Illicit Foray

15 September, 2002

Illicit Forays

Chapter One: Visit to the forest

The concrete path winded persistently though the fauna of greens, greys and browns, yet it was hard to see, the undergrowth subdued its purposeful darkness. Harry saw only the colours. The sky a vacuum of stillness lay lifeless, devoid of motion. The hush filled the air in a perpetual drone, never varying always present. Looking slowly over his shoulder He opened the wrought iron gate, like a forgotten memory the gardens lay disregarded and strangely silent. He walked up the path. Lights shone gently over tall hedges, bare elms silhouetted by the grey sky, snow began to fall on what had once been lovingly trimmed Topiary bushes and curved arches of ivy. The hazy sun could not hide the soft layer of frost suffocating nature as it slept. Suddenly Harry noticed the shapeless figure; its body almost a part of the bench it sat on. He moved closer, he seemed to be irresistible drawn to this pathetic creature. As he approached the gnarled bench, the figure slowly moved its head to look at him. Harry realised it was human, her cold eyes stared at him, a probing stare penetrated his soul. He felt cold. After a few seconds, she looked away her coarse lips twisting into a grimace. Harry sat down beside her. Suddenly a rasped voice pierced the oppressive quiet,

"You... remember." Hollow thoughts with no substance or purpose clouded his mind, denaturing sensation and dulling senses. He remembered the touch of the passionless corpse in his arms, those marble eyes staring accusingly at him from a plateau. An echo that was fated to be forgotten, withering in a box, Ageless, Nameless, a shade of green, putrid. Maggots coursing though his body like weeds. It was neither male nor female. Harry returned his gaze to where she had sat. She had gone. A faint pungent mist emanated from where she had sat. The mist began to swirl and twist, spreading like a pestilence. To Harry's despair the world was hidden from his view, in an all imcompasing haze. He was stranded in a void. Harry reached his hand out to touch the surrounding mist. He had an overwhelming urge to hold on to something solid and real. Instead he felt his hand stick; he quickly pulled it out. All that remained was a gravestone so small Harry would have missed it if he were not trapped.

"If never in person, then always in mind, if never in mind, then forever in spirit. In loving memory of Cedric Digger 1983-2000, he will be sorely missed."

Then Harry woke up, sweat covered his brow.

The raw morning sun shone though the kitchen covering the room in a radiant light. Harry looked around the Dursley breakfast table from his side, Harry ascertained his complete isolation. The Dursley detested him, he felt their resentment in every syllable they exchanged, every fleeting glance. Ignoring this abuse was always hard. He felt rough after many restless nights of disturbing dreams; he didn't need their insults. Last summer he would not have complained as long as the Dursleys did not prevent him going to Hogwarts, he felt he could put up with them for two months. He would have usually survived by sending owls to Hagrid, Ron, Hermione or Sirius. But even that had lost its appeal: he could not speak to them about the dreams, they would not understand. The dreams like an insidious parasite, invading every waking moment, filling his mind with undesirable thought. Harry knew no amount of platitudes and empathy would make it go away.

After breakfast the Dursleys moved though to the Living room, Harry made his way up to his room. He was just on the landing when he heard a high squeal like a pin stuck in a pig. He ran down the stairs two at a time., not because he was worried for the Dursleys but because squeals and shrieks in The Dursley household were usually accompanied with a visit from a member of the Magical commuinity.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were sat on their expensive three-piece sofa. Mr Dursley was pretending to read the 'Financial Times' while Mrs Dursley was taking petite sips of tea while glaring over her cup. Both were staring at the man on the other sofa in an undisguised manner of fear and loathing. As Harry entered the room the Dursleys looked up in unison. Both with questioning stares. Harry instantly recognised his Godfather, Sirius.

"Sirius," said Harry bewilderedly, "your actually here." Harry felt the happiest he had been for the last two months, confused but delighted. A huge grin appeared on his face, he ran over to Sirius.

"Harry, good to see you," Sirius's smile was broad and open. Sirius looked beyond Harry to the Dursleys on the sofa.

"Hello Petunia...eh em," Sirius hesitated as he saw the murderous expression on Petunia's face,

"Err how have you been?" Petunia began to grind her teeth in a furious fashion, ignoring Sirius's question. Sirius looked as uncomfortable as any person could be.

"Excuse me," said Mr Dursley in outrage, "how on earth to you know my wife, she would never mix with people of you sort." There was an uneasy silence, as everyone looked at Sirius.

"We've met," he replied his haunted eyes staring directly at Mrs Dursley.

"Why are you here Sirius, as I remember it, you were always so good at running away," sneered Petunia mockingly. Sirius looked quickly at Harry

"I came about Harry, Petunia, not to dig up the past."

"How dare you take that tone with me in my own home."

