In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 115: Travellers
Friday morning, Dumbledore worked on the hard boiled egg at the table in McGonagall's office.
"At least it's Friday," McGonagall said.
"There is that," Dumbledore said.
Dumbledore finished the egg, his thoughts drifted to the next day, the match and Quidditch.
"Perhaps…" Dumbledore said, "Perhaps you can sweet talk Fred and George into financing team brooms for Gryffindor?"
"Bit expensive," McGonagall said, "Especially if they're all Firebolts."
"If I understand Mr. Potter's broom," Dumbledore said, "It may be protested, so best to have options for him and Mr. Weasley. Besides, it shouldn't be a pay to win for the students."
Owl wings that fluttered, dropped The Daily Prophet, which Dumbledore promptly handed to McGonagall.
"Ta," Dumbledore said to the bird.
"That paper has Mr. Potter on his extracurriculars," McGonagall said, "He's clearly a world traveller, murdering abroad while in attendance at Hogwarts."
"Common sense and reasoning are mysteries to those editors," Dumbledore said, "It'd be humorous if the consequences weren't so dire. I don't have time to count the readers demanding Harry's expulsion."
Dumbledore worked the toast, buttered with jam on it, into his mouth.
"I cannot deliver on expulsion," said the Minister as he entered
Dumbledore set the half–eaten toast slice to the dish.
"Thank goodness I'd just finished my breakfast," Dumbledore lied.
"I can appease them with a suspension," the Minister said, "For the murder of Padma Patil, which nobody will feel is adequate."
"Have the muggles—?" Dumbledore asked.
"I'm doing what is right," the Minister said, "Your insolence means I can't arrest them, all I can do is suspend, and I shall. Make the arrangements—two weeks."
"Alas, yes," Dumbledore said, as he felt the inbound Portkey travel, one he now had to deny.
Dumbledore's hand trembled a bit as he returned to the table in the classroom in Hogwarts, the Saturday morning that dragged along. Minister in sky blue robes crossed his arms at the one opposite Dumbledore.
"My son was taken two years ago," Amos Diggory said, in the middle of the semi–circular arrangement of tables to the chairs with some others, "Naturally, I am concerned about the allegations of this past week and yesterday's emergency shuttering of the school."
"For the weekend to regain control," McGonagall said, who was next to Dumbledore, "Simmering hostilities erupted into a small battle yesterday afternoon. Luckily a tip–off from one conscience allowed us the break to stop bloodshed with a moment to spare. Still, there was considerable damage done to the Ravenclaw girls' dormitories."
"No doubt due to Mr. Potter," said Minister Fallerschain.
"You explicitly had Mr. Potter suspended," McGonagall said, "He was not at Hogwarts during yesterday's skirmish."
"My confidence in Ponoma Sprout and Filius Flitwick was shaken," Dumbledore said, "They have been temporarily removed from their posts, I am working on finding substitutes."
"Should look at your students," the Minister snapped.
"Please," Amos Diggory said, "All in due course. Now, bring in the accused."
Seamus Finnigan, in his Gryffindor uniform, entered.
"On Thursday," Amos Diggory said, "You are accused of throwing a first year off the Astronomy Tower. While nobody has explained why that was not lethal—"
"Mr. Finnigan got lucky in that regard," McGonagall said.
"Your attempt was clear," Amos Diggory continued, "Your example inspired others to try to copy the feat yesterday against your victim and fifteen others, a conspiracy that included two teachers."
"They—you ought to be doing something about Potter," Finnigan said.
"Mr. Potter's recent record at Hogwarts is cleaner than yours," Amos Diggory said.
"What?" Finnigan stammered.
"Trying to lead an organization to protect the wizarding world does not do itself any favors murdering its protectorates," Amos Diggory said, "Would you agree?"
"Guess so," Finnigan said.
"We give you a choice," Amos Diggory said, "You can choose a suspended prosecution, in which you agree to fourteen detentions to be served before the end of term, to dissuade the others of your organization from harming or killing these sixteen students inside or outside Hogwarts, and to obey all rules and laws within Hogwarts. You'd be in class on Monday."
Finnigan took the parchment sheet, his eyebrows raised.
"Known sympathizers—" Finnigan started.
"Is your position so weak that you must slay dissenters?" asked the Minister.
Finnigan shook his head.
