Love On Risky Ground

Love On Risky Ground

Chapter 8

The Grangers

Aunt Petunia was making herself a cup of tea when someone rang the doorbell, disturbing the quiet air around her. The surprise made her heart skip a painful beat and she wondered who would be visiting this late at night. She forgot about the kettle in hope that it was Harry, safe and sound, not that she cared or anything...

However, when she opened the door, Petunia had a huge shock.

"What do you people want?" she hissed, observing the cloaked figures in the garden, silently standing in the dark. They all wore a strange dress code that would've made Vernon hurl insults their way. However, she was glad that he was in the bathroom taking a shower. Petunia wanted some answers.

One of the strangers who had rung the bell, a severe looking woman, took off her purple witch's hat to reveal grey hair, which she had put back into a tight bun. She had a certain air of superiority in her look, severe, yet wise. "Mrs Petunia Dursley?" she said sternly.

"Yes?" Petunia looked at them suspiciously with a searing stare. Tension rose around them.

"I am Minerva McGonagall. May I come in?"

Petunia had heard the name before; it must have been from those damn letters she wished Harry had never gotten when he was eleven. However, she remembered her sister, Lily, talking about this woman. Petunia hesitated before she spoke, feeling a little petrified, but eager for answers at the same time. She stepped outside the door, looking at the other figures. Her eyes swivelled to a mass of odd looking people at the end of the street.

"Why should I let you in?" Petunia scoffed, a little frightened at what they could do.

"Because it concerns your nephew, Mrs Dursley. For goodness' sake, you must be worried about him?" Professor McGonagall said sharply.

Petunia stood taken aback. Trembling and scared, she was afraid that the woman might curse her. "All right, come in," she agreed at last.

Petunia closed the door, letting the old woman walk in front of her. Then the woman turned sharply around, catching Petunia off guard. Petunia hit the wall in alarm, her arms spread out a little.

"Harry was not safe at the hospital. The Dark Lord - "

"Voldemort?" Petunia gasped.

Professor McGonagall widened her eyes a little at the name, but didn't react further. "Yes. The Dark Lord attacked Harry by sending his followers, also known as Death Eaters. Harry was saved at the last minute by one of our agents."

"S- So there was another person with him?" Petunia stuttered, feeling guilty she had not stayed with him.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Unfortunately, they met up with one of the Death Eaters, and our agent was killed along with the follower. Harry escaped alone on foot and now we are trying to find him."

Petunia relaxed her stance and gulped, looking at the woman. "Well, he might come here," she croaked, rubbing her sore throat. She had been sick all morning, thinking that it was something bad she had eaten from the take away food ordered the night before.

"He might have already done so. There were Death Eaters patrolling this street. That's why there is a mass of people at the end of the road. The Ministry has captured them, finding them already hurt, strangely enough," Professor McGonagall replied, placing her hat on her head again. "We will be searching for him."

"Is that all?" Petunia questioned. The old woman nodded. "Then please leave."

***

Harry panted for air, his body hungry for oxygen. He sat down, giving himself a little rest before continuing to walk to Hermione's house. His eyes were heavy from lack of sleep and his head pained him. He took out a piece of paper he had torn out of the phone book and looked at it with the light from the lamppost. He wasn't that far away from Hermione's house, only a few more blocks away in the suburban neighbourhood.

Rain began to pour in heavy torrents. Harry felt as though everything was turning against him. He looked up, flickering his eyes as the drops hit his face. He was sick of rain, he was soaking wet and shivering with cold.

Harry had been on the streets for nearly a whole day now. He heard a clock chime somewhere, instantly knowing that it was ten o'clock at night. What a miserable summer's day it had been.

He was so tired that his whole body ached, and as he took a small step he felt his legs shaking beneath him. But he had to keep going. He had to get inside somewhere, away from the spying, dark eyes of Voldemort's inner circle. Harry was still cautious every time he turned a street corner. Turning towards the street where Hermione lived, he kept up his new routine, making sure no Death Eaters were around.

Suddenly, another dizzy spell took hold. Harry retched again, but this time when he straightened he grasped at the wall as he walked. His determination to get to Hermione's proved stronger than his sudden wave of sickness. He stumbled forward with irregular steps, but he couldn't control them any longer and fell to his knees. He was only a door away from Hermione's three-storied town house and he could see lights pouring from many of its windows. Harry had to resort to crawling, struggling against the torturous pain and nausea to keep going.

He coughed horribly as he opened the little white wrought iron gate and he lay down on Hermione's footpath, which led to the house, breathless and weak. Harry pulled his head up a little and looked at the house. A ghostly blue light in the living room showed that they were watching television. He pulled himself up with his arms, getting a tiny bit further to the house. But a deepening blackness around the corners of his eyes crept closer and threatened to pull him into unconsciousness.

