Another City, Not My Own

"ANOTHER CITY, NOT MY OWN"
Chapter Five
"Night Journey"

"So a crystal lock is sort of like a Muggle combination lock, but it uses magic crystals. Is that right?"

Harry stood in front of the huge stone fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. It was two hours after he'd finished talking to Dobby. Darkness was falling outside, and evening shadows had started to flicker across the hardwood floor. Nearby, Ginny Weasley sat in an overstuffed chair, jotting down notes in Harry's notepad. They were alone in the room; everyone else in Gryffindor House was at supper.

In the fireplace, Fleur Delacour's head sat floating in the flames. Her long, silver hair seemed to mingle with the fire, the sparks from the snapping logs dancing around her face. Her eyes were focused on Harry.

"Oui. Ze crystal lock, she is like ze lock zat ze Muggles use. But ze crystal lock, it works differently. Zere are a series of enchanted crystals inside ze lock, and zey must line up in a certain order for ze lock to open. Usually, zere is a very specific spell zat you must use to open ze lock. It is called a Combination Spell. And I am afraid zat, unless you have ze exact Combination Spell for ze crystal lock zat you are trying to open, it is almost impossible to open it."

"But you were able to open the crystal lock at Malfoy Manor," Harry said. "And you didn't have the Combination Spell."

"Oui, I was able to open it," said Fleur. "But it is because I am part veela, 'Arry. You see, veelas invented ze crystal locks, so we 'ave a special touch with zem. We can communicate with ze crystals inside ze lock and move zem around until we sense zat zey are lined up in ze proper sequence. In zis way, we can bypass ze Combination Spell."

Fleur's image seemed to shrug in the fire. "But it is not somezing zat I could teach you, 'Arry. To communicate with ze crystals inside a crystal lock...it is somezing zat is instinctive to a veela."

"So what you're saying is, you could open a crystal lock without the Combination Spell--but I couldn't do it?"

"Oui. I am afraid zat is correct."

"Wonderful," Harry said grimly. "Listen, Fleur...I don't suppose you could come down to Latrece with me? I could really use your help on this."

Fleur shook her head. "I am afraid not, 'Arry. Zere are...some matters going on 'ere at ze Ministry of Magic zat we must attend to, and Monsieur Weasley will need my assistance." She smiled. "But don't worry! I will send someone to 'elp you in Latrece."

"Someone to help me? Who?"

"You will see," Fleur said coyly. She looked past Harry to the edge of the fireplace. "You are writing zis down, Mademoiselle Ginny?"

Ginny nodded to indicate that she was still taking notes.

"'Arry," Fleur continued, "when you get to Latrece, I want you to go to ze Promenade de la Plage."

"The what?" Harry asked.

"Ze Promenade de la Plage. It is ze main boulevard zat runs alongside ze beach in Latrece. It is very easy to find. When you get to Latrece, you just go south through ze city until you reach ze Mediterranean. Ze beach is right zere, and ze Promenade de la Plage runs alongside it. It is a street with a lot of old seaside hotels. You cannot miss it."

"Okay, Fleur, let's take this slowly," Harry said. "I want to make sure that Ginny gets all of this info."

After Fleur had verbally spelled out "Promenade de la Plage" for Ginny's benefit, she continued. "When you get to ze Promenade, look around for ze Vieux Port--ze Old Port--on ze west end of ze beach. Again, it is easy to find. It is where all ze sailboats and motorboats are tied up. Go east down ze Promenade from ze Vieux Port, and look for a restaurant called Bertani's. It is right on ze Promenade, just across ze street from ze beach at Latrece. It is next door to ze Hotel Bardeaux. When you get to Bertani's, sit down at a table on ze sidewalk outside ze restaurant and wait. Look for a man who is tossing a coin in ze air. He will be ze one I will send to 'elp you."

"A man tossing a coin in the air? Now, wait a minute, Fleur!"

"Just trust me, 'Arry," Fleur said, smiling. Her eyes seemed to twinkle in the firelight. "Zis man, 'e is a very old friend of mine. 'E will be able to 'elp you."

"All right, if you say so," Harry said. He asked Fleur to repeat all her information so Ginny could write it down in his notepad.

When Fleur finished, she turned her head to one side as if she were speaking to someone standing behind her, then looked back at Harry. "Bill wants to talk to you a moment. Good luck, 'Arry...and don't worry. My friend in Latrece will be able to 'elp."

"Thanks, Fleur," Harry said. "I really appreciate this."

Fleur's head vanished from the fire. A moment later, Bill Weasley's head appeared, hovering in the flames. "Hi, Harry! I hear you're going on a bit of a trip."

Harry nodded. "I'm flying down tonight. Dumbledore's given me special permission to go. I'm leaving in the next half-hour or so."

"You know, you don't have to fly all the way down there," Bill suggested. "You could--you know?--go to London and catch the Chunnel Express to Paris, and then take an overnight train to Latrece."

