Harry Potter and the Book of Ages

Chapter 6: The Parting of the Waves

With his eyes closed, Harry could almost believe he was flying on his Firebolt. The only thing was he had never flown his Firebolt so low over the tops of the waves that he could feel the sea spray on his face.

When he opened his eyes, all he could see was the sea. Come to think of it, thought Harry, this is only the second time I've ever seen the sea!

Harry stood on the front (the bow) of the boat. From that point on the Griselda, he could see nothing ahead of him but the waves disappearing off to the far horizon. Harry knew that Sam was taking the boat for a refit and that some friends had a yard at Tilbury in Essex, so that was where the work was to be done.

The journey was going to take a good few days; after all they were in no rush: "The old girl won't be pushed!" Sam had explained at dinner the previous night.

The journey meant sailing right round the southeast of England from Southampton, round past the Isle of Wight, along the coasts of Hampshire, Sussex and Kent. They would sail past some of the most famous seaside resorts in Britain, but Harry had never visited any of them.

The Dursleys had gone on holiday to the seaside when Harry had been small, but he had never been allowed to go with them, and the only other time he had seen the sea was when Uncle Vernon had gone mad trying to escape from Harry's Hogwarts invitation letters.

Remembering back to the hut-on-the-rock five years ago, Harry realised that event had marked the end of his old life and the beginning of his new one and now....

Would he ever be able to return to the magical world, or would he spend the rest of his days as an outcast?

It wasn't the first time that Harry had been alone in the world, but at the beginning of his third year he spent only a short time away from the magical world and the Ministry of Magic had conveniently ignored his "crime" of blowing up Aunt Marge. Somehow Harry did not think he would get off so easily this time; after all he was accused of multiple counts of murder, not just some uncontrolled but relatively harmless magic!

The dreadful memories of just one year ago also came to Harry's mind.

All too well Harry recalled sitting in the chained chair in front of the full Wizengamot and having the list of his crimes read. If it had not been for the clever use of logic by Albus Dumbledore, Harry would not only have been expelled from Hogwarts but also most likely would have ended up in Azkaban, the terrifying wizard prison.

Dumbledore.

What would he be doing now? thought Harry.

Would he use the Order of the Phoenix to come to his aid and help prove his innocence?

Or round up members of the Order to find Harry and "bring him in"?

Bill Weasley was a member of the Order, and he was one of the witnesses against him.

As Harry raised Sam's binoculars to his eyes and scanned the distant shoreline, he thought about the Omnioculars that he still had safe and sound, tucked away in his improvised rucksack. Would the information that they contained prove his innocence?

Strangely and despite all these worries, Harry felt some degree of peace for the first time in ages because...

He was not alone anymore.

Sam.

A newfound friend.

Sam...?

Harry realised that he did not know Sam's last name. Tank he knew had the surname of Thomas, like Dean, but he didn't know Sam's last name.

The rhythmic rise and fall of the waves and the slap, slap of the water against the craft's hull helped maintain the sense of tranquillity Harry rarely felt. His scar was calm and pain-free and so was his spirit.

The strange and disturbing revelations about Sam's grandmother and his conviction that it was his duty to respond to the call for help when--not if--it came made Harry both respect and admire Sam.

It had been two days since Sam and Harry had waved goodbye to Tank and made ready for their trip to Tilbury. Harry had enjoyed the work of readying the boat for their departure: loading provisions and fuel, checking the equipment, radio, and even the emptying of the bilge tanks, etc.

Sam showed Harry the charts of their voyage, pointing out the water depths and hazards. Harry was intrigued to see the large number of submerged wrecks that were marked. Sam explained that the English Channel was one of the busiest waterways in the world; it was not really surprising that so many vessels had foundered in these waters.

Harry thought back to the magical ship that had brought the students of Durmstrang to Hogwarts nearly two years ago. Like many others, Harry could not hide his astonishment when the great whirlpool formed in the Hogwarts lake and the vessel rose from the depths.

