Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring

Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring

Chapter 4

A Last Look on Number 4 Privet Drive

    Harry's legs kicked air as he was lifted off the ground, his hands both clamped around the monstrous hand closing around his neck. Try as he might, he could not budge a finger.

    "Die," the man stated again, not as a threat or a demand, but rather as a fact. Hatred flowed out of his strange eyes and, in an odd moment of clarity, Harry realized where he'd seen that empty quality before. His godfather Sirius had it, always hidden just beneath the surface of his thoughts. The same darkness appeared in Hagrid's black beetle-like eyes three years ago. And just this past spring, Harry had seen it fused with hatred - as it was now - in the eyes of Voldemort's zealous follower, LeStrange. All of them shared one thing in common.

    Azkaban. Those were the eyes of one who had survived the dark touch of the dementors long enough to feel the light of freedom again.

    As quick as it came, the moment was gone, and Harry was thrown back into chaos. He needed to get his wand, but he could not seem to force his hands to give up their futile attempt to pry the man's hand away. A small part of his oxygen starved brain realized that the wand was useless anyway, as he couldn't get enough breath to speak a spell anyway.

    Desperately, he looked to the others for help. Nearly everyone was shouting, but Harry couldn't hear any of them. Summer was screaming, her untrained magic boosting her already high-pitched cries to a volume and level where they drowned out all other noises, shattered the windows, television, and Aunt Petunia's imitation crystal wine glasses, and triggered every car alarm on Privet Drive, and possibly the rest of Little Whinging.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione searching in vain for her wand. He saw Jim try to rush his assaulter, only to be elbowed off his feet by the man's free arm. He saw Dudley laugh evilly at Harry's misfortune. And he saw two bug-like eyes, the color of dried blood.

    *Give up, Harry.* The eyes said with unnerving clarity. *Why fight death? It is inevitable. Leave the troubles and worries of the mortal world behind and join your parents and godfather in eternity.*

    Harry felt his hands go limp, releasing the man and allowing him to complete his death grip, cutting off the tiny remaining passage of air. Spots appeared in his already blurry vision.

    He was vaguely aware of Hermione screaming at him to fight, but he could no longer hear anything, not even Summer's screaming. He closed his eyes and waited for death.

    "Expelliarmus!" A voice called out, loud and sharp, rising over all the rest of the noise, even reaching Harry's unhearing ears. Harry opened his eyes to see a silver green bolt smash into his would-be murderer's back. Harry was wrenched from the man's iron grip and slammed into the wall, his wand shooting from his sleeve like a bullet and striking the last remaining imitation crystal glass. Harry lay on the ground, too weak to move, and watched the man stagger and whirl about to face his new opponent, his fingers extended like filthy claws. Harry looked past him straining to focus on his savior, expecting to see Dumbledore himself. Instead he saw one of the last people he expected to save his life.

    Standing in the doorway, the door knocked off its hinges, his wand held high, was Professor Snape.

    "Fade," he snarled with even more disgust than usual in his voice. "I might have known it was you."

    "Snape," Fade hissed. "I'm not surprised. I knew you were a lapdog for that foolish old man," he paused to spit in distain, "Dumbledore. You're nothing but a traitor."

    "I was a traitor for ever working with slime like you in the first place. Returning to Dumbledore was just me coming to my senses. But you'll find I'm not just a traitor. I'm much more," Fade made to lunge but stopped when Snape aimed his wand at him. "I'd be careful, Fade. You are wandless and I was the best duelist of all the Death Eaters, save Voldemort himself. I assure you, my skills have not diminished. Now, I suggest you come quietly. If you do, you will be given a chance to earn your... freedom." He said the last part in a disgusted tone, as if Fade had, in his eyes, no right to such an offer.

    "Bah!" Fade spat. "I need no offers of freedom. The Dark Lord has given me more freedom than anybody else has! Besides, nobody can escape the Dark Lord's wrath. Not even me, and certainly not you! He'll get you for this, lapdog, be sure of that! Once the snake bites, he does not release his fangs, until you are lifeless in his jaws."

    "Stupefy!" Snape snarled, but he was too late. The spell missed Fade as he leapt through the window. Snape darted out the door and Harry heard him cast the stunning curse twice more. Harry thought Snape must have got him, but Snape returned empty handed a moment later.

    "Get up, Potter!" He snapped sourly. "We haven't much time."

    "Why what's going on."

    "My Legilimancy shield won't stop him for long. Then the dragon's blood is really spilled."

    "You, sir!" Vernon snapped, drawing Harry's attention to the rest of the room. Vernon appeared to be the only one to have got over the shock of what had just happened. Dudley, Petunia, and Jim were standing still as statues, with their mouths hanging open. Behind them, Hermione was calming down Summer, who had stopped screaming, but was still shaking.