Harry gave up, unable to continue. While he lay, stuck on the spot, he looked around. Seizing a small pebble in his fist, he threw it at the house. He hoped it would hit the window and alert the Grangers. He missed, and Harry sobbed under the torment, feeling hopeless. He picked up another rock, turned on his side and threw it again. This time it hit the window. Triumph bubbled within him and he waited for somebody to open the door. Then he saw the curtain flap back, and he waited with bated breath.

Harry heard the clicking of a lock. The door opened and he saw someone peer out, light from the hallway blinding him. He raised his hand high for help.

A man stepped out, a dark silhouette. Everything behind him was filled with light. He walked slowly towards Harry and knelt down. "Oh my God," he gasped. "Harry?"

Harry guessed it was Mr Granger. He looked at Harry with terrified eyes, his fingers spread out over his bandaged head, soaked with blood and water.

"Dad," a girl spoke from the doorway, "what's wrong? Is it -?" Harry could see Hermione's bushy curls, and he smiled. He had found safety at last.

Mr Granger looked back with concerned eyes. "It's - it's your friend, Hermione. He's hurt."

Hermione ran out and leapt to Harry's side, gasping at the sight that befell her. "HARRY!!!" she yelled, touching his cold hands. He smiled as he welcomed her warmth. "Everyone's been looking for you. Ron's nearly had a heart attack. We're all worried. We thought you were -" But she stopped, incapable of saying the dreadful word.

Harry raised his hand, touching her shoulder. He was so glad to see Hermione.

Mrs Granger came out. "Jack -" she called for her husband, but then she saw him. "Oh my!" were the only words she could say at first. "I'll get a blanket." She then ran back into the house.

"Come on, let's get you inside," Mr Granger said, hoisting Harry onto his feet.

He had neither the balance nor the strength to stand and he nearly fell again. But Hermione prevented him from falling by placing her arms around his torso. It felt good to finally be with someone Harry trusted and loved. He closed his eyes; the darkness began to spread again.

"Please, don't let go now ... we're nearly in the house," Hermione whispered anxiously, her head pillowing Harry's.

He opened his eyes sobbing into Hermione's clothes. She rubbed his back. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry about what happened."

Mr Granger eased the two apart, helping Harry to the house, while Hermione put Harry's arm over her shoulder on his other side. Just as hestepped through the doorway, Mrs Granger placed a blanket snugly around him.

The Grangers walked him to a spare bedroom and let him rest on the bed. Hermione quickly sat beside him. She sighed with watery eyes, looking at him with worry. "Oh Harry!" she said, shaking her head.

He closed his eyes as Hermione squeezed his hand. "There's something you should -"

"We should take him to the hospital," said Hermione's mother as she entered the room with a first aid kit.

"No-no Mum! They'll kill him. Don't you understand? There are people who want him dead." Hermione stopped, seeing her mother gaze away.

Harry instantly knew it had been a mistake going to the Grangers. In his fear and pain he hadn't been thinking straight. He furrowed his brow in growing guilt that he had now put their lives at risk. The Grangers would also need protection while he stayed at their house. Otherwise they were in danger of being invaded by Death Eaters.

"Harry, you did the right thing by coming here," Hermione said, trying to comfort him.

He lay silently for some time while Hermione's mother removed the old soggy bandage and dressings from his head. His hair, which had been half shaved away for the operation, had started to grow back at a rapid rate.

He let the darkness take control and he fell unconscious.

"Harry, wake up." He felt someone tapping his cheek.

He opened his eyes again and stared into Hermione's pale face. "I told you before, don't let go!" she said.

Her mother held up a glass of water and gently lifted Harry's head to help him drink. He had forgotten how thirsty he was, and hunger pangs soon flooded back.

"Helen," Mr Granger called softly from the doorway, holding a pair of ironed pyjamas, a towel and a sponge.

"Yes, Jack?"

"Have you checked the wound?"

His wife nodded. "Yes. It's not doing so well, but it should get better now." She looked at Hermione. "Darling, is there some sort of potion that could help speed up the healing?"

Hermione bit her lip as she patted Harry's hand. "I'll go get my Potions book," she said in a hurry. He smiled. It was what Hermione did best: consult a book in times of need. What would he do without her?

"Well, everyone out while I help get Harry washed and into dry clothes," Mr Granger said, looking at them.