"Your other choice," Amos Diggory said, "Expulsion and recommendation for prosecution. It'd be a black mark on your record, one that cuts you off from Ministry positions, further education, and would haunt you for the rest of your life, not to mention the possibility of a holiday in Azkaban."
"I need to discuss this with my solicitor," Finnigan said.
"Your smartest choice so far," Amos Diggory said, "We'll give you time while we move on with business."
Finnigan left, and Dumbledore knew the heat was only going up.
Harry reached into his hip pocket, pulled out The Daily Prophet. He set it aside, to reach back in. Birds that flew above in the early morning, early for them being in a forest lined meadow near the Oregon coast.
"Oh no," Harry grumbled as he pulled out a letter, the distinctive seal on it.
Harry glanced through it, with its starting balance, the interest, the penalties, cleaning up for the bats, donations, and other services rendered, knew it to be a bill, with another bit.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Also, I remind you that as a convicted sex offender, you are required to register your address with the local authorities. You are also requested to furnish the address of your residence to this committee so we can register it appropriately at the Ministry of Magic.
"We don't have an address," Ron said.
"She…wants me dead," Harry said.
A moment of silence, Harry hissed, and the letter disintegrated.
"And…" Harry read the next letter. "Kristen's getting threats and pressure."
Ron and Hermione frowned, though Harry understood why.
Harry stood late Sunday afternoon in the living room, next to the plates empty on the dining table.
"Thank you Mr. Weasley," Harry said, the plates on the dining table all empty, "But we must go."
"You know how I feel," Mr. Weasley said.
"First duty is to stay one step ahead of them," Harry said, "How soon until your next audit?"
"Point taken," Mr. Weasley said.
Harry turned to Ron, Hermione, and Gia, pulled out his Puddlemere United pin, cast disillusionment on all of them, and activated the Portkey. They all held on.
"It'd be nice to have a home," Gia said.
"I know," Harry said, "Tell it to those attacking us…they'll let us hang low while they surround it and kill us."
Gia sneezed.
"Harry," Ron said.
Splash!
Water, cold water, the waves of a tug that passed by, the arched bridge not too far away. All four resurfaced, Gia took the lead, the strokes, the short distance to a rock outcropping on the shore. Water poured off Ron and Harry as they stepped out, the late afternoon sun on them.
"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed.
"Guess we should be more specific than anywhere," Harry said.
Harry counted Hermione too. He conjured up towels.
"Haven't gone swimming in a while," Gia said, "Maybe they've got a public pool?"
"Shouldn't have…" Harry let the towel vanish on him. "We've been sloppy, need to sharpen up. Every country has their Ministry, so lets avoid magic."
"We gotta camp," Ron said.
"We rented in Oslo," Hermione said.
"Also…" Harry put his wand to the portkey. "Random is now somewhere near the center of town."
Harry flicked his hand, the broom that hovered.
"Not very low magic," Hermione said.
"Get the lay of the land," Harry said.
Gia got onto his back, as he mounted the broom. A swish, the disillusionment. Ron's Firebolt II came out.
"Not a great idea," Hermione said as she got on behind Ron.
Up they flew, though not too high, as they avoided the street lamps. Harry spotted it, an ATM, and dropped back down, landed, the signage that hinted to it being Rotterdam, in the Netherlands.
"Could've walked," Hermione said.
Harry, like Ron, banished their brooms.
"Didn't know that," Harry said, "Anyways…do the honors?"
Her brown eyes to him.
"Make them follow four cards to know where we are," Harry said, "Rotate who uses theirs."
Hermione took out and slid her card in. Pressed for English, and she took out Gilders.
"Don't," Harry said to Ron, the ears that tinged green. Harry took some of the bank notes, divided them up between the four. "She'll rent the room when it's time. Until we're tired, lets go and…find something to do."
Feet that went a bit this way and that on the pavement, they came to a door with a lot of youth entering, leaving.
"Club," Harry said.
They entered.
Harry woke with a shudder Monday morning, the image that drifted through his mind, somebody getting roasted over an open fire. Harry smelled a bit of the leftovers in the rubbish bin, filled in styrofoam and plastic. He went to the window, the morning that was already bustling in Rotterdam below. Harry turned around, stared at the three still in bed. As if Harry were the lynch pin, Hermione turned, the brown eyes on him.
