Tension
Well, here they were.
The Dursleys were directly across from Harry, and despite being in their own home, were looking extremely uncomfortable. Funny how that happens.
Dudley was once again trying to practice the art of blending in, but that art had long been denied to him. In general, when the only thing larger than yourself in any scenario are larger trees, hiding becomes complex and difficult.
Though, Harry mused, perhaps he was blending in. The folds of skin, by no means obscured by clothing, matched beautifully with the rolls of the plush couch Dudley was splayed on. Dudley's parents, just to the right of him, were slightly elevated, due to Dudley himself.
Vernon was trying to desperately establish some sort of masculine authority, but it seemed that chattering teeth were addictive, for Vernon seemed to have caught them from Dudley; either way, it was all Vernon could manage to do other than aimlessly shift his beady eyes.
In all honesty, when looking at Dudley and Vernon, Harry couldn't help but be reminded of Aunt Marge's dogs-large, spoiled, and having an affinity to cower. Harry could imagine they looked exactly like dogs that had been caught eating out of a garbage bin.
Yet if those two were bulldogs, Harry had no idea what animal Petunia would be. A flea-ridden antsy giraffe? He didn't know, nor did he want to do any other animals the injustice by delving deeper in the matter and reaching the discrediting conclusion.
Regardless, Petunia's skinny form sat huddled, eyes wide and horsy teeth protruding in a very prominent way. Together, she and the fat bulldogs, put together the Dursley family-frightened and witless-waiting to see what Harry would say.
But Harry wasn't going to speak, at least not yet.
Harry was quite enjoying his view point and was exercising its benefits when Hermione's eye caught his.
Hermione was sitting out of the main arena, but had a great spot for observing. Harry was seated in the spot of power, the chair directly across from the Dursley's, but she had a quaint little spot of observation on a kitchen table chair, several feet from Harry, and facing the two antagonists.
Hermione had taken the first couple minutes of this extremely uncomfortable silence, but it was just getting out of hand for her. She caught Harry's eye letting her know her sentiments.
Harry gave her a slight sideways nod and eye contact of understanding. Hermione immediately returned her attention to the Dursleys.
"I'm leaving tonight, and I'm not coming."
As if he expected the Dursley's silence, Harry continued, "I'm not sure why, but I feel obliged to tell you the situation…the person that killed James and Lily, your sister Petunia, is now after me, and he may go after you. I'm sure you'll receive some protection from us, but you won't be safe."
Vernon's beady eyes, if possible, got beadier. "So you're telling me…because…because of you…OUR lives are at stake?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"There's nothing else."
"There has to be something else."
"That's the reality, there really is nothing else."
Vernon merely started to steam the sweat that had collected on his face.
Harry suddenly seemed perplexed, "Actually, there is something else."
"Damn right there is…what is it!!"
Harry stood up. Vernon straightened, "Where you going, boy?!"
Harry ignored him and reached behind him. Hermione noticed that he was deceptively tense, ready for any action, the need be. It saddened her that he was forced to act in this fashion around his own family-his aunt and uncle, one of whom was the sister of his mother, and still they had forced him to act so. Hermione could not help but feel sick.
A stony demeanor had placed itself on Harry's face as he reached behind a chair to grab a box. Hermione was quite sure he had conjured, summoned, or released a spell, for she had not seen it prior.
He sat up from his chair, his hands grasping the contents of the box. When he was right in front of the beleaguered Dursleys, who were now pushing as far away from the box that the couch was in danger of tipping backward, he opened up the box and revealed three watches.
They were ordinary, it was sure, but Hermione saw that they were each customized in general ways to fit each of the three individuals before him. Her interest grew, not just because she had no idea how he had made or acquired these objects, let alone what they were for.
"If any of you are in trouble, press the `light' button three times. It'll bring you to safety. Other than that, they're full functioning watches. Take it or leave it. Realize that these are the only things that can save you from death or worse."
And with that he handed the box coolly to Vernon, who barely held it up with his trembling fingers, afraid it would burst into flame or something else terribly magic.
Harry simply made eye contact with Hermione and headed upstairs.
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She had suggested that they leave earlier than midnight, for the sake of not being predictable. Although it meant that Harry could not legally do magic, it made sense, and Harry firmly latched onto it.
Hermione had tried apparating the first day she had been here, but had found out that you had to be magically recognized within the anti-apparation wards in order to perform it.
They were left with a narrow time frame with which to escape. Roughly 9:00pm to 11:00pm. It was there they thought it was safe to leave. Another idea they had was to leave the next morning, or even day. If there were watchers, they were going to know Harry, who was impulsive, so would probably assume he would either leave as soon as possible or right on the dot.
Banking their thoughts on this conclusion, they chose to leave roughly around 2:30am, in the morning, subject to change. They would observe in hiding to see if they were being watched, always ready to make a quick escape on broomstick if need be. It would be the wards created by love that would fall, not the other superfluous ones such as apparation.
It was 1:30am right now and they had no idea if there were watchers or when they had gotten there or anything. As a pretense a few hours ago they had arranged it so it looked as though they had already left. The window was flung open, and wind was pouring through the room. There were no lights on and the room was stripped clean. From the outside it looked deserted.
