Love On Risky Ground

Love On Risky Ground

Chapter 7

Alone.

Harry quietly made his way out of the hospital. He wrapped his cloak tightly around him, giving himself the needed warmth as he shivered from cold and shock.

Two sliding doors immediately drew apart and he sped up, entering the dark and wet night. He placed the hood on his head and gripped Snape's wand beneath his cloak, carefully scanning the area for any suspicious forms.

The streets were silent. Harry looked up at the clouds moving in the wind. There were lights on in a few of the apartment windows and he wished he was back in the comfort of a bed. The wind stirred, rippling his cloak as he hid in the shadows of the cold and damp street. He looked over his shoulder every second as he made his way down the path, getting alarmed by every innocent noise that he heard. With every step he took, he kept hoping that none of the Death Eaters that were still searching for him would find him.

He urgently needed to find safety and a wand was no use to him at all. Harry couldn't say the words, he couldn't mouth the words, only incoherent sounds tumbled out of his mouth and that wasn't enough to produce more than a tiny spark of magic! He was quite defenceless and vulnerable. He cringed as a vile feeling of depression and heartache buzzed in his chest.

Harry turned in a dark alleyway and stopped beside a skip. Fear, anxiety and worry swirled around his heart like a deadly whirlpool threatening to drown him. The disturbing flashes of the dying Professor Snape and the Death Eater added further despair to his already troubled mind.

He leaned against a wet brick wall, the bandage around his head beginning to soak up the droplets of moisture. Harry breathed in deeply, tears forming in his eyes. He couldn't help it. Harry slowly slid down the wall, and placed his hands on his face, muffling his choking cries. He shook a little under his heavy sobs as he sat all alone in the dark, crouching weakly with nowhere to go. He felt as though there was nothing in the world that could help him in his hour of need. Harry wiped his tears away with a trembling sigh and a sniffle, huddling further into his cloak. He listened in the dark for the faintest trace of footsteps.

Harry dozed off in his tiredness, his chin drifting slowly onto his chest. However, he soon awoke, his heart pounding heavily, and reminded himself that he had to keep watch. He rubbed his burning eyes, and looked around in the darkness. Plastic bags ruffled in the wind as they lay beside the wall, and water drops splattered onto the gutters. The stench of the bins nauseated him a little and he covered his mouth.

With hurting limbs he finally stood up. Waiting in the same spot near the hospital was too dangerous; he had to keep moving. Harry carefully walked, staying close to the wall. He noticed that he had a slight limp, but he was not worried and kept going. Occasionally he would pass a yard and an angry dog would start barking, the fence rattling as the dog tried to jump over it. It was at those times that he would receive a severe jolt.

The clouds parted a little, revealing a bright full moon, giving the earth a little more light as it reflected off the dark buildings. Harry crossed the street with not a single car in sight. He could tell that everyone was asleep. He did, however, see a mini bus. Harry suddenly thought that he could summon the Knight Bus.

He stopped and retrieved Snape's wand, holding it out into the cold air, getting ready to wave it around. But disappointment streaked on his face and he lowered his wand arm. Harry hadn't any money for the Knight Bus!

"Expelliarmus!" Somebody yelled behind him.

A couple of dogs barked in the distance, and the wand in Harry's hand was yanked from his grasp, travelling far behind him and into the hands of the stranger. Harry turned around with wide eyes and looked into the masked Death Eater's own brown eyes. The man stepped towards Harry and he stumbled backwards, hitting a garbage bin.

The man pointed his wand at him, his arm straight out. "My, my, look at who I have found wandering. The Locater Charm may not work on you, Potter, but I've found you only by sight," he deliciously cooed.

Harry stood frozen on the spot, shaking with fear. The Death Eater advanced on him. "Little fragile Potter. Hit your head, I dare say," he chuckled. "What a predicament you're facing. Look at yourself, you can't even talk, you're defenceless ... The perfect kill!"

Harry shook his head in horror and looked for a way out as the Death Eater steadily approached him. He fingered the rim of the bin as the man raised his wand. Harry yanked out the bin bag. With all the strength he could muster, helped by a surge of uncontrolled magic, he threw the bag at the Death Eater.