"Some practice," Harry said, "Should store a few things in our lockers or something."
"Got rolls of parchment, quills?" Hermione asked.
"Muggle supplies," Harry said, "Good enough to work—we'll get them after breakfast."
"Breakfast sounds good," Gia said.
"Everybody got everything?" Harry asked as he went for the door.
"Not much to forget," Hermione said.
"Still don't want to," Harry said as he opened the door.
Ron, Hermione, and Gia followed him, to the lift. Harry pressed the button, and they went down, out, onto the street. Bit of a chill, the clouds above. Took a few minutes, found a cafe with pancakes adorning its sign, and entered.
"You two…" Hermione started, a casual point.
Ron and Harry went to the window, the canal that it overlooked, and sat across from each other. A canoe moved in the water below, the older man moved the paddle to one side, then the other, alternated. Ron's blue eyes on the freckled face watched, waited until Harry took his pills, and brought out The Daily Prophet.
"I'm…curious," Ron said.
=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. 1,182K galleons.
Ronald Weasley, Kiss Up King. 912K galleons.
Hermione Granger, Wannabe Dark Queen. 603K galleons.
Gia Prescott, Muggle Cock Holster aka Potter's pet. 401K galleons.
Rita Skeeter, Quill Slaughterer. 5.3k galleons.
Bonus of 20,000 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.
"Over two million—you and me," Ron said, "That's a bargain, we're worth a lot more."
"Ta," Harry grumbled.
"They've gone up," Hermione said as she sat down next to Ron.
"Sure—Padma's corpse comes up," Ron said, "I mean…it pisses people off."
Harry glared, only to let up as Gia sat next to him.
"Three million for all," Gia said, "Gotta affect the economy, somebody's going to notice."
"Some families have much more than that," Ron snapped, the eyes glared at Harry.
"I'm spending mine to keep YOU—" Harry pointed at Ron. "Alive."
"Can we like—not," Hermione said, "Plenty of fighting to be had in Diagon Alley if you're so bold."
"It'll be way calmer after we're executed," Ron said.
Hermione glared, Gia waved. The waitress carried over plates of pancakes, the bacon, the eggs. Cups of orange juice.
"Ta," Harry said.
Waitress smiled, left.
"Can we stop with the talk of execution?" Hermione asked.
"Please, try not to," Gia said.
"Best be ready for it," Harry said.
"Any of them say how?" Ron asked Harry.
Harry shook his head, he assumed it'd be a demeantor's kiss.
"Another topic for breakfast, please," Hermione said.
Gia's fingers along Harry's front down into his trousers.
"Sorry," Harry said.
Took Harry a few minutes of focus, forcing himself to regain his appetite, and he ate into the eggs first. Bacon, the pancakes, washed down by the orange juice. Harry reached into his dragon hide pocket, pulled out the letter.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry,
If you'd like to have some lessons, please return to the pocket so it can double as a portkey.
Dumbledore
Harry glanced around, summoned over a pen, and wrote onto it.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Dumbledore
Be at the stadium in an hour or so, best to meet up there.
Harry
p.s. Can you bring parchment, quills, and ink? We're out.
Harry slipped it back into the hip pocket.
"Thought we could see the museums," Hermione said.
"I'd love to visit too," Harry said, "But we…we need training because you know Voldemort's not stalling our executions for nothing. Lets take advantage of the offer."
"There?" Hermione asked.
"Only stable thing we've got," Harry said, "At least you can talk with Notley if you'd like… study Healing?"
Harry stood.
"Best to go," Harry suggested.
Hermione, Ron, and Gia stood. They went for the door, out across the street, along the cobblestone road. Harry jumped them over the shrub, to an overgrown garden. Ron pulled out a portkey.
"In case somebody's getting checked," Ron said.
Harry understood, he lost count of the times he's crashed an examination. Ron activated his, they held on. Jerk behind the naval, they landed in the showers of the Puddlemere United locker room.
"Upstairs," Harry said, and they went. Left, left, they entered the club house. Dumbledore already at a smaller table, Hermione and Gia at another one. Gia sketched.
"Good morning," Dumbledore said.
Harry nodded, and sat.
"Guessing this might be a good spot for this," Harry said, "Lets us practice at the same time."
"My time's limited," Dumbledore said.
