The Phoenix and the Serpent

The Phoenix and the Serpent

The entire Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. Any original characters belong to the author and may not be used without permission.

Chapter XVIII: Medals and Scars

Harry woke to the scent of the forest and the sight of a leaf-strewn floor. For a long moment he sat where he was, forehead against his bent knees, motionless with disbelief. Somehow he'd survived another night in this godforsaken wood. Daylight had come, shining through the canopy of leaves above him and creating constellations of light on the surrounding ground. He had no idea what the hour was. He had no idea even what day it was.

He lifted his head, groaning as his neck and shoulder muscles ached in protest of his sleeping position. He stretched and rubbed at them, then realized his arm no longer felt as weak as before. Carefully he unwound a part of his bandage and looked at his wound. One crescent-shaped mark of Wagnard's claw had formed into an ugly purple scab, but an angry red welt no longer surrounded it. Coven was as good as his word.

The thought of Wagnard brought Harry back to his waking dream. He'd seen it again, for a third night in a row, the bright red glow of the Crystal Cage and the image of that woman. She always looked the same each time he saw her, clad in a crimson robe tied by a black sash around her waist. Her skin was not the sickly pale color of Wagnard's flesh, but gray as granite. Her emerald eyes stared without blinking, and her hair was the color of a billowing flame. He was sure he'd been looking at Dahlia, the Cimmerian Sorceress.

The image of her always filled him with a sense of foreboding, although she never spoke, never made a move towards him. He reached beneath his shirt and felt for the Crystal. It was there still, hung around his neck like a protective charm. He wondered now if it was wise to keep it anywhere near him at all.

But he had not been harmed so far. If the Cimmerian Sorceress was truly alive inside the blood-red gem, it seemed she had no power outside of it.

Leaning against a tree for support, Harry pushed himself to his feet. His legs were still weary from travel and lack of sleep, but at least they were no longer numb from the Corpulus disease. He stretched his limbs and took in his surroundings.

The hollow where they camped looked even smaller in full daylight, just five steps long at its widest. It was a shallow crater, carpeted in dry, yellowing leaves that crackled beneath his feet, and surrounded by a concealing wall of thin trees. Some half-buried rocks, decked with moss and lichen, ringed the edge of the hollow. From somewhere nearby came the soft sound of running water. Danny had chosen their hiding place well.

Scattered about the encampment were Moody's Dark Detectors, droning like drowsy bees. Danny had apparently deployed every one he'd found in Moody's trunk. Yet the sight of them did nothing to exorcise Harry's fears. Here in the wilds they slept near wolves and bears and all manner of predators, not all of them animals. These devices seemed such a flimsy defense against what waited in the dark heart of the forest.

His eyes fell upon the figure at the center of the hollow. Moody lay flat on his bedroll, covered up to his chest in heavy blankets. Harry had a terrible moment when he thought the old Auror had already died in the night, but relaxed when he noticed the soft movement of his breathing. A little color had returned to his ashen cheeks, and the pale ring had gone from his dry lips. The night before, Danny had clamped a dark metal bracelet around one of Moody's wrists--perhaps some kind of healing device? The old man looked quietly, deeply asleep. Of his godson, though, there was no sign.

Harry's stomach let out a low growl. He put his hand on it, grimacing. He had not eaten anything in the last twelve hours. And where was Danny? Harry looked about. He hadn't strayed off again, had he? Not when they were virtually defenseless here!

Cold worry filling his empty guts, Harry stepped towards the birch trees to peer out into the open, only to leap back when something dropped onto the leaves near his feet. It was a little drawstring pouch.

"There're some nuts and figs in there, if you're hungry," came Danny's voice.

Surprised, Harry looked up. High above him, Danny balanced himself on the upper branches of a birch tree. The branches looked too thin to safely support his weight, yet he trusted them with a careless grace, one hand holding onto the trunk and the other shading his eyes as he gazed out to the forest beyond. His long striped scarf wafted behind him like a kite's tail.

"How long have you been up there?" Harry asked him.

"Since the sun came up," he answered. "You get a nice view for miles around. We're in luck. No signs of pursuit."