"We thought of that," Harry said. "I had the station master down in Hogsmeade check the Eurorail reservation line. All the trains to Paris and Latrece are booked solid tonight. Latrece is having its annual Carnival celebration right now, and tomorrow is Mardi Gras, Shrove Tuesday. It's the last night of the celebration before the start of Lent, so everybody in France and their brother is going down there to join the party."

"Oh, that's too bad," said Bill. "Well, I hope you make it down there okay. You be careful flying tonight." He looked over his shoulder, as Fleur had done. "Listen. We're going to raid Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley in a couple of hours. We got a tip that Lucius Malfoy was seen in the alley a few days ago. It's a long shot, but he may have tried to unload some of his Dark Arts treasures there."

"Should I wait?" Harry asked.

"No, I think you'd better go ahead and start for Latrece. This lead in Knockturn Alley might turn out to be a dead end. Even if it's not, I don't think Malfoy would have sold something as valuable as Chimaera's Root to a cheap place like Borgin and Burkes. He'd want to hang onto something like that. But when you get to Latrece, find a way to call us if you can. Who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky, we'll find the poison, and you'll have to turn right around and come back home again."

Bill turned to look at his sister. "Ginny, Dad sends his love."

"You be careful in Knockturn Alley, Bill," said Ginny.

"I will. Best of luck, Harry."

In a flurry of flames, Bill's head disappeared from the fire. A few seconds of silence followed. Then Harry looked at Ginny. "Did you get everything that Fleur was saying?"

"Yes, it's all here," Ginny said, folding the notepad. She stood up and walked across the room to Harry. "I wish I could go with you."

"I know. But I have to move fast on this one," Harry said. It struck him that she looked very lovely standing there, with the shimmering light of the fire caught in her red hair. "You know the old motto: 'He travels fastest who travels alone.'"

Ginny came to him and put her arms around his waist. For a moment, he held her close, her head leaning against his shoulder. Her soft, gentle presence gave him a few seconds of relief from everything that had happened that day. It felt good, comforting even, to hold her like this, to feel her breathe against him as they listened to the crackle of flames in the fireplace. He wished this moment would last.

It ended too soon, of course, when she squeezed a bit too hard on the bruises in his lower back. Harry winced. "Ouch!"

"Sorry," Ginny said, loosening her grip and looking at him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Harry assured her. "Just a little tender back there."

"Did you get those bruises looked at?"

"Yeah, Madam Pomfrey checked me out while Professor Sprout and Professor Snape were analyzing the sample we got off the owl. She said I'd be okay."

Ginny took his arm. "Sit down a minute. You're in full-crisis mode. You need to stop and rest or you're going to completely wear yourself out."

"You're starting to sound like your mother," Harry said, grinning.

She led him to a nearby table and pulled a chair out for him. Harry sat down carefully. On the table was a backpack containing his Invisibility Cloak and a change of clothes. Harry's Firebolt rested against the table leg. Clipped on its handle was a brass compass that had been included with the Broomstick Servicing Kit that Hermione had given him for his birthday a few years before.

Ginny pulled a second chair out from under the table and sat down next to Harry. He looked at her. "Do you think I'm crazy to do this?"

She pursed her lips, thoughtfully. "You don't think this could be a trap, do you? Maybe Lucius Malfoy wants you to come after him, so he can capture you and take you back to his master as a prize?"

Harry shook his head. "My instincts are telling me that it's not a trap. If it were, I think Malfoy would have made the bait a bit more obvious. Maybe he'd've put the poison on the note that he sent to Dumbledore, so we'd've been able to identify it right away. I mean, it was just pure luck that Jeremy spotted the owl up in the Owlery after it scratched McGonagall, and that we were able to catch it and find out what the poison was."

He stared off into the fireplace. "I don't even know if the Chimaera's Root is going to be down there when I get to Latrece. All I've got to go on is Dobby's word that Malfoy might have moved his Dark Arts collection to the secret chamber in the wine cellar of his summer home. It's been four years since Dobby worked for the Malfoys. What if they found a new place to hide their things since then? Or what if I get down there and I can't get into the chateau 'cause they've changed the passwords? What if I can't open the crystal lock in the wine cellar? What do I do then?"

He said all this very quietly. Ginny put her hand on his arm once more. "I think you've got to take this chance, Harry. It's the best lead we've had so far. What if Dobby's right, and the Malfoys did move all their Dark Arts treasures to their home in Latrece? If the Chimaera's Root is down there, then you've got to go down and get it. It may be our only chance to save McGonagall."

Harry put his hand over hers and held it there. He nodded. "That's about what I said to Dumbledore when I told him what I was going to do tonight. He said he'd let me go, but I could tell that he wasn't happy about it."

"Well, why should he be happy? His best friend is up in the hospital wing right now, fighting for her life. The last thing he wants is to lose his prize student as well." Ginny smiled. "Just do me one favor. If you do run into Lucius Malfoy down there, make sure you put a hex up his ass that will make his insides come out through his nose!"