The Death Eater yelled, "Impedimenta," but stumbled backwards when the bin fell in front of him. Taking advantage of the distraction Harry ran across the street as fast as he could.

A blast of blue light hit the signpost, missing Harry by inches. Brilliant white and blue sparks rained down on Harry, some bouncing off onto the road. He ducked, covering his eyes from the hot sparks and kept running as fast as he could manage from the scene, ignoring the pain in his head. Several curses flew in his direction, but they missed the target.

Harry kept running, with no idea where he was going. The magic pumping in his blood was feeding him with the needed energy, and he hoped that it would last until he was safe. His running ground to a complete halt when he tripped over a rock in a dark neighbourhood and fell, tasting blood in his mouth. Harry rolled over on the ground, sobbing as rain splattered on his face. But he had to get up; he had to keep going. He needed to.

Harry got up, panting, his heart beating fast. He gripped the top of a wall and pulled his weight up as he tried to heave himself over. His cloak slithered behind him as he tumbled onto the other side, landing on a grassy lawn.

He decided that he'd go to the Dursleys; he only needed to find out where he was and then walk there. He doubted that a Muggle bus driver would grant him free passage. He got up with the anxiety and determination to get to the safety of his aunt's house. He pulled back the notion of pain and walked.

Harry figured out where he was by looking at the street signs and finding the bus route maps. From the information he gathered, he stealthily made his way to the Dursleys'. Various possibilities of how the Dursleys would react when they saw him played out in his mind. Shock, anger, disbelief and the possible fate of punishment for running out of the hospital crossed his mind. But the possibility of being cornered by another Death Eater outweighed the petty worries about his aunt and uncle's reactions at his unexpected appearance.

Harry reckoned that they might already know that he was missing. Dumbledore might know as well. His heart fluttered in his growing depression. He could set things back right once he was back at Privet Drive.

Harry entered familiar surroundings; he was only a block away from Privet Drive. The little houses were packed close together, their square lawns covered by miserable brick walls. But happiness lay inside the pretty decorated windows.

He was only a few metres away from protection, when something caught his eye, destroying the hope for safety. Harry saw two Death Eaters conversing, hidden in the shadow of a tree. He leapt behind a side of a house, his mind numb, unable to think. He took a deep breath. Looking around the corner of his hiding place, he saw that he was trapped from all angles. With a heavy heart, he ran off from where he had come from, not willing to face the Dark Lord's supporters in his defenceless state. Harry sped away in spite of the pain that distracted him from concentrating properly.

***

A terrified grumble echoed throughout number twelve Grimmauld Place and angry growls and scratching escaped from behind a door. Occasionally, the door would tremble ominously as the animal threw itself against it, fighting to escape.

The firelight had dimmed, but still flickered dangerously, making the shadows dance all over the room. Sirius Black's eyes glimmered.

Sirius stood with his hands on the door from behind where the animal was hidden. He bowed his head, thinking about Harry needing help.

Dumbledore had sent Sirius a message detailing what had happened to Harry, adding that Snape had gone to rescue him. Dumbledore had specifically warned Sirius against helping in the rescue. He snorted at the warning, but he took heed. Snape wasn't the person Sirius would have chosen to get Harry, and even though he was angry about Dumbledore's decision, he had no choice but to obey. Now he stood in shock and concern, with his best friend unable to comfort him in this new ordeal. He hoped Snape got to his godson in time, and for Sirius, waiting for any sort of news was becoming unbearable.

He sighed, preparing to turn himself into a dog to comfort his friend Remus in his werewolf transformation. Then Sirius heard a sharp sound, and suddenly a phoenix feather drifted silently to the floor. A note had been attached to it.

Sirius read the letter and fell into the armchair, stunned with disbelief; his worst nightmare had come true: Snape had died trying to get Harry out of the hospital before the Death Eater could get him. Now Harry was missing - and totally alone.

