Band of Gypsies

Chapter Seven

The owl perched on the window and waited patiently until the man opened the pane. He untied the strings attached to the owl's leg, detached the parchment and unrolled it while the owl took flight into the night air. The contents so stunned the man that he stepped back into the room and fell into a chair.

"Good Grief! He's still alive!" Remus Lupin sat at No. 12 Gimmauld Place and glanced at the empty fireplace. How can I get word to Dumbledore? He propelled himself from the chair and raced to the basement kitchen of the house. Five faces turned to him in surprise. Molly, Arthur, Ron and Ginny and Bill Weasley sat eating supper.

"What is it Remus?" Arthur Weasley reached his side, concerned at the look on his ashen face.

"I've got a letter from Harry!" Lupin's legs gave way and he again dropped to a chair.

The kitchen was astir with excitement. It took a minute for Remus Lupin to read the parchment.

Dear Professor Lupin, Lupin choked and shook his head. I'm writing to let you know that I am alive and well. I am sorry if I have caused anyone worry. (There was a collective groan from his listeners.) I needed time to sort out my life. After what happened at the Dursleys, I was afraid that no one was safe. You have to know that I could not face anyone being hurt on my account again.

I am also writing to let you know that I have not made up my mind about returning to Hogwarts in September. There is something I must do. I hope it can be accomplished before then. This is not something that you or anyone can help me with. If you believe that I am acting a martyr, ask Dumbledore. He would agree that this work is for me and me alone.

Let him know that I'm not angry with him anymore. He will understand.

All of you are constantly in my thoughts. I will try to send word to you again. Tell Ron to keep practicing Quidditch, Gryffindor needs a good keeper. Tell Hermione, I will have lots to tell her about when I return home . I miss them both, a lot.

Harry

P.S. Remus, I'm sorry that you have lost your best friend. I know we both miss him terribly.

Bill Weasley took the paper gently out of Lupin's hand. He read it quickly. "I will take this to Dumbledore tonight if that's alright with you?"

Remus nodded, fighting back the strong emotions that he feared were fighting to get out. His eyes rested on Ron Weasley and then Ginny and over to Molly Weasley. They were all weeping silently.

Bill slipped from the room and out through the door into the night. A few streets away he disapparated. Back in No. 12 Gimmauld Place a riotous party was underway.

Harry settled into the soft comforter rolled out near the wagon. The light from the fire was dimming as it slowly died back. The camp was silent. Even the dogs were asleep. Harry couldn't get the worry out of his mind. Malfoy. So close!

Harry wrapped his sack and pulled his hat over to him. He lay, waiting, until he heard snoring and then rolled out of the comforter. He moved out of the light of the campfire and was dressing in his traveling cloak when he heard a hissing behind him.

He turned and saw a lit match applied to a smoking pipe. It illuminated Jolie's face. "Where are you going Harry?" he asked.

Harry shrugged and straightened his robe, his hands shaking from the sudden fright. How does he know my name?

"Do you have time to sit and talk for awhile?" Jolie puffed away at the pipe. "Come let us move away so that others may sleep." He rose from the back of the wagon that he had been leaning on and gestured into the dark. Harry followed him and they walked through a meadow, the dewy grass wetting their feet.

Harry discovered that Jolie led him to a sandy cove next to a small lake, where other pipes were lit. In turn, he could see Gregor, Luciano, Jamud, Janos and several of the boys his age, Michala, Bond and Lacretia sitting cross-legged on the ground.

"Harry, sit and converse with us." Jolie said in English.

Harry wasn't sure whether he was angry or not. He just felt stunned. "What... what are you all doing here?"

Jolie spoke for the men, "We know who you are, Harry. We want you to hear our story so that you may understand why we sit here tonight." He was talking softly and seriously.

Harry removed his cloak and dropped his belongings to the ground. It would be horribly disrespectful to turn away from the people who had sheltered and cared for him for so many weeks. He nodded to Jolie, and then to each man sitting in the circle.

