In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
[A/N]: Yes, pushed up like twenty chapters in a short period to get this copy caught up with where it is on AO3. (So, you may want to dive back to about chapter 93 and read from there.)
Chapter 113: Nomads
New Act — Nomads
Boom!
A strong and sharp push propelled them head first, fast through the vanished roof and walls. Ground moved fast beneath them as they sailed up through the sky, pierced the middle of the rising Potter Mark, and into the coolness of the clouds. Harry held onto Gia tight as the ropes loosened; Ron held onto Hermione, as they continued their fast trip, the vertical ascent slowed, and the ropes gave way.
"Hold onto my back," Harry said as he spun in Gia's grip.
Harry rolled them both, aimed in the dive. Around them, curses that flew from Firebolts struggling to give chase. Hermione took the hint, did the same to be on Ron's back.
"Brooms?" Hermione asked.
"No," Harry said, "Hope my aim's right."
"That's mad," Ron said, "And brilliant."
"Where are we heading?" Hermione asked.
"Be ready to swim," Harry said, "Together!"
Harry felt the buffeting to his chest, as he aimed; Ron mimicked Harry. Harry aimed closer, the two drew closer. Hip to hip, they were the bullets in the air, without support, the arch and the inevitable descent as the ground started to grow closer.
"Where are we heading?" Hermione asked.
"South," Harry stated.
Land turned to water, the large swath of it, the one Harry knew to be the English Channel, as those on the brooms threw an occasional curse their direction.
"Be ready with the broom," Harry said, "Stay on me!"
Water that grew closer, Harry focused his thoughts, the desire to save his friends strong, as they approached one large ship. Harry disapparated.
…
The Seeker watched as Tebworth whispered into Finnigan's ear.
"THEY'RE SUNK IN THE DRINK!" Finnigan shouted.
Cheers among the crowd still gathered at 66 Pickering Place. A few dead among Finnigan's followers, decapitated by the same tom foolery they'd deployed against Potter. Flashing lights of the muggle responders, the Seeker disapparated, though he also figured it wasn't the last of Potter as the fool had hoped.
Harry apparated the lot of them, high above trees, the steep hills below them as they fell toward them. Harry summoned his broom, jumped onto it. Ron did the same. Arrested their fall, the level maneuver, flew toward the small cabin nearby. They landed in the the meadow, the broad river with trees down on it, the steep incline up to tall hills on the other side. Morning sunshine to his skin. Gia, Ron, and Hermione stood there.
"Breathe," Harry suggested.
"Where are we?" Ron asked.
"Might be where we went running," Harry said, "Dunno for certain."
A hiker nearby in colorful gear rested at the door step of the cabin.
"Act casual," Harry suggested.
"Home?" Gia asked.
"Gone," Harry said.
Didn't feel right, but likely was. Harry went over to the one log across the near side of the forked river. Feet to the wood, he went halfway, sat down on it. He tried to collect his thoughts, took an hour before a blue express owl swooped down, dropped a letter, one that Harry grabbed and opened.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry,
Went as soon as I heard, luckily they mostly left before the muggles showed. It was not good. While some of your possessions may be recoverable; Dobby, Winky, Hedwig, Pigwidgeon, and Crookshanks perished. I'm sorry to have failed you again.
Snuffles
Harry felt the anger come back to him, the rush of the water beneath him helped.
…
Ron stood there. He, like Gia and Hermione, watched Harry sitting on the log, the feet that dangled.
"We need to go back," Hermione said.
"It's crawling," Ron said, "If we hadn't been tipped off, you'd both be gone."
"Harry…" Hermione started.
"Not like we had much time," Ron said, hoping that the House Elfs made it out.
Gia turned.
"It was tight," Ron admitted, "Got the important bit, and you're out of the house."
"That's not how we meant!" Hermione snapped.
Gia snickered.
"Know you two are alright when you're bickering," Gia said.
…
Harry finally made up his mind, so he got up, and waved. Ron's toes across the grass and he walked over. Gia and Hermione followed. Ron jumped onto the log first, the arms out, across the water to the broad gravel bar within the river. Gia and Hermione followed.
"I'm not sure where we are," Harry said, "We'll have plenty of time to bang."
Hermione snorted. Harry handed over the letter. They stood there on the small pebbles.
"Untrackable, now," Hermione said, "If that owl…"
Ron's wand out at the same speed as Harry's, the casting, though Hermione took another moment to bare hers.
"So what now?" Gia asked.
"We're homeless," Harry said.
Harry studied the disbelief in the blue eyes.
"No we're not," Ron said, "My brothers—"
"You know exactly what'd happen," Harry said, "How many more dead friends and family do you want?"
Harry kept his focus on Ron's, the memories that Harry pushed.
"Sorry," Ron muttered.
Harry studied the three faces, the ones that were his responsibility to protect.
"We're roughing it," Harry said, "So, conjure up a sleeping bag when you're tired, and a tent if you want it."
"Dumbledore's not going to like this," Hermione said.
"Tough!" Harry snapped.
Motion above, a bald eagle that soared along the valley.
"We're out of options for survival," Harry said, "Right now—I think we're in the states."
"That'd explain it feeling like noon," Hermione said.
Harry's stomach growled.
"Weird," Harry muttered.
"Maybe that's a good sign?" Ron asked.
"We lost our house," Gia stammered.
"Talk to Seamus into building us a new one?" Ron asked.
Harry pointed, they went up the log, back to the grassy meadow, and over to the trail. They walked north along it, in the same direction as the down flowing river. Harry and Gia took the lead, while Ron and Hermione lagged a bit behind.
"It's pretty up here," Gia said.
"I know you want a house," Harry said as they walked, "Can't happen. We try—it'd be destroyed, and maybe I won't get you out in time."
Harry sighed, knew it to be an ugly truth.
"Maybe it's the kick we needed," Harry said, "To stop being so complacent."
"You were trying to train up," Gia said.
Gia stopped, sat on the log to the side of the trail. Harry stopped, watched her.
"Maybe we are trained up … enough," Harry said, "Still—this air, I didn't want to be chased out of my own house!"
Harry sat on her legs, the hands to her chest.
"Also no training to distract," Harry said.
Harry grinned.
"So we stop," Ron said, Hermione next to him.
