Harry sat on a conjured stool in the kitchen, eating a bowl of thick hearty stew and nursing a chilled Butterbeer that he had bought from Tom in the Leaky Cauldron on his way out of Diagon Alley. His packages from the excursion laid strewn about the common room. He had everything from tour books to a portable tent. His coffers might have been nearly depleted in the effort of being prepared, but luckily money from the sapphire Verbena was cutting and resetting into exquisite pieces was still rolling in leaving him with little financial worries.
He fed Hedwig a piece of thick bread, scratching her affectionately on the head while she hooted in thanks. Oorjit he could see was curled up on the hearth in the other room soaking up the heat from the fire. Harry took a mouthful of strew and considered what he was going to do.
First he would have to organize the four compartment trunk with the camping gear, supplies, and food reserves. One compartment would have to be charmed to stay cool so the food wouldn't go bad overnight and another would have to be spelled to be unshakeable so that potions and explosive ingredients wouldn't jostle. The final two compartments were going to house his wardrobe and personal items, and the rest of the useful if mismatched equipment.
What cost the most for his Horcrux search was a very expensive woven demiguise invisibility cloak. It wasn't perfect invisibility, but it was the closest thing a wizard could get to, closer still if the wearer first hit himself with a disillusionment charm. The second was his tailored graphorn hide battle armor from Knockturn Alley's Dragonhorn & More.
Graphorn hide was at least twice as resilient as dragon hide, thus being more expensive as it was harder to catch and tan. While his purchase wasn't a complete set of body armor, it would do well enough with its vest, arm, and leg pieces. He had to settle for dragon hide boots because the molded graphorn boots were pricier than even the armor.
He had to admit, his precautions might be exceedingly extravagant and in many cases overabundant, but with Voldemort after him there really wasn't a price he'd put on his safety. Finishing the last of the stew, Harry grabbed the Butterbeer and ambled out into the common room, surveying the mess. There was a lot of work to do before he could consider leaving.
A glance at Oorjit confirmed it. They wouldn't be leaving until the noticeable bulge in the occamy's body was diminished. Harry wasn't about to put up with a extremely grumpy snake. Oorjit tended to get mouthy.
A cool vibrating sensation from his robes alerted Harry to an incoming call. He scrambled to pull out the mirror and held it aloft. The buzzing stopped an a bright warm honey eye appeared. Harry smiled amused at her antics. Hermione pulled back from the mirror a moment later and he could see her whole face.
"Hello Harry," she said breathlessly.
"Hermione," he intoned softly, drinking in her features. "What can I do you for?"
"Did you get the Prophet today?" she asked excitedly.
Harry shook his head. "No, I don't bother with the tripe that rag dishes out."
"You should definitely get a copy, Harry," Hermione replied, imbuing her words with a sense of mystery.
Harry scratched his cheek. "Why don't you tell me what's in it so I don't have to go hunt down a copy?"
"Well," she said, her voice full of intrigue. "The outcome of the duel for one, Daniel's full confession for another, and an entire editorial about you being the real Boy-Who-Lived."
"What?" Harry exclaimed, groping for a seat and ended up flopping heavily to the floor. "You mean to tell me Daniel told the truth?"
"When you won, the oath Daniel took to fight you compelled him to speak."
Harry shook his head, raising a shaky hand to trace his scar. "Who wrote the article?"
"Rita Skeeter and Barnabas Cuffe. Skeeter told readers that Dumbledore was going to hush up Daniel's confession, which he gave in the Headmaster's office. She went on and on about how Daniel was a disreputable scoundrel of the worse sort to do that to his own brother and to wizarding Britain, leading them on and such."
"He told the truth?" Harry repeated, grappling with the image of his brother actually doing such a thing. "I didn't think he knew how."
"Ron is quite put off by the whole thing," Hermione said knowingly. She leaned closer to the mirror and whispered, "When his brothers and Ginny got a hold of him afterward I hear there was quite a row. Ron's face was said to get redder than his hair when they told him what Daniel had said about Ginny and how he blamed the twins for everything."