From the inside as well it looked deserted except for two teenagers lying low in the room. Hermione had shrunk their possessions and they all fit snugly within their overcoats.
Hermione was lying down just below the window, tense, hands on Harry's broomstick. They had practiced a quick getaway several times consisting of her handing the broomstick to Harry and both of them jumping on quickly. It hadn't worked too well at first, athletics was not that foreign to Hermione but she was a little out of practice. It had taken a few attempts of jumping too short, jumping over the broom, jumping into the broom, jumping onto Harry, until it had finally worked out. Hermione certainly hoped it was worth it, because at this point all that had progressed was that she now relearned what she had learned first year and had the knew-found knowledge that Harry had gotten much broader in the shoulders. She remembered how skinny they were when they had ridden on Buckbeak, but now, when he circled his arms her to start riding, he completely enveloped her-lending the silent strength and reassurance that Harry was famous for giving.
Lavender and Parvati had talked about it and had sprinkled the words "He's so dreamy" and "brave" in it as well.
But this wasn't what she was supposed to be thinking about. They were teenagers anyhow; these thoughts naturally come to mind when in these situations. Hermione pushed her ruminations far behind her and focused.
Harry was standing, but pressed against the wall. Dim light poured through room from the moon, and a cool wind briskly whirled about the room. Harry was keenly peering into the night, his seeker eyes trying desperately to get a sense of his surroundings.
He looked feral and seemed to move with calculated feline fluidity. His body was crouched, deceptively calm, yet undeniably tense and ready. His face focused, and the wind tousled his hair in a wild fashion, the moon casting its magic upon his face, making it seem…ethereal? Hermione didn't know, but felt her chest clench.
Suddenly Harry's eyes briefly widened and he drew back quickly from his viewpoint. Hermione looked at him with concern; he looked back in warning and nodded toward the outside. Harry went as if to look one more time, and then disregarded the idea and signaled
Fifty plus.
Hermione could not hold back the face of shock register on her face and immediately she despaired. Their first ploy hadn't worked. But then again, when was it ever that easy?
Her brain however, did not freeze, and by the looks of it, neither did Harry's. Both of them knew they were each considering their escape plans, but a look on Harry's face told her what was going on. Hermione figured being his friend for six years had a little to do with the intuition that was now hitting her over the head with ten baseball bats.
She voicelessly asked her question with her eyes,
You want them to see us so they won't go and search the Dursley's.
Harry's steely eyes, hard set with determination told her the inevitable answer.
Mind calculating, she gave her reply in the form of a spell she softly murmured.
"Eadum"
Harry's wand suddenly replicated itself and the copy floated just to the right of the real one. Hermione scrunched her face and the wand began a jerky replication of what would be a hand moving it.
Harry was impressed but whispered back, "But a whole body performing various actions?"
"It's all we've got." Why she had even suggested this far fetched idea was beyond her. Impossibilities had a way of seeming plausible around Harry, she supposed.
"Thank you."
Hermione merely smiled slightly in reply and they both began the tedious, meticulous, and extraordinary task of crafting the plan with in their head in order to produce their replicating masterpiece.
________________________________________________________________________
It wasn't until 3:00am that they were prepared-or at least they thought they were prepared as they could be.
Harry stood back a bit from the window, out of sight except from anyone who might be looking straight in at Harry's eye level. Oddly enough, it was Harry who carried the most aptitude for this task, for the menial details the spell required were only known to those who had special insight and intuition on them. In this case, it was Harry who had the most "knowledge" on the topics at hand.
"Eadum"
Suddenly, Harry and Hermione were riding on a broomstick together 50 feet away. The way they had crafted it was the image of them would be uncovered as if an invisibility cloak had accidentally fallen off.
There was an immediate effect on the atmosphere. Roughly fifteen stunners were sent in the direction of their image, but the image spiraled down into the neighbor's yard and behind the fence. Harry was sweating by now with concentration, and paused and rested. He could see dark shapes streak towards the direction of the apparition.
About five seconds later he cast the spell once again and projected himself and Hermione sky hopping over the suburban fences away from the surrounded house.
Rushing sounds could be heard and a general commotion ensued. Small commands were barked. The death eaters were on the move to catch the fleeing apparation. It had worked!
Harry and Hermione had long been in action. While Harry had been crafting their masterpiece, Hermione had been casting disillusion spells on the both of them and they proceeded to rush downstairs to mount and fly off.
Wind flew past their faces as they rode into the moon and toward the Weasley household. It was brisk outside but a perfect summer night. Cool yet comforting, a perfect way to shed the fear and angst of the events prior. It was soon hard to imagine that seconds earlier trained killers were boxing them in.
Hermione began to acquire a sense of just how good at Quidditch Harry really was-she had never seen nor been on anything so smooth and fluent. His body was wrapped around hers and she could feel the coordinated movements of his body-so in tune with the broomstick itself it almost took her breath away.
How she could feel so safe when she was in such danger was a mystery to her.
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