Band of Gypsies

Chapter Five

Harry woke with a start. His glasses had been removed and he was staring, blurry-eyed, at the inside of the wagon and its plush curtains of burgundy-reds and golds. It took some time before he realized where he was. The wagon swayed gently as it went down the road and lanterns that rocked back and forth from the ceiling mesmerized him. He looked over and fumbled to find his glasses. He found his hat was placed carefully on a clean, cloth-covered table. His knapsack hung from a hook near the bed. The well-appointed room with its' little stove and table with chairs; all of it, gently swayed.

Pulling off the soft blanket that covered him, Harry rocketed towards the door, his body banging from side to side. The window revealed a similar wagon just behind. A woman was driving the two horses and Harry could see two children sitting beside her.

He reached around, grabbed his hat and his sack and opened the door. Dust rolled in from the wheels and he squinted as he peered out. They were moving very slowly. He jumped down and slammed the door shut. The day was still mildly cool and he walked beside the wagon, undisturbed.

At midday, the small caravan of less than ten wagons stopped. Harry noticed the number had dwindled in number from the previous night. Feeling somewhat shy, he joined the men that were lounging near a running creek. Harry noticed that the little troupe had left the forest and were now traveling through rolling, grassy hills. Older women were busy building campfires while young women gathered firewood and began cooking the midday meal. Children of all ages, some almost as old as Harry, scattered into the hills. A few tended and watered livestock and horses.

Harry noticed a young girl nearby. She was pretty with her long black curling hair tied in a scarf. She had on a low blouse encircling her shoulders but wore a skirt down to her ankles. Her feet were bare. He thought she must be almost his age. She was busy gathering sticks for the fire and was backing into him as he leaned against a fallen log.

"Excuse me," Harry said, starting when she stepped closer without being aware of his presence. She reacted violently by retreating. Several young men just older than Harry stepped over, anger in their eyes. They were speaking loudly and gesturing with fists in the air.

Harry heard Jolie's voice behind him. The man spoke hurriedly to the young men and they turned and walked away. He stood, hands on hips, until the younger men left and then turned to Harry and said, "Tommy!" He gestured at Harry to follow him.

Harry turned from the men and followed Jolie into the meadow. At one time, Harry knew he would have stood his ground and faced them. He wasn't afraid any more, but realized he was a guest and didn't want trouble.

"Tommy. You Gadjo. Not understand. You not go near the women. Yes? You understand?" Jolie watched him carefully. "Women are 'marime' (unclean), sometimes. You see?"

"Yes," Harry said. He didn't see at all, but nodded anyway. "She just wandered into me. We didn't see each other," he said, standing his ground. "I meant no harm."

Jolie smiled a moment later, "No harm. Yes! Come, we eat." Jolie's arm went around Harry's shoulders and together they went to lunch.

Two weeks later, Harry understood. He was beginning to understand a lot of the gypsy language and rules. He hadn't been chased away from the Kumpania, what the Romani or gypsies called their camp, and so; he stayed.

Harry watched with wonder the skills of the acrobats, and the musicians and performers. He learned that the little troupe would travel the road through the summer, stopping at various hamlets to provide entertainment. Since they were going in the general direction of Godric's Hollow, Harry decided that he would travel with them as a means of providing cover. Jolie was his friendly intermediary and welcomed him into the camp as his guest.

"You are welcome here, young Tommy." The two gold teeth gleamed when Jolie smiled and he spoke to Harry in English and then translated in Romani. Harry received a constant education about the people in the camp, their relationships to each other and their special rules. He found that he was learning the language very quickly.

"Thank you," Harry responded. The camp did not seem to recognize the scar on his forehead when he forgot to don the hat. For the first time in his life Harry felt, anonymous.

Once again the note was very short:

The object has been lost to us. To all of us. However, a great reward has been offered for its recovery and return.

