MISSION BROOMSTICK
Tyson Storm; a name that sent shivers down every degenerate's spine, also known as the king of the underground, sat upon his throne, watching his groveling minions with amusement.
An entire level transformed into a land fit to house the king of the underworld. O, life was good for anyone serving under the banner of 'The Den'
"We caught the snitch my liege," said Thomas Gale, the leader of the division of pickpockets.
"Excellent," hissed Tyson, his black eyes glittering cruelly. "Take him to the pits and remind him what a mistake it is to betray us."
Gale bowed deeply and left the throne room of level one.
"Is there anything you require from us My Lord?" asked some of his followers who were kneeling all around him, just waiting for him to give the most whimsical order.
Tyson's eyes fell upon the curvy figure coming out of his private room and he licked his lips in anticipation of what was to come.
"Everyone out," he hissed and stared at the seductive beauty walking towards him.
"I sense you are hungry, My King," whispered a sweet, deliciously husky voice.
"Ah Natasha, my love." Tyson grinned and his eyes were drawn to the see through negligee. "I see you finally awoke after our passionate love making."
"You were wonderful as always," she whispered, gliding towards him with sexual intentions. "Please ravage me again, My King."
All of Tyson's blood rushed south and he stood up from his throne with impure thoughts and intentions.
"But perhaps you should wake up first," she added with a teasing pout.
"What?" That was not right was it?
"Wake up Harry," she repeated. Her voice was turning manlier and it was not doing good things to Tyson's libido.
"Harry? Who's Harry?"
"Harry! Tyson! Wake up for fucks sake!"
Tyson groaned. Why did the best things in life always come in the form of dreams? he thought miserably and covered his head with the pillow. "Go away Henry," he mumbled. He wanted to be a king again. Not just another peasant in an ocean of peasants!
"Tyson, wake up. Your friends are calling for you."
That woke him up, friends were important after all and he sat up, staring blearily around the tiny room. A moment later he frowned.
His name wasn't Tyson. It was Harry! Harry James Potter and he had no friends.
Who were you this time?"
Harry sighed. "Tyson again."
Hugo was worried. It had been a year and a half into their life in the underground when Harry started to have an odd crisis. He would wake up in the mornings sometimes in the persona of James; the American alias. Sometimes it was Ahmed but mostly it was Tyson, the face he had been wearing for the better part of two years.
After the first two incidents of Harry not recognising his own name, a morning ritual or rather after waking up ritual was formed in which he meditated on his real name, remembered the time spent as Harry Potter and reaffirmed his identity by reviewing memories of his past vocally.
"Come on," Hugo beckoned, standing in a circle drawn on the floor. Their ten by ten home; closet for people above the ground, was divided in two by a red curtain. On either side of the curtain was a circle in which two people could stand in and in one of the circles, Harry and Hugo stood side by side with a long chain around both their necks which was attached to a time turner.
The half of the room which was away from the door was never used nor entered and was completely empty, except for a circle on the floor.
The half which was used had two mattresses on the floor against the wall and beside the entrance was another smaller, two by two feet cubicle which served as their bathroom. The rest of the room was bare and kept cool only by the natural effect of the mud which the underground was carved out of. There were two distinct currents of air flowing at the top of the ceiling which were part of the ventilation system of the underground. One current went in and the other led back into the massive column at the center of the Cauldron. Children often played games by throwing bits of paper into the air stream and following them while giggling and laughing and tripping over each other.
"One, two, three and four," Harry recited sleepily and turned the spindle attached to the hourglass carefully. On four he twisted harder and the sand clock turned to a blur. A moment later the room dissolved and time began to fly backwards until they found themselves standing in the circle on the other side of the curtain.
With movements born out of habit, Harry immediately stepped out of the circle, sat down cross legged, placed his palms on his knees and closed his eyes.
Hugo in turn, stepped away from Harry, backing up against the wall and cast a refreshing charm on his charge, getting rid of any lingering lethargy.
"Define yourself," he said softly.
"Harry James Potter. I was born on 31 July 1989 to James and Lily Potter. After my parents murder, I spent three years of my life in the care of my mother's sister, Petunia Dursley. They mistreated me and abused me until I was taken away by the department of mysteries to become one of their agents in the field. Hugo Milner, is my handler and trainer and a dickhead as well."
Hugo rolled his eyes. He was relieved it was Harry doing the talking and not one of his aliases.