"Meant…sorry, hard to focus when it goes too long," Harry said, "Breaks are good."
A tight grin to the lips between the gray beard and mustache.
An urge within Harry, and he took control. His hand with a quill to a sheet of parchment.
"He…he's executing me, but it's too soon for that," Harry said, "He's got—going to get the stone. And yesterday…"
Harry took The Daily Prophet back out, opened it.
"Yesterday," Harry said, "They killed seven in Paraguay and four in South Korea pretending to be me. It's all got to be connected, but I don't see it, not yet. How do these deaths lead to him getting the Sorcerer's stone?"
Harry sighed.
"Yes," Harry said, "I'm now an international pariah, so if I go to these countries, get recognized, I'll be taken in—not like I'm going through customs to present a passport."
"Be careful," Dumbledore said, "By international law, you're supposed to. You'd apparate or travel to the magical customs point, secure a Portkey to your destination, and travel to their customs point, present your passport, before entering that country."
"Aw," Harry said.
"Even in the Wizarding world," Dumbledore said, "There's paperwork that dislikes the use of charmed quills."
Harry continued working with Dumbledore.
Later that afternoon, Harry sniffed at his armpits as he put the Nimbus 1000 back into the broom closet, and followed Ron into the locker room.
"Not ripe enough?" Ron asked.
"Gia doesn't like it squeaky clean," Harry said, "Bit of odor's great."
Ron stopped at the locker, head against it.
"Not like Hermione's going to be happy," Ron said, "Coming here every day—she ought to do more."
"How?" Harry said, "We gotta train up."
Ron turned, faced Harry, though his head remained propped against the locker, along with the shoulder. Arms crossed. Blue eyes beneath the red hair, the freckled face, ones that took in Harry as he stood.
"You're already an acrobat on the broom," Ron said, "Me, only so many ways to catch the Quaffle."
"Not giving up," Harry said.
"Once a week to summer—that's the obligation," Ron said, "Maybe…go to that."
"She ought to get up there," Harry said, pointed behind him, "Help with wand fights."
"You're not winning that," Ron said. "Stuck in the house, stuck here—same thing, different prison."
Harry understood, Gia's had to park her education, Hermione's practically doing the same.
"Got any bright ideas?" Harry asked.
"One," Ron said, "We go separate ways."
Harry studied those blue eyes.
"Not a breakup," Ron said, "Meet back here, every Monday. You take Gia—go wherever. I take Hermione to museums, libraries, that sort."
"What if something happens?" Harry asked.
"It'd make the front page of The Daily Prophet," Ron said.
"True," Harry grumbled.
Ron felt into his hip pocket, pulled out a letter, read it.
"Bill wants to talk to us—Fred and George's," Ron said, "After that—separate ways?"
"Yeah, I guess if you want to," Harry said.
"If it's urgent—you know how to get me," Ron said. Ron held his wrist, the wand holster beneath his hand. "Hermione's got needs too."
"Best get them before they send for Dumbledore," Harry said.
Harry took the steps, Ron with him, and left the locker room.
"You can show up here more often," Ron said, "Just don't expect me unless it's Monday."
"Got school in two weeks," Harry said.
"That's two weeks away," Ron said, "And…odds of it being pushed later?"
Harry knew it, it was two weeks today, could be two weeks again in two weeks. Still, they went up into the club room, where two pairs of eyes awaited them.
"Where to next?" Hermione said, "Lemme guess—Amsterdam?"
"London," Harry said, as he held onto Gia, "Living room, apparate."
Harry disapparated, felt the twisting fought it, kept himself and Gia together, and apparated into blackness. Hearing, vision, gone. Harry pushed Gia down, wand out, and the crack as Harry cast. Hearing returned first.
Crack! Shatter!
Harry jumped, the feet to the walls, the railing that came to him on the ceiling. Right hand that snapped.
"Ouch!" came the shout.
Again, Harry jumped, tackled the figure to the floor, the long hair, the dragon hide leather, and the ropes he conjured up around him. A swish, the blinding light, the red hair, Bill Weasley cutting off the ropes.
"Bill?" Harry asked.
"Thought I'd make you show up at the door," Bill said, "You came in anyways."
Bill stood.
"Wicked though," Bill said, "You didn't consider blindness a disability."
Ron and Hermione stepped down the stairs into the room.