Harry kept his focus on Gia, kissed her.
"I've got you and I've got my wand," Harry said, "We're doing fine."
Harry stood, Gia stood.
"You two have wands." Harry pointed at Ron and Hermione. "No worries."
They continued. A sharp bend to the right, they stopped.
"Let's go faster," Harry said, his wrist that flicked. Broom out, he jumped on, Gia climbed on back.
Ron's Firebolt II came out, him and Hermione did the same. Disillusionment charms, they flew slow along the river, drifted down.
"I'm hungry," Harry said as he felt the pang.
"That's good," Gia whispered.
Harry didn't really need to return to the British Isles to know the reaction.
Neville didn't spend the time reading the details, the front pictures sufficient on The Evening Prophet. A destroyed house along with Harry being hurled up into the air from the house, along with Ron, Hermione, and Gia. A second moving picture showed the four hurling fast toward the waters of the English Channel.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Potter Buried at Sea!
In a resounding success, Eximo Macula President Seamus Finnigan is pleased to announce that Dark Lord Harry Potter has been successfully evicted from the British Isles, and presumably buried at sea due to devices of his own making. Aurors are currently employing muggle sea divers to search for Potter's remains.
Neville threw the paper to the side as he stood, went fast to the fireplace.
"Neville!" snapped Augusta Longbottom.
Neville dropped the Floo Powder.
"Leaky Cauldron!" Neville snapped.
Green flame that swaddled him, the spin, the stepping out into the crowded pub.
"Round of drinks on me!" shouted Seamus Finnigan, as he danced on top of the bar in his canary yellow underwear. "Potter's pissed in the drink dead!"
"You're a royal arsehole," Neville snapped.
"You sucked up to the losing side!" Finnigan shouted at Neville.
Neville returned to the fireplace, the handful of Floo Powder.
"Ginny Weasley!" Neville shouted.
A spin, the stepping out, into the small living room. Ginny's tears against a pillow on the sofa. Red hair a plenty in the room.
"Longbottom, right?" asked Arthur Weasley.
"Neville, son of Frank and Alice," Neville said.
"Fine Aurors," Arthur Weasley said, "Suppose…"
Neville nodded. Neville spotted the clock on the wall, four hands of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Gia were indeterminate.
"All were at mortal peril," Arthur said, "It took a couple of hours to settle down into this state."
A pop, Fred Weasley apparated in.
"Pictures are accurate," Fred said, "That house isn't a house anymore. George, Nymphadora, and Shacklebolt are sifting through the ruins, not much survived. A letter was sent express, owl's not yet returned, so we won't know if it's been delivered."
"Or drowned," Arthur said.
"And we have Neville Longbottom here," said Fred, blue eyes that turned.
"Harry and Ron were my friends too," Neville said, "Thought I'd offer my condolences."
"Thank you," Arthur said, "Two in a week."
Neville's eyes to the three here.
"Percy went missing Sunday," Ginny said.
"Oh," Neville said, "Sorry to hear that too."
"Wish it could be better," Arthur said.
"Dunno," Fred said, "Harry's pretty crafty, might've figured something out."
"Thanks for trying," Neville said, "I'll…go."
Neville turned, went for the fireplace. A handful of Floo Powder, and he dropped it.
"Augusta Longbottom!" Neville shouted as he begun to spin.
Neville stepped out, went into the kitchen, to the table, where Luna studied the tea leaves in her cup.
"According to this," Luna said, "Harry's about to have a meal, breathing, and alive."
Neville raised his eyebrows, appreciated the attempt at levity, but he glanced back at the paper, the declaration with enough witnesses that it couldn't be wrong.
Harry flew the broom, to the town of Port Angeles, Washington. Ron flew next to him, over the streets, down the hill, to the large expanse of water. A scout around, they landed, walked to a restaurant that was next to the shore, while cars drove onto a waiting ferry. Smells of grilled and barbequed seafood greeted their noses as they entered. Harry's disillusionment dropped first.
"Welcome," said the hostess, the young woman with her brunette hair up in a bun, "May I have a name for your party?"
"Sparky," Harry said, thinking for a fake name, "Four total."
Ron's disillusionment dropped, along with Hermione's and Gia's.
"This way Sparky," the woman said.
Harry followed her, along the tables, to one with a view to the water. That ferry began to move away, sail into the distance. Harry sat with the window to his right, Gia to his left. Ron directly across, with Hermione to the left.
"You don't plan to go swimming, do you?" Ron asked.
"There were enough of them," Harry said.
"He was afraid of taking a bath," Hermione said.
Harry snorted.
"We hang out here?" Gia asked.
"Yep," Harry said, "Lay low to Tuesday, return to Hogwarts."
"May I take your drink orders?" asked the hostess.
"What's your best lager?" Ron asked.
"I'd need an ID that shows you're twenty one," the hostess said.
"Soda," Harry said, "All of us."
"Can we order?" Hermione asked.
"What'd you have?" the hostess asked.
"Um…" Harry thumbed the menu. "Tuna with the baked potato and beans. Does that come with brown sauce?"
"We have a seafood sauce," the hostess said.
"He'll try it," Gia said.
Harry turned his head, watched an orange helicopter lift off across the small bay to the spit in the water. It flew out, while a second one returned. The hostess left.
"What?" Ron said, "I wanted a beer."
"Gotta be twenty one here," Harry said.
"Can't stay low if we're arrested," Hermione said.
"That sucks," Ron said, "Which is saying something for today."
"I was hoping for House Elf magic," Harry said, "Guess they couldn't get out either."
"You set them off," Hermione said.
"They were about to," Harry said, "I wanted them to think they succeeded."
"About did," Ron said.
"How much fall training had you been doing?" Gia asked.
"Remember me high diving last week at the pool?" Harry said, "Small potatoes…a lot."
"Paid off," Ron said.
Hermione glared.
"Well, it did," Ron said, "We made it out."
Hermione glared more.
"Likely impressive too," Ron said, "Shooting ourselves out of a cannon?"
Harry snorted.
"It worked," Gia said.
"Not planning to go back until Monday…here," Harry said, "So we can either get some groceries and hang out up there, or go explore."
"We're now homeless," Hermione said, "No books."
"Libraries exist for a reason," Harry said.