"You haven't changed a bit Petunia, even at eighteen you were a bitter old hag." Petunia spluttered indignantly

"What about me," whispered Harry interrupting their fiery exchange. Sirius turned to Harry impatient but controlled

"Harry I will explain the situation later, but we must leave now." Harry studied his Godfather's angular face to try to figure out what was going on.

"Ha you looking after Harry don't be absurd Sirius," cried Petunia. "I thought you always hated children."

"I'm not a child," interrupted Harry irritably

"Of course you are," she ranted. "You're a miserable little boy who is being misguided by an even bigger child...." Everyone looked in shock at Petunia who looked furious; her cheeks were a deep scarlet.

"Petunia my dear, let me handle this," said Vernon forcefully turning to Sirius. "You freaks are irresponsible, immature and well hooligans, hardly a suitable role model for Harry. A child with Harry's demonic powers must be brought up strictly and uncompromisingly. I tell you leniency is intolerable, the child must know that he or she is inferior to..."

"Vernon," said Petunia quietly

"What is it? Can't you see I am making a valid point?"

"Vernon... they've gone." The room was empty except from the two Dursleys

"How rude," exclaimed Vernon furiously. Petunia shook her head disgustedly muttering obscenities under breath. A single droplet rolled off Petunia's cheek and hit the cream carpet.

"Harry, Harry." A voice echoed faintly in a clearly audible note of desperation. Harry had been walking though the forest. Immense Evergreens guarded him on each side as if there were his own special entourage. He stopped to listen. The forest undergrowth was covered in a bed of weeds. At one time the forest may have been a garden, but now the seeds of disorder had been sown. A tangle of weeds grew from the earth destroying something that had once been so beautiful. The weeds now reached towards the trees, hoping to infect them too. Another dream Harry thought.

"Harry," said a quiet voice behind him. Harry's hands began to shake as he felt his body go cold. Cedric stood there, solid like he was when he was alive. Harry stared his eyes wide, his lower lip trembling.

"Your...dead," was all Harry could utter as his heart thumped against his ribcage. That is when Harry noticed the weeds entwined around Cedric's feet, they were twisted around him squeezing, enveloping or consuming?

"Harry, stop her, I need your to stop her."

"What... I mean who?" said Harry bewilderedly.

"She doesn't understand, she is trying to prevent it."

"Who?"

"I need to return home, help me Harry," whispered Cedric as he slowly faded away.

What did these bizarre dreams mean, Harry thought the next morning. Was it just his subconscious trying to exorcise old demons? Or something else. He never liked the sound of something else. Harry was a firm believer in what you can see being preferably to what you can not. He shook his head as if trying to dispel these thoughts. He had got a room in the Leaky Cauldron the night before, after taking out some gold from Gringotts. Of course Sirius did not come though to the Leaky Cauldron. Most Wizards and Witches believed Sirius to be responsible for blowing up a street of muggles and killing Harry's parents. Although, only Harry and a few others knew the truth. When he and Harry walked though the muggle streets of London. Sirius transfigured himself into his familiar black dog, as many muggles thought Sirius was armed and dangerous too. Harry moved over to the window, he peered curiously out of it, watching the general energetic hustling and bustling of the crowded alley. The numerous stores and stalls fighting for space and attention. Diagon Alley was a utopia of the weird and wonderful. Harry felt he could watch it for hours from up here. Looking down he recognised a kind of disorganised beauty. Active, fluid but also unchanging, every little detail working to make it alive and vibrant. Harry suddenly looked at his watch, he swore under his breath. He said he would meet Sirius outside the Leaky Cauldron, ten minutes ago. Harry sprinted out of his room almost knocking over a trolley in the corridor, ran down the stairs, jumping over the last three. Two minutes later he found himself outside the Leaky Cauldron. He looked around for Sirius, hoping he do was also not late. That's when he noticed a folded piece of parchment laying on the pavement and on the front in writing, a single word was written in spindly letters 'Harry'. He picked it up.

Dear Harry,

I am ever so sorry; we can not meet as we arranged.
Something has come up of greater importance. You
understand I am reluctant to say anymore in case an
enemy intercepts this letter. But briefly what I wanted
to say is DON'T TRUST ANYONE. Remember Harry
there are more than two sides in any war.

Yours,

Your Godfather

Harry instinctively looked accusingly round the mostly empty street, did anyone look like a possible threat. A figure lurked in the shadows of a bookshop in the corner; a gaunt woman was staring at him though a clothes shop window, her eyes boring into him. Harry could feel his escalating fear inside him. Paranoid thoughts tearing around in his head. His breathing changed to a breathless splutter. He turned around, ready to retreat to the safe haven of the magical world, when suddenly he felt something touch his back. He tensed up not daring to see what was behind him.

"Harry, hi."

With a noticeable sigh of relief, he turned around, trying to smile. Hermione and another girl stood before him.

