Chapter Three: Riders of the Storm
"That is everything sir," Alfred said, stepping away from the trunk now placed upon a trolley. Harold smiled, sharing a mischievous look with his old friend. "Anything else sir?"
"Thank you Alfred," Harold said, his hands going over his coat pockets. The jacket was black and long, longer than one would probably need for a warm, but the cooling charm subtly placed upon it prevented him from overheating. He found the list and pulled it out, "accidentally" pulling his wand out as well, letting it drop to the ground with a slight clang.
"Master Harold, you must be more careful," Alfred said, picking up the wand, and handing it back to a sheepishly smiling Harold. "There are those that must not see this."
"I'm sorry," he said, putting the wand back into his pocket. He held back the smile in his eyes, and turned away before he lost control.
"Master Harold, stay safe and try not to cause too much trouble," Alfred said before turning back to the car. Harold motioned toward the man they hired, a wizard who needed some quick galleons, and they began to walk toward the platform
Harold relaxed and allowed his eyes to go out of focus. His eyes could see the aura that wizards and witches, magical beings in general, generated naturally. That was how he found his temporary employee. And that also was how he saw the man before him.
"Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters?" Harold said, a smile playing upon his face.
"Who are you?" the man scoffed. Harold took a look at the man before him. Draco Malfoy. Son of Lucius Malfoy, a man dismissed of all charges or treason against him. Heir to a small empire's worth of money, or so the ledgers say. His aura was bright with potential, but tainted, as if something was trying to corrupt him. It was not to late for him however.
"Harold Potter," he said, holding out his hand. There was small shock in Draco's eyes, but only one with Harold's awareness may have caught it.
"Draco Malfoy." He responded with a firm handshake. "I apologize for not being able to attend your celebration and the ceremony. My father was out of town on business." Harold smiled, hiding his knowledge of the truth.
"Not a problem," Harold said as they pulled apart. "Though this something that I wanted to talk to you about." He made a motion of searching his pockets, as if looking for something. "I'd give you my business card and tell you to call my people to set up a lunch, but I don't seem to have my card." He went through the motions again, getting a scoffing look from Draco.
"About what?"
"Well, it's not for wandering ears," Harold said, still making an act of looking through his pockets. "Just have your people contact my people, and we'll do lunch or something."
"Why?" Malfoy said.
"Because I probably understand the pressures of wealth better than anyone else here," Harold said, smirking now. Game and set. "So, care to point me in toward the Platform?" Draco only smirked and turned away. Harold didn't care, to him it was bright as day. The same platform he stood by three yearning years in a row, wishing to be one of the wizarding children, even normal would be fine. But one thing Harold Potter was not was normal.
Sighing, he made his way toward the platform, watching a family of wizards pass through it, looking at the normal trains with distain. He smirked to himself and calmly walked through the barrier, the train before him. Allowing the temporary employee to take his trunk, he paid the boy as he said he would, a little extra on top of it before climbing onto the train. Finding the first cabin empty he entered, and let his façade relax.
Sitting down, he withdrew a book from his coat pocket, enlarging it slightly so he could read it. He began to relax, allowing himself to slip into the book. He had always loved it, ever since he got if from his friend. He had come to memorizing the book and not far from it either. His mind when in a relaxed state, stored more information, and that was a considerable amount even when he was under pressure. It helped when the cover of the book had in large bold letters "DON'T PANIC." It was hard not to relax with such a statement.
"Anyone in here?" Harold looked up from his book to the familiar voice to see Hermione poking her head into the cabin. "Oh, sorry, just the door was closed and so silent…I'll just leave and let you be."
"There's more than enough room for us both," Harold said, motioning toward her, a smile on his face. It was good to see her again.
"Thank you," Hermione said sitting down. He could tell her gaze was one him, though he did not say anything. After a few more moments of silence Harold began to look at her, although he hoped she did not notice him. Her bushy hair was still the same, and the smile still as bright.
"Still don't remember me do you?" Harold asked, smirking. He looked up from the book he was reading, catching the blush on her face.
"I do, I met you at the party," Hermione said. It was obvious to him that she was trying to hide her blush.
"We met before that you know," Harold said, moving next to her. "We were friends." Harold felt slightly put out that she did not remember her, but the spark in her eyes told him otherwise. Before he had a chance to respond, he felt her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He tried not to let her notice the fear in him; he never had much emotional contact, after his parents' death. Shoving those thoughts to the side, Harold concentrated on the crying girl now in his arms.