"Some of us are old enough to remember the Dark Devil that ruled the world. He is called Kalo Beng in our words," Jolie began. "It was before you were born. The time of this Evil Wizard is called by our people, "The Great Devouring". He was like a wolf with big teeth and a big hunger." Harry listened with dread knotting his guts. Jolie struck another match, and Gregor broke in.

"We are a people that have no roots, but we are an ancient people. Our home is the road, it is our baxt (our nature), the way things are meant to be. Hai'shala? (Do you understand?). Gregor asked.

"Va (yes)." Harry answered, somberly.

"The Dark Devil, the Vyusher (the wolf) wanted to enslave us. But first, he wanted to fool us into believing that he was our friend. He came among us like a wolf dressed in a lamb's skin. He wanted to learn of our mysteries- our gifts." Gregor waved a hand. "These are not easy things to learn from the Romani. We have, for many centuries, learned to distrust the Gadjo. So we led him to believe that he had learned our ways. But we are clever and we sent him from us. Later, we learned we were right to not trust. He sent wizards to kill us. Many died believing in his lies; my parents and my sister."

Jamud spoke in the dark, "My whole family."

"My wife and children," Luciano growled.

"So Harry Potter, there are many Rom who have lost loved ones because of this Dark Wizard." Gregor continued, "But we fought him. We swore the kal'enedral (blood oath) to avenge the deaths of our dearest. We have many ancient charms and spells and magic that the outside wizards know nothing about."

Jamud opened his hand and a flames leaped from a ball of light. It lit the small circle of faces. Each man glared at it and Harry could see the anger in their faces. Jamud extinguished the small flame with a flick of his wrist. "Yes, even this Black Devil, who comes from the Gadjo could not know what he faced with the Romani."

Jolie had remained silent, "We do not talk lightly of this to you, Harry Potter. To speak of the dead is forbidden among our people." Jolie said this in English and then returned to Romani, "You must follow your own road, Harry. If you leave us, we will let other Romani know and there will always be a shelter for you among our people. For you are destined to be the knife that cuts out this Devil's heart!"

"How...how did you know? Harry asked breathless. It was obvious they were talking about Dumbledore's prophecy.

"The Romani have many among us that can See." answered Jamud. "Lucretia?"

"Yes, Jamud?" The young boy who was sitting back, answered. He resembled Harry with his dark unruly hair and slim body. They were almost at the same age.

"Tell us of your dream," Jamud said.

"Harry meets and talks to a dark stranger. They know one another, but they do not know what is in each other's heart." Lucretia held his palm over his own heart. Harry could see the boy staring into the dark as if envisioning a scene before him. "Kai zhalo vurdon vurma mekela (where the wagon goes a trail is left)." he said.

Harry could not follow the Romani words and Jolie translated. "It means that this dark figure follows you, searches for you. He has found your trail. That trail will lead him here."

"Is it...is it, the Dark Devil, Kalo Beng?" Harry gulped, thinking to himself, I'm not ready, I'm not ready for him yet.

"No," Lucretia answered and shook his head. "This one means you no harm. But he's important to you and your journey." The boy grew silent.

"Let us continue with this story so that it may be spoken whole and then ended," Victor said.

"Yes." Jolie nodded. "We are telling you Harry that if you stay with us, we can protect you. And we can help you. We have sworn it! You are a young man and, we think, not ready to face this evil wizard."

"We can teach you," Jamud began.

Luciano, the fat little dresser who had quickly become a friend, addressed Harry. "We can not keep you here with us Chav (dear boy). Jamud is right, many of us have the gift of Seeing. I, for one, know that you have many trials ahead of you. But you are young. We could teach you what you cannot learn in the Gadjo world. And when you are ready we will send you on the road, where someday we will meet again." Luciano puffed on his pipe. The glow of the embers shining red on his heavy jowled face.

Harry looked from face to face and felt their concern for him. "But I am Gadjo."

Jolie smiled, "Na rakesa tu Romanes? (can you speak Romani?)"