The hostess came over with a large tray, the plates that were set down. Salmon to Ron, the crab divided between Gia and Hermione. Harry glanced at his, the solid slab of grilled meat.
"Tuna…" Harry said.
"Expecting it from a can?" the hostess said, "This is better."
"I'll try it," Harry said.
Harry took the fork, delved into it, the buttered crunchy exterior over the tuna flavor, softer within. He took another bite, glanced at Ron's blue eyes that approved of his too. Harry ate into it fast, while the loss was huge, he wondered if this was indeed what they should've done weeks earlier.
"I hate losing Hedwig," Harry said, "But I'd like to make the most of this."
Gia's hand to his back.
"Show up on Tuesday," Harry said, "We'll get suspended, that'll likely repeat itself until the end of the year."
"You're optimistic," Hermione said.
"No suspensions and schoolwork is your idea of fun?" Ron asked.
Harry snorted.
"I mean, we can go anywhere," Harry said, "So long as we're back for class."
Gia grinned.
"We've got people after us," Harry said, "So, try to limit our stays—everywhere. Say, a night if it's family or friends. We can do two in outside the British Isles—three if we're hidden deep in the woods or something."
"That's not stable," Hermione said.
"Portkeys," Harry commanded as he pulled his Puddlemere United pin out.
Harry aimed his wand at his, the focus, the concentration, and put it back. He took Ron's, the same charm. He took what had been his from Hermione, did the same.
"Default is a random location," Harry said, "Concentrate for Hogwarts or Notley."
Gia's eyes on Harry.
"We can't spill if we don't know where we're heading," Harry said, "And this keeps us from loitering too long in the same areas."
"More paranoid than Mad Eye," Ron said.
"We've got cause," Harry said, "You want me to take charge, so I am. No more deaths please."
"Somehow I don't think they'll listen," Hermione said.
"They won't," Harry said, "We've got enough blood on our hands. Did she give us a check?"
Gia waved, the hostess came over.
"That was lovely," Ron said, "Um…final detail?"
The hostess left, returned with a tab. Harry sorted through his wand holster, the limited American money, pulled out a fifty pound note and a twenty.
"Sorry about that," Harry said, "Keep the change."
"That's a sixty percent tip!" Hermione said to Harry.
"It covers the hassle of taking it to the bank," Harry said.
Harry stood, along with Ron, and Gia. Hermione stood last, and they left the restaurant, back out into the warmish temperatures, the sunshine beneath mostly blue sky.
"Think I saw a grocers—that way." Harry pointed.
Feet to the pavement of the sidewalk, they went along Lincoln Street. Several blocks later, they spotted it, turned right toward it.
"A lot of carparks," Ron stated.
"I think it's their national religion," Harry said.
Through the automatic sliding glass doors, they entered. Gia grabbed a pair of shopping baskets, handed one to Ron.
"Only what we can carry," Harry reminded them.
Gia pulled Harry to the shelves of the pharmacy area, the multivitamins.
"He said one of these, right?" Gia asked.
…
"They're not shy about taking space," Ron said, his eyes open to the large store.
"States have it to spare," Hermione said.
Ron went along the meats, began to pick it out.
"Keep it light," Hermione said, "Two days—tops."
"Still Friday, right?" Ron asked, his eyes that glanced at her.
"Yes," Hermione said, "Getting late though."
Ron reached for the streaky bacon, a couple dozen eggs.
"We can always come back," Hermione said.
"To somewhere else," Ron said.
"Find enough?" Harry asked as he came up to them.
Gia carried the basket, full.
"Let's head out," Gia suggested.
The four of them walked through the aisle, to the front, to the cashiers, the baskets to the belt, and they joined the line. Ron went out front, sat on a bench, the sunshine to him, as Hermione sat next to him.
"I know he just got robbed big time," Ron said, "Sometimes…" Ron stared at his toes on the pavement. "I can't always help it."
"They wanted to kill us," Hermione said.
Ron reached, held her.
"It's what we have left," Ron said.
Hermione sighed.
"Think we'll be homeless forever?" Hermione asked,
"No," Ron said, "We'll be executed first."
"Cheerful," Hermione snapped.
Harry carried plastic bags out of the store, set them down on the bench, and Gia stood behind him. An aim of the wand, he conjured up two large canvas sacks, divided the groceries.
"Ready?" Harry asked.
Ron stood, the aim of the wand, the disillusionment charm on himself, Hermione. Harry did the same to Gia. Another flick, the Firebolt II that came out. Hermione carried one canvas sack to her back as she climbed on behind Ron. Harry and Ron flew their brooms, the ground that shrunk away from them, and they followed the highway.
"This way," Harry suggested.
Left onto the Elwha river, they went along it, up over the dams, and continued, to an S–bend in the river, the fast rapids, and they landed on the outcropping finger to the opposite side from the trail. A handful of trees on the spit, the evergreen trees to either side of the bank that went up steep.
"Pretty," Gia said.
Toes on the gravel, the silty soil, the shadows that had already gotten deeper.
"Wait to conjure until needed," Harry said as Hermione conjured up a small ice chest with a cooling charm.
Ron aimed, the branches and sticks that gathered, into a flat spot of rocks. Another swish, the flame that came to them. Ron sat on the log, Gia next to him.
"This is going to be our lives?" Gia asked.
"For a while," Ron said, "Unless you want to talk Harry into drawing a big red X over another of our friends."
Gia snorted.
"He went out of his way to eat," Ron said, "Maybe it's what Harry needed."
"High price," Gia said.
"Read all the books," Ron said, "It's still guessing."
Gia snorted.
"I'm totally dependent on you," Gia said, "I've got nothing else."
"Harry knows that," Ron said, "Can't go on too much longer, Voldemort's plans go sour by the end of term, always have."
Gia snorted.
"An adversary who writes a reminder on the calendar," Gia said, "Note to self, finish the attack by June 30th so I can still make my summer beach holiday."
Ron snorted.
"Hey," Ron said, "Whatever stops him—so long as our execution isn't required."
They camped there for the rest of the evening into the night.
Albus Dumbledore landed with the Portkey into his office in the night that never ended, as it was almost Saturday morning. His legs were protesting, and he sat into his familiar Headmaster chair. He took the first letter, the one of urgency compared to the other unopened ones.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Albus,
Delivery was successful, unlikely anywhere nearby given the exhaustion on the poor owl.