"It's okay," Harold said, wrapping his arms around her. "It's okay."
"I never thought you'd come back," Hermione said as she only hugged him tighter. Harold was amazed to say the least. Someone cared about him, enough to cry over him. They sat like that for several moments before Hermione pulled back. Harold reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a shrunken cloth. Resizing it, he handed the large towel to her, letting dry her tears. She choked back a giggle as she looked at the towel in her hand.
"I see you took the advice of the book rather seriously," Hermione said, holding up the towel. He waved his hands slightly, as if waving away a fly. The spell was up.
"Hey," Harold said, pushing her slightly but wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She moved closer to him, relaxing next to him.
"Can I still call you Harry?" The shook was over her as she sat up, and he removed his arm from around her shoulder. There was a short burst of sadness in her eyes when she did this, but Harry did not think about it too much.
"Why not?" he said, laughing at the thought. "But let's make it our secret okay." Harry was surprised as she giggled along with him, nodding.
"Why did you have to go?" Hermione asked after several moments of childish laughter. Harry looked at her, pausing at the sentence. Why did he go? Could he tell her?
"There were things that I had to learn," Harry said, smiling down at her. "I'm back though, and I don't plan on leaving for a while." Hermione smiled for a moment. Harry could not help but return the smile. She grabbed her book and began to read it, smiling to herself.
She seemed different then when he saw at his party. At the party, she acted as if she was ready to twist away from him at any moment. Now, it was as if she was a completely different person. Except for the eyes. No matter how relaxed she was, Harry could see there was still some fear within her eyes.
He finally glanced down at the book in her hands. "An excellent choice I must say." She looked back up at him slightly, blushing under his gaze.
"You ever read it?" Hermione asked, looking up from the book. Harry nodded.
"It was one of the books I read about before going off into the world," Harry said, putting his feet up on the opposing seat.
"I thought you told Ginny you didn't know that much about Hogwarts," Hermione said in shock. Harry just smiled, letting his spirits rise.
"Comparatively speaking of course," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I mean, I've only read it once or twice, but I think the Headmaster, or authors would know more than me. And I'm currently doubting that I know as much as you." His straight face began to crack as he laughed, causing her to laugh in mirth with him.
"I can't believe you lied to her," Hermione said, hitting his arm lightly but laughed along with him.
"I didn't lie; I just merely left out a few things," Harry said as he calmed down.
"Hermione!" Ron said, bursting into the room. He ran over to her, his face covered in false care, almost demand. There was almost this anger in his eyes toward Harold as Ron walked with Ginny coming up behind him. "Where were you? I was so worried?" He got up and moved to the opposing seat. He shrunk his book and towel, placing them back into his coat.
"I can take care of myself Ronald," Hermione said, pushing away his arms which were asking for a hug.
"Harold, I can't believe you decided to sit with us!" Ginny squealed, sitting next to him.
"I believe it was you who decided to sit with me." Harold said, smirking as he removed a pair of dark sunglasses. He put them on as the train slowly rolled out of the station and began to make their trek to Hogwarts. He did not want them to see his eyes, but wanted to watch them, not trusting the two red heads entirely.
The door slid open, letting in two people, a short blonde and a medium man of height and build. He let his eyes slip out of focus, allowing the auras to build around them. He looked carefully at everyone in the room, no moving his head, but rather, shifting his eyes into his peripheral vision.
Both Ginny and Ron had average potential and skills; the medium build boy, Neville Longbottom, had a greater potential than the other two, however his aura was by far the smallest of anyone there. The blonde, one Luna Lovegood (daughter of the owner of the Quibbler), had about the same skills and potential as the Weasleys, though there was a flicker or two in her aura that lead him to believe there was a bit more to her than she showed. He'd find out.
Hermione was another story however. Her skill at the moment was slightly above average, but her potential was limitless to him it seemed. Although she may not be able to complete everything she takes one to the fullest, it would not stop her from attempting to do so. There was also an animalistic sense to her aura, flickers like Luna's, but unlike hers there seemed to be some noticeable pattern to Hermione's. He planned on looking it up once he had the chance.
"Neville Longbottom," he said holding out his hand. Harold stood and shook it as it was directed toward only him.