"Hello, Hermione," he said gladly, "long time no see"

" I suppose so, but with Viktor and my holiday with my parents, I don't seem to much time these days," said Hermione apologetically. She looked well though, he thought. A sort of inner glow, a kind of infectious happiness. On the other hand the girl she was with, looked very apprehensive and was biting her bottom lip. She had quite a dumpy figure but a round and properly in any other situation, cheerful face. Seeing Harry look at Imogen, Hermione suddenly realised she had not introduced her.

"Harry, this is Imogen and Imogen this is Harry, Harry is one of my best friends at Hogwarts and Imogen and me went to the same primary school."

"Hi," said Imogen quietly glancing quickly up at Harry, noting his scar and then looking down at her feet. Harry made a similar greeting.

"Are you two going though to Diagon Alley then?" enquired Harry

"Yes of course," replied Hermione eagerly, "I need to get my usual school supplies, but I heard that new range of books are out in Flourish and Blotts"

The three of them briskly walked though The Leaky Cauldron with Imogen staring at the unusual assortment of clothes the regulars wore. Finally they reached the brick wall; Hermione took out her wand and taped the wall three times. Suddenly the wall began to shift and a doorway though to Diagon Alley was created.

"Wow, that was amazing Hermione," gasped Imogen. "Was that magic?"

Imogen was in a permanent state of awe as they went around the many shops and stalls. After they left Quttich Quality Supplies she was just speechless.

"So do you actually ride a magic broomstick, Harry?" Imogen exclaimed her hand over her mouth. "Isn't it dangerous, you must be very brave." Harry smiled modestly

"Well I suppose it does take a certain courage," admitted Harry with a grin on his face.

"Ron," shouted Hermione suddenly pointing to the group. "Over here" Ron was over by Gringotts, he saw them, gave a little wave and walked over. After Ron joined them, Hermione insisted they go to Flourish and Blotts to find her books. They were there for a whole half an hour. Hermione could not decide which one to buy

"Oh, its so hard to choose, I could buy either 'So you're the best in the class, now to be better' or 'Coping with Cleverness." This went on for another twenty minutes. Sufficed to say she bought both. After this mammoth shopping expedition everyone was weighed down in bags and they just had to get off their feet. They found the nearest table in Florean Ice cream Parlour and collapsed into their seats.

"Gosh that was exciting," said Imogen clearly recovered from her earlier apprehension. "Before visiting this place I could scarcely believe that what Hermione wrote in her letters was true, it just sounded so unreal, unicorns, dragons, talking portraits..."

"So where do you go to school Imogen?", interrupted Ron enthusiastically. The Weasleys were fascinated by muggles, perhaps as they rarely interacted with them. Their lifestyle was as magical as you could get.

"Well nothing as exciting as your school, we haven't got a poltergeist," she gave a short laugh. "I go to Hans Morgan's school for girls, a private school in South Kensington."

"Well what kind of stuff do you learn if not magic?" said Ron clearly confused, his face screwed up into a bewildered expression.

"Normal stuff of course, you know like maths, English, sciences and languages."

" Science what's that?" Ron wondered, he stared intently at Imogen. Hermione gave a huge sigh.

"Ron, you should have taken Muggle studies, you don't know the first thing about them," she groaned, everyone laughed

"You're all so lucky being gifted with these powers, the world you live in, the life you lead, it all sounds wonderful," said Imogen wistfully. There was an uncomfortable silence; no one knew quite what to say. Harry broke the quiet.

"Anyone want another drink?" He looked at Ron who shook his head, Hermione did the same. "Imogen?"

"Thank you Harry, I would love one," she said smilingly. Harry went over to the counter; Florean was already serving a customer. While he waited, Harry read the abundant shop signs throughout Diagon Alley. Harry had a clear view of the entrance to Knockturn alley from where he stood. Harry observed that the people entering Knockturn Alley looked quite suspicious and shady. He was not surprised, the Weasleys had told him of Knockturn alley, which seemed to specialise in the Dark Arts. The alley had a sinister reputation, a fact that he could corroborate as he had accidentally been sent there by Floo powder and saw the sort of items the stores sold. All of a sudden a women banged against his shoulder.

"Excuse me," she squeaked her hands tightening over her shopping bag. Harry recognised her instantly, his meeting with her, was one of the enduring images that had played over and over inside his head all summer.

"Mrs Diggory," Harry said, his mouth suddenly going dry at the prospect at speaking to her, staring straight into her face.

"Harry... Potter, I didn't recognise you." Harry observed she looked grey, her face the colour of ash.

"Yeah, well I am just getting some school stuff," said Harry making a extraordinary effort to sound casual

"Ah its that time of year I suppose, beginning of a school year," she ended in a high pitch laugh that made a few wizard tourists look round in surprise. "Remember to get Essence of Bezoar, that will come in very handy for your Personal Potion Project this year, I will be your Potion's teacher."

To be Continued....