    "I demand that you-" Vernon stopped midsentence, his eyes widening. "What the devil is going on now?!"

    Harry turned back to look at Snape. Snape was breathing slow, deliberate breaths through clenched teeth and gripping his left arm, which was wriggling as if worms were crawling beneath the skin.

    "Not now!" Snape hissed with an unusual level of fear in his eyes. "I thought I would have more time!" He dropped his wand and clutched his twisting arm.

    Harry moved forward to help, but Snape held out his throbbing hand in a half gesture. Harry froze as Snape stared at his arm with morbid fascination. The arm rippled and curved until the elbow was no longer discernable amongst the coils of flesh. His fingers, already shrunken to stubs, were now disappearing into his swelling hand, which folded in on itself to form a mouth as two folds on his knuckles opened to reveal narrowed eyes.

    Harry was now face to face with a monstrous snake coming out of Snape's shoulder.

    Both the snake and Snape moved like lightening. The snake moved to wrap itself around Snape's neck and choke the life out of him, while Snape moved his remaining hand to his neck to prevent it from doing just that. The end result was that Snape's hand was pinned to his neck but prevented the pressure from crushing his throat.

    "Ahh, the brat who lived," the snake hissed, staring at Harry, who knew in an instant who this snake truly was.

    "Voldemort!" Harry gasped. He looked around for help, but nobody was moving. They were all standing perfectly still, not even blinking.

    "They cannot help you," Voldemort laughed evilly. "Tell the traitor that he can delay his death but not prevent it." At first, this demand confused Harry, until he realized that Voldemort was, obviously speaking Parseltongue.

    "What did he say, Potter?" Snape gasped.

    "He called you a traitor and said you can't stop him from killing you," Harry repeated.

    "Well," Snape coughed, "You tell that snake, I'll dance on his grave before I go to mine!"

    "Fool!" Voldemort laughed before Harry could say anything. "You should have learned by now that I can never die!"

    Harry felt very odd playing translator for Voldemort, but he continued, knowing he was buying time for both himself and Snape. He glanced across the room to the broken glass where his wand lay. He'd never be able to get it in time.

    "You're not immortal yet," Snape sneered, but feebly. "Strong, yes, but there are still ways-"

    "Enough!" Voldemort snapped. "Tell that fool, I'll kill him and then you. And your precious Order isn't here to help."

    By the time Harry translated, Snape's breath had become short and ragged, his face a pale blue. But he still sneered, as if in victory. "Help... is closer... than... you think. Harry... do you... remember... the dueling club..."

    Harry nodded, wondering Snape was thinking. There was the spell Snape had cast to banish Malfoy's snake, but Harry didn't have a wand.

    "Now!" Snape chocked and kicked his fallen wand high into the air, falling over backwards in the process. Harry caught the wand and brought it down in a sharp motion calling out, "Epera Evanesca!"

    A small, but bright crimson spark burst from the wand and sped straight into Snape's shoulder. There was a tremendous explosion and the snake was blasted free from Snape. It writhed as its body began to disintegrate, starting at the stump and quickly approaching the head.

    "This isn't over, boy," Voldemort hissed furiously. "You're not out of the woods yet." And with a puff of acrid smoke, he was gone.

    Snape sat up, a look of disbelief on his face, as he felt where his arm once was. Hastily, he ripped off the sleeve of his robe to reveal a bloody mess at his shoulder. Harry stepped back, preparing to face Snape's wrath, but then Snape did the oddest thing.

    He laughed. Not his cruel, fake laugh he used when Harry got an answer wrong, but a boisterous, eerie laugh of victory, like that of a mad scientist. And then he did something even stranger.

    "Well done, Potter," he said snapping out his hand.

    Awkwardly, Harry shook Snape's hand. The moment he did, Snape yanked it back, as if coming to his senses. "Move it, Potter! There's still a lot to do."

    "What was all that about?"

    "Mind your own business, Potter," he snapped. "We-"

    "What the bloody hell is going on?!" Vernon bellowed as he snapped out of the stupor he was in. Harry saw the others starting to come around too. "You march into my house, break my door! Children screaming, broken glass, blood everywhere..."

    Snape's eye twitched as Vernon continued bellowing about how much damage he'd caused and how Snape would have to pay for it, or Vernon would have him arrested. Snape massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment, then addressed Harry, "Give me my wand, Potter, and you'll see something we both might enjoy."