Dumbledore examined the words and understood the meaning. Harry had successfully eluded Voldemort and his followers and was truly missing. The rest of Snape's coded message was also clear; Voldemort was willing to pay any price to locate the boy. All his efforts were directed to it. And although the wizarding world was panicked, with sightings announced daily of Voldemort's whereabouts, nothing was happening; no deaths, no attacks, nothing.

"Dumbledore?" Arthur Weasley was sitting holding the teacup in his hands.

"Yes, Arthur?" Albus Dumbledore set the parchment aflame as he had done the first one and dropped it into the cold grate.

"Do you think he's alright?" The red-haired man looked worried. "Do you think he made it out of that forest alive?"

Dumbledore nodded and said, "Oh, yes Arthur, I think he did. Perhaps I haven't given Harry enough credit in the past, but I think he's quite capable of taking care of himself." His voice dropped, "Hasn't he proved it time and again?" He said the last almost to himself.

"Yes, you're right, of course. But he's still a boy, Albus. I hate to think of him out there alone and friendless with all of this darkness gathering its' forces against him," Arthur said. The red-haired man cringed. "You can't imagine how Molly and the children are handling this. Then there's Hermione Granger and Harry's little group of friends from school, they're just frantic."

"Oh, I think I can Arthur," Dumbledore answered. "Hagrid has almost badgered me to death." He smiled sadly, saying, "As Minerva McGonagal has, and several dozen others who have heard the news. But what are we to do Arthur? If we find him, we can't very well keep him prisoner. And after what happened at the Dursleys, it's very likely Harry believes that no one can keep him safe."

Arthur Weasley nodded reluctantly.

"No... no, Harry has suffered terribly. He needs time to sort it all out and make up his own mind. I think he now knows enough to be doing that," Dumbledore said. He sat down in a chair by the empty fireplace, his eyes glazing over slightly.

"What should I be telling Cornelius Fudge?" Arthur Weasley asked and sat his cold cup of tea down on the table beside them.

"Tell him... tell him, as I have done, that Harry is lost to us too," said Dumbledore and sighed.

Arthur Weasley turned away quickly to avoid having to acknowledge the tear he saw running down Dumbledore's cheek, feeling mildly embarrassed. He hadn't realized the depth of the headmaster's feelings towards the boy. "Well...well, then," Mr. Weasley said gruffly, choking back his own rising tears, "I'll just be getting on."

Dumbledore walked with him to the gate at the bottom of Hogwarts' drive. The day was sunny and warm and they stood silently for a minute, each lost in their own thoughts. Dumbledore finally said, "Goodbye, Arthur. I will send an owl if I hear any news."

"Thank you, Albus," The man said and disapparated.

A bent, tired Dumbledore shuffled slowly back up the drive to the castle. Hagrid stood by his hut and a burning pile of rubbish; watching. He hung his head and felt the sobs erupting from his own throat.

Harry was learning to stilt-walk. Jolie had spent some time showing him how to build the bird's ribcage that would be suspended from Harry's waist. Harry marveled at the beauty of the costumes. The stilt-walkers wore ribbed cages made from slats of lumber that were shaped like birds. Each had a saddle adorning it so that when attached at the hips by a harness, it made the walker appear to be riding a large bird. By holding the reins in their hands, the head was moved much like a marionette or puppet. Layers of feathers and embroidered silks and materials were then draped over the framework.

The finishing touches were to decorate the 'rider' and mask them. The overall look was very exotic and magical. The riders looked like leather-clad warriors, with plumed helmets, carrying leather and bronzed shields. As a group, the stilt-walkers would move slowly through the crowd. They resembled a small army of warriors riding living birds. Harry, at first, thought they were actually riding hippogriffs, or some other type of exotic creature, since the motions were so realistic.

Since joining the small group, Harry had been provided food and shelter as a guest and no one had asked him to earn his way. He approached Jolie and suggested that he could do some type of work in camp to pay for the food he ate. He was used to working, the Dursleys made sure of that.

Not one to be musical, or to fly on a trapeze, Harry had settled on trying to learn to be a bird-walker when Jolie insisted that he join their troupe.