Harry laughed. Ginny had never forgiven Lucius Malfoy for giving her the diary that had sent her into the Chamber of Secrets.

"Don't worry," he said. "If I come across Lucius Malfoy on this trip, I'm going to make him eat his own magic wand!"

"No, Harry. You will do no such thing."

Ginny and Harry turned. Hermione had just entered the common room. She was carrying a folded piece of parchment.

"I won't?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. Harry shrugged. "I could give him a good, clean, honest whack over the head with a brick instead. There's something British about that."

Hermione walked across the room to him. "No, Harry...you will not be going after Lucius Malfoy. With bricks or spells or anything else. Your first priority on this trip is to get the Chimaera's Root. Remember that! This is not the time for vendettas. We will deal with Lucius Malfoy when the time comes. Right now, our first priority is to save Professor McGonagall, no matter what."

Her tone was not bossy as usual, but very straightforward. Harry knew that she was saying all this to remind him to keep his mind focused on what he had to do. He looked at her, and nodded to say that he understood.

"Are you all packed?" Hermione asked, looking at the backpack on the table.

"More or less," Harry said. "I still can't believe I'm doing this."

"I have a couple of things here that might help you." Hermione moved Harry's bag aside on the table, and unfolded the piece of parchment. Harry and Ginny stood up and looked at it. The parchment was blank.

"Now watch this." Hermione pulled out her wand and tapped the center of the parchment. "O, Traveler's Map, hear my incantation. Lead me now to my destination."

Ink lines suddenly appeared and spread across the blank parchment, twisting and curving until they formed an image of the island of Great Britain. Major cities, such as London, Manchester, Glasgow, and Edinburgh were labeled on the map in black ink. In the center of this image, right about the location of Hogwarts, was a small red ink dot labeled Hermione Granger.

"Wow!" Harry said. "That's impressive. You called it the 'Traveler's Map?'"

Hermione nodded. "I checked it out of the Hogwarts library. Dumbledore's given you special permission to take this map with you tonight, Harry. Now, put your hand down on the map, wave your wand over it, and say, 'Identify!'"

Harry placed his hand on the map, and pulled out his wand. "Identify!"

A wave of magic seemed to pass over the map, underneath Harry's fingers. When Harry lifted his hand, a new red ink dot labeled Harry Potter appeared next to the dot labeled Hermione Granger.

"As my brothers would say, 'Wicked!'" Ginny said, smiling.

"Now watch this," said Hermione. She tapped the map with her wand. "Magnify!"

Instantly, the map "zoomed in," like a telephoto lens, on central England. It now showed Hogsmeade and the surrounding towns within a 100-mile radius. Hermione tapped the map with her wand a second time, and the map "zoomed in" again, showing an overhead view of Hogwarts and nearby Hogsmeade. (The individual buildings in Hogsmeade were visible on the map, Harry noticed, and the street names were clearly labeled.) She tapped the map once more, and it "zoomed in" to show an overhead view of the Gryffindor common room. The red dots labeled Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were seen standing next to the table.

"Why isn't Ginny on the map?" Harry asked.

"Probably because I haven't identified myself to it," Ginny said. She pulled out her own wand. "Here."

"No, wait." Hermione gently held up a hand, stopping her. "We don't have time for that, Ginny. There's a few more things I have to show Harry on the map before he leaves."

"Oh, right," Ginny said. With a shrug, she put her wand away.

"You know, this map seems very familiar," Harry commented.

"Madame Pince said it's been in the Hogwarts library for over thirty years," said Hermione. "I wouldn't be surprised if our friends, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs came across this map when they were students here, and used it as a reference when they designed the Marauder's Map. Now watch this."

She tapped the map with her wand again and said, "Restore." The map "zoomed out" to show their position in Great Britain once more. Then Hermione waved her wand over the map and said, "Destination: Latrece, France. Travel by broomstick."

An image of a broomstick suddenly appeared on the map over Hogwarts and moved south across England, tracing a thin black line in its wake. It reminded Harry of those animated maps that you saw in the movies, where a black arrow traces the hero's movements as he travels the world. The broomstick on the map moved south across England, crossed the Channel, and continued down through Normandy, past Paris, through central France, around the edge of the French Alps, and east to Latrece on the Mediterranean coast. Words in black ink appeared in the top corner of the map: "Total Distance: 813 miles. 1355 kilometers."

"That's the quickest, easiest route by broomstick," Hermione explained. "The map can also chart you a course on the roads if you have a Muggle car. And Madame Pince said that it can find any address in any town in the world."

Harry winced, looking at the mileage total on the map. "I've got a long trip ahead of me." He checked his watch. It was almost six-thirty. "I'd better get going soon."

"One more thing you need to know about this map," said Hermione. "It can give you a weather report."

She tapped the map with her wand and said, "Restore." The image of France faded and the image of England returned, showing their position at Hogwarts. Hermione tapped the map again and said, "Forecast." Instantly, images of clouds appeared on the map over England. The current temperature at Hogwarts appeared next to Harry's and Hermione's names in black ink: 37 Degrees F. 3 Degrees C.