    Harry felt there was very little that they would both enjoy, but he gave Snape back his wand. In truth, he was glad to give it back. It felt odd, cold and heavy in his hands. He wondered if it always felt like that to use somebody else's wand, or if it was because the wand belonged to Snape.

    Snape snatched the wand from Harry's hand and pointed it at Vernon. "Silencio!" He snapped.

    "...and I will not ha-" Vernon's voice faded out mid word. He hollered silently for a minute before realizing he couldn't make a sound, and then vainly tried yelling for Snape to remove the spell.

    "Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked running to his side. "I saw Snape chase the strange man off and then... the next thing I knew Snape was on the floor and missing... missing - what happened?"

    "I'm fine," Harry croaked, his throat still sore from the near death experience. "Snape-"

    "We don't have time for this," Snape barked. "We have to move quickly. More Death Eaters are surely on their way."

    "Hold on," Jim said, holding Summer tightly. "Could somebody tell me what's going on? What's a Death Eater?"

    "I was told not to leave the house," Harry argued.

    "That was before the Dark Lord broke the spell of protection."

    "The Dark who now?"

    "But Dumbledore's spell was unbreakable."

    "Okay, I caught that one. He's the headmaster of Hogwarts, right?"

    "So we thought, but Voldemort somehow broke it. Unless you don't consider what happened tonight as hostile intent."

    "Voldemort? Is he working for the Dark thingy?"

    “Who was that guy? Fade, you called him. Who is he? How do you know him?"

    "None of your business, Potter."

    "The man tried to kill me. I reckon that makes it my business," Harry snapped going bright in the face.

    "What is this all about?!" Jim yelled, obviously frustrated.

    Snape turned to look at Jim. Jim wavered for a moment, than returned the gaze with one of his own. Two different personalities - both equally strong, but polar opposite in manner - clashed like ice and fire.

    "Who the devil are you?" Snape sneered, looking him up and down.

    "Jim Scornsby," Jim replied defiantly. "Summer's father, Harry's friend, and uh..." He cast a glance at Vernon, who was now bright purple and screaming at the top of his muted lungs, "Vernon's boss."

    "Well, Mister Scornsby, I suggest you take your daughter and forget everything you've seen tonight. In fact..." Snape moved to cast a spell, but Harry grabbed his arm.

    "No!" he cried. "Summer's a witch. You can't take away their memories!"

    "Don't tell me what to do, Potter!" Snape snapped, shaking Harry off, but he lowered his wand. "Well, what about you two?" He said, spying Petunia and Dudley hiding in the corner. "Do you have anything to add? Perhaps a song request? You, woman. You look like you have something to say. Spit it out!"

    Aunt Petunia stood straight and, summoning all her strength, said, "You're bleeding on my carpet."

    "What?!"

    "My carpet," Petunia sneered back. "It's very expensive, and you're making a mess of it."

    Snape gazed at everybody in a long sweep, a look of disbelief on his face. "You're mental the lot of you," he muttered. He then held his wand to the bloody wound at his left shoulder and called out, "Purgify!" White-green flames danced across his shoulder, closing the wound into a blackened mess.

    "Alright," Snape huffed. "let’s thin out this crowd. "You!" He pointed his wand at Vernon, who went from deepest maroon to ghost white in a second. He backed slowly away from the sharp-eyed Snape who brought his wand down with a crack. "Verbosa!" He commanded.

    Vernon's voice came back just in time for the end of a very girlish scream. He opened his eyes after a moment, very much surprised that he wasn't dead, or at least a frog.

    "I think it's time for you and your family to leave," Snape said calmly, lowering his wand.

    "Leave?" Vernon blinked. "But, this is my home! Why should we leave?!"

    "It's a Death Eater's hunting ground now. But stay if you'd prefer. I'm sure they'll enjoy torturing you."

    "T-T-Torture?" Vernon paled.

    "If I were you, who fortunately, I am not, I would gather as much food, clothing and money as you can in the next five minutes, and never look back.

    "Al-alright," Vernon stuttered, trying to act as if he was in charge. "Pet-tunia, go get clothes for all of us. Dudley, get some provisions. I'll go get what money I can."

    The three rushed off upstairs, into the kitchen, and into the den, respectively. Vernon was back first, with a small case of money, checks, and credit cards, but then he had to take over for Dudley who was trying to pack sugary sweets, instead of non-perishable foods. They were ready in ten minutes, and, after giving the room of wizards a nervous glance, bolted out the front door.

    "Aren't you going to say goodbye to them?" Snape asked Harry. "You will probably never see them again."

    Harry's heart did a flip. Rid of the Dursley's forever?! It seemed too good to be true, even under the current circumstances. And yet, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of finality. This was the ending of a chapter of his life, for better or worse, and it should be treated with dignity. As painful as the prospect was, Harry decided to try to reach a final peace with them.