"We took the Portkey," Ron admitted.
"Should've seen Neville Longbottom," Bill said, "Lit the classroom up, first thing."
Harry snorted. Gia stood.
"They've been teaching us to fly blindfolded," Harry said, "Applies to wand fights too."
"Good," Bill said, "Some of those crypts—first thing, they cut the lights."
"You wanted to talk?" Ron asked.
"I'm technically the Charms teacher," Bill said, "Professor Flitwick's temporarily relieved given his actions last Friday."
"Oh," Harry said.
"Don't expect it to last," Bill said, "Still, to a teacher, it's a strong message. At least means that next time, they'll be more clever."
"Congratulations on the temporary spot," said Arthur Weasley as he stepped in, "Mind the living room."
Harry spotted it, the broken dishes. Wands that came out, the dishes reassembled themselves back together.
"I read through the lesson plan," Bill said, "Few things I could teach you—after I'm done at Hogwarts or you're off suspension."
"That'll be a while," Harry said, "Sure they'll think up something in two weeks—usual pattern. Until then…we'll be traveling."
"Any colleges to pick up languages?" Gia said, "Or, is there a charm?"
Harry studied her.
"Not every place understands English," Hermione said.
"There is…a possibility," Bill said, "I'd try Istanbul first, but he might be in Persepolis, or Azerbaijan, or even Bombay." Bill got out parchment, a quill. "You'll have to haggle a bit, though you could probably talk him down to twenty galleons each. See him, he'll have what you need." Bill handed Ron the parchment. "Remember, down the escalator, out of order family water closet that's locked without a handle, wand to get in."
Harry studied Bill.
"Needed in my line of work," Bill said, "Besides, one bad transfer and I'm at a loss for words."
"Best hurry to smuggle yourselves through customs," Arthur said, a wink to the eye.
Harry understood, they were supposed to go through customs, as reliable as an animagus registering themselves.
"Ron, Hermione," Harry said.
Harry held onto Gia, Ron and Hermione held onto Gia. A focus, a thought, the sharp thought, and he disapparated. They apparated, the crowd that moved past them. Behind, the large domed mosque, the evening already setting in above in the cool and cloudy weather.
"Let's worry about that first," Harry said to Ron, the parchment in his hands.
"Sure," Ron said.
Down the escalator, they found the out of order sign over a family water closet. Harry's wand out, the tap, the handle that showed. Gia followed with Hermione; Ron and Harry flanked, as they entered. A crowded market, the disillusionment that went up over Harry and Gia fast, Ron and Hermione did the same, and they walked.
"What are we searching for?" Harry asked.
"This," Ron said as they came to a man sitting with a bowl of fish.
This man, the old weave of his robes, the youth behind the wrinkled eyes, though his skin did not show it. Eyes that sized up the four in front of him, ones that spotted them through the disillusionment.
"Bill said they're babelfish," Ron said.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"It's a sort of translator," Ron said, "Bill recommended it, so it's not a fairy tale, but not in the family budget either. Besides, most seem to like the challenge of learning a second language—especially you."
"We don't have the time," Harry said, "How many thousands of languages are there?"
Harry's eyes to the man, the one who recognized the gaze and interest.
"Hundred galleons each," the man on the carpet said.
"Rip–off," Harry said.
"Know how difficult it is to catch and find?" the man said, "You must catch it before you find it."
Ron bent down.
"Wonder how these go—fried," Ron asked.
"I presume they'd taste like fish," the man said, "Waste of their potential."
"Suppose I could advertise that I'm here," Harry said.
"Alright, fifty, each," the man said.
"How fast do they sell?" Ron asked.
Harry sensed a bit of a bluff to the man, and the lack of respect to somebody who barely manages to haggle.
"Five hundred pounds for four," Harry said, "How much time do you want to waste to one customer?"
Harry spotted Ron's implantation, and Harry implanted it too, the acceptance.
"Deal," the man said.
Harry opened his wand holster, pulled out the bank notes, five of them, and handed them over. The man moved to the tank, scooped out one, brought it to Ron first, put the little yellow fish to Ron's left ear; and it jumped in. A wiggle, it entered.
"Ah…not super pleasant," Ron said, "Ouch."
"It's in," the man said.