Harry found that it wasn't hard to learn how to walk on the stilts, six feet above the ground. What was difficult was making the motions look realistic. He found himself practicing everyday with the others. It's like practicing Quidditch, he thought to himself one day, as the others helped him learn the moves. It was like being on a team again and the everyone made him feel good; something he hadn't felt for a long time.

At first, two walkers, Gregor and Malic, placed their hands on his shoulders, holding him upright until he had his balance. Then, two others would stand in front and behind, until he could maneuver the stilts, strapped to his thighs. Harry felt the gentle hands that held him and thought he had never quite experienced this feeling of security before in his life.

Jolie watched with his dark smiling eyes and joked, "You take to this well young Tommy. Soon you'll ride the horses with Martini." He referred to the acrobat that was doing headstands and back flips off of running horses.

"I don't think so, Jolie, "Harry laughed and then, "whoa, whoaaaaa!" and fell backwards into the arms of Jamud and Pascal.

"Well it is perhaps best then," Jolie laughed. The others were also laughing merrily. "By the way, Tommy, you walk tomorrow night."

"NO! Oh Jolie, no. I'm not ready," Harry said grunting, getting back on his stilts.

They arrived in the village towards dusk, the night of Harry's first performance. Jolie watched again as Luciano helped him dress. Jolie was, himself, dressed in a costume resembling a clown.

"Are you ready, Tommy?" he asked in Romani.

Harry laughed, "What if I fall over?" He'd been nervous and it had gotten worse when he felt the twenty pounds of costume being strapped on.

"Don't!" laughed Jolie, "and be aware. Those little children will try and trip you."

Harry nodded.

Gregor Melani was adjusting his bird-beak mask to his face. It effectively covered the glass that had been removed from his glasses and set in the eye holes. He had applied his grease make-up earlier. "Ok, Tommy, show me how you move the chiriklo (bird) head. Let us see if you have practiced."

Harry pulled the reins back and watched the bird's head come up. He did it just like he had been taught.

"Yes! Yes! Exactly, very good." Gregor clapped and began to strap on his own bird's harness. "Not to worry, we will astound the crowd tonight."

They continued to dress in the tent, as Harry half listened while the people from the village began to arrive.

"Remember, Tommy, you must catch the money they toss. They are poor throwers. Do it like this." Gregor used a quick flick of his wrist and caught the gold galleon Jolie tossed at him. Harry smiled, thinking of Golden Snitches. He wasn't as concerned about catching the gold as he was about not falling off six-foot stilts.

"Throw me one Jolie. Let me practice," he called to the tiny man.

"Not on your life! These are my galleons. Throw me one of yours and I will send it on wings back to you," Jolie shouted as Harry mounted his stilts.

They had teased Harry about being rich. The Kumpania knew rich clothing when they saw it. Although dirty and tired when he had first stumbled into camp, Harry had made the mistake of buying new robes before his trip. He chided himself later for a simple mistake that might have cost him. The people in camp had not pushed him for information. Now, he felt accepted and took the teasing in stride.

"You are not poor, Jolie. You're the one whose head hangs down because he wears his heavy gold all around his neck," Harry teased back. It was the custom of the Romani to expose their riches by wearing their jewelry on their persons when they were with their own people. Jolies' had been put away for the evening so that the Gadjo (non-gypsies) could not see it.

"Alright boy. Catch!" The gold coin flew the air. Harry plucked it from the air as easily as he had done with the Golden Snitch a dozen times before when he was on the Quidditch field.

"It is mine now. Shame on you for throwing away good gold, Jolie," he laughed delighted at the man that was on the ground. The little man jumped up and started shaking the stilts.

"Whoa! Stop! Stop!" Harry screamed and laughed. Pascal and Jamud were sitting before the bank of lights applying their own masks and face paint. They were laughing too and Harry didn't notice when Nadya entered the tent and approached Luciano, their dresser. She whispered in his ear and then glanced at Harry. She noticed that the young man was very handsome, especially when he smiled.