Nearly two years!

Harry thought back over all the events that had transpired in that time and the trials he had experienced: becoming Hogwarts Champion against his will, all the tasks of the tournament and finally that year, his ordeal at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Then last year. Harry wracked his brain to remember the phrase that Hermione used to describe it; he knew she had quoted the queen, and it sounded to him like a charm or an incantation. Then the phrase came back to him.

Annus horribilis, horrible year.

Yes, Hermione, you were right. It certainly was that. Harry had felt that everything that made his life worth living at Hogwarts had been slowly taken from him until he was left with nothing but the D.A. to keep him going.

Finally at Easter even that came to an end when Cho's best friend, Marietta, snitched to Umbridge. Her disclosure should have ensured that Harry was expelled, but instead Dumbledore made it look as though the meeting had been all his idea and not Harry's.

When Dumbledore had been on the run from the Ministry, wondered Harry, where did he go?

This train of thought was disrupted when he turned and looked back along the deck.

Whenever he glanced at Sam, he always seemed to be looking right at him.

At first this scrutiny was a little unnerving, disturbing almost, but as time went on the feeling changed. Harry could not say how he knew, but he felt that Sam was undeniably on his side. The first night out, Harry had lain in his bunk and seriously considered telling Sam who he really was, but who was he really?

A marked man?

A murderer?

A saviour?

A criminal?

Harry's face was drawn in a tight frown as he pondered these unanswerable questions.

Through the binoculars Harry could see the now-familiar outline of a cross-channel ferry crossing their path, and he knew they must be near Newhaven. That meant the lighthouse he could see on the horizon must be marking Beachy Head. To check his theory he shouted back to Sam.

"Well done, mate! You're quite right. Once we round Beachy Head it's not too much further to Hastings. I plan on mooring overnight, but the skies don't look too good and I'd rather we had a safe haven overnight than try to ride out a storm at sea in this old girl. It's just coming up 7 o'clock, and the tide won't turn until nearly midnight. How about we eat ashore tonight?"

"Whatever you say, Skipper!" Harry called back cheerily. At first reluctant to accept the welcome food Sam prepared in the tiny galley of the Griselda, Harry finally gave in and enjoyed Sam's basic, but more than edible food. Sam had finally convinced Harry that not only was he earning his keep but that he was also good company and thus making the trip up to Tilbury very much more enjoyable and safer than it would have been solo.

As the first few spots of rain landed on the deck, Harry turned and made his way inside the cabin to where Sam stood at the wheel.

"You take over for a minute. I've a job to do." Harry took hold of the wheel, and Sam told him what to do and to keep an eye on the compass.

This is the life! thought Harry. If I am outcast from the wizarding world then perhaps I could stay here with Sam. Earn my keep or work on a boat with someone else.

At first he'd thought it strange that he didn't seem to feel seasick at all when they had entered the Solent from the safety of Southampton Water. Harry had felt comfortable and at home almost as soon as he had set foot on the Griselda, and he supposed that the tossing and turning of the sea was much like being tossed around by high winds in a Quidditch match. That never worried Harry and neither had the sea.

Standing at the wheel, Harry couldn't help but feel a smile play across his face. It didn't stay there for long.

In the corner of the cabin was Sam's maritime radio. It had been tuned to the shipping forecast, and Sam had noted the details in the log, but now the forecast was over.

Sam was listening intently to the news.

The national news on BBC Radio 4.

The broadcaster's voice was saying, "The Surrey Police have repeated their request for any information in connection with the murder of a family in Little Whinging, Surrey. Chief Inspector Reid repeated the description of the 16-year-old boy sought for questioning. He is described as being 5'9", slim build with jet black hair, vivid green eyes and with a lightning bolt-shaped scar above his right eye. The police advise members of the public to not approach this individual as he is highly dangerous and possibly mentally unstable. Information should be telephoned to..."