It struck Harry that while Danny was watchful, he seemed completely fearless and at ease. A part of Harry envied the elder boy's calm.

Harry picked up the bag. Inside were several handfuls of acorns, figs, and raisins. Pretty much the same thing he'd been eating for the past few days. They tasted good, but did next to nothing for the hunger. As he reached into the pouch, Harry tried not to think of the processions of roast beef, baked potatoes, and chicken he'd enjoyed at the feasts of Hogwarts.

"Don't eat the whole thing," Danny called to him. "Gotta save some for the old man when he wakes up."

Harry ate a handful of raisins and resealed the bag. His stomach grumbled for more and he did his best to ignore it.

"How long do you think we can stay here?" he asked.

"We're staying until Moody wakes up and is strong enough to travel," answered Danny. "I'm not risking moving him again."

"But what if..." Harry's words trailed off. He did not want to sound like he was afraid, that he wouldn't risk his safety to save Moody.

"If any Death Eaters get close," Danny continued for him, "then I guess I'll have to slaughter them, won't I."

Harry inwardly recoiled at those words. The very thought of killing made him ill. He sat down heavily, fingering the pouch and wishing he could have some more to eat. Not for the first time, he wondered if there was any more help forthcoming. It seemed that every kind of rescue they'd counted on had failed.

"I wonder when Dumbledore's going to find us," he said out loud.

"I wonder if he's still looking."

Harry jerked his gaze back up at him, not believing what he just heard. "Of course he is! You don't really believe he's going to leave us out here like this, do you?"

"Oh no, I'm sure he won't. That's why he's moving heaven and earth the past few days to find us. Bloody good work. I can almost smell the cooking from my own kitchen now."

"Dumbledore IS working on finding us and he WILL rescue us!"

"Very optimistic, aren't you?" Danny finally turned his gray gaze down at him. "Well, I just wish he'd hurry the hell up."

"That's rich," Harry shot back, "coming from a bodyguard who took his sweet time going around the chasm while Moody and I were this close to getting killed!"

In a heartbeat, Danny had leaped down to land in front of Harry, his face devoid of expression.

"Take out your wand and follow me," he ordered, and strode out through a gap in the trees.

For a moment, Harry stood there dumbstruck. Part of him wanted to fight, furious as he was with Danny's snide remarks. But another part of him felt ashamed, and afraid he had pushed Danny too far. Still another part was horrified of the possibility of another confrontation with lethal magic. The image of Irian's pain-stricken face as he fell backwards into the gorge floated up before him, and he quickly shook the thought off. It didn't do any good to think about that, or to stand here doing nothing. Danny would think him a coward. Harry followed him out of the hollow.

As he picked his way down the low hill, he found himself in a wide clearing covered in meager brown grass and clusters of late wildflowers. Several feet away, a wide blue ribbon of water flowed across the clearing, bubbling around the few low grey rocks that dotted it before losing itself once more among the trees. The reeds lining its shores bowed low as if to drink, partially obscuring a pair of ducks that were curiously watching them. Past the brook ran a short clear space, then the thick barrier of the forest began again. And beyond it all, the rim of an endless sky, broken only by jagged treetops and the occasional startled bird.

Danny stood at the center of the meadow, arms folded and expectant. Harry pushed the thought of the elder boy's proven skill and experience out of his mind as he approached. Danny towered over him, silent and stony.

"Well," began Harry, keeping his voice steady, "what?"

"Let's get started," said Danny. "We each take two steps back."

They did so, Harry never letting his eyes stray from Danny's own.

"You'll need your wand," said Danny.

"I don't need to do this," Harry retorted, but he pulled out his wand even so.

"Hey, you were the one who asked for it."

"I didn't ask for anything!" Harry curled his hands into fists as he stepped forward. "It's you who's being such an inconsiderate prat!"

"Oh, so I'm a prat now for keeping my promise?"

Harry stopped, blinking. "What?"

Danny raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Training, that's what I'm talking about. What did you think we were going to do?"

Harry's mind went blank. Danny took him out here to train? "We're not...dueling?"