"As you can see, the rain has cleared for the moment," Hermione said, pointing to the map. "We've got moderate cloud cover from here down to Bristol, but once you get south of there, it's a pretty clear night. Same for most of France. But it is going to be very, very cold up there tonight."

"Colder than a witch's elbow," Harry muttered, looking at the temperature on the map. Hermione and Ginny both looked at him suddenly. With a jolt, Harry remembered that he was standing between two witches!

"Sorry!" he said, quickly. "Maybe I shouldn't use that expression."

"Maybe you shouldn't," said Ginny.

"You're lucky you didn't use the more colorful version of that expression," said Hermione, with a wry smile. "Or you'd have gotten a witch's elbow right in the kisser."

"Two," Ginny added, raising her elbow as if to strike him with it.

"So anyhow," Harry said, with an embarrassed chuckle, "is there anything else I should know about the Traveler's Map?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Your image stays on it until you do this." She placed her hand over the map, waved her wand, and said, "Nullify!"

When she lifted her hand, the red dot reading Hermione Granger had vanished. "Just fold the map up to wipe it clean. When you open it again, just speak that incantation and it will come back to life. You remember the incantation?"

"O, Traveler's Map, hear my incantation. Lead me now to my destination," Harry recited.

"Good," Hermione said. She folded the Traveler's Map and handed it to Harry. "Now, I've got some other things for you."

From her pocket, she pulled out a small wad of Muggle money. "Dumbledore told me to give this to you. It's about 500 Francs and 500 Euros, all in small bills. He said I probably didn't need to tell you this, but you're only to spend this money when you really need it. Do you have a safe place to keep this?"

"Yes, I do." Harry was dressed in a black sweater, jeans, and tennis shoes--clothes that would allow him to blend in with the crowd in any Muggle city. He picked up a maroon jacket that lay across the back of a nearby sofa and put it on. The jacket had an inside breast pocket with a zipper. Harry took the Muggle money from Hermione and put it in the inside pocket.

"Are you sure that jacket's going to be warm enough for you, tonight?" Hermione asked. "It looks a bit light."

"It's supposed to be light," said Harry. "I bought it in Diagon Alley last year. I know; it looks like an ordinary Muggle jacket. But it's got a few magical features added to it. There's a weather-sensitive charm on this jacket that reacts to outside changes in temperature. The colder it gets, the warmer it keeps you. Believe me, I could walk through a freezing blizzard in this jacket and still be warm and cozy."

"Well then, it should come in handy tonight," said Hermione. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small booklet. "Oh, I almost forgot. This is my old French phrasebook. I bought it when I was on holiday in France a few years ago. It might come in handy." She handed the book to Harry. "That's it, really. You're all set to go."

"You mean that's all, Q?!" Harry said, grinning. "No broomstick with a missile launcher in the tail? No magic wand that turns into a hand grenade?"

"Grow up, Double-0-Seven," Hermione said, with a smile.

Ginny looked at them. "Um, that was a Muggle joke, right?"

Harry and Hermione both laughed. "Yes," said Hermione. "I'll explain it to you after he's gone."

Harry put the Traveler's Map and the French phrasebook in the inside breast pocket of his jacket. Ginny handed him the notepad on which she'd been taking notes. "Here, don't forget this."

"Thank you, Miss Moneypenny," Harry said, smiling.

"Sorry?"

"Never mind." He zipped up his jacket and looked out the window. It was now completely dark outside. "Well, I guess if I'm going to do this, I'd better go."

"We'll walk you up to the south tower," Hermione said.

Harry slid his wand into the sleeve of his jacket, so that it rested against his forearm, where he could reach it easily if he suddenly needed it. He pulled on his backpack and grabbed his Firebolt. The three of them left the Gryffindor common room together.

* * *

"Did you go to Latrece when you were on holiday in France a few years ago?" Harry asked Hermione as they stepped out through the portrait hole.

"No, we only went to Monte Carlo," Hermione answered. "I found it rather artificial, actually."

At that moment, Jeremy Wight came running down the hall, carrying a small package wrapped in white paper. "Oh, good, you haven't left yet. Here, your friend Dobby sent these up with me. Sandwiches for your trip."

"I'll put them in your pack," said Ginny. She took the sandwiches from Jeremy.

Harry turned so that she could undo the straps on his backpack. "Thanks, Jeremy. How's Dobby doing?"

"Okay, I guess. He's sitting on a stool down in the kitchens with an ice pack on his head. His wife, Winky, is with him. She's not too happy with you right now, Harry."

"Oh, good," Harry said, sardonically. "Just what I don't need. A mad elf housewife gunning for me when I get back."

"You didn't have a choice, Harry," Ginny said, as she closed his backpack again. "You had to ask Dobby what he knew."

"Try telling that to someone who can knock you through a brick wall just by wiggling her little finger." Harry looked at Jeremy, and nodded down the hallway. "C'mon, Jeremy, walk with us. We're on our way to the south tower."