Harry saw her just as she slipped out. He had learned that men were not allowed to mix with girls beyond a certain age. Allowances had been made when he had joined the camp because he was young and didn't know the custom. He had narrowly escaped a beating the first time Nadya had accidentally run into him on his second day in the camp. Harry watched the slip of her long colorful skirt swish out through the tent. She was also working tonight, dukkering (fortune-telling).

"Tommy," Luciano looked up at Harry. "Nadya says there is a tall, dark stranger looking for a boy with dark hair and glasses. She says this Gadjo offers money for information."

Harry swallowed hard and looked down at the fat gypsy. His handlebar moustache hid the thin line of his mouth but not the expression in his eyes. "You be careful out there, boy. Kushti Bak (Good Luck)."

Harry watched the man turn and leave the tent. Jolie and Gregor's eyes were on him as well. "Keep beside me tonight, Tommy. We walk together," Gregor said, and motioned for Jolie to open the tent flap.

They walked out and into the warm summer air. Music was playing and the area was crowded with townspeople. Lanterns covered in colored napkins lit the grounds. Harry felt the butterflies in his stomach, both from having to give his first performance, to knowing that someone was looking for him. A Death Eater, he considered. Then he remembered how the costume provided an excellent disguise. He tried to relax as he made his first strides and heard the oohs and ahs from the crowd.

He was at an advantage strolling feet above the heads of the partygoers. He could watch the villagers as they made paths in the dusty road walking from booth to booth. The entertainers stood outside the tents and charged fees for the trapeze artist and the sword swallowers and had pitched tents to attract the people in for fortune telling. Other troupe members roamed through the crowd, playing the fiddle and tambourine.

Harry was pleased that he caught the gold galleons and bronze knuts that were flung up towards them. The little pouch he carried at his side soon became heavy with it. He especially felt pleased when small children were raised up by their parents so he could shake their hands or touch them. He could see in their shining eyes that they believed he was riding a real bird.

He stalked the grounds throughout the evening with Gregory, Pascal and Jamud as companions.. Harry began to feel the strain of keeping his balance and the added weight of twenty pounds strapped to his middle. But he was enjoying himself immensely. At one point, he had to grab at a pole to steady himself when he glimpsed a Hogwarts student casually strolling through the grounds with his girlfriend. Seamus Finnigan, a Griffindor student walked oblivious, hand-in-hand with Pavarti Patil another Hogwart's student.

Harry grinned to himself and thought, Just wait until I get to school. Ron'll roll on the floor laughing. And then he stopped, realizing that he might never see Hogwarts again, or his friend. Harry looked down on his friend from school feeling an overwhelming sadness return. He'd been able to forget the past year, sometimes for days at a time. Seeing the young Gryffindor's face in the crowd made Harry realize how far removed he felt from his own life.

"Tommy? Tommy?" Gregor was at his side. The man nudged his arm. Harry had forgotten for an instant, that he was being addressed by his new name.

"Oh! Yes, what?" he gasped.

"Are you alright?" The man whispered in Romani.

"Yes, Gregor, I'm fine," Harry said and nodded weakly.

"It's time you return to the tent. The first night, it is hard. It tires you. Go. Go." Gregor motioned with a free hand.

Harry let go of the pole. He began his long, slow strides back through the crowd, stopping to swing the head of the bird erect for the full effect of the performance. He was almost at the tent when he again noticed someone in the crowd. The man was dressed in full-length black robes. He stood out only for a moment as he made his way through the gaily dressed villagers and then, he was in shadows.

Harry watched, periodically moving his body in a like a bird. He couldn't tell who the man was with his face hooded, but he knew that danger was close. Carefully, Harry made his way to the tent and slipped into the dark. From this vantage point, he could watch the crowd meander past. Harry stood on the stilts waiting in the dark and watched for the black cape to reappear. He could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest and he struggled to hold his breath so that he could listen. There were very few people near the dressing tents and the lanterns were out.

Who is it? he wondered, who's following me?

The man did not reappear.