Harry motioned, the man brought one to Harry. Harry felt the squirming, the penetration, and a sharp piercing pain, that lasted a moment. Soreness and Harry rubbed at his ear.
"Side effect," the man said.
"Go ahead," Ron said to Hermione.
Again, the man scooped out the fish, brought it to her ear. A brief scream, as Ron held her tight. Gia trembled.
"It's a symbiotic relationship," said the man to Gia, "I give a ten year guarantee—come back, and exchange it for free."
"Go on," Harry said.
Gia leaned, let the fish go in. Harry held her tight and rubbed her back, the brief scream.
"With that," the man said, "You'll be able to understand any human language. Once it's settled and comfortable with you, it'll help you with signage, writing too."
"Thank you," Harry said.
Wand out.
"No need for that," said the man.
"Best for others to not see us," Harry said.
A swish, the renewal of the disillusionment. Ron and Hermione did the same, followed Harry. Though the carpets, the potion supplies seemed alluring, Harry figured loitering wasn't the best idea, and they went out the water closet, back up the escalator, to the street. Harry turned to Ron.
"Food, hotel, breakfast," Harry suggested, "After we discuss it to them…as planned."
"Yeah," Ron said.
Harry glanced about, at the signs in English, to a bank nearby with ATMs on the side. Harry inserted the debit card, the Sparky Owens, and pressed the buttons.
"Don't get too much," Hermione suggested.
"Going with the suggested numbers," Harry said.
Harry pulled it out, unsure if this was right, handed over a note from the pile.
"Million each?" Ron asked.
Harry shrugged.
"They've got bad inflation," Hermione said, "I'd consider that a tenner."
"Oh," Ron muttered.
"As long as it buys," Gia suggested.
"Alright…dinner," Harry said.
"And…" Gia said, "A concert."
Took Harry a moment to understand the paper stuck to the side of the building by the ATM.
"Alright," Harry said, "Time…time…"
Harry checked the receipt.
"We're…past it," Harry said, "Um…that way?"
Slight disappointment to her eyes, however, they walked. Down the steps beneath the road, to the plaza beneath the bridge going out over the water.
"Istanbul's two hours ahead," Hermione said to Gia, "Guess they don't do summer time."
They entered the restaurant. Gia ordered with Hermione, while Harry and Ron went to an upstairs table with a view to the water.
"We—" Ron started.
"Too crowded," Harry said.
A glance about, the people, unsure how many had this fish stuck in their heads too, and English was understood by enough folk to be an issue.
"Later in the room," Harry said.
"Which we still need," Ron said.
Gia carried over the tray with small paper buckets for chicken strips, fish, and chips, Hermione carried bottles of wine.
"Glad every country is sensible," Ron said.
"We're…underage here," Hermione said.
"Guess we're a good influence on her," Ron said to Harry.
"That handsome man took the universal female identification," Gia said, her hands pointed to her chest.
Harry snorted, nodded. Harry took the first bit of chicken, ate into it. Gia sat next to Harry, Hermione next to Ron. Hermione put down a map of the town, more accentuated to show the historic and cultural points.
"We're here," Hermione said.
"Plan later—like in the morning," Harry said.
Hermione's brown eyes to Harry's, the ire clear.
"You are assuming this crowd is safe to be discussing plans," Harry said, "You know for sure?"
Concern that rose in hers, the glancing about.
"You've seen something?" Ron asked.
"No," Harry said, "Think like Moody."
"You're worried," Gia said.
"Let's eat," Harry said, wanting to avoid the public discussion.
Harry continued, the fish sticks, the strips of deep fried potato. He sipped at a cup of the wine. Ron caught the hint, ate. Gia and Hermione worked a bit less, still ate. Two bottles of wine went through their cups, into their mouths.
Burp!
"I'd suggest more—bad idea," Harry said as he stood.
The the others stood.
"Room?" Hermione asked.
"Yep," Harry suggested, the heat that was to his head, throughout him.
Ron stretched. Harry nodded, and they walked.
"Ideas?" Hermione asked.
Hermione walked with Harry, down steps, into the dimming of the late evening. Up steps, they crossed the bridge to the north. A turn, they went along the waterfront, past the pier for the ferry. Harry reached, held Hermione tight.
"You're…" Hermione started.
Harry loosened up, handed the whole wad of remaining notes to Gia.