    Carefully, Harry picked his wand out of the broken glass and went outside. He heard footsteps and knew that Snape was watching from the shadows. Swallowing hard, Harry made his way to the car where the Dursleys were.

    "Wait," he called out. Vernon glared at him, while Petunia and Dudley shared nervous glances. "Um, we're probably never going to see each other again."

    "One can hope," Vernon grunted as he climbed in the car.

    "So I thought I should say goodbye."

    "Good-bye?" Vernon humphed. "How about 'thank you,' but I suppose that's too much for a powerful wizard such as you."

    "Thank you?" Harry blinked. "For what?"

    "Food, clothes, shelter, everything! We took care of you. We gave, and gave much more than you deserved. We should have left you at an orphanage. And this is how you repay us!"

    Harry was going to point out that he probably would have received better at an orphanage, but at that point, Vernon slammed the door.

    Harry turned around to see Aunt Petunia standing awkwardly, and he was suddenly reminded that she was his mother's sister.

    "Don't think I'm going to apologize," she huffed, defensively. "I may not have done the best job raising you, but I did what I could. Lord knows I tried to stamp the nonsense out of you. Then maybe people wouldn't be trying to kill you. But you are my sister's son that much is clear. It's not much, but that's the best I can give you."

    Harry thought it was one of the best things anybody could say to him, but he kept quiet about it, as she climbed in the car as well.

    "Hope the Deraptors get you!"

    "Drop dead, Dudley."

    Harry watched them drive away. He wished he could celebrate this wonderful occasion, but he knew they were still in danger. He made a promise to himself that if he survived this, he'd throw himself a party on the first Hogsmead weekend.

    Snape beckoned him inside. Harry peered through the darkness for a moment then followed.

    "They're setting up a perimeter," Snape said, more to himself than anybody else, as he looked out the window for signs of movement. "All of Little Whinging's probably shielded. They brought Vladimer to put up the stati-ward. Clearly they don't want the Order interfering.

    "Um, Professor Snape..." Hermione began, but was shushed by Snape.

    "Alright, listen up," he said sharply. "They'll be moving in pairs. One set will be guarding each major exit from here, with more combing the area. Our best advantage is that after all that racket, the police are sure to be enroute. The Death Eaters will want to avoid notice as much as possible.

    "What are we going to do?" Hermione asked with worry.

    Snape rolled his eyes in annoyance. "You are going to do exactly what I tell you to do, Granger. You and Potter will sneak out the back and head north. Potter, are you familiar with - what was it - Number 16, Scullery Way?"

    "The old abandoned place? Yeah. Neighborhood has been trying to get it demolished for years. Kids say it's haunted."

    "No ghost would be caught dead in that place," Snape muttered, oblivious to the pun he had just made. "In the basement is a port-key. It will take you to Hogwarts. It's a broken saw blade at the bottom of a tool kit."

    "What about you, Snape?"

    "Professor Snape," he corrected, "and I will be risking my neck running decoy to save yours. So don't screw up."

    "What about Summer and me?" Jim asked, with a worried look at his daughter.

    "You," Snape scowled, assessing Jim, "would be lucky to get arrested."

    "I beg your-" But Snape cut Jim off.

    "As I said before, the police are our best advantage right now. As dedicated as the Death Eaters are, a lot of them would consider a lone muggle prey that's too good to pass up. That would be you. But if you were taken away by the police..."

    "I see," Jim laughed. "Eh, a bit of 'drunk and disorderly' never hurt anyone." His face suddenly fell. "What about Summer?"

    "The girl? She goes with Potter."

    "But it's too dangerous!" Hermione shouted.

    "Silence! I am in charge and you will listen to me. Since Summer is a witch, she will attract attention. They might even attack a police car to make sure she's not Potter in disguise. And you don't want to know what they'll do to her once they find out that she's not him."

    "But-"

    "No more questions. You've wasted too much time already. Harry, give me one of your hairs."

    Harry bit back an argument and plucked out a hair. Snape took it carefully and dropped it into a crystal flask containing a murky liquid. The liquid immediately turned bright red and as thick as syrup.

    "That's Polyjuice Potion!" Harry exclaimed.

    Snape, who was about to drink, lowered the flask. "How do you know what polyjuice potion looks like?" He asked shrewdly.

    "I saw some of Crouch's when he was caught." If Snape knew Harry had stolen his potions supplies and made an illegal potion in his second year, he would likely feed him to the Death Eaters himself.