Sirius blinked, a shocked expression etched on his face. A loud haunting howl from Remus jolted him back to reality. Shivering, Sirius got up. He wasn't going to sit down and wait for more concerning news about his godson any longer. He had to do something, even if it meant getting caught, even though Dumbledore had cautioned him not to set one paw out of the house.

Sirius pocketed his wand and changed into a dog. Barking by the door, he told the werewolf about the present situation. He then left the house, his shaggy black fur darker than the sky as the moon peeked out from a cloud. Sirius was going to check the hospital first, in case Harry was still near there.

***

"Argh!" someone screamed in alarm.

Harry awoke, startled, to a bright morning. Suddenly a hand came down, thrashing him. Light poured into his vision, and he saw a woman looking scared at the sight of him.

"Get out of my backyard," she screamed again, hitting Harry around his shoulders with her mop and bucket.

Harry stumbled when he got up, holding his hand out as he tried to stop the distressed, brown-haired woman from knocking him unconscious. The Muggle lady had obviously been frightened that an intruder had slept in her back yard. He couldn't hold that against her, but only if she knew what he had gone through. Harry wanted to say that he was sorry, he truly was.

He ran from her sight, climbing onto the barbecue grill and jumping over the wall. The woman continued yelling from her backyard.

It was late morning by the time Harry started moving again. He shouldn't have bothered wasting time going to Privet Drive, he thought. Instead he should've used his energy to find safety at Grimmauld Place. Harry thumped his fist on the brick wall and swore loudly in his mind. Why couldn't he have thought about it the first time? It was one of the most idiotic things he had done till now. But the whole shock of everything that had happened was proving to be a strain on him. He quickened his walk, using as much magical energy that he still had in him.

A few Muggles looked at Harry as he passed them, fascinated and curious about the style of clothing he was wearing. He wished they would look away, so he kept himself to the alleys. He felt safer there, not only against Muggle eyes, but also from Death Eaters and other magical people that walked around. Even though people might view alleys as dangerous, Harry thought it worth the risk.

As he walked, light-headedness engulfed him again and he fell, crushing some cardboard boxes. He bent over, clutching his stomach, and retched as nausea took hold. It was painful, as he had not eaten for days; it felt as though his stomach was being pulled up into his chest in the need to expel everything. But only a horrible taste of bile and acid lingered in his throat. He lay down, feeling sick. He wasn't hungry; no, the events had practically destroyed his appetite with worry and depression. Harry trembled with cold as he wiped at his wet face. He wanted to get up, but he wasn't feeling well enough to try.

A homeless man slowly walked by, rocking on his feet as he carried a garbage bag filled with his belongings. His hair was in complete disarray, full of filth and his clothes smelt. He licked his lips while he rummaged for food in a bin, grumbling to himself as he picked up a morsel of soggy food.

He spotted Harry on the ground. Harry watched him intently, his breathing shallow. The man strode towards him.

"What's up with you, laddie?" he grunted, crouching down by his side.

Harry couldn't reply, so he kept his mouth shut, staring at the poor man. The man tilted his head and looked at him.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked

Harry blinked and the man pointed at his head.

"Had a nasty bump on your head, I's can see," he rested his hand limply on his knee and sighed. "Want some food?"

Harry shook his head. Watching the man pick through the bin was enough to make him nearly retch.

"All right, then." The man opened his bag and took out a tattered, worn blanket. With trembling hands probably due to his old age, the man placed the blanket around him. "There, that should keep you warm." Harry gave the man a weak yet grateful smile and then watched him leave the alley.

***

Vernon paced around the living room in deep thought, running his fingers through his unusually ruffled hair in great frustration. Petunia sat on the couch. She was obviously too distressed to talk. Every now and again she would rise to look out of the window, as if waiting for her nephew to wander back into Privet Drive.

"This is unbelievable! Can't keep the boy in a hospital without his freak stuff happening," Vernon spat with ferocity, his eyes jerking shut sporadically in his anger. "Wherever that boy goes, he takes trouble with him."

"I should've stayed ... what have I done?"

"You did nothing wrong, Petunia!" Vernon retorted. "It's that boy who has wrong following him."

"Why did he leave? The security camera showed him walking out alone." Petunia narrowed his eyes. "Unless his kind did something to make us think otherwise."