"Pleasure to meet you," Harold said as Neville quickly shook his head.
"No, Mister Potter," Harold opened his mouth to interrupt but Neville continued, "The pleasure is all mine. I can't thank you enough for what you did for my parents."
"It was nothing," Harold said, sitting back down. Neville sat down next to Ginny, leaning forward to continue his conversation.
"What did you do?" Ginny asked with awe. Hermione gave him a queer look, as if she too wanted to ask the question but did not voice it. He silently thanked her.
"He has been providing donations for research into curing my parents," Neville said. "They're so close now, I can't thank you enough."
"My mother started it," Harold said, looking past Neville for a moment before continuing. "And I'm just continuing her work." He stood, making sure the glasses were still upon his eyes.
"Where are you going?" Ginny said, her arm shooting out and gripping his.
"I've some business to attend to," Harold said, then moving his gaze down to her hand on his arm. Ginny just stared at him.
"Will you be back?" Ginny asked him, a pleading look in her eyes. Harold looked up at her again, hiding his half-hearted disgust. Why did woman do this to him? Demand him to be theirs like his was some treasure. Happened a great deal overseas as he thought back.
"If you removed your hand, there is a greater chance," Harold said, returning his pointed look to her face. Ginny released his arm; he silently thanked the Lord that he did not have to resort to some of his training. He still did not understand woman.
Leaving through the door to the compartment, he saw Draco standing outside of it, a glare superimposed upon his face. At the moment, Harold did not care if they saw him talking to Draco, and shut the door behind him, slamming it almost.
"You wanted to talk to me," Draco said, glaring at him almost.
"Your reputation precedes you, Draco," Harold said, smirking in return. "I've yet to meet your father in my business dealings, and quite frankly I do not plan on doing so." He paused for a moment in thought. "There is much of your father in you Draco, but I refuse to allow a man such as your father into my companies."
"What do you mean?" Draco said after another silence. Harold knocked the window behind him, and the sound of someone falling was heard. Both of them smirked at this before Harold answered.
"I mean is that there are certain qualities that you have obtained from your father, however, there are others that I refuse to allow into my company, which is why I refuse to allow your father to work for me, despite his nagging," Harold said, letting everything sink in. If Draco was surprised, he did not show it.
"You want me to work for you," Draco said slowly. Harold nodded, and Draco's smirk turned into a smile. "You know this would piss off my father, right?"
"Isn't that why you're accepting it?" Harold said. Draco nodded, holding out his hand. "I've yet to decide where you'll work for me, but it'll be near the top. I don't have a head for these types of things." He spoke half-heartedly, knowing that Draco had come over to HIS side, where things were to be done. Harold knocked the door behind him once; another thud was heard.
"Then we have a deal," Draco said as they shook hands. "So I just contact your people, and we'll do lunch." Harold nodded, as Draco walked away.
"Just use one of those owl things or something. I think that's how it works." Game. Set. Match. He knocked on the door once more and once again there was a thud. Opening up the door, he held back his laughter at Ron on the floor.
"What was that all about?" Ginny asked as Ron scrambled back onto his seat.
"I told you business," Harold said, relaxing and attempting to mediate. "Now if you excuse me, I must sleep." With his glasses still over his eyes, he knew they would not question him. Relaxing, he let his mind slow down with the click-clack and chug-chug of the train.
I0I
"What did he have to talk to Malfoy about?" Ron asked once Harry was asleep. Hermione looked over at Harry, all worried etched out of his face. She held back her smile as she pulled out her book to begin reading again. The storm outside was growing, and it was best if she tried to ignore it.
"Is it really a part of your business?" Hermione said, not looking up from her book.
"Aren't you a bit curious?" Ron asked, trying to get her attention on him.
"I am, but I respect him too much to ask," Hermione said casually flipping page in her book.
"What's there to respect? The money?" Ron scoffed.
"You just don't know him like I do." Ginny said, moving to take his arm. Hermione stifled a giggle, as Harry turned from Ginny, as if he knew it was coming. He scratched his nose and turned as if he was looking out the window. Ginny crossed her arms with a hmph and scowled at Harry.
Hermione closed her book and brought her knees to her chest. The storm was too close to the train. Too close to her resurfacing memories.