    Snape looked at Harry for a moment. He clearly didn't believe him, but rather than argue, he tipped the flask and poured every drop down his throat. His skin began to ripple, much as his arm had moments ago, and he doubled over in pain. When he stood up, Harry was staring at himself. Snape's robes hung loose on Harry's smaller body, almost as much as Ron's muggle clothes did on the real Harry. The transformation was flawless, except...

    "There's no scar," Summer said quietly. The fake Harry touched his forehead. "Interesting," he muttered. "I'll have to study this later. Now pay attention!" He snarled with his trademark sneer, so out of place on Harry's face that the real Harry shuddered. "I'll lead them south. Wait five minutes, then head North. You," he said indicating Jim, "leave the moment I'm out of sight. Go down the block before you make a scene. We don't want them to think you have anything to do with this. Do I make myself clear?"

    Jim had the ability to follow events so bizarre that they left most sound men stunned, but even he was stumbling to keep up. So he just nodded mutely.

    "Good luck, Potter," Snape grunted, in a voice clearly wishing him anything but, and then bolted out the front door at a run.

    "I hope he never does that again," Hermione groaned. "That was just... creepy!" Harry agreed, but didn't say anything. He was watching Jim, who was looking out the broken window.

    "Alright," he sighed, nervously, "my turn." He knelt by Summer. "You take care and listen to Harry, alright?"

    Summer nodded. "It'll be okay, Daddy."

    "I know it will," he said weakly, pulling Summer into a hug. Harry got the feeling that Summer took care of Jim nearly as much as he took care of her.

    He got up, went to the bar, and took one of the unbroken bottles of brandy. "Take care of Summer for me, Harry. And take care of yourself too."

    "Don't worry, Jim. We'll be fine," Harry said, not believing a word of it. "Listen. Down the road is Mrs. Figg in the blue house. Have her call the police for you."

    Jim smiled weakly, then ducked out the door.

    Summer stepped up next to Harry and watched her father stagger down the walk. Harry took her hand to comfort her and she smiled.

    "Harry!" Hermione said frantically. "We've got to get going!"

    The three of them raced up the stairs. While Hermione searched for her wand, Harry looked quickly over his things. He opened his trunk and dug out the Marauders Map, which he rolled up and tucked into his pocket, and his father's invisibility cloak, which he hung on the corner of his bed. He then looked over the two mysterious gifts. Not wanting to leave behind any clues as to who might have sent them, he decided to take them. He stuffed the notes in his pocket with the map, and dropped the settle-mint and ice pack in the other, shuddering slightly at the cold. The bracer he decided to wear for ease. As he slid it on, he discovered that the silk under sleeve extended past the metal in two triangles, one covering the back of his hand, the other covering his palm, both joined together in a silver ring which slid over his middle finger. The dragon he handed to Summer, who held it tightly with trembling hands.

    Harry checked on Hermione. She had found her wand, but was now gathering up books.

    "Hermione! Forget the books! We need new ones anyway!"

    Hermione blushed, and dropped the books. As she did, Summer tugged on Harry's shirt and said, "He's here."

    "Who's..." but Harry trailed off as he turned to look at Summer. Behind her hung the foeglass and in it was a pale, angular face, and it was very clear and defined amongst the misty figures behind it.

    Harry moved to lead them out, when he heard a stair creak. They were already here!

    "Quick, up against the wall!" Harry yanked the invisibility cloak off the bedpost and led them to the corner of the room, where he threw it over them.

    When he first received the cloak, he, Hermione, and Ron all traveled beneath it with ease Now, however, it was a much tighter fit. Hermione was pressed tightly against him, and he was reminded, once again, that Ron would kill him if he knew.

    The door creaked open and Harry heard the girls inhale and hold their breaths. He realized he had done the same. Snape had said they would come in pairs, but only one man entered. At first Harry assumed that meant his partner was downstairs, but then Harry remembered that he had been alone in the foeglass. Who was this man who was ready to face Harry and Snape alone, not that he would have to?

    The man was not dressed in robes, but rather wore an old fashion suit, complete with a lacy collared silk shirt, cuff links, riding gloves, and a half-cape down one shoulder. He did not look old, yet he had pale skin and cropped white hair, complete with a trimmed beard. His blood red eyes took in the room, and Harry wondered why he looked familiar.

    He did not hurry, but examined the room carefully, with mild curiosity. He glanced at the bed, kicked over a pile of books, and looked in the closet. Then he noticed the papers. He picked up both the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler. He flipped through the Prophet briefly, then laughed, and tossed it on the floor, landing right next to Harry's feet.

    Suddenly, Harry realized where he'd seen him before. He was in the Prophet, under the list of those who had escaped; he was Vargos the Vampire! No wonder he was so confident.