That was it.

The Griselda was fitted with a ship-to-shore radio. All Sam had to do was contact the Coastguard and ask for the police to be waiting at Hastings. Harry would be taken into custody by the Muggle police, and that would be that.

Harry had spoken to Tank about being wanted, and Tank said Sam wasn't too fond of the police. Had Tank told Harry's tale to Sam? He'd had plenty of time.

Before he turned to look at Sam, he could feel his eyes staring at him.

Slowly, Harry turned expecting to find an expression of fear...loathing...disgust on Sam's usually smiling face.

But what he saw was an expression that showed no trace of condemnation, but only concern.

"Is there something that you want to tell me...Seeker?"

Harry looked down at the floor, a lump forming in his throat as myriad thoughts raced through his mind.

What about the Statute of Secrecy? By telling Sam who or what he was, would he be committing another offence? Would he be able to explain to Sam what had really happened without telling him he was a wizard? When Harry at last raised his head to look Sam in the face it was through tear-filled eyes.

"It's a long story. I have no right to involve you; I could put you in danger and just make matters worse."

"Let's drop anchor here and go below. You can tell me what you can over a nice hot cup of tea."

Harry was immediately reminded of Ron saying, "It's what my mum always does!" A nice chat over a cup of tea! Well, it couldn't hurt, thought Harry, and he made his way below to put on the kettle.

Ten minutes later, Sam and Harry sat cosily in the tiny galley, each clutching a mug of tea and with a packet of custard creams open on the table. More memories, everything seemed to remind him of his life in the wizarding world, a world to which he may never be able to return.

"Right, now, Seeker, why don't you start by telling me your real name?"

Harry nodded, staring at the bubbles in his mug.

"My name is Harry Potter, and that news broadcast was about me." Immediately he looked up at Sam's face and saw that he was frowning but he said nothing.

"I told Tank what had happened. I guess I thought he would have told you when I was asleep. Well, just over a week ago my aunt came to stay. I'd better explain that I live with my aunt (my mum's sister) and her husband and their son Dudley. My mum and dad were murdered a couple of months after my first birthday, but I wasn't killed, although sometimes I wish to God I had been."

Harry took a deep steadying breath and continued. "Anyway, as I said, just over a week ago, Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, came to stay. She forgot to pack her dog's biscuits. I was sent to a local shop to buy some, and while I was there I was kidnapped by..."

Harry struggled for an appropriate non-magical description of Death Eaters; finally he said, "Some supporters of the person who had murdered my parents. I don't know why they grabbed me, but they knocked me out and took me to a big house in Wiltshire. The house was owned by one of the leaders of the gang who told me that someone made to look like me had murdered my aunt, uncle and cousin as well as Aunt Marge and wanted everyone to think I had done it. I managed to escape, but while I was getting away I heard a news report saying I was wanted by the police. They think I murdered them, but I didn't! I couldn't murder anyone! I was trying to make my way to London to some friends when I met up with Tank. You know the rest."

When he finished speaking Harry picked up his mug of tea and took a huge gulp. Since he was so tense, the tea didn't go down smoothly, and Harry began coughing and spluttering.

Sam jumped to his feet and began hitting Harry between the shoulder blades to relieve the coughing fit.

"Sorry! Some of the tea went down the wrong way," Harry exclaimed, now bright red in the face.

"You need to calm yourself, Mr. Potter!" Sam's deep voice proclaimed. Harry looked back into Sam's eyes, and once again a powerful memory was brought to mind.

This time the memory came from the day last Easter when Harry had been caught by Umbridge running from the Room of Requirement. On that occasion Kingsley Shacklebolt used the same phrase to Umbridge, after she attempted to shake a response from Marietta Edgecombe. "You need to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge!" Shacklebolt had declared in his deep voice.

If only Sam was Shacklebolt, thought Harry. I could just let him sort out everything; he could get in touch with Dumbledore and make sure the Omnioculars get to the Order!