"Are you okay Hermione?" Luna asked, the only one to notice. Ginny was still scowling at Harry, and Ron and Neville were in a conversation about what Harry had talked to Malfoy about.
"Yeah," she lied, her voice reflecting her mood. Luna gave her an odd look as the train slowed down. Hermione began to shake her head. We can't stop, the storm is almost here; we can't stop. She thought as the lights flickered around them.
"Wands out I reckon," came a cold steel-like voice. Hermione looked up from her knees to see Harry standing tall as the others were against their seats. A light was seen from outside their door, and murmurs could be heard from the other side.
"The Dark Lord shall rise again," one of the voice yelled as they threw open the door.
"Only to trip over his feet in the dark," Harry said in his normal voice. Hermione, despite her fear, giggled slightly, causing the strangers' wands to be pointed at her. Harry's voice was steel once more. He grabbed her by her hand and pulled her behind him. "Harm anyone in this room, and you may not live to see the morning." Hermione shivered at the phrase, but somehow felt safe, as if he knew was he was doing. Three other men appeared in the room, all their wands now pointed at Harry.
"Gather up their valuables," one from the back said. Harry moved his wand toward the center, stopping them from moving. Hermione's hand went to her pocket; the pocket watch Harry gave her she still carried everywhere.
"Leave us," Harry said. There was nod from somewhere in the back.
"REDUCTO!" A chorus of voices sounded. Harry turned and pushed her down to the seat. Hermione could only watch as he turned back to them, his chest held out front as the spells connected with such a force it sent he through the window, and out into the pouring rain.
"HARRY!" She screamed, only to be held back by Luna. Ron was protecting Ginny and had gotten up, shaking the dust from his body. Neville must have been protecting Luna.
"It's okay," Luna said, attempting to comfort Hermione. She shook off the arms and hugged herself, before smiling slightly at Luna. The younger girl nodded. Despite their differences, over the last two years the two of them had become like sisters. And right now, Luna understood, Hermione just wanted to be left alone.
"Move!" A voice commanded. Ron helped Ginny out of the door, while Neville did the same with Luna, who gave her a look back as Hermione stared out into the stormy woods, tears falling like rain.
I0I
He woke up, the pain in his chest manageable by all means. He smirked, letting his thoughts returned. The hybrid worked. Kevlar and dragon hide, a remarkable achievement indeed. Shaking his head, he ignored the bruises and pain throughout his body. Get up. GET UP. He ordered his body as it slowly rose. Removing the battered glasses from his eyes, he felt the rain surround him, drowning the train out as it sped away.
He reached into his torn jacket removing both the towel and his book. Neither were damaged in the fall, luckily. He slid the miniaturized book into his belt as he clothes transfigured into his fatigues. He tied the towel around his head, transfiguring into a sort of mask to cover up some of his eyes. His smirk was lost to the wind as he took off, ignoring the pounding pain that was sent through his legs.
He reached the tracks, watching the train get smaller and smaller. Taking the chance with a long shot, he guesstimated the distance and concentrated on his compartment. His body felt like it had been hurtled across miles as he landed on his feet in the compartment. Damn that Ministry. They let this train go without Anti-Apparation ward.
There were quick yells echoing down the halls. He listened carefully, knowing now what they were speaking of, but knowing their intent. If they hurt her…….
He entered through the hallway, surprising one of those men that attacked him. With a quick grab of the man's wrist, the attacker was on the floor and he had two more attempting to get him. Doing the math quickly, he turned and grabbed one of the two strangers and threw him into the other. Both were knocked out. That's three, probably more. He thought. Looking down the hall, he knew was he had to do. Take out their leader, cripple them. He went back into his destroyed compartment, and began to implement his plan.
He reached through the hole now in the wall and grasped the roof, despite the rain. Pulling himself up, he felt a flashing pain through his right shoulder as he got himself onto the roof. By no measures was he a superhero, but he had a score to settle. Training had paid off, as the pain despite the enormity of it all, was only in his mind. He'd rest when his job had ended.
His feet slipped from beneath him as he traveled the car tops. Gripping the railing on the side, he pulled himself up then shoved his shoulder back into the socket. They were going to really pay now. Moving his right arm, he noted the pain did not lessen. Taking a small salve out of his belt, he drank it as he quickened his pace across the top of the train, with the voices growing louder. The pain in his shoulder had dulled, almost not unlike a bruise the refused to heal.