Snuffles
"Did you bother to get any sleep?" asked Minerva McGonagall as she entered the office.
"Did you?" asked Albus.
Minerva shook her head.
"One glimmer of hope," Albus said as he showed her the letter, "A funeral we can postpone."
"They—" Minerva said, her fingers to The Daily Prophet, "Pretty convincing."
Albus leafed through the pages of pictures of the four hurling through the air, the plummeting.
"None of these show Mr. Potter in the water," Albus said.
"Nobody expected the need to," Minerva said.
"Unfortunately I expect his survival to be credited incorrectly," Albus said, "And we are out of a luxury known as time. Future lessons and instructors will be curated. Any teacher that's expressed a disinterest in furthering Harry's education will have their wishes honored."
"Understood," Minerva said.
Sky blue robes, the doors that opened, the Minister for Magic, Victor Fallerschain entered, the Aurors behind him.
"I want to know what you've done with their remains," the Minister said, the eyes that turned to Minerva, "With his shape, I expect you're doing the fixing."
"No remains have been recovered," Dumbledore said.
"Potter's," Minister Fallerschain said, "His friends."
"Their House Elfs and pets were buried," Dumbledore said, "As to Mr. Potter or the others, we have not gone diving."
"You know where they are," the Minister said.
"No, I do not," Dumbledore said, "Please continue the search of the English Channel. I'm eager to know."
"Until their fates are known," said McGonagall, "Their positions at Hogwarts will remain."
"Moot," the Minister said, "Come."
The Minister turned, left the office as Severus Snape entered.
"Keep brewing," Dumbledore said.
"The Dark Lord is unconvinced by the spectacle," Snape said.
"Neither was I," Dumbledore said, "Please, time is of the essence."
Snape left the office. Dumbledore turned to The Daily Prophet and read further in.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Properties of the Potter Trust
The following is a listing of all known properties being held by the Potter Family Trust. The infamous Harry Potter is slated to inherit these in the near future.
Dumbledore scanned the list, dozens of them.
"Missed one," Dumbledore said, "Still, it's fairly comprehensive."
"Something Mr. Potter could make use of?" asked McGonagall.
"Already occupied," Dumbledore said.
"Anything else?" McGonagall asked.
"Apparently neither Finland nor Denmark got the memo that Potter's dead," Dumbledore said.
McGonagall's eyes peered over the rim of her glasses.
"While getting killed," Dumbledore said, "It's claimed that Potter murdered four in Finland and Denmark, pretty remarkably talented, wouldn't you say?"
McGonagall shook her head, and left the office.
Hermione woke as the sleeping bag vanished beneath her. Ron squatting to the fire.
"You're—" Hermione started.
"Cooking," Ron said, "Now that we lack a stove—fire it is."
Hermione rolled, stood. Ron used a stick to flip the streaky bacon in the frying pan. Hermione's wand out, the stick turned into a pair of tongs.
"Ta," Ron said.
"Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Where else?" Ron asked.
Hermione glanced, a hiker on the trail across the river from them. Gia was next to the water of the river, and Hermione went over to her.
"Well," Hermione said, "We're out of the house."
Hermione missed Crookshanks, missed hearing Hedwig's hoot.
"I know I should count myself lucky to survive that," Gia said, "It's…a lot."
"Suppose Harry knows that too," Hermione said.
Hermione watched as Harry came down the bank from the trail, returned.
"Guess there's no denying how much they want us gone," Gia said.
"Nope," Hermione said.
Hermione went over to the painted outdoor picnic table, sat at it. Harry took a multivitamin, worked at a bit of the bacon.
"Not as…" Harry started.
Hermione's eyes on him.
"That other pill," Harry said, "Stimulates appetite."
"Do what you can," Hermione said, "You'll see Notley the first thing when we get back."
Harry nodded.
"Right now," Ron said, "Laying low's like the best idea."
Ron set down a plate of friend eggs. Harry conjured a fork, began working into a couple.
"Some salt and pepper would go good too," Harry said, "Or brown sauce."
"We could fly into town," Hermione said.
"Too many eyes," Harry said.
"They ain't looking here," Hermione said, "We're eight timezones away."
"Still need to be careful," Harry said, "Once they start looking—we're in trouble again."
"Keep eating or there's going to be nothing for them to find," Hermione said, "We'll…bang you with every meal?"
Harry snorted.
"I'll go first," Ron said.
Harry shook his head, worked at the toast.
"Somebody forgot beans," Ron said.
"We'll survive," Gia said as she came over, sat.
Hermione focused on Ron as he stood there. Despite their losses, she came out on the other side with what mattered most; Ron and Harry and Gia, they had what they truly needed.
Sunday morning, Dumbledore opened The Daily Prophet at the table in the greenhouse. Smell of dirt and plants in the air, the small breakfast before him, the clouds above.
"Your office," Minerva asked.
"Needed something fresh," Dumbledore said, "Bit iffy for rain."
Dumbledore glanced through the paper.
"It's clear they're pushing internationally," Dumbledore said, "Massacre of nine in India, five in Bulgaria — they really should refrain from publishing Harry's death if they're expecting people to swallow this."
"We both know that common reasoning eludes the wizarding world," Minerva said.
Dumbledore sighed.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Sunday 6 April 1997
Setback for Potter
While claiming success in the spectacular eviction of Potter from his lair of dark arts at 66 Pickering Place in Noigate, the EM took measures to eradicate all potential safe houses from disciples of Potter. Raids were taken to strip Dark Potter of resources to continue his experimentation and practicing of Dark Arts. Acting upon the advice from solicitors that such actions are permissible under the SDCWA, concerned activists scrubbed away all buildings and potential safe havens from the properties held by the Potter Family Trust.
Despite the high speed plummet into the sea, a minority of voices are concerned that Potter successfully deployed Dark Arts to evade death, and remains a threat at large. Given the wards and explosives hidden in that lair, this possibility cannot be ruled out until a corpse is produced. Therefore, these raids will ensure that Potter's pursuit of Dark Arts is significantly crippled.
We editors at The Daily Prophet can now assure the muggle residents that they can sleep securely now that a known terrorist has been removed from their community, and will no longer take refuge there during his experimentation.