"I'll talk to Winky while you're gone," said Ginny. "See if I can convince her to forgive you."

As they strolled through the halls, Harry told Hermione about his conversation with Fleur Delacour. "A man tossing a coin?" Hermione asked. "And she wouldn't tell you anything else about who she's sending to help you?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm assuming this chap, whoever he is, has some very heavy veela connections. Either that or he's discovered a new way to open a crystal lock without the Combination Spell. Maybe he's a safecracker and he knows how to blow the door off a wizard vault or something. I guess I won't know until I get down there."

"Too bad you're going to miss the pancake breakfast tomorrow morning, Harry," Ginny said, with a smile. "But I suppose going to Mardi Gras will more than make up for it."

Harry snorted. "I can't believe I'm flying down to one of the world's biggest parties, and I won't have any time to enjoy the fun."

As they came to the winding staircase that led up to the roof of the south tower, another voice sounded behind them. "Harry! Harry, wait up!"

Harry and his friends turned to see Cho Chang running after them. She was wearing a small white patch on her forehead to cover the place where the rogue owl had torn out a chunk of her hair. "I just missed you at the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady told me you'd just left for the south tower. I was afraid you'd already gone."

She handed him a small metal flask topped with a brass cap. "Here! Neville asked me to give this to you. He made it for you when Hermione told him that you were flying down to Latrece tonight."

Harry unscrewed the cap on the flask. A thin wisp of steam floated out of the nozzle. He held the flask up to his nose and took a sniff. His head snapped back! A hot, peppery smell charged up his nostrils and seemed to penetrate straight into his sinuses!

He blinked as his eyes watered. "What is this stuff?!"

"Neville called it Jittercress Tea. He said it's very good for long-distance flying at night. He said to tell you to take small sips of this every half-hour or so while you're up there. It'll keep you awake and alert, and very warm."

Harry took a small sip from the flask. The hot liquid sliced down his throat straight to his stomach. He coughed and wheezed as steam puffed from his mouth. Beads of sweat popped out of his forehead, and a sudden convulsion rattled through his body, clear down to his toes.

"Are you all right?!" Ginny asked.

Harry's vision cleared. He pointed to the flask. "It's a little bit strong!"

He clutched his throat in surprise. His voice was suddenly very high-pitched, like a cartoon chipmunk! The three girls and Jeremy burst out laughing.

"What does it taste like?" Hermione asked, giggling.

"Kind of hard to describe," Harry said, his voice returning to normal. "It's not bad-tasting. It's sort of like...mint tea, with nuances of battery acid."

"Neville described it as, 'A bit tastier than nitro-glycerin, but with much the same effect,'" said Cho.

"I think he's right," said Harry. "Thanks, Cho. Tell Neville I appreciate it."

Cho nodded. "One more thing he said to tell you. When this wears off, you're going to feel very, very tired. So you'd best find a place to lie down and get some sleep as soon as you get to Latrece."

"Oh, wonderful," Harry muttered. He put the flask in the right-side pocket of his jacket, and checked his watch. It was a quarter to seven. He looked up the south tower staircase "Well, come on. Time for me to fly."

At the top of the south tower, they stepped out into the cold night air, looking out across the turrets and ramparts of Hogwarts. Lights burned in the many windows of the stone castle. Harry remembered the first and last time he'd been up here, during his first year at Hogwarts. He and Hermione had carried a crate containing a baby dragon, Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback, from Hagrid's hut all the way up to the top of this tower under the Invisibility Cloak, so that friends of Charlie Weasley could pick up the dragon and fly him to Romania on their broomsticks. Harry wondered now if Ron Weasley had encountered Norbert on his current trip to the Dragon Mountains.

He looked up at the gray clouds filling the night sky. The wind tousled his hair as he pulled a pair of leather gloves from a hip pocket in his jacket and put them on. He looked at the others. "Well, I guess this is it."

Ginny came to him. Not caring that there were others present, she put her arms around his neck and quietly kissed him. "You be very careful down there," she whispered. Now that he was about to say goodbye, her brown eyes showed the anxiety that she felt over the risk he was taking.

"I'll be careful," Harry said.

He held out his hand to Hermione. She grasped it firmly. "Good luck. Remember, Harry, keep your mind focused on your task. If this lead pans out, you're McGonagall's best chance. And if you come across Lucius or Draco in Latrece...well, don't make it personal."

Harry nodded. Hermione stepped up and solemnly kissed him on the cheek. "We'll all be thinking of you here."

"I might as well give you one, too," said Cho, smiling. She stepped to Harry and kissed his other cheek, then grasped his hand in that special grip of hers. "Have a safe trip down. Get back here as soon as you can."

Harry looked at Jeremy. "Do I get a kiss from you before I leave?"

"Not on your life!" said Jeremy, laughing.

Smiling, Harry held out his hand, and Jeremy shook it. "Keep an eye on Hedwig and her eggs while I'm gone."