"I spent two years in Detroit as James Keller; an eight year old student of the Detroit public school, where my task was to befriend Carl Smalling and Jake Macmillan in order to find a way to get close to Jennifer Franklin, daughter of Cromag Franklin; the boss of all things magical and illegal in the North America. In the middle of this my James Keller persona also traveled to Washington, under the guise of summer camp to meet with Macmillan's uncle who is an integral non magical gear in the vampires network and through him I... I mean James Keller will be able to negotiate entering the vampire business and through Jennifer Franklin, access to the movements of terrorists."
Harry paused and took a moment to catch his breath.
"Who did Harry Potter become next?"
"Abdul Rafeeq, nine year old son of Faisal Rafeeq; runaway soldier." Harry contained the inevitable shudder that ran through him when he recalled memories from the war torn Iran. "Abdul was recruited by the army to search for mines laid by the enemy and rightly fearing for his son's life, Faisal Rafeeq ran away to the magical city of Ahwaz."
The force of an exploding bomb flinging his body like a discarded rag, flashed in his mind and his vocal chords momentarily got jammed in his throat.
"Go on," Hugo said.
"Abdul's task, along with Faisal of course, was to ingrain himself with the network of mages in the Middle East. Since those who did not enlist in the magical army were executed, the story of being a deserter allowed them refugee in several magical households where they were introduced to the den of international smugglers who primarily dealt with cursed objects and on the sidelines, also dealt in the lucrative business of selling British made wands."
"And who were the key players he had to befriend here?"
"Sayeed in Ahwaz and Jeet in Cairo."
"Who went to Cairo?"
"Abdul Rafeeq with Sayeed and his father to be introduced to Sheik Akram, Jeet's father."
"And why is Jeet and his father so important?"
"Sheik Akram was identified as one of the men who visited Ebenezer Yaxley's residence after the attempt on the life of Amelia Bones; head of the magical law enforcement agency of the United Kingdom. Nancy Turner and her husband were killed in the attack leaving behind a child, Susan Turner I think."
Hugo pursed his lips and the sound reached Harry letting him know that that was not good enough.
"Susan Turner was her name but Amelia Bones legally took custody of her and changed her name to Susan Bones," Harry added quickly.
His eyes were still closed, his body had not moved and he was mentally picturing everything that he said. The important part of the exercise was to view the events from the eyes of Harry Potter and not his other identities.
"What happened to Abdul after meeting with the Sheik?"
"Abdul was made to swear a vow of loyal service to the Sheik. A vow which would bind him to the Sheik under Islamic law once he reached the age of sixteen. Abdul has to return to the Sheik when he is twelve to take the vows once more but this time in a more formal capacity. Abdul remained in the Middle East for one and half years before visiting New Delhi to get a wand from Timothy Parkinson; British exile."
"Was it Abdul who went?"
Harry mentally cursed. Of course it wasn't Abdul!
"Harry Potter visited Timothy Parkinson with the name Evans and his eye color changed to brown and scar hidden behind unblemished skin."
His wrist began to throb when he remembered the incident that followed.
"What happened there?"
"Problems with magic," Harry said shortly. He didn't like reviewing that memory and he didn't. Harry Potter didn't like talking about that horrible afternoon in Timothy Parkinson's home.
Hugo recognised the reaction and smirked. Last week it had been Tyson talking very gaily about the incident but this time he was sure it was Harry. He was very pleased and relieved.
"And where did Harry go after India?"
"He returned to the states as James Keller and reaffirmed his bonds of friendship with Carl and Jake for the simple task of tracking Jennifer's moments and finding a clue to the school she might enroll in after she turned twelve."
Jennifer Franklin was home schooled given her fathers status but she was to attend a private school after she turned twelve and Carl and Jake were going to be her bodyguards when she did. It was the family tradition. The sons of the bodyguards of the current boss grew up to become bodyguards for the boss's kids. That way the circle was small, trust was strong and the Council of mages in America was kept away.
"After a month's vacation in the States, Hugo decided Harry was having too good a time and decided to take Harry into the worst magical dumps that could possibly exist in the world. There he took the identity of a repulsive boy named Tyson Storm so that he could prove his worth to the criminal filth and become a trusted member of their well informed circles."
Harry snapped his eyes open and they were burning with anger and rebellion. He absolutely hated being Tyson Storm and that was exactly what Hugo was hoping for.