Eximo Macula is a world wide organization boasting over three hundred thousand active members in Britain and Ireland; an organization dedicated to eradicating dark arts, and eliminating the threat of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Shouldn't have Lived, the boy who hopefully isn't.
"The list was stolen from Griphook's office," Dumbledore said, "He's willing to delay processing the claim."
"Of course," McGonagall said.
Dumbledore worked on his hard boiled egg, wondered what options Harry would consider for a roof over his head.
Harry woke to the noise of the metal crashing, the sniffing to his feet, in the dim morning light. A growl, Harry turned, the black furry mass that was chewing through the food in the cooler that vanished.
"WAKE!" Harry shouted.
A growl.
"Blimey!" Ron muttered.
"Gia," Harry shook her awake.
"Hermione!" Ron shouted.
"What?" Hermione asked.
Black fur that approached. Harry stretched himself across the other three, apparated them all to the other bank. Another growl. Harry stood up, the water that now separated him.
"Unless you wanted more close and personal attention," Harry said, pointed at the bear going through the remnants of their camp.
"Suppose that means bears live around here," Gia said.
"Also means we need to up our game," Harry said.
"We ain't staying?" Ron asked.
"You saw," Harry said, "We didn't have time to pack—it wanted food."
"So do we," Gia said.
"We need to carry a bit more," Harry said.
"Backpacks," Hermione suggested.
"No, stay lighter," Harry said, "Um…"
Harry thought it over and sniffed.
"Showers first," Harry said, "We're heading back for a couple hours, Athens or something after that."
A grin to Gia's face.
"Outside the stadium and Hogwarts and errands," Harry said, "Consider ourselves exiled from the British Isles."
Ron and Hermione nodded.
"First, your Portkey," Harry said, "Think your brothers' would mind?"
Ron pulled out the Hogwarts Pin, activated it. Harry, Hermione, and Gia held on. Jerk behind the navals, the pull, they landed in the bedroom with mirrors.
"Do you MIND?" stammered Ginny, her head over the desk, "Oh!"
"My…" Ron said.
"Should change it to the living room," Harry said.
"Thought—" Ginny started, handed Harry The Evening Prophet with the pictures.
"Wow," Harry said, "Got our backsides."
"Not everybody believed it," Ginny said.
Ron went for the door. Harry, Gia, and Hermione followed. Down the steps.
"Merlin's beard," said Mr. Weasley as they entered the living room.
"Mind if we fixed ourselves a spot of breakfast?" Ron said, "Bear ate ours."
"It's afternoon," Arthur said.
Harry took the left into the lavatory, into the shower. Gia followed him.
"Need to be quick," Harry said, "Don't want to loiter."
Harry worked himself.
"Got a couple errands," Harry said, "Leave you here with everybody while I do that."
"What?" Gia asked.
"We left unprepared," Harry said.
Harry rinsed, grabbed a towel, dried himself off as he entered the living room. Smells of bacon, his appetite wasn't really there, when he spotted his trunk in the corner of the living room.
"What was recovered is in there," Arthur said, "Mostly…I think Nymphadora's working on restoring a couple items."
Harry went over to it, crouched, and opened the lid. Among the thicket of items, his pill bottles were on top.
"Solves…one problem," Harry said as he took out a couple of pills.
Harry closed the lid, stood, and went to the kitchen. Ron was at the stove, frying it up. Harry swallowed the pills, washed it down with water.
"I'll give these a bit of time," Harry said, "Back in a bit."
Ron's blue eyes to Harry's.
"Going somewhere?" Ron thought.
"Ollivander's," Harry replied.
Ron spat.
"Most of them think we're dead," Harry thought, "Four's too many, especially at Gringott's."
"I'll eat when I get back," Harry said, "Then we can take off."
"Thought you'd spend the night," Arthur said.
"You're in danger once they realize we apparated out of this!" Harry pointed to the picture of them plummeting toward the water. "I appreciate the Weasley hospitality, but I'm tired of the destruction, deaths. We're not risking you."
Harry's wand out, the invisibility, the disapparation, and the apparation into the shop.
"I sell hundreds of wands a year," said Mr. Ollivander, "You expect me to remember the details to one specific wand?"
"Your knack for it is legendary," said Seamus Finnigan, in the canary yellow.
"We cannot be certain of Potter's death without confirming his wand," said Cearo Tebworth.
The brunette auror stood next to Finnigan. Her blue eyes glanced around a bit, fidgeted. Darkness and layers duplicity behind those eyes, ones that recognized Harry's mental inquiry for what it was, and the discomfort to it.
"But it's unreasonable to expect you to remember every single wand," Cearo Tebworth said, "A boast, the air of confidence, authority. You wouldn't mind showing your ledger?"
"You would find that Mr. Potter purchased a wand for his first year at Hogwarts," Mr. Ollivander said, "The wise wizards do. He undoubtedly finds his wand to be of fine craftsmanship, durable, reliable."
"You—" Finnigan started.
"He is an old wizard," said Tebworth, "His memory's not what it used to be."
Finnigan groaned, however, her hands guided both of them to leave; the door opened, closed with those two outside the shop, and its lock engaged as the sign flipped to closed. Blinds shuttered.
"Given your remarkable feats," Mr. Ollivander said, "I take it you find your wand to still be serviceable."
Harry's invisibility dropped, the eyes pleased to see the teenager.
"Wands do not lie," Mr. Ollivander said, "What may be the pleasure today?"
"I'm traveling very light," Harry said, "Decoy wand holsters." He gripped his left arm. "Something like that as a purse for Gia. And…" He grabbed his hips. "Self–concealing pockets on the skin, not in the trousers with a bit of carry, say a book or three?"
"First," Mr. Ollivander said, "Dragon hide is not ordinary cloth, for best effect, I'd recommend no more than two items on your person."
"Pockets then," Harry said, "One each, plus a holster for Gia."
"Second," Mr. Ollivander said, "Madam Malkin's—"
"I do not trust them," Harry said, "I trust you. Any reason I shouldn't?"
Mr. Ollivander shook his head.
"Your request," Mr. Ollivander said, "It may take a bit of time."
"I will be at Fred and George Weasley's house shortly," Harry said, "All four of us need this, so that work?"