Unfortunately for Harry, Sam was a Muggle with no knowledge of the wizarding world.

"I'm okay now, thanks." Harry then had to ask the question to which he dreaded Sam's answer.

"Are you going to hand me over to the police?"

Harry sat there, eyes glued to Sam's face waiting for his response. Instead of answering Harry's question, however, Sam posed one of his own.

"If you were in my shoes and had just heard your story, what would you do?"

Thinking back over the version of events that he had told Sam, Harry simply sighed and said, "You don't really have much choice I suppose. I don't know that I'd believe it."

Harry thought also of all the wondrous magical things of which he had learned since his eleventh birthday: witches, wizards, dragons, spells and Animagi. Not to mention trolls, giants and hippogriffs. The wizarding world had very strict laws about revealing itself to non-magic folk and the Statute of Secrecy had stiff penalties for those breaking it.

If only Harry could explain to Sam about the magical world then he would understand, but he couldn't.

Harry rose from his seat slowly, "I'll go and get my stuff together while you phone the police." He turned to leave the tiny cabin, not wanting to look Sam in the face.

He still had his back to Sam when he heard, "Would it help if I told you that my paternal grandparents were both Squibs?"

His jaw open in astonishment, Harry spun his body round to face Sam so fast that his feet didn't have time to catch up and he nearly fell over. "Squibs?" Harry managed to splutter.

"Yup! Both my grandad and grandma on my dad's side were Squibs. Not a drop of magical blood between the pair of them, nor in any of their children or grandchildren."

Harry had plonked himself back down on the seat staring wide-eyed at Sam.

"As soon as I heard the name Harry Potter on the radio-broadcast I wondered if it was the same Harry Potter who brought down Voldemort when I was a kid. I remember going to a party with my mum and dad and looking just like you do now. There were fireworks that seemed to go on for hours. Food that made the craziest things happen when you ate it. I had some chewing gum that made bubbles that lasted for hours!"

"So you know about witches and wizards?"

"Oh yeah! Just 'cos I can't do magic doesn't mean I don't know about the magical world. So, would you like to try and tell me what happened again?"

It was with a much lighter heart that Harry was able to explain to Sam EXACTLY what had happened and to not leave anything out, well not a lot anyway. Harry kept his knowledge of the Order of the Phoenix to himself as he had no wish to jeopardise any of the members by a careless slip of the tongue.

"These Omnioculars you've got show whatever it is that Voldemort, Malfoy and the Death Eaters are up to then?"

"Yes and it's vital that I get them to Dumbledore as soon as possible. Everyone always says that Dumbledore is the only wizard that Voldemort is afraid of so I reckon he'd be the best person to get them to and so that's where I'm headed."

"Isn't Dumbledore at Hogwarts?"

"I suppose so," replied Harry, "but I have another address I can contact him at in an emergency and it's in London. If I can come with you to Tilbury I should be able to get to London from there. It is walking distance, isn't it?"

"Sure it's walking distance, but it's a long walk - about 20 miles or so I reckon, but loads of lorries head into town from the docks and you could hitch a lift or just get a train. Mind you, we've a good few miles to go until we reach Tilbury and I'm starving hungry. Let's go ashore to eat."

Sam rose from the tiny table, but sat down again when he noted Harry's forlorn expression.

"You worried about being recognised?" queried Sam.

Harry nodded his confirmation and said, "If I'm spotted and arrested, you'll be in trouble for harbouring a fugitive. I don't want that after all you've done for me."

Sam looked at the earnest cast to Harry's eyes and said in a low and reassuring voice, "Now why don't you let me worry about that. I'm certain we can sort out a quick disguise. Well, good enough to go ashore for a few hours anyway."

As Harry's mind clicked into logical puzzle-solving mode he remembered the hat that Tank had given him. He retrieved it from his pillowcase rucksack and stuck it on his head. Sam, meanwhile, had been rummaging around in a box of bits and pieces that he kept under his bunk.