But instead of looking pleased, he was frowning.
"What did I miss?" Harry asked sourly.
"Your accent was American and German at times but never British."
"Fuck! I knew I was forgetting something!"
"There's a lot you forget when there's so much you know. I hope this problem will be rectified soon enough. Anyway accents can always change but at least you know who you are."
"This exercise is pointless," Harry grumbled. "I'm still having dreams from different points of views and last night was a disturbingly wet one."
Hugo laughed. "I told you controlling your hormones would be handy but you were stubborn as usual. Now let's move on," he added seriously. "Time is short."
Harry immediately stood up and placed his feet exactly two feet apart with his hands hanging loosely at his sides with palms faced up and fingers evenly spaced.
"Deep slow breaths," Hugo said, his voice barely a whisper. He looked at the five and
half feet tall boy who was sporting black hair and brown eyes; looking like a cross between Tyson and Harry without even realizing it and decided it was time Harry returned to England. "Feel the magic rising from the base of your feet."
Harry's eyes flickered to green and Hugo knew he was finally doing it properly; The Amazonian magical art of hunting.
"Don't break the flow," he whispered when the air started to become thick with magic. "Keep the same rate of flow and guide the magic to your fingertips."
A crackle announced the manifestation of magic at his fingertips and with his eyes locked on Harry, he raised his arms towards his midriff and placed a foot in front of the other, slightly bent.
Harry copied the moments with unwavering focus and felt the magic in his body shift and morph with every moment. The magic had an emotional response varying from peaceful to aggressive and each change in stance evoked a different response.
Amazonian magical arts were very similar to martial arts but more lethal and destructive. Survival in a dangerous tropical jungle demanded a certain level of aggression.
The synchronized dance lasted for a whole hour and after Harry nearly collapsed in exhaustion. It was the first time he had lasted so long with Hugo.
"Excellent Harry!" Hugo exclaimed, very pleased with Harry's performance. "Very good indeed considering your condition!"
Harry grinned, his face red and sweaty after letting go of all that magic that was contained in his body. But even though the exercise was physically strenuous, he could feel something in him sing with pleasure. Maybe it was his mind or maybe even the magic that remained in him or perhaps it was his muscles feeling delighted after that wonderful workout. Whatever it was, it always left Harry feeling a little light headed.
"Shall we move on to runes?"
"You said if I lasted for more than an hour you'd tell me where you learnt this magic," Harry protested.
"Ah yes. Must have slipped my mind."
Harry scoffed. "Well?"
"My mother taught me," Hugo said simply.
Harry goggled at his mentor. Hugo had a mother? The thought had never crossed his mind and even if it was the natural order of things he just couldn't picture Hugo as a child with a family!
"Is she...?" Harry trailed into questioning silence not wanting to say his question out loud.
"She's alive and so is my father," Hugo said laughing. "I'm the one who's dead and gone."
"Oh! So you were born in the Amazon forest, umm in Brazil in a tribal clan I'm guessing," Harry said slowly, connecting the dots in his mind.
"That's right," Hugo confirmed, "that's where I get my killer looks from." And then he clapped his hands loudly. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, how about we get back to rune traps?"
This was Harry's life since his departure from Privet Drive. It began with confusion, excitement and curiosity before quickly descending into a world of crime and cruelty.
If being in the States taught him the meaning of betrayal and using people for personal gain, Iran taught him the frightful lessons of war and death. But the most deplorable lessons of all were learnt in the Devil's Cauldron. A place where even the most horrifying acts of crime were laughed off like laughing about a friend hiding another friend's book or pen or maybe even his wand. Through James Keller, Harry learnt how to betray and experienced the guilt thereafter, as Abdul Rafeeq, he was introduced to the art of running away and dealing in the shadows and through Tyson Storm, the meaning of cruelty and depths of darkness humans were capable of falling to. Tyson had also taught Harry never to give up even when faced with overwhelming odds.
He had spent most of his time being someone else as compared to being himself and finally, after almost eight years, it was beginning to take a toll on his mind.
"Are you listening to me, Harry!" Hugo's voice cut through his dark thoughts like the ray of light that he was to him.
"Yes yes," Harry said, feeling a bit annoyed. "The pentagram runic array coupled with manaz and isa at opposite ends results in the freezing of the moment of any person inside the array. Of course what you don't realize is that by adding uruz at the exact center the array will be activated after six seconds because uruz and isa do not compliment each other causing a slight time delay in the activation thereby allowing more than one person to be trapped."