"I can imagine," Harry said, giving a weak chuckle and he forced himself to sit up against the wall.
"What about--"
"Your parents?" Hermione filled in gently. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I don't know. Your Dad's still petrified. Professor Snape is brewing the Revival Potion using the newly harvested mandrake crop. Your Mum hasn't left the hospital wing since Daniel's confession."
"She won't talk to him?"
Hermione shook her head. "I think she's a little lost right now. You did very powerful magic Harry," she said awed. "I didn't even realize you could petrify somebody with a spell. I thought only basilisks had the ability to do that. The spell must be very dark indeed to do that. Where did you read about it?"
"Here or there," he answered noncommittally with a small shrug.
"Whatever you used is like am over powered petrificus totalus, instead of turning your Dad stiff as a board and knocking him flat you turned him completely to stone."
"Serves the tosser right."
Hermione glanced in askance at his dark growl but went on informing him of everything that had been happening in his absence. "Students were scared at first, talking about you being dark and starting wild rumors that you'd joined Voldemort right after you left Hogwarts to be his apprentice. But when Dumbledore couldn't stop Rita from writing that article, and after everybody read the truth, people all over the school in different houses started to take your side. Half of Gryffindor is against your brother now."
"I bet losing his fan club is killing Daniel. He thrived on attention."
"He's getting loads of it now, just not the kind of attention he is used to or wants."
Harry leaned forward, asking intently, "What's Dumbledore doing to control the situation now that the truth's leaked?"
"The Board of Governors are currently in a meeting with Dumbledore discussing your expulsion. I think Mr. Malfoy is petitioning in your favor which is leaving Draco paler than he usually is and you know how difficult that'd be for him to do."
Harry snorted. "I can't believe Malfoy is championing me." He paused, laughed and shook his head. "No, actually I can. I was just telling Flitwick about it. Lucius Malfoy must be rubbing his hands together and cackling like a moron in the board meeting. He's just been handed everything he could want on a silver platter."
Hermione nodded, looking a trifle worried. "Like I said before, the whole school is talking about you, good or bad, but mostly good. Several of the younger Ravenclaws have come forward in support of you. Even Padma came to apologize to me for how she acted about us dating, said she was wrong about you."
"She's only half-exonerated," Harry replied. "She hasn't apologized to me and frankly, I'm not sure if I would care if she did. Padma's only doing it to clear her own guilty conscious."
"I haven't spoken with Su. I was hoping she would come when Padma did. We haven't been friends since right after the Horcrux got a hold of me," Hermione said softly, looking away from the mirror. "I haven't really been close to either of them since I started seeing you."
"I'm sorry," he said, feeling helpless, wishing he could hold her.
She turned back to him, her eyes glistening a little. "I'm sorry," she whispered, a soft hitch in her voice. "I have to go."
"Thank you," Harry told her equally softly, wishing his could touch her, give her comfort. "Take care."
"Bye, Harry."
The mirror went blank and Harry stared at it expressionlessly for a minute or two before shoving it back in his pocket. His mind was churning as he raced back to his challenge of Daniel right after Charms. Had Luna really known if he'd waited that he would win the duel and Daniel would expose himself to Britain and the world at large as a fraud? It seemed too incredible to believe.
The girl was in her own words a natural at Divination, but he had always thought predictions were on grander scales than what she sometimes yammered on about. Who could believe in plover to Horcrux ratios, besides Luna? Then to draw from it accurate information! Simply incredible.
Harry had never before appreciated the art of Divination, like Hermione thinking it a waste of time, a mindless diversion requiring little work and a vivid imagination. Right now though, he was currently entertaining very warm and woolly feelings toward the subject. With Luna behind the crystal ball, predicting the future was entirely plausible and dare he think it, sensible.