Emerging at last, he shouted, "Eureka! I have found it!" He held aloft some clip-on sunglasses. "These should fit your frames OK."

Harry took off his glasses and Sam quickly attached the clip-ons which fitted quite well after a little adjustment. With the hat on his head and his new sunglasses, Harry thought his disguise was OK. Well OK enough for a couple of hours anyway.

They moored the Griselda and made their way ashore.

"Got to have fish and chips in Hastings - best you can get anywhere," proclaimed Sam, but Harry had spotted an item on the menu that reminded him somewhat forcefully of Ron.

"Double Mixed Grill! If you can eat it all then you can eat on us!" read the challenge on the board outside the restaurant.

"My best friend Ron would love to take them up on that. He doesn't eat his food, he inhales it!"

"Ron?" queried Sam. "Who's Ron?"

"My best friend, or rather one of them." Harry was still reluctant to let Sam know too many personal details. Mad-Eye Moody was always going on about "constant vigilance" and would probably be horrified at the amount of info Harry had already given to Sam. Last year Harry had put his closest friends at great personal risk during their trip to the Department of Mysteries and he had no desire to repeat his error.

In an effort to change the subject Harry said, "Isn't Hastings the place where the Norman Invasion took place?" He remembered this fact from his junior school history classes - they had been a lot more interesting than his History of Magic lessons at Hogwarts.

"Yes, it sure is. The main battle took place a couple of miles inland. There's an Abbey on the site called, funnily enough, Battle Abbey. Well worth a visit if you're into history. Me, I'm more interested in the future than the past. Get that from my gran I suppose, she's great at reading the future. Tea leaves, palms, crystal ball, that sort of thing. She's well known for it."

The conversation had been flowing as the two made their way along the seafront to a fish restaurant that Sam said was the best in town. It was immaculately clean with sparkling black and white tiles on the floor and walls with a gleaming steel fish fryer. The smell of fish and chips accompanied by the unmistakable tang of vinegar made Harry's mouth water.

They seated themselves at a table near the back of the restaurant next to a fire escape. If the police do come in then I can make a quick getaway, thought Harry but his attention was quickly focused on his meal of cod and chips with a mug of hot, strong tea. It's difficult to be vigilant and to enjoy such delicious food.

As they finished their meal, Sam leaned over and whispered conspiratorially to Harry, "Don't look at the dessert menu - there's a treat I've saved for you. Come with me!"

Sam paid the bill and the two of them left the warmth of the restaurant and felt the cool night air on their face as they walked further along the seafront.

There was a queue of people standing waiting to be served; Harry couldn't make out what they were waiting for, but he joined the queue next to Sam anyway. They slowly moved forward and then Harry saw....

"Waffles! We're queuing up for waffles?"

"Yeah, but not just waffles. Just you try them!"

By now they'd reached the head of the queue, "Two of your Summer Specials please!" The young girl working behind the counter of the seafront kiosk quickly and efficiently cooked two waffles on a waffle iron then sprinkled sugar on the still-hot waffles. Next, she added two extremely generous helpings of whipped cream and topped the lot off with slice after slice of fresh strawberry. The waffle was placed on squares of greaseproof paper and handed them to Sam and Harry.

They were delicious!

Both Sam and Harry ended up with cream on their noses and laughed at each other as they tried to lick the cream off with their tongues. Harry couldn't remember eating anything quite so delicious including all the Hogwarts feasts he'd attended.

Sam and Harry had seated themselves on a seafront bench while enjoying their waffles, but as Harry licked the last of the cream from his fingers and gazed out over the sea his calm enjoyment was brought to an abrupt and very painful end.

The scar on Harry's forehead erupted with pain causing him to cry out and clutch at his head convulsively. His scream of pain had caught the attention of passers-by, some of whom rushed to his side offering help.