Harry said this mustering his most condescending tone in his arsenal and with as much contempt as possible.
Hugo was undaunted by the hostility. He was used to it and even encouraged it sometimes. "Where did you learn that?" he asked mildly.
Harry snorted. "Oh come on Hugo. It's fairly obvious once you understand how each rune interacts with the other. For example, if, instead of uruz, I drew sowulo, anyone caught in the pentagram would suffer second degree burns." Harry chuckled darkly.
"And if instead of a pentagram array we drew the Stonehenge array, then they would turn to ash."
Hugo pondered over the usefulness of such an array.
"But of course, the runes have to be drawn with the blood of the caster and they take too much time which is why no one uses it in a duel."
"A spy finds runes extremely useful because they don't duel, they wait and they hunt," Hugo reminded.
"Have you used runes during your missions?" Harry asked curiously. It was not often Hugo talked about his work with the department but every now and then he'd drop hints on Harry, for him to analyze.
"A few. The expert on runes is Charles. My missions are usually deep cover missions where I become one of the people I'm hunting. Which is what I'm trying to train you to become but as we both have discovered, you tend to ignore all advice and do things your own way."
"You taught me to be like that!"
Hugo pulled out his pouch of weed and rolled a joint. "Times almost up, you want to blaze?"
Harry narrowed his eyes and wondered why Hugo was offering from his own stash. The man was ridiculously protective about his weed. So, slowly and cautiously, Harry stretched his arm and carefully took the joint from between his long fingers.
"Light it with magic," Hugo said and Harry huffed. He knew there would be a catch.
But this was a challenge he liked and he closed his eyes, once again summoning magic to his fingertips.
A little red spark burst out of his index finger and Harry took short and quick drags igniting the grass which had wonderful properties.
"Well done," Hugo said. "Now give it back."
Harry scowled, took a long drag and blew the smoke into Hugo's face.
Hugo's eyes glowed and Harry quickly handed the joint over. "Dick," he muttered under his breath.
"Time is almost up," Hugo said. "Ten seconds."
Ten seconds before the Time Turner was turned on the other side of the curtain and another Harry and Hugo appeared in the circle behind the curtain.
"Two, one..." From the corner of the room, they slipped into the first half of the room, just in time to see a blur disappear from the circle.
Harry concentrated and morphed back into fifteen year old Tyson Storm and was ready to leave and find his friends when Hugo stopped him.
"We're leaving in a couple of hours," he said.
Tyson gaped."Seriously?"
"Say your goodbyes and relay promises of your return. It's time to return to England."
Harry stared at Hugo with a slack jaw and round eyes. "Are you messing with me?"
"You're going to turn eleven soon... Well, technically you'll be turning eleven in five months. There's a lot of work that needs to be done to explain your absence from Privet Drive and the fact that you won't be attending Hogwarts."
"That's ... I mean... Are you... ?" Harry was unable to articulate the odd feeling of happiness that was bubbling inside him.
"Time to leave Harry. Now go and tell your friends you'll be acquiring some brooms very soon and come back in two hours while I go and arrange our means of departure."
Harry nodded, closed his eyes and embraced the personality of Tyson. A smirk lit up his face on reflex and his eyes grew smaller, radiating arrogance and mischief as he made his way to The Den on level fourteen.
Henry, on the other hand, traveled down South to level thirty five. Entering the Devil's Cauldron was easy but leaving it on the other hand was no simple task. The ratio of people leaving every day barely made a percent of the population in the hole and yet it seemed like thousands came and left every single day. That in itself was an indication to the number of people living in the hole. The means of entering the Cauldron was a broom and the broom was taken away by the landlord and passed on to those who could afford to buy it. Henry's cover did not allow him to have more than five galleons on him and the cost of a broomstick went as high as thirty galleons.
A number that meant a lot to the poverty stricken. However, stealing a broom was acceptable and Henry had a plan that would ensure the name Tyson Storm would be remembered by those who loved violence.
