Band of Gypsies

Chapter Two

It took most of the night, but Harry rode through the lamp-lit streets until he made his way into the inner city streets of London. There were several ways to enter the wizarding world from the muggle world. He knew there were probably many, but he didn't know how to find them. There was, of course; Diagon Alley, St. Mungo's Hospital for Mysterious Ills and Maladies, and No. 12 Gimmauld Place. Even if he could find that one, he wasn't ready to face the place where he had last seen Sirius alive and happy. Harry also knew that an opening was at King's Cross station at Platform 9 and 3/4s. However, he wasn't at all sure that it would be open given that the school year had passed and wouldn't start again for another two months.

Leaving the bike in a dark alley, Harry pulled his traveling cloak from his sack and put it on, being sure to pull the hood well over his face. He didn't want anyone to recognize him and he didn't want to use magic. He'd never been sure how the Ministry of Magic was able to learn of his use of underage magic, and he didn't want them to be able to track his movements.

Fortunately, there was a lot of activity in the little pub and through the back entry into Diagon Alley. Harry slipped into the street just as the dawn was beginning to peek over the rooftops. He knew that it would take very little for Dumbledore to track him to Diagon Alley and then to Gringott's Wizarding Bank. That wasn't important. What was important was to do it as quickly as possible and stay ahead of Dumbledore until he could find a way to truly cover his trail.

Harry made several trips to the stores along the way and purchased supplies and made inquiries. His first purchase was a hat that fit snuggly over his scar.

"And can you tell me how to get to Godric's Hollow?" he asked the clerk at the coach house. It was evening again. He'd waited out the day in the shadows of Diagon Alley.

"Well, young Master," the clerk was eyeing him carefully, "most wizards just apparate. But for those who choose not to, or are too young," he said and stopped, trying to peek at Harry's face beneath the hood, " and some who don't like the broom, we offer this fine coach service. It'll get you there, but just a might slower. Have you thought of the Knight bus, young lad." The clerk's voice was oily.

"How much for the ticket?" Harry asked, ignoring the man's probing question.

"One galleon for the trip, there and back," he said and held out his dirty hand.

Harry, by now, more wise about the wizarding world, knew he was being robbed. Without hesitation, he held it over the outstretched palm. "I would hope that this buys me more than a coach ride. I would hope that it buys my privacy." He dropped a galleon into the hand, where it was whisked away out of sight.

The stagecoach stood waiting empty with four tired looking horses. When he climbed in he noticed the seats were worn and the stuffing peeking out. He pulled the blinds over the window. The carriage rocked throughout the night. It grew stuffy in the closed space but Harry pulled his hood around him and crossing his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes.

He knew that he could not ride all of the way to Godric's Hollow, the last place that his parent's had lived. He knew that Dumbledore would find a way to track him, even with the careful planning he was doing. He was ready to leap from the coach and begin making his way on foot by using the map that he had purchased in Flourish & Blott's earlier in the day.

Harry was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He knew that he would be worrying his friends. But after seeing the melted appliances in Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's kitchen, he knew that anyone around him was not safe. And although he didn't like his family, he also didn't want them murdered. Harry gripped the edge of the seat. He didn't think he could survive if he lost another person in his life, not a friend and not even his aunt or uncle or cousin, even if he did loath them.

No, he decided, its best if I disappear awhile. He wasn't sure what had gone wrong, making his aunt's blood protection ineffective. He puzzled it over in his mind until he grew so weary he fell asleep with the gentle rocking of the horse-drawn coach.

Daylight broke into the carriage. Harry sat bolt upright and grasped his wand more tightly in his hand. He didn't intend to use it unless forced, but he also was not going to be naïve. The door was open and the coach driver stood peering in. "We're stoppin' to change horses if you'd like a breather?" The stooped, wrinkle face man shoved a stool under the door and held it open obligingly so that Harry could step out. "There's food in the pub. Won't be stopping agin 'til we reach East Harton, Castledown Road. Best get yourself sumthin' now."

Harry smelled tobacco and horse as he passed the man.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, bending his face away and taking in a mouthful of fresh air.

"At Crowborn." The man left the door hanging and went up to help the new set of horses be harnessed. Over his shoulder he said, "Journey's end will be tomorrow at noon. Best take your stretch now, sir."

Harry noticed they were in a small hamlet with a few houses tucked neatly into the rolling hills. The pub in front of him, called the Turned Horn by its swinging sign over the door, was the only place of any size. Its mullioned windows were caked with dirt and a beady yellow light shone from the open door. Harry could smell rancid ale and could hear the sound of raucous laughter.