"Yes," Mr. Ollivander said.
"Thank you," Harry said, "In an hour or two."
Harry's wand out, the invisibility, the disapparation, the contortion he overcame, and apparation into the office, the view down to Diagon Alley, and a goblin at the desk.
"Those who overpower apparation wards get noticed," said Griphook, "Charms did not stop the lavender scent."
Harry's invisibility dropped, and the goblin turned to Harry.
"I should ask for an appointment," Griphook said.
"Schedule me for yesterday," Harry said, "Now I'm overdue."
"Might I know what is on your mind?" Griphook asked.
"Did you diversify as directed?" Harry asked.
"What do you need?" Griphook asked.
"Concealment, secrecy, for me and my friends," Harry said, "We need to pull out and deposit money anywhere on this planet—nothing too unreasonable, aside from not wanting it to reveal my location like using the Gringotts card would."
"I will have it tomorrow," Griphook said, "For it is Sunday, muggle banks are closed on Sundays."
"Thank you," Harry said.
Harry's wand out, the invisibility, the disapparation, the contorsion he overcame, and apparation. Coach Meyers fretted at his desk in his office, the team roster before him.
"Thank you for the training so far," Harry said as his invisibility dropped.
A startle to the man, the eyes relieved.
"Gave me the confidence to pull it off," Harry said, "Though I waited as long as I could, without actually getting wet—I'm guessing it would've stung."
A snort.
"Obviously, felt it best to not advertise my survival," Harry said, "Thought I'd let you know me and Ron are fit."
"That's for Notley's determination," the coach said.
"True," Harry said, "Though I consider upright, walking, and talking to be a good start."
"I suppose these shenanigans are going to be the usual for you," Coach Meyers said.
"A mob of thousands came to kill me and destroy my house," Harry said, "They succeeded on the house along with my loyal steeds. I will take the measures necessary to deprive them of their first goal, as death would make me unfit to play."
"It would," Coach Meyers said.
"Thank you," Harry said as he turned.
"You're a wizard of many talents," Coach Meyers said, "It's a pleasure to help you develop some of them to great effect."
"Ta," Harry said.
A stray thought, Harry disapparated, apparated into the examination room. Fred's legs dangled as he sat on the table. Notley was sifting through tins on the shelf.
"Should be…here," Notley said.
"Do you mind?" Fred stammered, the blue eyes on Harry, the embarrassment that trumped the relief of seeing him.
Harry turned, went for the door.
"Got the creame that'll work," Notley said.
Harry closed the door as he stepped into the locker room. He walked to the lockers, fingered the nameplate, the only spot in the world with his name attached to it, which was the same for Ron.
"They claim you went fifty miles," Fred said as he stepped over.
"I'd believe it," Harry said as he went past, entered the examination room.
Harry stepped up on the scale.
"I missed yesterday's appetite thing, but managed to take it about an hour ago," Harry said, "A bear ate breakfast, so Ron's fixing that now—might be ready. And I've got jet–lag."
"Curious to this tale," Fred said as he loitered.
"Yeah," Harry said, "Not like I wanted to do anything to the bear, so we let it have the food."
Notley shook his head for a moment.
"Bad?" Harry asked.
"Could've been worse," Notley said, "Glad you're trying despite the circumstances."
"Not practicing today," Harry said, "But if you get the chance, try barbequed tuna."
"The tin?" Fred asked.
"No, a slab of it," Harry said, "Delicious."
"See me tomorrow," Notley said.
"No guarantees—new itinerary," Harry said as he stepped off, "I'll try."
Harry went into the locker room, Fred still there.
"Good seeing you," Fred said, "One heck of a picture."
"Ginny showed it," Harry said, "I think Voldemort's sending you an inspector."
A grab of Fred, the disapparation, apparation, into the living room.
"Gotta leave," Harry said to Ron at the table.
"Breakfast," Ron said.
Harry conjured up a paper plate, the food that piled onto it.
"You missed Mr. Ollivander," Hermione said.
Harry grabbed Stupefy! Stunnington's Auror Handbook, along with a small box, the plate on top, his pill bottles that flew onto it.
"Seconds," Harry said, "Hold me."
"EXIMO MACULA!" came the shout with the pounding at the front door.
Harry disapparated.
…
Hermione apparated with Ron, Harry, and Gia into the Puddlemere United clubhouse. Harry sat, summoned a fork, and ate into the eggs on the plate.
"Alright, guess this works," Ron said.
"Needed a break," Harry said, kept eating.
Hermione walked a bit, to the railing that overlooked the empty pitch. Ron stepped up next to her.
"Not like Harry wants us to go like this," Ron said.
"I know," Hermione said.
"He's got more patience than me," Ron said, "If it were my house…doubt Finnigan would need anything above six feet below."
"Hermione! Ron!" came Gia's shout.
Ron and Hermione turned, went back to the table where Harry opened the box, the pouch, a pocket of dragon hide.
"Side of your butt near your hip," Hermione said.
Harry pushed his blue shorts down to expose his, place it to his right buttock, where it blended in and vanished. Harry took Stupefy! Stunnington's Auror Handbook, and put it in, along with his pill bottles. Harry restored his shorts.
"Though a backpack would've been better," Hermione said.
"You saw it this morning," Harry said, "Anything not on you is bound to get left behind."
Hermione sighed.
"Let's head off," Harry said, "Life."
Hermione held Harry's shoulder, Ron held the other, Gia held his front. Harry closed his eyes, the focus, the disapparation.
"Here?" Ron asked as they apparated.
Warm evening air, the lounge recliners, the chairs.
"Kept this one easy," Harry said, "Tomorrow, we choose randomly."
"End of the beach for a spot to sleep," Ron suggested.
Their feet to the warm sand, they walked, waves of the Mediterranean came from their left. Along the sand, they came to the final stand, and Harry stood in the queue.
"I'm…" Harry started.
"Not arguing," Hermione said.
"Anybody got…pesos?" Harry asked.
"Um…" Ron muttered as he fished through his wand holster, handed over a note.
Hermione and Gia sat down at one of the low tables, two chairs to a side, backs to the water.
"There is this," Gia said.
"I should be studying," Hermione said.
"I am," Gia said.
"Not them," Hermione said.