"Okay, Dad." Hermione gave him a sincere look of appreciation. She hopped up, helping her mother clear away the discarded medical bandaging and wrappings and walked out of the room. "See you in a bit, Harry."

***

Harry took in a deep sleepy breath and rubbed his eyes. Blankets had been piled on him, and he felt nice and warm. He shifted in his bed and found Hermione beside him, fraying the woollen end of a blanket. She looked at him and smiled weakly. There was a sort of sadness in her eyes as Harry watched her. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell her that he was all right, even though it was a lie. But his speech loss forced him to look away in shame.

"Harry," she cooed. "I'm sorry about what happened; but rest assured that I'm looking for something to help you with."

Harry bit his lip, training his eye on the ceiling. Hermione looked away and opened a drawer, taking out a pen and some parchment.

"Here, you'll need this if you want to communicate." She held out the pen and paper and he gratefully took hold of them. He sat up, pain rushing back in the side of his head. He ignored it as he began to write.

He had not used a Muggle pen since he was in Primary school. It felt strangely smooth as the ink flowed across the page. Maybe it was because a quill was rougher to work with, its end creating more friction on the paper.

Hermione, thank you, for taking me in and everything.

Have you told Dumbledore that I'm here?

Hermione shook her head. "N- not yet. I have to wait for Ron to send me a message back, and then I'll send an owl to Dumbledore." She huffed. "I should get an owl."

Harry kneaded his forehead in thought. He was more worried about Hermione and her parents' lives than his, now. Being Muggles, they would be the first to be killed and he shivered as he thought of the torturous curses Voldemort could throw at them before he killed them.

"Please rest, Harry. You've been through a lot," Hermione sighed, putting her hand on his forehead. Harry noticed that her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She had been crying, not knowing if he was caught by Voldemort or even dead.

Harry hesitated before writing once more.

Snape died. Dumbledore sent him. They knew the Death Eaters were coming for me.

"I know, and ..." Hermione stopped herself before she could say another word.

Harry heard her trembling breath and sensed that she was hiding something dreadful. He shook his head a little in bewilderment, urging her to go on.

He cradled her hand in his when she didn't respond right away. He wanted to know. Hermione bowed her eyes, but courageously she continued. "Sirius..."

Harry understood her straight away; and a horrible burning feeling exploded in his body. He let go of her hand and stared absently at the dresser. He picked up the pen and hastily scribbled a new note, wanting to know what had happened. He instinctively knew his godfather had gone looking for him.

"The Aurors caught him," Hermione quickly replied.

Harry shut his eyes, desperate to know more.

"He's in Azkaban for now. Dumbledore came to his defence, and Ron wants to testify that Peter Pettigrew is still alive and is the real traitor. They're appealing for a trial."

Harry pointed his finger towards himself. He wanted to testify for Sirius. He wanted to tell the Ministry of Magic that his godfather was innocent.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know Harry; it's too dangerous for you to go out. You-Know-Who has the perfect opportunity to kill you - to get you, without you being able to utter a single spell to defend yourself."

Harry rested his head back on the pillows, thinking about Sirius locked up in a cell, cold and alone. But Sirius was strong, Harry kept telling himself. Sirius had endured twelve years of imprisonment and Dementors and had escaped. He could do it again, this time without the Dementors rattling their evil breath.

"Dumbledore's doing all he can," Hermione said. He nodded slightly. But was it enough to save him? Harry still had a bad feeling that Sirius would still be executed some other way, now that the Dementors had joined Voldemort.

"Sirius is going to be all right," Hermione said with strong hope.

He noticed something smelling rather distasteful. He grimaced, pinching his nose. It took their minds off their present situation and Hermione giggled. It helped brighten her brown eyes. Harry couldn't help but smile back. She seemed to have lightened up the darkness he felt.

"I'm doing a Smoking Magitrophic Potion. I had some ingredients left over from last term to make it. It should work in helping you heal faster. But I think the smell will stay in the house for a while. I mean, my father has been spraying perfume everywhere." She took in a deep breath, and frayed the blanket once again. "I do hope the Ministry won't expel me for making the potion."

Harry shook his head, and wrote:

Dumbledore won't let it happen. Besides, it's something that is unavoidable, unless they want me to die in pain.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Harry, you're not going to die. And that is final!"

It was midnight by the time he drank the finished potion. He cringed at the taste. It was the most horrible potion he had ever tasted. It was like drinking milk and meat that had gone bad years earlier. He asked for water and drank several glasses before the taste was no longer so potent. However, he felt a little better and the pain dulled enough to let him rest peacefully.

Crookshanks had entered the room and had laid himself on Harry's bed. The cat purred while his bushy orange tail flashed left and right, quietly watching him with his yellow eyes.