These were words, Harry would hear time and time again and never forget. The small group of men were saying that he was one of them. Harry felt tears in his throat.

"Jin? (Understand?) Jolie whispered. "You are Romani in your skin."

"Yes," Harry answered.

"By saving you, we save ourselves. In turn you will save us. Are we not all brothers? Na rakesa tu Romanes?" They murmured together.

Harry was glad it was dark and the men could not see him. He wasn't sure that looking back into those eyes might not start an avalanche of tears.

They sat in silence until the night seemed to get lighter and dawn approached. The pipes went cold and one by one each man stood, walked by Harry, put their hand on his shoulder and wandered back to the sleeping camp.

Jolie was the last to go. "We will arrange a meeting with this dark man that follows your trail," he said, and then he was gone, leaving Harry sitting stiffly in the sand watching the sun rise over the lake.

Dumbledore held the parchment in his quaking hand. He sat alone in his room, a glorious feathered Phoenix perched over his shoulder, trilling quietly. The paper slipped from the old man's fingers. It is enough, Harry, he thought, to know that you are alive. But thank you for your words of forgiveness. Dumbledore smiled and sat looking out the window at the same dawn.

They spent a day on the road and Harry rode in the wagon to keep himself hidden. They passed out of the valley and away from the small village where he had seen Malfoy. Harry knew from reading his map that they were headed in the direction of Godric's Hollow. Somehow, fate was leading him where he knew he should be.

He wasn't sure what Jolie and the others were up to, they were very stealthy. He knew that they would arrange the meeting with the stranger the following evening. Harry couldn't think who might be following him if it wasn't a Death Eater or one of Voldemort's followers.

Putsha, Viktor's wife, opened the door at noon. She motioned for him to come out. The midday meal was being prepared. Harry followed the small children down through a lush meadow and found a pool of water. The horses had been set free and were grazing on the knee high grass.

Harry looked into the calm water and stared. He saw his own reflection and had to laugh. Jolie had placed a charm on his hair to change the color to soft brown. Harry had long since used the new glasses he had found in a Gadjo village. These half-cut glasses set on the edge of his nose and gave him an old man's appearance. The hat that he always wore covered the lightening scar. He wore the diklo (scarf) that all Romani men wore, the vest and the blouse tucked into leather bitches. He had to grin. He didn't think even Hermione or Ron would recognize him this way.

"Tommy?" one of the small boys came to kneel beside him.

"Viktor says that I should help you." The boy was about ten. He studied Harry with a serious expression on his face.

"How should you help me, Ruben?" Harry asked curiously.

Ruben opened his mouth and went, "Caw, Caw." Out of the blue sky a shadow circled. Harry glanced up and saw a gigantic black raven circle and light gently on the boy's shoulder. It looked to weigh about ten pounds. The boy reached up and fed it something from his hand.

"Who is this Ruben?" Harry smiled at the small boy and the large bird on his shoulder.

"He is Dante." Ruben looked straight at the yellow eyes and the very sharp beak that was very close to his face. The boy didn't appear to be in the least bit afraid. "I have trained him."

"Trained him to do what?" Harry asked.

"To carry mail for you." Ruben answered. "Watch." He removed the bird from his shoulder to perch on his arm. In English, he said, "Dante. Mail Deliver." The bird stuck out it's leg. Ruben tied a small bag on it.

"Kel the bosh, kel the bosh, (play the fiddle, play the fiddle)," the bird squawked.

Harry laughed, "It talks, Ruben."

"Yes." The boy nodded, still serious. "I have trained it to talk." He held the bird up and it took off. "Now wait," he said. Minutes went by.

Harry looked at the boy and smiled to himself. Ruben was not much younger than he had been when he had started at Hogwarts. Harry wondered if he had been as smart. The boy also looked very young. Was I ever that young? Harry wondered.

Suddenly, from across the meadow, a little girl came running to them. She held the bundle in her hand. "Dante sent this," she said, and handed it to Ruben.

He turned to Harry. "See. He has delivered the mail."