He surveyed the common room as he reflecting on Luna's contribution to Daniel's fall from grace and his subsequent rise into it. He supposed owls would be tracking him trying to deliver apologies from shamefaced parties. If he didn't want to draw unwanted attention to himself while he was traveling he would have to put up an owl disrupter ward on himself and set up an interception drop-box where the owls could unload their baggage.
"Hedwig!" he called to the snowy owl still perched in the kitchen.
She flew to him and landed deftly on his shoulder. Harry stroked her satiny white feathers and clucked softly to her. Hedwig hooted contentedly back to him.
"Girl, I'm going to place a ward around myself. Don't panic when you can't sense me even while you're looking right at me. When I get it in place I'll throw in the exceptions to allow you to get through the disrupters."
Hedwig hooted in understanding and took flight, squeezing her talons a little harder than usual on take off as a supportive gesture. Harry looked at her gratefully and went to locate his wand. He found it inside a bag from Thaumaturge, the apothecary shop where he had garnered several of the potions and ingredients for his trip.
Gripping the wand in his right hand tightly, Harry cleared a space of five square feet with a silent spell, following it up with a large chalk triangle drawing on the floor. Standing at the epicenter of the triangle he pointed his wand at the first point and whispered a complex string of Latin that basically meant, "Hide me from those who wish to seek me. Distort my magical signature so they can not find me. Protect me by confusing those who look for me. Divert the messengers to Filius Flickwick's residence."
He said this to the other two points and when he was finished the points glowed bright white and flashed hotly behind his closed eyelids. A breeze drifted across his face and he opened his eyes. Hedwig stared at him, her yellow eyes filled with worry. He smiled and closed his eyes again adding the final phrase to his Latin to exclude Hedwig from the personal ward.
A softer light flared and when he was done and had erased the chalk boundaries, Hedwig landed on his shoulders with a grip that indicated she was still experiencing leftover anxiety from the few moments when she couldn't sense him. Harry had no doubt that had he not included her in a bypass she would have broken through it to find him, it just would have taken her time.
"Now that that's taken care of," he murmured walking back toward the kitchens. "I'm feeling rather famished. Shall we eat, then take a nap?"
Hedwig hooted in approval and nipped his ear affectionately.
---
The owl ward was working and so was the drop box. Harry was walking inside with a bundles of written on parchment, several scrolls, and a myriad of letters. He remembered the earlier complications that had plagued his newfound system several days earlier.
At first owls circled around the house, looking lost and confused because it was at the same time both the place where he lived and where the drop box was located. That meant that the disrupter ward was blocking his signal and attempting to send the birds to his drop off box where of course they already were, becoming a loop of mixed signals for the owls. Harry easily remedied the problematic situation by making a corpse of trees just outside the Professor's house be his drop-off, where he was heading in from.
§ More of your adoring fanmail?§ Oorjit scoffed, tilting his head backwards over the couch to view Harry upside down as he came inside.
§ Some from Daniel's more persistent fans as well,§ Harry said, raising a hand that was covered in deep purple rash.
§ People still believe that little miscreant is the real Boy-Who-Lived?§
§ Seems so,§ Harry replied, dropping the letters on the table near Oorjit and walking to his trunk.
He opened the third compartment and scanned the organized shelves for a Rash-Be-Gone potion. He had bought five with the idea of running into poisonous plants, but in the case of crazy bastards it was also good to have on hand.
He found the little green bottles behind an ornate flask of Re'em blood, extremely rare, as the ox-like animal is found in North America. Current trade regulations and embargos placed by the Americans on the Re'ems protected the species whose numbers were hunted down to nearly extinction alongside the buffalo. Re'ems were still listed today as an endangered species which made the flask expensive but worth it.
Harry closed the trunk and with his uninjured hand popped the stopper out and drank straight from the bottle. His hand started tingling and by the time he drained the potion his hand was tinged redder than normal but was otherwise fine. Watching his hand, Harry spread his fingers far apart and felt the skin stretch tight. Closing his hand into a fist, he felt a lingering sense of agitation.