    Harry looked back up at Vargos, who was now sitting on the bed, reading the Quibbler. His head was cocked to the side as if listening, and Harry suddenly remembered one of Lupin's lessons:

    "Vampires are not, by definition evil," Lupin said, "but their need for human blood requires them to radically alter their moral views. If they don't they will die, or become a feral monster, unable to resist the sound of the human heart beating, which sounds as loud to them as... as your knuckles cracking, Mr. Finnigan, which I might add, you have demonstrated to be quite loud indeed."

    Harry forced himself to breath and tried to calm his heart down. He heard Hermione beside him breathing softly, but rhythmically, and knew she, of course, remembered the lesson as well. Harry was trying to figure out a way to tell Summer this, when she suddenly began imitating Hermione's breathing.

    He could feel his heart rate returning closer to normal, but would it be enough to hide from the vampire? It appeared that it was, for Vargos tucked the Quibbler into his jacket and then walked out the room.

    Nobody moved at first. Harry listened carefully, until he heard the squeak of the stair. Signaling for the others to wait, he slipped out of the cloak and moved to the door. He glanced out, but he saw no sign of the vampire in the dark halls.

    "It's all clear. Let's hur-" Harry's sentence was cut short as something grabbed him by the wand arm. He looked up to see Vargos standing on the ceiling as if it were the floor. He smiled "up" at Harry, with a very cat-like expression.

    "Harry!" Hermione burst out into the hall, her wand held high, but the vampire moved Harry so he was blocking any shot. Harry pounded furiously at Vargos's arm as he was lifted closer and closer to his fanged grin.

    "You shall not touch him!" The voice was feminine, familiar, and so loud that it left Harry's ears ringing. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor. Vargos was above him, clutching his arm, his hand covered in red and black burns.

    "Move!" Harry yelled, wasting no time. He raced into the room, grabbed Summer and the cloak, and bolted down the stairs, two at a time, Hermione right behind him. He burst into the cool night air and kept running. He only stopped to breathe when they were half way down the street.

    "Alright," he wheezed, setting down Summer and taking out his wand. "I want you two to stay under the cloak. I'll lead."

    "It's too dangerous!" Hermione gasped.

    "The cloak won't fit all three of us, not when we're moving. Look, if anything happens to me, you'll be able to curse them in the back. What is that?"

    Harry was referring to the long flat object Hermione had tucked under her arm. It turned out to be the foeglass. A light mist wafted from its glassy surface.

    "It doesn't work very well when it's not on a wall, but at least it'll give us some warning."

    Harry could find no flaw in the plan, so he nodded mutely. "But you two are still hiding under the cloak," he said in a voice which he hoped made it clear that there would be no arguing. Apparently, it worked, because all Hermione did was take the cloak while chewing her lip.

    "Now, stay close, and tell me if you see anything."

    It was rather odd leading an invisible party, and Harry briefly wondered if this was how Ron and the others had felt while riding Thestrals. He led them through narrow alleyways, over fences, and through darkened yards. Occasionally, Hermione warned him that a Death Eater was near, and he would change directions. Not only did they have to worry about dark wizards, but there were also muggles with flashlights trying to see what was going on, as well as policemen now patrolling the streets. At one point they ran into some police officers making a barricade, and Hermione and Summer had to make enough noise to distract the police long enough to let Harry slip by, then continue on.

    "Harry!" Hermione hissed shortly after, stepping out from under the cloak.

    "Hermione, what are you doing?"

    "You need to see this," Hermione thrust the foeglass forward. Harry looked hard at the mirror. It was indeed harder to use when not on the wall, as the slightest movement caused the image to slosh like a bucket of water. He steadied it and could make out the shape of a dozen or so figures, some clearer then others. But one stood out from the others. First and foremost, and growing clearer by the moment, was Vargos.

    An icy, prickling sensation ran down Harry's spine, and he looked back the way they came. Straining to see in the dark, Harry spotted a lone figure just beyond the barricade.

    "I think I see him. We have to move fast. Let's hope the police slow him down."

    The three set off at a faster pace, which was easier now, as they were beyond the police searches and most of the denizens had given up on finding anything.

    Harry allowed himself brief glances back. He did not like what he saw. The figure had passed the barricade. Harry had not seen how, but the officers were all still alive, and didn't appear to have even seen him pass. Even more disturbing was the fact that, though he walked while they ran, he was getting closer. Harry could now see enough detail to know it was indeed Vargos. He could make out the shoulder cape and the lack of robes.

    "It's just a little farther," Harry said, wondering if they'd make it. He was sure they'd reach the house before Vargos, but could they find the portkey before he caught them. Harry wanted to go faster, but he knew he was pushing Summer too hard already; he could hear her labored breathing under the cloak.