Since it was now dark, Harry was no longer wearing the clip-on sunglasses. The pain reached fever-pitch, causing him to rub the scar in a fruitless effort to ease the excruciating pain as the second half of his disguise - namely the hat - ended up on the floor.

A middle-aged man with greying hair and a neat-cut beard had pushed to the front of the crowd around Harry.

"Stand back please and let me through! I'm a doctor."

By this time Harry was lying flat on his back, Sam was kneeling at his side. The doctor grabbed Harry's wrist, supposedly to check his pulse, but his fingers were nowhere near the pulse points below the thumb.

Sam helped Harry sit up at his proclamation of, "I'm fine now. Really I'm OK. I don't need anything."

Pulling his hand roughly from the doctor's grasp, Harry looked down and saw what was in the doctor's bag. Bottles that would not have been out of place in Snape's dungeon and what was unmistakably a wand!

Seeing Harry's glance and sharp intake of breath, the doctor said very quietly, "Now, now, Mr. Potter. Please don't make a scene. Let's do things as quietly and unobtrusively as possible."

Harry's look of horror was quickly noticed by Sam. Unfortunately at that precise moment another man in the crowd shouted, "Hey, isn't that the kid the police are looking for? His picture was on tonight's news. He's a murderer!"

Harry felt himself being pulled roughly to his feet with hands holding both his upper arms in vice-like grips. Someone was talking into a mobile phone and obviously giving directions to the police.

"Hurry, we've got hold of that kid that's wanted for the murder of his family in Surrey. Harry Potter. Yeah, he can't get away; two of my mates have got hold of him. We're outside the 'Bel-Air' B&B on Marine Parade."

Harry could hear police sirens in the distance as he looked fearfully around the crowd. The two men holding his arms and wrists were confident they could hold on to their prisoner - after all he was a skinny kid - until the police arrived, but as the police cars got closer Harry knew he had to get away fast.

Suddenly there was a surge through Harry. Of what? Power? Electricity? Harry didn't know, but at that moment both men released Harry, as they could no longer hold him. In that same instant Harry put his head down and charged at the crowd. They parted at the sudden change in events and Harry found his path miraculously clear.

He ran!

He ran as though his very life depended on it - which it probably did!

Harry ran until he reached an amusement arcade packed with teenagers; he passed inside and strolled around trying to look as though he'd been there for hours. Then he saw the signs for the toilets. Harry went inside and entered a cubicle right at the back.

He was in luck! The cubicle had a window in it, although it looked as though it hadn't been opened in some time. When Harry gave it an almighty push it opened; he was able to slip between the bars and drop down into a back alley. Trying to make as little noise as possible, Harry moved to the end of the alley to get his bearings. To his right rose the steep hill with Hastings Castle on its top. Behind him was the sea and to his left was the town centre.

Knowing that he had to make his way back to Sam's boat, Harry headed inland and away from where he reckoned the police were. A long route round Castle Hill and then he could make his way eastwards to the Harbour.

Walking over Castle Hill, still wearing the too large trainers, the bottom of Harry's baggy jeans quickly became sodden from the still wet grass. Looking back towards the waffle stall, Harry could see the flashing lights atop the police cars; there were three of them now and Harry could just make out the policemen talking to the crowd.

Between Harry and the sea loomed the ruins of Hastings Castle. As he stood and looked at the jagged remains, Harry remembered Hermione's words about Hogwarts: "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a mouldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying, 'Danger! Do not enter! Unsafe!'" Here, however, all Harry could see were ruins with a well-maintained fence and a ticket office with a sign showing opening times and admission prices.

If only it had Muggle-Repelling Charms on it then perhaps I could enter and hide from the police, thought Harry. To his astonishment the entrance gate seemed to glow blue and shimmer for a split second. Cautiously Harry approached it and held out one hand to touch it. His hand went straight through! It was charmed! Harry stepped right up to the gate and passed through it, thankful for the temporary sanctuary.