"Na-a-a-aw!" Danny cried, choking back his laughter. "No, no, no. Hoo boy, that'd be like an ant challenging an elephant.

"I was just thinking that if we don't work off all this tension, we're likely to do something stupid. When I'm under pressure, I practice. So I thought, well, why don't I just go on and keep my promise. I said I'd teach how to duel--you asked, remember?"

Harry blinked again. He did remember asking back in Hillsdale, but he thought Danny wasn't taking him seriously. In fact, he probably still wasn't.

"You're not taking the mickey out of me, are you?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

Danny spread his arms. "Hey, you were the one the one who said you wanted to learn how to duel so you can fight your 'evil uncle.'"

Harry bristled at his words. But more than that, the thought of dueling brought the events of yesterday fresh to his mind. Shame burning inside of him, he tucked his wand back into his jeans.

"I don't feel like it."

"What?"

"I said I don't feel like it! If it hasn't occurred to you yet, I just killed someone yesterday!"

"You want to know my take on what happened yesterday?" snapped Danny. "It happened because both the parties involved didn't know what the Kneazle's arse they were doing. That Death Eater was an idiot who didn't how to handle a Wandshield properly, and he paid for it. But guess what? You don't know how to use a Wandshield either. You don't even know what the hell it is. And while we're lost in the middle of nowhere with Moody out of business and no help in sight, I'm not about to trust my back to someone as green as you are. So this isn't just to your interest, all right? I want to make it out of here too, preferably with all of us alive."

Harry stood where he was. He didn't want to admit it, but Danny had a point. They were in a dangerous situation, and staying unprepared would mean he would never lay eyes on Hogwarts again. If he wanted out of here, he had better learn how to fight. Now was the best time to learn.

"All right," he finally said. "You're really teaching me how to duel, then?"

Danny's face relaxed into a smile. "You ready to learn?"

"Yeah." With his anger faded, Harry didn't quite know how to handle the situation. "What do I have to do?"

"Well let me tell you how this works: I talk, you follow instructions. Don't interrupt me and don't question me. You do that, you learn something. Clear?"

Harry didn't like his smug demeanor one bit, but said, "Fine."

"All right. To begin with, let me explain something." He sheathed his wand and started pacing, hands behind his back. "Dueling is both a science and an art. If you do it right, you can control the situation. And when you're in control, people don't always have to die.

"Dueling isn't about killing people. It's about winning against them. So that brings us to the First Holy Commandment of Dueling: Win. That's all; you've got to win. But there's only one way to win, and that's through respect. You gain respect, and you make the other bloke lose it. Got that?"

Harry nodded.

"Right. One other thing: Dueling isn't just a matter of a guy pointing a stick at someone and saying some mumbo-jumbo, hoping the other guy's just going to stand there and take it. You don't move your feet in a wizard battle, you don't move them ever, afterwards.

"So that brings us to the Second Holy Commandment of Dueling: Always protect yourself." He stopped pacing and gazed straight at Harry. "What's the Second Commandment?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't know how long he could take Danny treating him like some school kid. "Always protect your--"

He barely even saw Danny's hand move, just a quick flash before the world around him disappeared in a blinding white haze and a ringing noise came to his ears.

He came to when a hand shook him by the shoulder. "Hey, kid, wake up. C'mon, we don't have all day."

Harry gasped as the haze slowly lifted from his eyes. He swayed on his feet, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs from his brain. "Wha...what..."

"What's the Second Commandment again?"

"You jinxed me!" cried Harry, "You just went ahead and jinxed me!"

"Yeah. So?"

"That wasn't fair! I was not ready!"

"Then you haven't learned anything, have you?"

As Harry stared at him in outraged disbelief, Danny sighed and said, "In a duel, words are cheap. Your opponent talks to distract you, make you lose focus. He's certainly not going to be polite and wait for you to get ready. Protecting yourself means you're always ready. You're body's supposed to know the Second Commandment, not your head. So again, what's the Second Commandment?"

He jerked his hand up. Harry instantly leaped away.

"Precisely," said Danny. "Now you're learning. Let's move on."