Oorjit uncurled lazily, flicking his tongue out on a soft hiss. § Was it just one letter?§
§ No,§ Harry replied, vanishing the bottle with a negligent flick of his hand. § There were several howlers that I had to dispose of. Only the one letter slipped by my initial screening.§
Oorjit scowled at the pile. § Cowardly mouse-droppings, the lot of them.§
§ Yes, well, in a few hours we'll be far away from here and the letters.§
§ Must we be?§ Oorjit immediately whined.
Harry shook his head at the occamy and visually double checked everything was packed and ready to go. § We already delayed our start by several days because of your belly-aching.§
§ The bitch is tough on the digestion.§
§ Spare me the histrionics,§ Harry mumbled, rolling his eyes.
He searched the room for Hedwig and found her sitting on top of the mantle.
"He's doing it again," he said ominously to Hedwig, waggling his eyebrows.
She hooted back in commiseration and tucked her head beneath a curled wing to block out the continued hissing. Following her lead, Harry disregarded the moaning snake and started shrinking everything in sight. The trunk first, next the tent and camping gear, followed by the broom case, and lastly Hedwig's cage. He gathered everything into a small shopping bag and after placing a Lose-Not charm on the bag, tucked it into his pockets.
Harry quickly did a run through the house and concluded that everything was indeed packed up, nodded meaningfully to Hedwig and immobilized Oorjit. He was so much easier to handle when he was shut up.
Hedwig landed on his shoulder hooting smugly down at the frozen occamy in Harry's hand. Oorjit's glower if possible grew darker, promising revenge. Ignoring the two of them, Harry grabbed the old smoking pipe he made into a Portkey, it wasn't due to activate for another ten minutes, and walked outside.
Wind rustled through the corpse of trees, filling the air with a crinkling sound. Harry shifted Oorjit to his other hand as Hedwig cooed softly, fluttering her feathers. A prickling sensation caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand. Harry gave on uneasy glance over his shoulder before drawing his wand and locking Flitwick's home with a strong set of anti-theft and anti-entering locks.
He was of course worrying about nothing. Flitwick's wards were top notch. Surely nobody could have found him and taken down the wards without so much as setting off the multiple alarms weaved through the layers. Still the uneasy feeling trickled down Harry's spine and for good measure he added a very quick and basic alerting ward to signal to Flitwick his house was under attack if spell damage hit the side of the house.
As he finished a low tearing sound rippled the air. Harry froze, straining his ears under the darkening sky. When it didn't come, he cautiously turned around. The lengthening shadows crept across the lawn extending far beyond the line of trees. Harry thought he could detect movement and withdrew his wand simultaneously shoved the Portkey between his lips. He clamped down hard on the pipe and angled his wand toward the corpse.
A line of black robes emerged from the tree line giving Harry pause. This did not look good, he thought fighting down panic. There was always time to panic later, he had to focus now. Harry edged away from the front door, holding his breath, tense and alert.
Green light sluiced through the air, heralding the start of the attack. This time without a trunk to trip him up, Harry dodged smoothly and let the spell hit the house. He was grimly aware of the fact that Flitwick was being warned of the imminent trouble, but would not possibly arrive before either his Portkey went off or he was dead. Perhaps both.
Hedwig took flight when another singular spell nearly hit her. He was grateful, this way he wouldn't be worrying about her. Harry crouched and held himself steady, holding the frozen form of Oorjit in one hand and his wand in the other. Then the attack really began.
With spells being launched at him from some many directions it was all Harry could do to conjure the myriad of shields to block the attacks. Stone to stop a killing curse. It shattered over his crouching form. Wood to stop weak physical spells aimed to weaken him, so no sense in wasting energy conjuring something catch all there. A regular first year protego to prevent getting slammed with an impedimenta. A block of ice barely stopped a fire lasso aimed at him. The whip cracked straight through the ice, leaving it smoking. A silver metal shield stopped a slicing hex resulting in a long low gong.