"I will," said Jeremy. "I promise."

Harry stepped up onto the parapets, mounted his broom, and looked at his friends one last time. "Well, here goes nothing," he said. "I'll see you all soon."

He gripped his broom, stepped off the edge, and rose in the air. His friends waved goodbye to him as he circled the tower. He dropped down between the turrets of the castle and skirted the perimeter of the west wall.

Harry pulled his broom up alongside the hospital wing. He looked in through the window at the beds lined up in the hospital dormitory. Professor McGonagall lay in a bed near the window. Her face was very pale, and she was twitching slightly in her sleep. Professor Dumbledore sat on a chair next to her bed. Hagrid was standing behind the headmaster with tears in his eyes.

Harry rapped on the window pane. Hagrid looked up, tapped Dumbledore gently on the shoulder with his huge hand, and pointed to the window. Harry raised a hand. Dumbledore and Hagrid waved back, gravely. Taking hold of his broom once more, Harry rose through the clouds and sped off into the night.

* * *

In the control tower at Heathrow Airport in London, an air traffic controller leaned forward in his chair as a new call came in over the radio.

"This is TWA Flight 731, inbound from Dallas to London, calling Heathrow Air Traffic Control," said a voice with an American Southern accent. "Y'all ain't gonna believe this, but I just saw somethin' real strange up here in the clouds. There's a kid outside my starboard window flying on a broomstick! He's wearin' glasses and he's got a scar on his forehead. Please advise. Over?"

The air traffic controller reached over and thumbed the red intercom button on the console. "Er, Roger, Flight 731. Nothing to worry about. That's just an optical illusion. We get them all the time up there in the sky. We suggest that you land at Heathrow as soon as possible and get a few days rest before you take off again. You've obviously got a bit of jet lag, Old Sport."

Leaning back in his chair, the air traffic controller looked at his companion, who was sitting at the next console. "Crikey, Reginald, that's the third pilot in the past two weeks that's called in about seeing those bloody kids flying around up there on broomsticks!"

* * *

At 10:00 PM, London time, Harry crossed the English Channel under a clear, star-filled sky. It took him almost an hour, flying over the moonlit water, to reach the north coast of France. The waves hissed silently beneath him and the sea air was cold and slightly damp in his face. But Harry was quite warm in his jacket, and his senses were wonderfully alert thanks to Neville's Jittercress Tea. In the distance, he saw the hulking silhouettes and blinking lights of huge cargo ships as they sailed up the Channel, bound for the Straits of Dover, their massive engines droning behind them, their huge propellers churning up a foamy trail in their wake as they traveled through the night.

When he reached the coast of France, Harry flew inland over Normandy, passing over shadowy medieval ruins and apple orchards full of bare trees. He reached the medieval town of Rouen, and landed on the rooftop of an old house in the Rue du Gros Horloge, the "Street of the Big Clock," stopping for a few minutes to rest and check his progress on the Traveler's Map. Below him, gas lamps and old lanterns lit the narrow cobblestone streets of the old town, and Harry saw many half-timbered houses that looked much like the timber-framed houses he'd often seen back in England. He remembered that the English had owned Normandy for many centuries. Joan of Arc had even been burned at the stake here in Rouen. To his left, just over the next rooftop, the needle spires of the city's famous Gothic cathedral rose into the night like a gathering of misshapen giants.

The big clock itself, from which the street had received its name, was in the center of an arch standing over the middle of the cobblestone street. As Harry sat on the rooftop, eating one of Dobby's sandwiches, the chimes of the old clock rang out to mark the hour. The clock's single gilded hand pointed to the hour of 12. Harry checked his watch; it read 11:00 PM. Remembering that France's time was an hour earlier than England's time, he set his watch forward before continuing on his journey.

Charlie Weasley, a frequent nocturnal broomstick flier, had once told Harry, "When you travel by night on your broom, you should follow the rivers, but not too close, unless of course you're sightseeing. Rivers are a great point of reference when you're traveling. But if you follow them too close, they can wind around through the countryside and add miles onto your trip. If you're in a hurry to get to your destination, keep the river in sight, but don't try to take every curve and bend in it. You'll make better time if you travel as the crow flies."

Harry heeded this advice now as he followed the Seine River southeast until it curved off towards Paris. It was a great temptation to keep following the river as it wound through the city, but he didn't have time to make side trips for sightseeing tonight. He turned south and bypassed the city. In the distance, over the treetops to the east, he could see Paris stretched out across the horizon for miles in all directions, like a banquet of light. He could just make out the magnificent spire of the Eiffel Tower, rising like a beacon on one end of the city, and the gleaming white domes of the Sacre Couer rising above the rooftops on the other end.

I'll come back some day,

he thought. Bring Ginny, Ron, and Hermione and really explore that city. Well, on second thought, maybe I'll just bring Ginny.