Harry had no time to stay angry. He spent the next half-hour showing Danny everything he knew about wizard combat from Second Year, only to be told he had to unlearn them. "Forget it. Worthless. Complete rubbish." Danny shook his head derisively. "We've got our work cut out for us."

"We'd work faster if you stopped criticizing and start teaching me something useful," Harry grumbled.

"All in good time, kid. And by the way, didn't I tell you not to question me?"

Danny was as good as his word though. The first practical lesson was the Wandshield.

"It's one of the best forms of protection against projectile spells," Danny explained, "and one of the easiest to learn. You were taught the Protego Charm from school, but that's not nearly as good. Protego works by shielding you on all sides to deflect curses aimed at you. But there's that thing about defense: You protect your front, you're weak at your back. You protect your left, you're weak at your right. And if you protect all sides..."

"You're weak in all of them," Harry concluded. It did make some sense.

"Right, and don't interrupt me again. Protego's brittle and can only defend against minor jinxes and curses. Even if it manages to deflect a curse, there's every possibility it may hit your companions. Therefore, you need something more accurate and effective."

He raised his wand and a silver Wandshield emerged, radiating from the tip into a wide circle. "The Wandshield works by concentrating defensive magic on a single area around your wand. With one move you can defend any side you wish. And with enough training, you can even deflect the curse in whatever direction you want."

"So a Wandshield will protect me from any curse, then?" Harry asked.

"All except one. You know which one that is, right?" Danny looked meaningfully at Harry's forehead, where the scar ought to be. Harry got the hint.

"Then how do I defend myself against that?"

Danny shrugged. "You tell me, you survived one. Anyway, a Killing curse will break a Wandshield like a rock through a windowpane." He shut down his shield and motioned to Harry. "Now you try it. To summon a Wandshield, point your wand in front of you. Keep it level with the ground, and concentrate your power at the tip. The incantation is 'Luxaegilis.'"

Harry did as he was told. Eyeing the end of his wand, he imagined silver energy radiating from it into a protective circle. "Luxaegilis!"

At first, only a small bright spark would burst from the tip. It took many minutes and several tries to sustain it into a shimmering little shield, two inches wide.

"Look, I'm trying, okay?" Harry said when he saw Danny's mouth twitch. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and concentrated harder.

It took an hour more, but finally Harry managed to conjure the same silver Wandshield Danny created. He stared at it in wonder. It looked like a great gleaming translucent lens radiating from the tip of his wand. Through it, the world took on a shimmering, silvery tinge, as though he was looking at something bright through a film of clear water.

"How long before I learn to Mindcast this?" he asked Danny.

"If you practice everyday, probably less than a month. So practice, it every moment you got. Clear?"

Harry nodded. He didn't have to be told that. He was going to do it anyway.

"Good,'" said Danny. "Now, let's test it."

Harry gazed at the elder boy in alarm when Danny took several steps back. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Just protect yourself."

"Hey, wait a minute! It took me an hour to make this!"

"Whether or not that breaks is entirely up to you, Robbie. Concentrate on keeping it up and you'll be fine." He stopped backpedaling and raised his wand. "Ready or not..."

Harry ducked behind his shield and turned it at Danny. His ears caught a whizzing sound as a curse sliced through the air. It discharged at the very center of the shield. The force nearly shoved him off of his feet. Harry felt like he was given a mild shock; the jolt ran down his arm and into his body, rattling his teeth. He grabbed his arm and steadied it.

But the Wandshield held.

"Not bad," Danny called to him. "You're catching on. Okay, now a stronger one!"

"Wait!" cried Harry. "I'm not--"

The curse struck his shield like a cannonball. The wand in his hand quivered like a bowstring and, surprised, he loosened his grip on it. A high-pitched noise like shattering glass erupted in his ears, and the last thing he saw before white haze lowered over his vision again were the translucent shards of his Wandshield, twinkling in the sunlight as they scattered in all directions. Some indeterminate time later, he woke to someone slapping him lightly on the cheek.

"Merlin's beard, kid," said Danny, "how are you going to learn to defend yourself if you can't control a Wandshield?"