"What do you mean, Petunia?"

"They can do things to distort our minds, like with Marge, remember?" Petunia waved her finger, her memory of the Marge ballooning incident coming to play in her mind. "What if he's really been kidnapped ... or-or killed?"

"Well, good riddance, I say. Either way, the police have put him down on missing persons." Vernon huffed, placing his hands on his knees.

Petunia looked at him, almost horrified. "Vernon, don't say that."

Vernon turned around and looked into his wife's eyes. "You're acting differently towards the boy, aren't you?"

Petunia jerked her head back a little in disbelief. "Don't be absurd! I dislike the boy now and I will until my dying day," she said. "But Vernon, he is our nephew, and until he is of age he is under our protection," she stated. "He gave me such a fright that day."

"Hmmm," Vernon grunted.

"I thought he was going to die."

Vernon counted his fingers silently as his wife looked on with curiosity. "Yes! Our nephew has nearly died seven times now. That's if you count all those damn letters of urgency that school of his has sent us."

***

As the sun set, Harry was able to walk once more. He saw the homeless man again and gave the blanket back to him. The man thanked him for the return. Harry knew the homeless man needed it more than he did. He felt a little selfish for taking away the stranger's few possessions.

He saw a little phone booth on the corner of the street. Thinking of an idea, he entered it. He admired the silence and peace he found there. Harry couldn't call anyone, couldn't send an owl. Diagon Alley was too far away, as was Grimmauld Place and all the other places.

Harry needed to go to somebody that was close to him, who would welcome and care for him while he recovered and gained full strength, and also notified the Order. His fingers fumbled upon the phone book. Harry raised it out of its snuggled compartment beneath the phone and lifted it up. He began flicking through the pages. There was bound to be the address of a Muggle-born student he knew from Hogwarts that was near him, nearer at least than the Order Headquarters.

A smile lingered on Harry's exhausted face. Warmth spread in his chest, numbing the pain a little. He looked under the surnames beginning with the letter 'G', his finger moving along the page, searching for 'Granger.' He knew Hermione's address, but he had forgotten it momentarily. Finally ripping out the page with her name was like winning the lottery. He pocketed the page and left to booth to find her.

***

In the dead of night, Sirius resumed the form of a human being and ran into an alleyway, deep in thought and worry. He desperately needed to find Harry, as did everyone else in the Order. Sirius didn't want to encounter more Death Eaters after having fought a small battle with two of them when he searched Privet Drive. (Little did he know that he had missed Harry by an hour.) Kingsley Shacklebolt had Apparated there soon afterwards to keep watch, and to restrain the fallen minions.

After meeting the Auror members, Sirius had no choice but to move on because a Muggle neighbour had alerted the Muggle police force. Kingsley had ordered Sirius to go back to Grimmauld Place, but he had defied the Auror and continued searching for Harry.

Sirius saw a homeless man, drinking heavily from a bottle. The stench of filth and alcohol mingled as it entered Sirius nostrils.

"You," Sirius said sharply, looking at the man.

The man looked up, blinking. "Yes?" he grunted.

Sirius took out a photo of Harry, an unmoving photograph that wouldn't make Muggles wonder. "Have you seen this boy?" he asked, his voice a little calmer.

The man took the photo and stared at it. "Yeah. Young laddie was sick in the alley, he couldn't talk. Nice young fellow - gave me back me blanket."

"Is he still here?" Sirius pleaded. The man shook his head. "Thanks for your help," Sirius said with deep disappointment, taking the photo back.

He turned a corner, walking sombrely as he looked at the smiling photo of Harry at age fourteen, taken before the tragic Triwizard Tournament. Suddenly He heard footsteps behind him and Sirius turned around. Two Aurors had their wands held out, ready to disarm Sirius.

"We've found you at last," one said. "But luck is on your side, Black. The Minister has ordered us not to send you to the last of the remaining Dementors."

Sirius stared in disbelief, his mind numb, his heart pounding. But before Sirius was able to say anything he was stunned and he fell to the ground limply. His search for his godson had ended in vain.