It was with ease that Hugo or Henry, as he was known in these parts, traveled through the tunnels and climbed down ladders that lead towards the bottom. There were forty seven levels in the Devil's Cauldron and the levels beyond thirty were simply referred to as the pits. Only the insane occupied those levels. Psychopaths, werewolves broken by the pain of endless transformations, vampires with an unhealthy addiction to magical blood, serial killers, creatures that bore no name and half giants with an appetite for human flesh. Such were the occupants of the pits and it was the warden's duty to ensure they stayed in the pits. Of course that never worked since it was those in the pit that held items those above the pit considered priceless.
Like a ghost in the gale, Hugo breezed through shortcuts and secret passages until he reached his destination. The home of Victoria the vampire, the blood whore of level thirty five.
On his way down, Hugo had idly weaved a complex illusion around his body that made him look exactly like Tyson and when he knocked on the doors of Victoria's shop, the vampire was delighted to find a sumptuous meal on her front door.
Her delight didn't last long when suddenly silver chains flew at her and wrapped around her neck and wrists with a speed that even the two hundred year old vampire found blinding.
"So sorry about this bitch," laughed Tyson sadistically. "But I hear that you're the whore who keeps all the brooms and I need a broom."
The vampire was spitting, hissing and struggling under the burning effects of silver on her skin. Red welts were popping all over and for good measure Tyson bound her ankles as well.
"You look terribly mad," he chuckled, "Is the pain so blinding that you can't even speak?"
Tyson or Hugo stood up and patted the vampire mockingly on the forehead.
"You're a dead man!" she howled, lowered her fangs and snarled insults with spit flying all over. She tried to wiggle and free herself but it caused her skin to burn even more and her eyes watered with terrible pain.
"Scream bitch," Tyson said laughing. "Music is quite soothing while I search your little store.
Oh how she screamed and ranted but it was of no use. The teenager's face was imprinted in her mind forever as he ransacked her store and found at least a dozen brooms inside, not to mention the stack of wands and tinned food neatly kept in a pile in a trap door under the mattress.
"Thanks so much for the brooms. The rest I don't need so it's yours to keep," Tyson said bowing. "I wouldn't leave, leaving you like this but considering the circumstances I want to make a statement.
A silver blade was whipped out of his pockets and the vampire's lovely red robe was sliced open, revealing her attractive nude body.
"Umm, yummy," Tyson said grinning perversely and carefully dug the knife into her abdomen.
The screams she made attracted a lot of attention and by the time he was done, there was quite a crowd outside.
Tucking the brooms under his arm and after whipping the blood of his hands on her robes, Tyson waved at the crowd of werewolves and wizards outside who were watching with stunned disbelief. Victoria had been untouchable for twenty years. She ruled the level and the hoarded items of value like a magpie that had an obsession with shiny things. But now a teenager with some silver had pinned her to the floor and humiliated her like she humiliated every other species in the pit.
"Enjoy," said Tyson and with a confident gait, left the scene.
When the grinning werewolves and greedy humans entered the room with depraved intentions, they saw the following words carved into her skin.
Tyson Storm thanks you for your lovely gifts.
That name would not be forgotten in a hurry.
-x-
"Are you going to miss me Natasha?" Tyson teased.
"Shut up," spat the girl with a slight Russian accent. "I don't want to talk to you nor do I ever want to see you again!"
Tyson laughed again. "Why is she mad at me guys?" he asked the little band of friends that weren't little anymore.
"Gia was raped yesterday and you laughed and said she was stupid to go down to the levels below," said Jeremy idly carving an image in the wall with a pretty knife that he had nicked.
"Well she was stupid! And where is she anyway? I really want to remind her of her stupidity."
Natasha screamed in rage and launched herself on Tyson punching every part that she could lay her hands on. "Have you ever been violated that you have the audacity to laugh about it?!"
"Get her off me for god sake!" he yelled, batting her hands away.
Gale and Jeremy pulled her away grinning while they did so.
The redhead reverted to her native tongue and screamed all sorts of obscenities at him.
Tyson wasn't fazed at all. "Calm down already, she's not dead right?"
Natasha huffed and shoved the two boys away. "No. But I'm sure she'd be happy if you'd show a little sympathy. She went down to level twenty because she was hungry," she said accusingly.
Her angry visage reminded Tyson of the lovely dream he was having last night and a lecherous grin grew on his face as he admired her beauty. Of course she was older in his dreams and It was the knowledge that he was, in fact, Harry Potter, eleven years old, that controlled his raging libido.
"Where are you getting the brooms," she asked, scowling. "You know you'd have to go really far below to get one. Only one in about a hundred ever succeed and leave you know."