Hermione watched Harry and Ron at the counter.
"Maybe you were getting too comfortable?" Gia asked.
"Could've walked out the door to avoid that," Hermione said.
"But you didn't," Gia said.
Harry and Ron turned, the trays in their hands. Baskets of the chicken strips, the cut potatoes, the chips, and the sodas, went onto the table. Harry tore at the brown sauce packets, put it over the chicken strips first. Gia leaned forward, and worked at a plastic basket.
"Who'd pierce their nipples?" Harry asked, the bottle greens that drifted.
Hermione worked though half a basket, felt full, and handed the rest over to the boys' side. Harry continued, as did Ron.
Burp! Burp!
Ron and Harry started it, kept the burping for a couple of minutes. Gia shook her head, though she gathered the trays and the baskets, carried them over to the return stand. They continued down the beach, past the end of the boardwalk, past the spit that went out further into the water, the civilization that faded from view.
"There," Harry said.
They walked over up into the dryer part of the beach, between two bigger logs. Harry began to sit, Ron sat first, Gia next, Hermione between Ron and Gia. Harry returned to standing.
"This is now our lives, we're in this together," Harry said, "Please, keep your heads."
Harry sat across from Hermione, his knees against those of Gia and Ron, like hers was. Harry pulled out Stupefy! Stunnington's Auror Handbook.
"Because we've been fooling around," Harry said, "We are going to read this until we've memorized it, or fall asleep trying. And we start with the dedication."
Hermione's eyes traced Harry's figure, one of the two boys she'd sacrificed for. About everything in her life, her parents, their estate that's likely headed to the crown, her cousins; her few surviving possessions were in Harry's trunk in London. Hermione hoped Harry and Ron were worth it.
Clouds above on this Monday morning, Dumbledore waited on the chair, the carpet that floated him down the hill to the familiar hut, the one of the groundkeeper's, one he'd have to fill. McGonagall in her emerald green robes left the castle. Dumbledore got off, right hand to the cane, the left that gripped the door, his legs that trembled as he took the steps up. A furry head that greeted the Headmaster's left hand as he entered.
"Morning Fang," Dumbledore said.
"Came as soon as I heard," Sirius said, "Ministry really going to grab Remus' estate?"
Dumbledore sat at the table, hand sipped at the tea.
"Trying to argue that a werewolf is not sentient enough for creating a will," Dumbledore said, "If that pans out, the best we might hope for is for his estate to go to the crown."
Dumbledore opened The Daily Prophet, read into it.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Monday 7 April 1997
Trial Date Set
Rubeus Hagrid, the former Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, will be tried on charges of illegal breeding of dangerous creatures starting on 5 May 1997. These charges are stemming from the release of dangerous creatures at Hogwarts that resulted in the mercy killing of Owen Cauldwell, a third year Hufflepuff. These creatures, half bats, half demeantors, present an extreme danger to all who cross their paths.
Hagrid has elected to retain Albus Dumbledore as a solicitor on his behalf. Both are advised that the best chances for court mercy is to reiterate how it was Potter who obviously masterminded this dark scheme to terrorize his fellow students at Hogwarts.
"At least Hagrid gets a trial," said McGonagall as she entered. A wave of her wand, the breakfasts that appeared on the table.
"Thank you," Sirius said to her.
Dumbledore moved on in the paper.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Skeeter Removed from HPGC
Rita Skeeter, a known collaborator of Harry Potter, has been removed from the Harry Potter Guidance Committee (HPGC). This committee is not searching for a replacement, but has instead elected to allow a reduction to four members to curb the expenditures that Potter is refusing to cover as required.
In a statement, Dolores Umbridge, Chairperson of the committee, said, "Skeeter has been removed because she now buys into the excuse making of Potter, the same problem that has plagued the wizarding community for many years. Skeeter now readily accepts that Potter is above all the rules and laws that bind us together. This committed had no choice but to remove her for that reason and the fact that she has failed to show up to regularly scheduled meetings."
The committee has expressed displeasure at the cold shoulder offered by Albus Dumbledore. Numerous times, Dumbledore has refused to transfer control of the Potter family trust to the committee for better safe keeping. Numerous times, Dumbledore has refused to permit any access to Harry Potter for routine questioning. Numerous times, Dumbledore has refused to cooperate in urging Potter to pay his debts.
Dumbledore worked the toast with blackberry jelly on it, into his mouth, ate.
"Never underestimate this man," McGonagall said, "Nor would you like to know the Minister is waiting in your office."
McGonagall worked at her grits.
"Offer Mr. Fallerschain a lesson in how to wait patiently," Dumbledore said, "Likely in regard to this."
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Dumbledore Impedes Investigation
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is impeding an official Ministry investigation by refusing to disclose the current whereabouts of Harry Potter, needed for questioning in several recent unexplained disappearances. Dumbledore has refused the many requests over the past weekend to disclose the whereabouts of Mr. Potter or to produce him for questioning. Potter remains the primary suspect in the disappearances of Ernie Macmillan and Padma Patil.
"I am their Headmaster not their custodian," Dumbledore said, "I do not have any known address for Mr. Potter."
"Where is Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked.
"They were seen yesterday," Dumbledore said, "Good given their…unorthodox departure technique."
"That wasn't funny," Sirius said.
Dumbledore read off the numbers.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Problem Solver
Face it Wizarding World, it's time to vote with your purse, express your dissatisfaction with the vileness that has crept back into our lives. You thought the Boy Who Lived was your salvation, you wish that were true but know it's not. We need to banish this blemish and disease from our lives, to return to the wonderful world of magic we all know and love.
Eximo Macula is proud to help administer these rewards for removal of known threats to the wizarding community.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Shouldn't Have Lived. 865K galleons.
Ronald Weasley, Kiss Up King. 684K galleons.
Hermione Granger, Wannabe Dark Queen. 451K galleons.
Gia Prescott, Muggle Cock Holster aka Potter's pet. 297K galleons.
Rita Skeeter, Quill Slaughterer. 4.1k galleons.
Bonus of 10,000 galleons per relation or friendship severed.
Removal of these problems would be greatly appreciated. All wagers and contributions can be sent to "Bye Bye". To claim a reward, submit relevant documentation.