    Finally, after what seemed like forever, the dilapidated house of Number 16, Scullery Way came into view. Its grimy walls and blackened windows reminded him of Sirius's house and Harry felt a swelling feeling of loss surge through him. He immediately squashed it, though not without effort. He had to make sure the others were safe.

    Suddenly, Hermione yanked him backwards. "Harry, look!" Harry glanced at the foeglass again. Its surface was so ripply that he could barely make anything out. He saw two vague forms, but that was about it.

    Harry looked past Hermione again. Vargos was even closer. Harry was able to make out more details. He could even see the light from Vargos's glowing eyes.

    "We don't have much time. We have to move now and take our chances." Without giving her a chance to argue, Harry moved, not to the gate, but to the corner of the ivy covered fence. With a bit of effort, he climbed high enough to see over the wall.

    What Harry saw nearly caused him to fall right back down. The oily man from the restaurant was standing in the yard. At his feet, sitting against a tree, was the gangly form of Smirl. He was pale, and shaking, his breath heavy and coming out in short hisses.

    "You told me this was the flight point," the oily man said calmly. "You told me the brats would come." Harry's stomach turned. Had Smirl betrayed them? Was he a spy? Harry could feel his face heating up and he felt like hitting something, preferably Smirl.

    "It issss.... kssss... ksss..." Smirl said, taking hissing breaths. "And asss far asss I know... ksss... they will."

    "You lie!"

    "If only... ksss. ksss... I had..." Smirl said, and Harry thought he heard a sob in his voice. Smirl's casual air was gone, replaced with a great remorse and looking closely, Harry could see tears on his cheeks, reflecting the moonlight. Had Smirl been forced to give away the information?

    The oily man removed all doubt from Harry's mind. He raised his wand and cast two spells in succession.

    "Silencio! Crucio!"

    Smirl's back arched and he began to spasm and flop around like a fish out of water. His mouth opened, but no screams came out. Harry felt the simmering anger turn into guilt and then, boiling rage, now focused at the oily man who not only tried to kill him, but was now gleefully torturing another.

    "Francis, dear brother," said a dreamy singsong voice. "I found it." It was the woman, the witch from the restaurant.

    Francis looked up but kept his wand aimed at Smirl. "Did you destroy it?"

    "No," she giggled, "I did better. A gift to the Dark Lord if they touch it." She looked around and pouted. "Aren't they here yet?"

    "No, not yet. They'd better come soon, Smirl, for your sake. Isn't it funny? We were trained by LeStrange, and you were trained by the Longbottoms. And now you will share their fate."

    Harry had to do something. He fumbled around trying to reach his pocket and the wand within, without falling off the wall. Hermione was whispering urgently, but Harry ignored her.

    "You should let me look, dear brother," the woman said in a hungry voice. "Just one tiny drop?"

    "You've had too much already, Tanya."

    "But if we catch him tonight, we won't need anymore."

    "It’s not how much is left, but how much you've drank that worries me, dear sister. I'm afraid you're becoming dependant."

    "I am in complete control. Let me see once more. Just one drop."

    Francis gave in. His wand still pointed at Smirl, he took a small vial from his belt and held it out. Tanya's face become excited as she pulled out the stopper, which resembled an eye dropper, and let one drop fall on her forehead.

    She was completely vapid as she restoppered the vial, the drop glowing bright red.

    "I see them," she laughed, her eyes closed in bliss. "In fact..." She trailed off as the droplet glowed brighter. Her eyes flicked open, wide as saucers. "My brother? Dead? No! Francis! Kill Smirl now!"

    Francis, pale at the news of his own death, hastily raised his now shaking wand. "Avarda-"

    "Crucio!" Harry yelled in rage, having reached his own wand. Francis doubled over in pain, but only for a moment. LeStrange had taught Harry, two months ago, that true hatred was needed for the Cruciatus curse and Harry didn't have it in him.

    But that moment was enough. In a flash, Smirl was a snake. He sped up Francis's torso, onto his wand arm, and sunk his fangs into the exposed flesh. Francis stared in disbelief at his arm, the wand and vial both falling to the ground. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, then collapsed.

    Tanya ran, not towards Francis, but to the vial. Harry snapped his wand and called out, "Accio vial!" The vial shot into Harry's hand. Unfortunately for Harry, this left him with no hands to hold onto the wall, so he fell.

    "Harry, help!" Hermione screamed. Harry looked up to see Vargos struggling with air. A second later, Harry's brain clicked back on, and he realized that Vargos was attacking an invisible Hermione. Harry tucked away the vial and flung himself at Vargos.