"Damn," he cursed when a particularly nasty hex sliced right through his shield and caught him on the arm.
The arm started swelling immediately, turning a mottled purple and black leaving Harry in doubt he'd lose the arm if he didn't counter it quickly. Hugging the wounded arm close to his body Harry started to throw back spells instead of relying on defense only. He had no hope of pushing them back, if he could stall, perhaps he'd make it alive to the Portkey activation.
How much time was left?
Harry didn't know and couldn't waste time pondering it. There was too much else happening to spare a thought off the battle. A angry yellow curse raised the hair on his neck as it slid just over the top of his head. The Death Eater's aim had been off. Harry threw back his own curse and nailed the Death Eater.
Elation twisted in his gut. That was one down. His arm throbbed reminding him he had to find time to counter it.
Three blasting spells hurtled at him from three directions and Harry had to drop to the ground. No shield fully covered the body, he knew. Had he tried to keep his shield in place he would have been hit, and most likely, down for the count.
Quickly he rolled away from his spot and just in time too as the same three Death Eaters worked in quick succession to toss another series of curses at where he'd been. They impacted the ground, shooting dirt into the air. It rained down on Harry, who made sure he kept the Portkey in his mouth as he rolled backwards and back onto his feet.
He was a ninja. He was stealth. He was in deep shit.
A new figure emerged from the tree line and Harry knew from his scar flaring to life that it was Voldemort. Did he never get a break? Cursing his luck he gripped his wand firmly and tucked Oorjit away with a wandless banisher. There was no way he could fight the Death Eaters and Voldemort at the same time.
Harry scuttled along the wall of the house, hoping he could escape around the backside. Ground erupted inches from where he ran, throwing him backwards from the sheer force of the explosion. Harry landed hard on his back, breaking the fall with his head. Pain pounded in his skull, falling like physical blows.
Another curse hit him causing him to vomit. His arm throbbed agonizingly, and he threw up again. Harry aimed his wand at his arm and managed to mumble the counter curse to fix his arm. It squelched and stretched and compressed until it felt like his skin had severed itself from his arm, but it was usable again.
"HARRY!"
He heard his name being called out, but another wave of nausea kept him from looking for its source. Voldemort hit him with a cruciatus next and the person's shout was the farthest thing from his mind.
Harry lay there on the ground twisting and curling, contorting himself desperately. Unimaginable pain devastated him, leaving him screaming on the ground. It was unending, nothing could stop it. Everything hurt. The touch of cloth on his skin killed him and it was rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. He got sick again and chocked on it. Harry tried to think of something, anything but the pain but it was commanding, mastering him and through it all he heard a shrieking laugh that made his ears bleed.
"HARRY!"
Suddenly the pain was gone, the laughing stopped. Groaning in protest, Harry forced his every aching muscle to push and pull himself up off the ground. He was limb, drained, utterly spent. He felt like he had nothing left to give.
Shades of pain slithered along his body like phantoms, ghosts just waiting to be resurrected. He stifled a whimper as he clutched his wand groping frantically for the Portkey. It had slipped from his mouth when he had cried out under the curse.
Wet bloody grass coated his fingers in red. His hands got dirty as he scraped them against tiny loose pebbles, searching. There to the left of him, he found it and Oorjit, who he had discarded also. Clutching them tightly, he brought his arms back close to his body and with great effort forced himself to stand upright.
He would not be seen cowering on the ground. Not if he could help it. He squared his shoulders and glanced across the field at Voldemort finding to his surprise, his tiny professor dueling like a madman with the Dark Lord, dodging spells tossed at him by the circling Death Eaters with such grace and ease, it was like watching a choreographed dance.
Just then the Portkey activated as he heard Voldemort shriek, "Avada Kedavra!"
º«««º»»»ºEnd Chapter 38º«««º»»»º