messing up the Quidditch," Wood said.
"He showed you what he's seeing," Dumbledore said, "Wish I was along for the ride."
"You're not…" Wood paced. "It's not exactly a smooth ride. Sorry, I don't think you're up to it."
Dumbledore knew the concern, he needed the muggle lift to reach his bed.
"Due to the antics of Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said, "Harry is seeing a lot of death and destruction, this has been affecting him, and not in a good way. Harry needs to see what the wizarding has to offer, and so I think a tenure on the team would do him a world of good. He'd get training we cannot otherwise provide, he'd get access to a healer, and some new allies that he so desperately needs."
Wood smiled.
"Keep trying to be a big brother to Harry," Dumbledore said, "He needs a staunch ally, and I think he appreciates your efforts."
"And your hand in this?" Wood asked.
Dumbledore grinned. Wood yawned.
"Unlike you," Wood said, "I need to get to sleep."
Wood turned. Wood left the office.
Dumbledore had an uneasy feeling about the truce that has seemingly formed with the Death Eaters this week.
The Seeker apparated into the graveyard behind the church in Colchester. The Chaser already there, a sack over his back. Darkness of the early morning made disillusionment unnecessary.
"Did Wormtail find us a good address?" the Seeker asked.
"Not too far," the Chaser said, "Nothing too remarkable."
They walked on the sidewalk between the walls and the roadway.
"We need our gift," the Seeker said, "Now."
"Told you—" the Chaser said.
"Four days?" the Seeker said.
"Bet Potter's sweating from the fear," the Chaser said.
"Wrong," the Seeker said, "Potter's getting fearless and may do something smart, worry about hearing that report from the Dark Lord. You do not want to be on the business ends of either of their wands."
"You'll have it gift–wrapped on Monday," the Chaser said, "It'll cause…chaos."
They stopped, turned for the house, toward the door. The Seeker reached for the door knob.
"Stop," the Chaser said, "It's warded, we have to use the window."
The Seeker glanced at it, open a crack, reached to pull it.
"No," the Chaser said, "We have to become bugs."
Date: Thu Jan 4 09:53:35 2024