"Are you feeling better?" Hermione asked, scratching Crookshanks behind his ears.

Harry nodded. Feeling sleepy, he rested his head and closed his eyes. Hermione stood up and turned off the lamp before she left the room. Harry knew that Hermione was silently watching him from the open doorway. He felt better because now he wasn't sleeping alone.

***

The curtains filtered the light into a soft glow that didn't hurt Harry's eyes as he slowly opened them. He massaged his eyes, getting out of bed. He had slept for two days straight in peace; glad that no danger had come to pass in the meantime. He looked at the alarm clock; it read seven a.m. He felt dizzy again as he stood up, thinking that it was best for him to sit down a bit longer. While he sat, Harry listened to the early morning sounds from within the house.

He heard a door lightly snap shut.

"Dad ... if only we could get the fireplace connected to the Floo network, it'll make communication so much easier."

"I'll think about it, Hermione," her father said. "Have you been contacted yet?"

"No ... that's why I'm saying it's better that we got it, that's if you don't want another animal in the house."

"Why are they taking so long?" Mr Granger asked.

"I-I. Because I had told Ron not to contact me unless they found some concrete piece of information. I was just so -"

"Scared? Scared that you didn't want to know. You didn't want to get your hopes up or down. I understand. Listen, we have to go to work. Will you be okay, alone, with Harry?"

"Yes Dad, of course. Remember, if you see anyone suspicious, get away from them quickly."

Hermione's father chortled, "Do you think we even have a chance against those -"

"Dad, I'm serious," she said, her voice low with caution. "Please be careful," she pleaded.

There was a brief pregnant pause as Harry walked to his bedroom door. He opened it and looked out.

He saw Mrs Granger entering the hallway, brushing her hair. "Jack, your tie ... what on earth are you doing?"

Hermione snorted. Her father had been trying to knot his tie while he spoke to his daughter, and managed to knot it several times. He was now struggling to undo them.

"Honestly!" Mrs Granger rolled her eyes.

A tapping sound echoed in Harry's ears. He turned from the doorway and spun around to see what it was. He saw an owl perched outside the window. He quickly opened the window and let the owl fly in. It was Errol, holding his head high with a letter in his beak. There were a couple of twigs and leaves stuck on his feathers.

Harry ripped the letter open as Hermione walked in. With wide eyes he read the letter as Hermione brushed her shoulder against Harry's. He flicked his eyes to her for an instant and returned to the letter.

Hermione,

They haven't found Harry yet, but the good news for now is that he hasn't been captured by You-Know-Who. Everyone is sure of that.

Bad news ... well, there's plenty of that. Anyway, remember that thing we know of?

Hermione and Harry both knew instantly that he was talking about the Order Headquarters at No. Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Well,

they kind of have an idea where it is. But can't find it, so don't send anything there for now. Moody's going berserk about it.

Mum, Dad and Dumbledore are REALLY mad at Fletcher. Turns out the illegal Firewhiskey he bought was tainted with a potion that would make him continue drinking without control.

I have to go. Love you Hermione. Don't worry. I know Harry and Sirius will make it through fine.

PS,

Sorry about replying late. Errol, the stupid git, went to the wrong house and only came back this morning. The wrong letter owner thought he was dead at first and tried to bury him.

Bye.

She quickly wrote a letter to Dumbledore telling him that Harry was safe and sound, but didn't mention where he was. She also asked for protection and to tell Ron everything.

She quickly tied the parchment to Errol's leg. "Take this to Dumbledore," she said to the owl perched on her arm. Errol hooted softly before soaring out into the clouded sky.

***

A man silently watched the skies and immediately spotted an owl fluttering in the heavens, drifting with the air currents with a letter tightly tied to its leg. He squinted, lightly taking hold of his wand and training it on the owl, knowing that it was heading towards a small manor which had been the comfort of many generations beforehand and now was the asset of the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

He muttered, "Stupefy." His deep green robe sleeve fell to his elbow, revealing a grotesque mark of a tattooed skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth. The bird instantly fell to the ground. The man knelt, tightly gripping the owl's neck, preventing its escape as Errol frantically flapped his wings as he came to. He stunned the animal once more, and then pocketed his wand before pulling the letter off Errol's leg, dropping the bird with a small thud on the mossy earth. He had no need for the owl any more. The Death Eater opened it and read it with a sneer on his face, his eyes flashing.

He smirked, knowing it was a letter about Harry Potter. Even though it didn't say where he was, he suspected that the boy was hidden in the home of a Mudblood that Lucius had been telling him about. He Disapparated to tell the Dark Lord.