But he had to stop for a few minutes when he flew over the palace at Versailles. The sheer massive size of the royal palace amazed him. It was bigger than any structure he had ever seen, bigger even than Hogwarts. Illuminated by floodlights, surrounded by huge geometric formal gardens, and ornamented on all sides by fountains, water pools, canals, and bronze and marble statues, the palace looked like a enormous wedding cake. It was certainly a home fit for a king. The gilded statue of Louis XIV himself sat in the center of the vast courtyard, flanked by the sumptuous apartments and colossal edifices that he had created for himself. The statue of the king seemed to stare up at Harry as he hovered overhead.

Something Arthur Weasley had once said came to Harry's mind. "Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic." The Palace at Versailles reminded Harry that a Muggle could create his own magical world, even if he had no magic beyond his own imagination, and no power beyond his ability to command others.

Harry resumed his journey, passing over the massive forests at Fontainebleu. The majestic acres of oak, pine, chestnut, beech, and silver birch swept by underneath him in a long black shadow. At the southern edge of the forest, he corrected his course and turned southeast again.

Throughout his trip, Harry kept his speed constant at about 120 to 130 k.p.h. (70 to 80 m.p.h.). The Firebolt had a top speed of about 250 k.p.h. (150 m.p.h.) but that speed wasn't very practical on long-distance journeys at night. Flying at top speed, it was difficult to spot objects in your path, and to adjust your altitude to the sudden changes in topography in time to avoid them. Even world-class Quidditch players whose reflexes were sharp and agile had been known to "crack up," as Charlie Weasley called it, when flying their brooms at top speed across unfamiliar terrain in the dark. It was just too easy at that speed to come flying around a bend in the trees and slam right into the side of a hill, or crash through the wall of a barn, or decapitate and/or electrocute yourself on power lines. It was better to keep your speed moderate so you could look ahead, see the objects in your flightline, and give yourself plenty of time to avoid them.

Harry flew on, taking occasional sips of the Jittercress Tea from his flask and keeping a close eye on his compass. Another hour of flying brought him over the rolling hill country of Burgundy. Below him, he saw dark patches of farmland laid out in checkerboard patterns, separated by barbed wire fences and rustic stone walls. There was an earthly flavor in the air and a strong smell of manure. He passed over sleeping farms with horses and cows resting in winter pastures, and fields bearing the stubble of last year's crops. He saw rural villages and ancient castles resting on grassy hillsides, and followed moonlit canals that ambled southward through the region. He flew over barren vineyards full of brown, withered grape vines tied up on wooden stakes, and imagined that if he were to fly over these vineyards in the summer, he would find these vines green and leafy, and drooping under the weight of their own harvest.

When he reached the Saone River at Macon, he turned south once more and followed the river until it connected with the Rhone at Lyon. In the distance to his left, he saw the rose-colored tinge of the coming dawn, blazing like the aura of a candle flame across the jagged, enamel-white peaks of the French Alps.

Another hour's travel down the Rhone River Valley brought him to Avignon and the huge Papal Palace on the river banks, where the Popes of Rome had been temporarily headquartered during the 14^th century. Harry landed on the famous bridge at Pont St. Benezet that reaches only halfway across the Rhone. He remembered the song that he had learned way back in nursery school about this bridge ("On the bridge at Avignon, people dance, people dance."). His teacher had shown them a picture of the half-bridge, and had explained that the other half of it had been washed away by a flood sometime in the 17^th century and had never been rebuilt. There were no people on the bridge now, dancing or otherwise--it was only about 5:30 in the morning. After checking his position on the Traveler's Map and eating the last of Dobby's sandwiches, Harry turned east and flew over Avignon, flying head-on into the approaching sunrise.

He was now in the Provencial region of France. He knew he was getting close to the Mediterranean. Even in the chilly morning hours, he could tell that the air was considerably warmer and much more humid here. He flew through the southern foothills of the Alps, a range of craggy limestone mountains that were taller and stonier than the rolling hills of Burgundy. He saw hilltop villages, with stone-and-plaster houses scattered across the sides of the hill like children's blocks. From a distance, he thought he could even smell the odor of bread baking in the village bakeries as he passed by. He flew over ghostly ruined castles, Roman arches, and medieval abbeys resting on red ochre cliffs that glowed in the light of the rising sun. The world around him seemed full of images torn from Impressionist paintings, fragments of landscapes lifted from the works of Van Gogh or Cézanne.

Soon, the rocky hills below him were covered with forests. In the valleys between the hills, he saw green pastures filled with livestock, and fields and vineyards waiting impatiently for the next growing season to begin. On the edges of the fields, he saw windmills standing like giants, as if waiting for some Quixote to come along and challenge them. Everywhere there were cypress trees and olive trees and the sound of mountain springs flowing through the valleys, and always that earthy smell, although now it seemed to be mixed with a perfume-like scent, like lavender or honey.