"That's very good Ruben." Harry accepted the bundle. He thought about his own mail deliverer, Hedwig, the white owl that he had not seen now for over two months. The bundle reminded him of something. "Do you know Ruben that this is the best present I have ever gotten on my birthday."

The next afternoon, Jolie instructed him to follow a small creek that wound into a wooded area. The men in camp had prepared the meeting. Harry was mildly anxious and curious as to who he would be meeting. He knew that Gregor and the others were keeping watch and would move against the stranger if Harry gave any sign that he was in danger or needed help. Harry felt perfectly safe.

It was growing late in the day, the sun was still up but the spot was shaded. Harry walked slowly into the circle of trees. Two men stood at the side of the man dressed all in black. Harry took in the greasy long hair and the black eyes. It was Snape.

"Hello, Professor," he said quietly. He wasn't surprised.

Snape glared at him. "Hello, Potter."

Harry nodded at the two men who stood nearby. They moved off into the shade of the trees and left Harry and Snape alone.

"So you've found me, Professor." Harry casually sat down on a log and watched the man, who stood peering down at him as if had so often done in the classroom.

"Yes, I have Potter," Snape said, stonily.

Harry said. "What do you want?"

Snape looked at the transfigured boy. He had grown, changed. There was a new look on the face. "I want nothing Potter. It was my job to find you. That was all."

"And whom do you serve, Professor? Did you find me for Voldemort or for Dumbledore?" Harry watched the black eyes. He saw the small wince at the mention of Voldemort's name.

"Why do you insist on using that foul creature's name?" Snape hissed. " For your information, Potter, I have been sent on this errand by both of them."

Harry nodded politely. "I see."

"Who are your thugs, Potter?" Snape motioned with his head to the two men standing outside in the trees.

"You know, Snape," Harry stood up, "I'm not here to exchange nasty words with you. It's too exhausting. You see I don't care about you're little grudge that you carry around about my father and Sirius." Harry could see Snape stiffen even more. "You know it seems strange that a grown man would have to do that." Harry said, shaking his head. "After all they are dead, Severus. Shouldn't we let them stay dead?"

"Who are you to lecture me?" Snape's voice rose. "You're arrogant Potter. Big-headed..."

"You forget you are not in a classroom Professor, nor are you my teacher right now." Harry stood straight and glared into the black eyes. "Didn't Dumbledore tell you? The prophecy; kill or be killed? That is my destiny. I either kill Voldemort or he kills me." Harry watched the information sink in. "Do you bloody well think I care squat about you and your trivial grudge!" Harry spat the words at the man, his spray of spittle shining on Snape's face. "Or how you feel about me?" Harry glared back, murder in his heart.

Snape blanched.

"You leave here alive on my orders, Snape. I can return you to Voldemort or Dumbledore. My choice. Maybe you'd like to know what it's like to be in my shoes."

"I do know what it's like to be in your shoes, Potter." Snape said.

"Do you? Do you really?" Harry asked.

"I have faced the Dark Lord myself. Many times," he said it softly.

Harry stood back, calming himself. "It didn't cure you of being an arrogant git as you so much like to point out that I am." Harry pondered the man in front of him and remembered the hours spent in his classroom. The way he had favored his own students and had badgered Gryffindor's. "Perhaps I should take a page from your book, Professor. Perhaps it's time for you to learn a few lessons about being a bully!"

Harry left the small woods and left Viktor and Jamud alone with Snape. He sat in the fading sun and let his heart slow down. He had not felt this angry in a long time. And he knew that he could not be around Snape.

Harry sat and watched the horses. Snape was going to be important to him in some way. The boy, Lucretia had prophesized it. These bloody prophesies!, Harry frowned. Is there no free will in the world? Is everything already laid out and you just follow your life like a goose follows a trail of corn? He shook his head in anger. Not this time!

He got to his feet and walked back to camp.

The men brought Snape into camp later. He had been redressed, his black clothing taken away. Now he sat out of the light of the campfire, resting his back against a wagon wheel. Harry ignored him and ate his supper.