"Ron, Gia," Harry said, "Find us a room, and give a shout." Harry tapped the wrist.
Ron nodded, walked with Gia. Harry turned to Hermione, the focus to her brown eyes.
"You seemed…annoyed," Harry said, "Thought I'd ask."
"We…there's tombs that could be explored," Hermione said, "A book store for something, or perhaps go back at that bazaar."
"Talk to Ron," Harry said, "He'll agree to it."
Harry went to the edge of the water, sat on the large planter pot's lip, with the tree within. She stood to his left.
"Maybe knowing the future is a burden," Harry said, "Knowing I'll be executed."
"You don't know that," Hermione said.
"Two have said it…bit better than tea leaves," Harry said, "Still, think I'll heed the warning."
Hermione's eyes to him. Harry stood, faced her.
"Reminds me to make the most of our time," Harry said.
"Train up," Hermione said, "Figure out what Voldemort's after."
"He's said it a bunch of times," Harry said, "Power, fame, to never die. He's after the stone and the Elixir of Life. How—not sure yet, except it involves mucking around in time so he can snatch it. Somehow, my execution at the right moment gets it for him, and until then, I'm safe."
"Dumbledore could—" Hermione said.
"Ways to kill Voldemort?" Harry said, "Only one curse to try."
"Other ways to prepare," Hermione said.
"Yes," Harry said, "If he succeeds with execution, best to make sure you've got memories for a lifetime. If he doesn't, we'll still have memories for a lifetime."
Her eyes puzzled on his.
"Harry!" came the voice from Harry's wrist.
Harry pulled it out, the coin, when Ron's green ghostly head showed.
"Hope I didn't interrupt," Ron said, "Yeah, we found a room. It's… Gia!"
"That's…" Hermione started.
"Explain later," Harry said.
Hermione listened too as Ron gave the directions.
"Ta," Harry said.
Ron's head vanished, and Harry put the coin back in.
"This way," Hermione said, pointed.
They walked. A short weave of the narrow streets, they entered the door, up the steps, to the room, entered. Ron and Gia were there, on the wide bed seemingly crammed into it, both a bit toward half asleep.
"Thought you two were banging," Ron said.
Harry glared as he climbed onto the bed.
"Price was decent," Gia said.
"It's what we needed," Harry said.
Fatigue that swept into him, Harry fell to sleep.
Tuesday morning, Dumbledore glanced back at the picture on his desk. A sigh, the noise to the coffee table, the alarm he wasn't supposed to ignore, when the knock came.
"Enter!" Dumbledore said as he began to rise, the hand that trembled to the cane.
Colin Creevey entered.
"Professor McGonagall suggested breakfast," Colin said.
Dumbledore pointed, went for the chairs around the table. He sat as the selection appeared on the table. Colin sat across the coffee table. Colin started with the orange slices.
"Got the picture?" Colin asked.
"That was most thoughtful," Dumbledore said.
Colin hunched over, worked the cauldron cakes.
"A favor," Colin said, "I offered Harry to develop the film to his cameras. As I understand you have a mail cauldron for him, goes back and forth, send their film my direction."
Colin sat back up.
"Safety," Colin said, "I mean, one errant picture, and somebody can figure out where they are. Seemed better."
"Might tempt you for some duplicates?" Dumbledore asked.
"Gets expensive," Colin said, "Besides, I promised Harry privacy."
"Developer and supplies," Dumbledore offered.
Colin grinned.
"Coordinate with Professor Tonks," Dumbledore said, "She'd be eager to help you organize a photo album for Harry. I'm sure your contribution of triplicates would come in handy."
"Better to stick to no questions asked," Colin said, "We'll spook Harry if we spread his pictures around."
"Agreed," Dumbledore said, "Pretend I never asked."
A bit earlier, Harry woke.
"Morning," Ron said, "We're in the motel room, wanna tell them?"
"We…later," Harry said.
"You promised to explain what you were doing," Hermione said.
"These?" Ron asked as he pulled out the stone coin, "Percy…"
"Percy gave Ron one," Harry said, "It's how they talked toward the end. We grabbed the other when… well, it was clear Percy wouldn't need it."
"Private fires—investigation grade," Ron said.
"Use sparingly," Harry said.
"Magic binds them," Ron said.
"Hermione caught us using them," Harry said, "That's sufficient proof."