As Harry kept moving east, the last stage of his journey started to get harder. He was now flying through the lower half of the Maritime Alps, through a maze of narrow gorges and rocky ridges. The mountains here were higher, more rugged, and closer together, and the spaces between them narrowed until Harry was flying through sheer ravines and deep chasms bordered on either side by tall granite spires. He saw occasional villages on the mountaintops. In some of these, the houses were clustered together like mosaic tiles on top of a narrow flat pinnacle. In others, the houses seemed to dangle like loose ornaments off the top of a sheer cliff, and it looked as if the entire village might topple into the ravine if any of the residents suddenly sneezed. The sun was up now and Harry, who had been flying straight into it for half an hour, was getting a blinding headache.

Gradually, however, the mountains leveled out into a series of low but massive hills covered with thick forests. And then, as Harry cleared the top of a jagged hill crowded with oak and chestnut trees, just to his right, he saw the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea stretched out before him, shimmering in the morning sun.

He came to a dead halt in midair and stared, open-mouthed, at the sea. He was awestruck by how blue, how unbelievably blue the water was. It was a deep, rich azure, nothing like the iron gray and foamy seas that he had occasionally seen back in England. His eyes hurt just to look at it--but maybe that was because he'd had too much sun. The water spread out for miles like a smooth blue carpet until it reached the horizon, where it seemed to gently dissolve into the clear blue sky. Harry could not take his eyes from it. It all seemed so calm, so peaceful. He couldn't even hear waves crashing on the near shore. But he was close enough to hear seagulls crying, and to smell the sea's iodine-salt smell. He turned his broom towards the water.

Just over the next hill, he found a shaded cove, with a beach covered with smooth round golf-ball-sized pebbles. Harry landed on the beach and struggled out of his backpack. He unzipped his sweat-soaked jacket and gratefully pulled it off. He stood on the shore, taking deep breaths of sea air. The air was very cold in the morning sun. He watched small waves wander leisurely into the cove, splash across the pebbles on the shore, and then retreat back into the sea, as if they too were just having a look around. The blue water looked so deep and inviting that Harry resisted a sudden urge to run forward and belly-flop right into the sea.

But I have to feel it,

he thought. I HAVE to. Just for a moment. I may never get another chance.

He sat down on a large, smooth boulder, took off his shoes and socks, and pulled up the cuffs of his jeans around his knees. Treading carefully over the rocks and pebbles, he stepped down into the waves and walked a few feet into the sea. The water was cold enough to make the bones of his feet ache. He knew if he stood here too long, his feet would turn blue with cold, as blue as the water perhaps. But right now, for this moment, it felt wonderful. He stared off into the sea and imagined himself jumping in and swimming like a porpoise across the Mediterranean, not stopping until he plowed up like a beached whale on some golden sandy shore in northern Africa. He reached down, caught a wave in his hands as it swept into the shore, and tossed it up into his face. He shook his head pleasurably, splashing the water from his hair.

"I needed that!" he said, aloud. He'd drunk the last drop of Jittercress Tea about an hour ago, and its effects were starting to wear off. And while the water on his face was very refreshing, his muscles were tired from the long journey, and his head still hurt from flying into the sun.

I hope whoever it is that Fleur wants me to meet in Latrece has a soft place for me to lie down when I get there

, he thought. Otherwise I may have to stretch out on a rooftop somewhere and get some sleep.

He stepped out of the water and sat down once more on the large boulder to let his feet dry in the sun. Checking his position on the Traveler's Map, he discovered that he was very close, perhaps twenty miles or so from Latrece. He put on his socks and shoes, stuffed his jacket into his backpack, and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. He would need to wear the cloak over his head and backpack for the final stage of this trip. It wouldn't completely cover the broom, but there was nothing that he could really do about that. He'd have to take the chance that any Muggles who looked up and saw the front handle of the broom sticking out from underneath the cloak would only get a passing glance of it, and would not be able to tell what it was.

In the last twenty miles of his journey, he flew over fishing boats and trawlers skipping across the sea, and saw schools of silver fish moving through the water below like shadows in the azure blue. He passed by more sheltered coves and long strips of sandy brown beach, populated by cypress and palm trees. He saw small coastal villages piled up on rock peninsulas, surrounded on all sides by the sea, where it looked as if the houses had literally been stacked on top of each other like sugar-cube pyramids. He saw large mansions and stucco villas with gilded balconies sitting on hillsides overlooking the water. (On one of these villas, he thought he saw a naked woman standing on a terrace. He did a double-take and realized that he was looking at a white-plaster replica of the Venus de Milo, standing on the balcony amidst a crowd of garden statues.)

He moved inland again, over hills dotted with fruit trees, prickly-pear cactus, and razor-edged fronds. And then, as he came up over a jagged rise covered with olive trees and green, leafy eucalyptus plants, he found a sprawling city laid out before him.

Harry stopped in midair. He stared down across a maze of red-tiled roofs, luxury hotels, marble-spired churches, gleaming-white townhouses, and modern skyscrapers. He could hear the hum of traffic moving through the streets below. To his left, he saw mansions and expensive villas nestled in the surrounding hills. To his right, the city stretched out to the south to meet the Mediterranean.

He had arrived at Latrece.