He thought better of entering and buying something to eat. When the driver seemed to have the horses ready Harry slipped a galleon into his hand and asked him to bring him a loaf of bread and a flask of water.

The dirty man looked at the coin and grinned, his teeth were blacken and broken. "You best be getting' back in the coach then, good Sir. I'll fetch you your supper and be back in a moment." Harry knew there was enough to buy the man some fire whiskey. And with any luck he'd drink enough that he wouldn't recall Harry's face if asked.

They were on the road for over two hours and he'd been right. The driver had started singing around noon and the coach had slowed, almost drifting as if the horses had been given their head. Harry observed the countryside. They were moving along a well-groomed dirt road that was slowly but inevitably winding into a forest. It reminded Harry of Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest, which brought up visions of Hagrid and Dumbledore. And then, the pain and grief.

Harry spent a little time thinking about what he had just done. I have to promise myself that I won't try and contact any of them, he told himself. No matter what.

The leap from the coach was easy. The driver was too drunk to be aware that the passenger door had opened and the thin man had leapt into the brush. The horses, groggy with tiredness and the heat, plodded on.

Harry looked around him, pulled off the cloak and gingerly took his first steps into the forest.

A tall, gaunt man dressed entirely in black stood motionless in front of the desk and stared at the man seated behind it. The older man wore a full beard, and both his head and beard were as snowy white as the owl that perched on the desk.

"I'm sure Severus. This is Harry's owl, Hedwig. Arthur Weasley sent her to me only this morning. Wizard's were dispatched immediately to Privet Drive. Harry's uncle would not talk to them. They, of course, forced entry and searched the premises. I am certain that Mr. Dursley does not know where Harry is." The man named Dumbledore looked seriously at the man he was addressing.

"Why would you want to send me on this journey, Headmaster?" the man's mild manner was obviously forced. "Throwing us together again would be a mistake."

"I have my reasons, Severus. I had hoped that you could overcome your feelings about James and even about Harry."

"You spoil him Dumbledore. He's grown as arrogant as his father always was."

"And you're blinded by your feelings about James, Severus?" Dumbledore rose to his feet. "Harry has done nothing to you. Must he pay the price for his father's childishness?" Dumbledore held up his hand at the man's attempted protests. "No. I won't hear it. Because you could not overcome your desire to take revenge, you stopped giving Harry occlumency lessons, when I could not do it myself. As a result, Harry was led to believe that Sirius was in trouble. He died and Harry almost died. I tell you this once and for all, Severus, Harry is our salvation. You risk all of our lives when you cannot set aside your own anger and resentment." His voice raised, he continued, "The way to redeem yourself is to find Harry and bring him back here where it's safe."

The dark scowl deepened on the man's face, "I have worked tirelessly for the Order. I have risked my own life many times," he hissed.

The older man's face, wrinkled with age and tiredness, softened, "Yes, you have Severus. And perhaps, like many before you and many after, you will give your life. Are you ready to do that?"

"I have already made my pledge to you," Severus Snape said, crossing his arms over his chest and gritting his teeth. Dumbledore saw the muscle's working in the jaw and knew that he could push no further.

"Severus, I trust you and believe in your skills. You will need stealth and cunning to not expose him to Voldemort or his follows or yourself to Harry before its time." Dumbledore sank back into his chair and studied the wood of his ancient desk. "Harry will not be easy to find. And this time, I think he will work hard to avoid detection. He is not the boy he was a year ago."

"And you are so sure that he would come back to Hogwarts with me?" The snarl was still on the lips.

"Find him first and then let me know where he is. Do not forget Severus, that it is in both our interests to find him. I, for one, know that Harry needs to have some control back in his life. However, Voldemort will learn soon enough of Harry's disappearance." The tall man flinched at the name and Dumbledore ignored it and continued, " Who would he most likely send to find him?" Dumbledore drew his hands to his temple. "In times of difficulty it would be useful to prove to him that you are on his side, perhaps by even volunteering for the job, if you like." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Just find him, Severus. Before Voldemort does." The old man got to his feet and shuffled around the desk to lay a hand on Snape's arm. He looked ancient. "Find him for me."

Snape turned on his heel and left the office.

Harry made his way throw the dense forest, the light dimmed as the overhead canopy closed in. It's cooler, he thought, in the shade. He was hoping that he could keep his directions. He didn't want to use his wand and do a Pointing spell. It was one he remembered Hermione had taught him in order to manage his directions during the Triwizard tournament. But he didn't want to use any magic.

He rested in a small circle of sunlight and ate a piece of bread torn from the loaf. I'm safe for awhile, he decided, leaning back to rest. The bread tumbled from his tired fingers and was whisked away by a field mouse.

Unfriendly eyes watched him.