Harry stood.
"Breakfast and news," Harry said.
Harry knew he was procrastinating. Ron seemed to be of similar mind as he stood. Gia and Hermione followed. They left the room, down the steps, and left the building. Onto the narrow streets, in the cooler morning with cloudy skies. Harry made their way back to the waterfront, the small ferry terminal, to a bistro, where they entered.
"Can't say we can't have variety," Hermione said.
Harry glanced at the menu, the Turkish that started to make sense as he read it. Harry pointed as he ordered, and went out to the outside table beneath the overhang. He swallowed his pills, and opened The Daily Prophet.
"Always rubbish," Harry said as Hermione came over, "Still…where's Equatorial Guinea? Four there. Five in Togo…pacific?"
Ron struggled with his hip pocket, and took two more tries before he managed to squeeze out a thick letter.
"Thought Percy kicked the bucket," Ron grumbled, as he opened it.
"From?" Harry asked.
"Ginny," Ron said, "Wants to know my opinion on our replacements."
Harry glared at the blue eyes.
"Swears its for when we're suspended," Ron said, "Little fink."
"Give her credit," Harry said, "Asking you before making a decision."
Harry watched Ron read through the materials until the waitress brought the orders out. Ron worked the kabob between his teeth, the eyes that kept at the letter.
"It is important," Harry said to Hermione.
Harry ate the bacon interwoven with hard egg, the potato, with mandarin slices, on his kebab.
"Brenner and Abercrombie substitute," Ron said, "Two more chasers to train up…seems reasonable."
Harry knew they couldn't wait.
"Been needing…there's a change in plans," Harry said.
Hermione's eyes to Harry.
"We split up," Harry said, "Not like forever. You and Ron go explore the tombs, the museums, whatever. I'll take Gia somewhere else."
"We meet back here before sunset?" Hermione asked.
"Monday at the stadium," Harry said.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Right now," Harry said, "We're better off abroad—but you've read the paper, we both know they're spreading terror world wide. We're lucky if we get a year before we're back to watching every step, checking for mines, like we were back home."
"Doesn't mean splitting up," Hermione said.
Harry finished the sixth and final kebab, drank the orange juice.
"Four gets noticed," Harry said, "Couples don't, we're better off in pairs, separate."
"Got your practice," Hermione said, "What about Dumbledore, bet he's putting a letter in there now."
"I'm declining if he does," Harry said, "Face it—we can't stay still long enough to study. And, if the rumor of execution is true, I'd rather be focused on us, give you both times to remember."
Tears to Hermione's eyes.
"We'll meet up at the stadium on Monday," Harry said, "Spend the evening, night together, and next week, do the same."
Gia that turned her focus to Ron.
"Plus," Harry said, "We're bound to get super tired of each other, so splitting's the way."
Gia sighed.
"My idea," Ron said.
Hermione glared at Ron.
"It's a good one," Harry said.
Harry stood, Gia stood with him.
"Love you all," Harry said, "See you Monday."
"You too," Ron replied.
Harry walked backward, waved as he did so, and turned. Gia with him, Harry activated the Portkey; Gia held on, jerk behind the naval, they were pulled away.
…
Hermione's heart sank a bit as she watched Harry, Gia vanish. Ron put his arm around her.
"Want to do the tomb?" Ron asked, he pulled up the map from her, "Plenty to see."
Hermione sighed, leaned into Ron.
"I'm easing up on the Quidditch," Ron said.
"You are?" she asked.
"Obligated to one practice a week," Ron said, "With Harry…you'd be at the stadium every bloody day."
"Guess there's that," Hermione said.
"Four opinions on what to do?" Ron said, "None of us are happy…this way, I can see to it that you're happy."
"Ta," Hermione said.
Took Ron a moment to stuff the letter back into the hip pocket. Hermione eased up. Ron stood.
"Think the tombs are the right spot to bang?" Ron asked.
Hermione snorted, shook her head.
"Never know," Ron said, "What we need could be in that tomb. More we see, the better our chances are."
Hermione felt a bit better, and they left the bistro. Feet to the pavement, they followed the map.
"It's the closest thing," Hermione said.
"Even better," Ron said.
Ron's right arm that went behind her, held tight, his fingers to her hip, and the reminder they were there, together.
Date: Sat Jan 20 06:57:58 2024