"Your tone suggests that you want me to try and fail," Tyson said dryly.
"It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."
"Your mum will miss me a lot. I was her source for getting a fix after all."
Fourteen year old Natasha had come to the Devil's Cauldron six months ago with a mother who was addicted to blue pixie powder. It was a powerful hallucinogenic that made the user literally visit and live in a wonderland of their making. Natasha hated her mother for it and everyday she cursed god for giving her such a mother and a father who was best left unmentioned.
She had met Tyson, Gale, Jeremy and Gia since they were the ones who dealt the drug on level sixteen to eighteen.
"Are you forgetting about your friends," she sneered.
Tyson laughed and turned towards Gale. "You guys got the balls to visit Mikhael for the monthly drops?"
"Gia will do it for sure," Gale said warily. "She got nerves of steel, that one, that she does. Something as insignificant as rape isn't going to bum her out." Gale laughed at his crude pun.
"How can you say that?!" gasped Natasha.
"Give it a year and you'll understand the cost of living here," Jeremy said wisely. He didn't mention that Gale had suffered the same when he was younger and Tyson had literally fought for his life to avoid that humiliating fate. "And don't you worry Natasha. We'll make sure your mother gets her weekly medicine."
"She could die for all I care," spat the girl.
Time is running out, Tyson. A voice that belonged to Harry reminded the boy.
"I think I ought to go and get the brooms now," Tyson said. "And I suppose this is goodbye for now."
Gale came over and hugged Tyson. "I'm going to miss you."
"Quit it Gale," laughed Jeremy and was surprised when Tyson didn't protest and push the boy away. "Tyson?"
Tyson came over and gave a one arm hug to his other best friend he had made in the last year. Of course it wasn't an insignificant detail that his father served under Voldemort's Death Eaters at one point and continued to work for them even after the fall of the dark lord. Jeremy was a wealth of information about the kind of work his father did for Walden McNair - respected official and pure blood in the British magical community.
Tyson hugged even Natasha and kissed her cheek softly. The kiss was motivated by Harry's emotions and not Tyson's. "Don't get careless and become another victim of the perverted bastards alright?"
Natasha just pushes him away and scowled. "Like you're one to talk," she said sarcastically. "Or did you forget the numerous girls whose behind you've groped accidentally."
Jeremy and Gale snorted loudly.
"It's not funny!" Natasha shouted. "You should be ashamed of yourselves and anyway, I'd like to see you get a broom in the first place," she added scornfully.
Tyson just winked at her, arousing a heated glare from the red head and shouted, "Good bye bitches!" They waved disinterestedly and Tyson left the little room that Gale and Jeremy had carved into the end of one the tunnels on level eighteen and aptly named The Den.
Harry had perfected the art of timing under the tutelage of Hugo and exactly two hours later, he was standing in front of his home of three years and Hugo had finished packing the little stuff that they had.
Harry's sharp eyes picked out the traces of blood on his dirty shirt and he raised an eyebrow in question.
"Tyson isn't going to be forgotten," Hugo said lightly and gestured towards the seven broomsticks on the floor.
Harry's eyes widened at the implication. "You mean?"
"Yes."
"My contacts will be in danger!" Harry gasped. He was still wearing the Tyson mask but his real personality was back the moment he left the Den.
"The brooms are charmed to end up in your silly hideout. If your contacts are smart, they'll leave or they'll sell the brooms and continue their miserable lives in this slum."
Harry frowned. "I don't get it. Didn't I spend three years just ensuring that I have loyal contacts in this slum?!"
"They're almost grown up," Hugo said. "They know where the pit is. And the fact that you gave them brooms to leave will make them grateful to you forever. In other words, they'll be contacts indebted to you and above the ground with contacts of their own in the Devil's Cauldron. These are the beginnings of your own elaborate network."
Harry couldn't believe it. Why hadn't he come to that conclusion as well?!
Hugo read his mind and smiled. "You still have a lot to learn, Harry," he said. "The clandestine world needs more than an incredible IQ."
Harry just shook his head warily. "I should have thought of it," he said morosely.
"We'll talk about it later," he said and tossed the remaining brooms minus two in the air. They whizzed away at great speeds using the unique ventilation system of the underground and headed straight for the Den where Tyson's friends were getting high to celebrate Harry's ambitious hope for escape from the Cauldron.