"It did take the heat off," Dumbledore said, "Though his problems are continuing, as four in South Africa were murdered yesterday. This…Mr. Riddle's pressing to make Potter a world wide problem, as none of us will confirm or deny his survival."
"Feel useless sitting here," Sirius said.
"I do have an idea," Dumbledore said.
Hermione woke up on the beach, on the open sleeping bag with Ron, Harry, and Gia.
"Showers up the beach," Ron said.
"Our lives—public outdoor hoses for showers," Hermione said.
"Got them at the stadium too," Harry said.
"Light traveling," Gia said, "Need a camera."
"Really?" Harry asked.
"Yes Mister." Gia rolled over. "World travel? Better believe we're taking pictures, got little else."
"Breakfast," Ron said.
Hermione rolled forward first, the sun on her front as she stood, back to Harry and Ron.
"I want a camera," Gia said, "Given the stress, a witness to the fun you are having."
Water crashed against their feet.
"Also you want a camera," Gia said, "What if we come across your impostors? Or that evil wizard? Pictures for that paper."
"Got a point there," Ron said.
They walked along the beach which helped Hermione feel safe, that she belonged.
First lesson of the day, Neville sat at the desk in the Transfiguration classroom. Parvati sat next to him.
"No word on Padma," Parvati whispered.
Neville watched Finnigan stir, the hand that barely tried to raise before he spoke.
"Excuse me Professor," Finnigan said, "Now that Potter's dead, can't you clear out the extra beds in the dormitory?"
"To withdraw Mr. Potter requires a death certificate," Professor McGonagall said as she approached his desk.
"People watched him die," Finnigan said.
"A body is required," Professor McGonagall said, her eyes that focused on him, "Otherwise you're wanting a declaration of presumed death—which can only be petitioned by his family, which you are not."
A glare.
"Alternatively," Professor McGonagall said, "As Mr. Potter is on suspension, he does not risk abandonment of his position until… given the lateness in term, it would be September first. So, for now, you will have to put up with their empty beds in the dormitory."
Neville sighed, wondered how grisly a death that'd be, to be shot into the English Channel. The Professor collected the essays, brought them up to her desk. Finnigan spun around, the canary yellow to his jumper, and the tie beneath it.
"Gotta admit," Malfoy said, in the Slytherin uniform, the white blonde hair, "She's right, have Potter's stiff?"
Finnigan shook his head.
"Until then," Malfoy said, "Death is speculative, and with your contracts still listed in The Daily Prophet, clear they don't accept it either."
"We all—" Thomas started, the metal hand that was raised.
"What'd you see?" Malfoy said, "Anybody see Potter in the water?"
Finnigan shook his head.
"Look," Malfoy said, "I'm trying to save you the embarrassment if Potter walks in the front door tomorrow."
"You're wrong," Finnigan said.
"Have it your way," Malfoy said.
"Let us begin," Professor McGonagall said.
Harry apparated with Ron, Hermione, and Gia into Griphook's office early that afternoon. Only Griphook was there, dropping the styrofoam container into the rubbish bin.
"Have a good lunch?" Harry asked.
"Delicious," Griphook said, "Didn't realize tuna could be made so wonderfully."
"Never hurts to butter up the banker," Harry said.
A slight grin to Griphook's face.
"Got them?" Harry asked.
Griphook nodded, opened his brief case to his right. He pulled out plastic cards, some debit, some identification cards, handed them over to Harry.
"They need names," Griphook said.
Harry grabbed a pair, thought about it.
"I'm Sparky," Harry said.
Onto the cards, the name emblazoned itself with Sparky Owens, cards Harry tucked into his wand holster.
"Aqua," Gia said as Harry handed her a pair, both emblazoned itself with Aqua Brady.
Harry handed a pair to Ron, the blue eyes beneath the red hair.
"I'm buying our survival," Harry said, "It's communal, even if it bankrupts me."
"Knight," Ron said, his cards emblazoned themselves with Knight Hoffman.
Harry handed a pair to Hermione, a glance to her.
"Lady," Hermione said. Hers went to Lady Williams.
"Pull cash at ATMs," Harry said, "Sparingly as needed."
"Good luck," Griphook said.
Harry's wand out, the disillusionment against him and Gia. Ron and Hermione did the same. Harry held on, the focus, the disapparation, the mild contorsion, and they apparated to the noise, the smells, of London. A pile of rubbish against the pole of the traffic light, motorcars on the A4 Strand, and they went for the camera store.
"You're making good?" Gia asked.
"They're using cameras against us," Harry said, "About time to change that."
They went in, the crampness within the displays, usual for a London store.
"We could—" Ron started.
"We don't need tamper resistance," Hermione said.
The man behind the counter spotted Harry after the disillusion dropped.
"My girlfriend's camera got…it was unfortunate," Harry said, "So, we wanted to see what's a good buy."
"Your best camera will be the one with you," the man said, "The one you pull out to use. Point and shoot, or are you looking for better control over the picture?"
Gia, Ron, and Hermione stood there as Harry began to discuss it over with the man. Well over an hour had passed before Harry had selected a couple of compact point and shoot cameras, one that matched Colin's, and a Canon SLR with standard 35mm film. Harry pulled bank notes out of his holster, which became suspiciously dry of British ones.
"Excellent choices," the man said as he took the money, made change.
The man handed Harry the receipt, and Harry went with the cameras in a bag. Wands out, they disillusioned themselves as they left the shop, huddled together. Harry took out the Puddlemere United portkey.
"Alright, first time," Harry said, "Anywhere, feel lucky?"
"Already am," Gia said.
Harry activated it, focused for that timezone, near a warm beach would be nice. Ron, Hermione, and Gia held on as it the usual jerk behind the navals came to them, the tug, being drawn away. Sand to their feet as they landed, the warm breeze, the sound of the ocean behind them.
"I don't see a bank," Harry said, "Well, if it's tourist, they're used to foreign notes."
"Got those cards," Gia said.
"And the moment somebody realizes those are us—we're toast," Harry said, "Best to avoid using them except at banks, pay in cash only."
Harry turned around, the tables with umbrellas, the ones over lounger chairs, realized it likely was a more tourist type of beach, and it'd work until tomorrow when they'd have to return to Hogwarts.
Date: Thu Jan 4 09:53:35 2024