The voices were easily heard now. They were in the car below him. The Prefects car. Holding back a smile at his personal joke, he held onto the railing at the top and slid down to beside the window. He could see the students, huddle in the expanded room. It was crowded, lessening his room for movement. There would be men outside the room, possible by the engine as well.
He had memorized the plans for the train already, knowing the layout of the engine room. He went back to the roof, and made his way toward the engine. The smoke filled the air, making it harder to cling to the top in combination with the steady rainfall. He slid to the side once more, looking into the cabin of the engine room. Two men stood there, talking as if they had nothing better to do. Faces hidden by masks meant nothing to him. All they did was hide the pain.
At the crash of the thunder and lighting, he went through the window, knocking one of the two men through the other one before the other could respond. With a roundhouse kick to the back of the others head, the boy is out cold. Kicking the boy's pulse, he summoned a set of ropes, locking him to a pipe running from the ceiling to the floor. He used a syringe to put him under, preventing him from waking for at least another few hours. He took a quick look at the train engine.
It was designed to run until they reached the station, without any assistance. He had less then an hour to clear these men from the train, before they hurt the townspeople as well as these children. Slowing the train down, he turned and left the same way he came in. He needed to get the men at the entrance of that compartment.
Traveling back was easier as he let his body slide slightly along the top. There were two more of these attackers, though this time he took them both out through the window, forcing him to expend more force than he wanted to. Taking a deep breath, he minimized the pain that was crashing through his body in waves. It had been too long since his training sessions. He'd have to practice more often if he wanted to-
The door crept open slowly, as if the wind pushed it open. No one came out, but he was in a ready stance to take them on if he needed to be. Looking through the opening, he counted six men, standing by the west end of the compartment. The leader stood back, away from the window, much to his chagrin. He needed to take out their leader, at the same time, not injuring anyone.
Saying a silent prayer, he climbed out of the cabin, but not before locking the door to the prefects' compartment. He needed them to stay in there. He made his way to the window where the attackers were standing. No need to hold my breath.
He dove through the window, crashing into one of the muscles before quickly rounding onto another one, knocking his count of threats to four. He stood faced the remaining intruders. He did not let them see his fatigued breathing.
"A mask huh? Hiding something?" the leader asked. He caught the glimpse of an shimmering object in the Leader's pocket. A pocket watch. His pocket watch.
"I believe you should be asking yourselves that," he said, responding as two muscles began to move behind him. He was tired, and could not stop them from locking him in their grasps. He felt the pain rush through his body as his right shoulder dislocated once more from the force. He hid his smile of joy.
"I believe we have you trapped," Leader said. Muscle 1 and 2 both laughed, but Tightlips only watched from afar. He knew that was the one to look out for.
"I believe you are sorely mistaken," he said, with as much force as he could, he swung his legs upward and driving his feet into the Muscle's faces. Both were out for the count. His right arm hung limply at his side as he watched the other two men stare him down, or attempt to. He shifted his arm back into the socket, the pain not life-threatening but hell it hurt.
Ignoring the pain, he began to calculate his options. His care must be great, for the children around him could not protect themselves, for reasons he could not fathom. They were wizards were they not.
The echoing sounds of a gunshot told him otherwise. He felt the blunt object hit the hybrid armor, the force knocking the wind out of him. So Tightlips did have something to share. Screams filled the room as the two intruders approached cautiously.
"The Dark Lord shall rise again!" Leader said. He waited and waited. Now!
He grabbed the foot that was sent toward him, and with a quick twist, brought Tightlips to the floor and broke his ankle. His body felt like it was on fire, as he stood he knew he was on the edge of his strength. Grabbing Leader by the throat with speed that surprised the room, he held Leader a foot off the ground.
"Get off my train," he said with venom and spite. Using what strength he had left, he lifted Tightlips and the other downed intruders magically off the ground before throwing them out the gapping hole of a window. "Take the rest of your stooges with you. And if there is so much as one injured child, prayer your Dark Lord kills you, because I'll make you wish you were dead." He reached into the man's pocket, removing the watch before tossing him, almost, effortless out the window. Looking around the room, he spotted her.
"I believe this belongs to you Miss," he said, holding out the pocket watch. Hermione starred at awe at him before he turned and jumped out of the window. The train was only a few miles from its destination, and he had a long walk ahead of him.
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