    Harry's arms wrapped around Vargos's throat, and once again, Harry felt his touch burn Vargos. Vargos screamed and, with great effort, flung Harry into Hermione.

    Harry fell into Hermione and Summer. He tried to get to his feet, but he was tangled in the silvery cloak. Finally, he managed to stand up.

    Vargos was standing a few feet away, rubbing his throat, which was black and blistered where Harry had touched him. Behind him, Tanya was rattling the gate. It appeared to be locked, and Harry remembered that Moody had stepped on her wand, last night.

    "Move!" Harry grabbed Summer and the cloak and ran as fast as he could. He could hear Hermione's sneakers slap against the pavement and knew she was right behind him. Over the din of the street, Tanya wailed like a ghost.

    "Noooo! Bring it back! Please! Bring it back!"

    Harry ran blindly taking turns at random. He knew that they were doomed. Vargos was faster and stronger than them. They were tired and had nowhere to go. A direct confrontation was out too. Harry had no idea what spells worked on a vampire, but he knew they were immune to most of the spells he had.

    There was only one option that had a remote chance of success: his touch. For some reason, his touch burned Vargos, as much as it had burned the Voldemort-possessed Quirell. He did not know why it affected Vargos, but he wasn't about to question his only advantage.

    Harry stopped and put down Summer. Ignoring Hermione's cries of worry and confusion, he turned to face Vargos. Vargos was a mere ten feet away, his pale skin nearly glowing in the moonlight. He stood tall and showed no signs of fatigue from chasing them across Little Whinging.

    "Decided to face your death as a man, eh Harry?" He laughed in a rich lively voice.

    "It's me you want," Harry declared his voice strong, in sharp contrast to his stomach, which was twisted into knots. "Let them go."

    "Harry, no!" Hermione cried, but Harry didn't look. He stood as still as he could, staring at Vargos, and willing his knees not to shake.

    "I do not spare prey, and I do not bargain with the condemned. But, since you gave me such a good hunt, I will be merciful. I will kill you first so you don't have to watch the others die."

    Harry felt that hardly fit the definition of merciful, but he didn't have a chance to argue. Vargos was moving closer, and Harry saw his chance.

    Harry leapt forward, aiming to grab him by the neck as he had last time. However, Vargos appeared to have predicted this. Obscured by the shoulder cape, Harry didn't see the bronze scepter until it was too late. Harry was caught full in the stomach by it, and flung backwards at tremendous speed. He slammed into a post box, jarring his back and shoulders. His right arm popped as the force of the blow swung it out, and ripped the wand from his hand.

    Harry slumped to the ground, pain giving way to numbness. He tried to focus, to clear his head, but could not. He was dimly aware of Vargos stepping close, and once again he heard a dry voice telling him to accept his fate.

    *You have nothing in this world,* it said mournfully. *No family. You are alone. You face anguish and torment and for what? To save a bunch of sheep, too scared to face the truth until they were unable to hide from it any longer. They insulted you, called you mad, and now they ask that you die for them!*

    Apathy spread through Harry's limbs. The voice was right. Why bother suffering when it could all be over now. It'd be quick and he would be with his parents and Sirius.

    Harry heard a noise and looked up. Hermione was standing between him and Vargos, her wand brandished high.

    "Luminesca!" She sobbed over and over again, firing bolts of sunlight at Vargos. But the spell was too tricky, the night too dark, she was too tired, and he was too strong. The sunlight fizzled and washed harmlessly on his cape. Harry tried to tell Hermione to leave him, or maybe come with him, but it was too much effort to speak.

    Harry watched as Vargos grabbed Hermione by the neck and lifted her from the ground. Light glistened off his fangs as he prepared to feed. Summer kicked and punched him vainly, but he ignored her, intent on his food.

    Suddenly, the lethargy lifted from Harry. He couldn't let Hermione become a vampire! He tried to rise, but couldn't. Something was wrong with his arm; it wouldn't move right!

    "Help!" he called out desperately, praying somebody would hear, not knowing what good it would do.

    As if in answer, night became day. The whole street lit up and Vargos howled in pain, wreathed in ghostly white flame. Hermione fell unceremoniously to the ground, as Vargos' shape blurred. At first Harry thought he was burning up into a heavy smoke that rolled along the ground, but then he realized it was not smoke. Vargos was melting into thousands large spiders, which scurried down the gutter and out of the light.

    Heat on the back of his neck made Harry aware that the light was from a source behind him. He turned around to see his salvation.

    "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard," smiled Stan Shunpike from the door of the triple decker purple bus. "Need a lift?"