"Ready to go back to England?" Hugo asked, grinning.
"More than you know," Harry replied excitedly.
Home is where the heart lies after all.
-x-
The flight out of the cauldron and into the world above had Harry filled with so many emotions that when he looked at the faces of those flying up beside him, he understood the true meaning of that blank and glazed expression. When he flew down three years ago, he thought it was an expression of cold detachment from life and hope but now he knew it was the complete opposite. He could see the overflowing volume of hope and dreams that kicked up a storm behind every eye that was fixed on the opening that grew larger with every second. They had come to Cauldron after running away from a life that had all but kicked them into the hole, but now they were revitalized with strength and had summoned the courage that was required to fight their way out.
So many people, so many dreams and yet, ultimately, they were to be a part of the society that rejected them on sight. They would be condemned to the shadows and forced to live a life that was intimate with crime and premature death. It was the same no matter what part of the world it was. It was only the people who belonged to a so-called proper society - who had notions of superiority and categories of human class - who were the ones that thought they were better than others and lived under that delusion until the day they died.
Hugo led Harry straight into the Earth above the hole and after a brief moment of discomfort - being surrounded by mud and roots which blocked your sight and didn't crush you was disconcerting - they materialized above the forest.
Harry had forgotten how real fresh air smelt. His first breath on the mountain air was better than any rush he had experienced with Tyson's brief foray into the world of drugs. Oh, he could feel the lightness of the air, the distinct smell and taste of untamed nature. He felt the cold wind bite into his skin with aching familiarity and with eyes closed and blindly flying upwards, he took repeated breaths that expanded his lungs to breaking point. He just couldn't get enough of this air that made being alive worth all the horrors the world could bestow on him.
"So this is what freedom tastes like," Harry sighed and opened his eyes to darkness that felt like a velvet cushion. Darkness in the Cauldron was suffocating but this darkness felt like a bath in a pool of calming draught.
Hugo was hovering beside him. It was the dim light of the half moon that allowed them to see and slowly, Harry's other senses returned.
There was not much to be seen but there was a lot to be heard. More specifically, he could hear the sound of the wind and millions of insects singing in their broken high pitched voices. It sounded like they were crying more than singing.
"Follow me," Hugo said softly, flying higher still, heading towards the closest peak.
The screech of owls and bats penetrated the air with regularity and more than once, Harry heard the forest below rustle like something big was weaving through it. He didn't care to find out and instead reveled in the sounds of nature that were devoid in the Cauldron. More than anything, the lack of people and human voices elicited a strange delight in him.
Harry didn't want this feeling to end.
They flew to a jutting platform on a particularly steel mountain side a few hundred meters up and landed there. Harry watched Hugo dig a hole where x marked the spot with his wand doing most of the work. Inside was a small red bag.
"What's that?"
"Portkey I didn't fancy taking into the cauldron," Hugo replied. He straightened his back and yawned. "Want to wait for sunrise or shall we return to the ministry?"
"Sunrise!" Harry said immediately. He wondered if it still looked the same or had there been some cool solar phenomenon that made the sun look different in his three year exile from the land above.
Experiencing the sunrise was glorious. If watching the sun rise in a metropolitan city was beautiful then watching the sky turn blue while sitting on a ledge in the midst of gigantic wild trees with vines crawling everywhere and the sounds of a thousand birds rising to a high pitched cacophony providing music and breathing in air that was so clean and pure that it hurt to inhale at times was akin to nirvana.
Harry knew most of his feelings came from being stuck underground for years and these precious minutes of breaking free of figurative darkness were the best of his as yet short life.
Hugo kept silent and observed the emotions playing on Harry's face. He knew what was going through the boy's mind and it was something he wanted Harry to experience because after a few years when Harry would become a full fledged agent for the DOI. All these experiences and first hand knowledge of the criminal mind would be vital to his decision making process. A spy had to be above any emotions that would cloud his judgment and that had been Hugo's primary objective when he decided to take Harry under his care. There had to be nothing that could make Harry's heart and mind waver when in the field and so far he was very satisfied with the way Harry had dealt with real life crisis.
The sun was rising faster and the air was getting warmer. It was time to leave and there was a way to reacclimatise to the feeling of walking under the sun again.
He held out the portkey towards Harry and gestured with his eyes for Harry to touch it.
"Summit," he said and the portkey glowed blue.
-x-x-
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