Harry felt his veins constricting around his temple. "It would help," he replied through gritted teeth, "if you let me learn at my own pace."

"Nah. You want to learn to swim, you hit the deep end of the pool." He strode away back to his original position, and Harry was sorely tempted to attack him from behind.

"Look, I'll show you how it's done." Danny turned around and readied his wand. "Go on. Gimme your best shot."

That gave Harry pause. "Just attack you, yeah?"

"Absolutely. And don't go easy. I can handle it."

He beckoned with his wand. Barely restraining his glee, Harry concentrated, drew back his wand into a ready position.

"Just go for it, kid!" said Danny. "Drop the poses and just shoot me!"

"You got it!" shouted Harry. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A cloud of glaring white light shot from his wand, turning instantly into the brilliant form of a stag. His Patronus wasted no time; it lunged straight for Danny, who was stock-still in surprise. He brought up his Wandshield at the last moment, but the Patronus slipped through it as if it were made of air.

"Whoa!" Danny leaped back to avoid the stag's antlers. His foot struck a fallen branch and he fell backwards. The Patronus soared over him, turning into thin mist before vanishing altogether.

Barely suppressing his laughter, Harry approached his teacher, who lay very still with his feet propped up on the branch. He would have given anything to snap a picture of the shocked dismay on Danny's face.

"What's that Second Bloody Commandment again?" asked Harry.

---

The sun had turned their shadows into dark pools beneath their feet by the time Daniel decided to call it a day. They climbed up the hill to the gap between the trees. Harry sat by himself for a minute while Danny went in to check on Moody.

Harry breathed in the cool forest air as he sat in the shade, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. It felt good to stretch and use his muscles again. He could hardly believe it, but Danny was right--staying busy did help relieve the tension. Already he was eager for more practice, and hoped that Danny would accommodate him later that afternoon.

After some moments the elder boy rejoined him, all the liveliness drained from his face. "No change," he said as he sat on the grass. "Stable, but no change."

Harry watched the look of worry in his eyes and said, "I'm sure he'll be all right. He looks better now, and he did last through the night, didn't he?"

"Yeah, I guess," Danny replied, "I'm just...eager to get a move on." His face took on a wistful look. "Nap must've wrecked my house by now, never mind all his training."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but could think of nothing to say. What could he possibly say? He was as homesick as Danny, and he had no comfort for himself. So he changed the subject.

"Would you tell me something about yourself?"

Danny cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

"Well, no reason. It's just that we've been traveling for some time, but I don't know much about you. Except that you eat-sleep-and-breathe dueling and you live with a niffler."

Danny looked as if he didn't think much about talking, but said, "Exactly what do you want to know?"

"For instance, how long have you been living alone? Don't you have family?"

Danny lay down and pillowed his head on his arms. "Quite some time. Seven years, I think. Ever since I left school. I didn't have any family I could stay with, so I lived on my own."

"What about Moody? Didn't he..."

Danny shut his eyes. "No, he didn't find me a place to live. I asked him not to. I wanted to make my own way.

"I made a living running errands for people, then struck out on my own as a private investigator and mercenary. You know, for stuff people didn't want to take to the authorities for some reason. Or are too dangerous for them to do themselves."

Harry figured the reasons weren't exactly legal, Danny's nature being what it was.

"Is that why you have a hidden wand, then?" Harry asked.

One eye popped open to stare at him. "What's this, a Ministry Inquisition?"

"No, I was just wondering. It's just that it's a strange wand. Exactly what is it?"

Danny held up his left hand. The silvery wand slid out of his palm like a concealed knife. It looked like a streak of moonlight, somehow solid enough to be grasped.

"It's a phantom wand," Danny said. "Works just as well as a regular wand, except of course it's ethereal and can pass through my body." The wand vanished into palm, then like a sleight-of-hand trick it reappeared in his right hand. "I keep it in my left forearm, as a nasty surprise for some unruly folk who don't like to fight fair. I wear a Quidditch armguard over it because, well, the glowing tends to freak people out." He offered it to Harry, who gingerly tried to take it. His fingers slipped through it when he tried.

"You have to be absolutely sure you can grasp it," said Danny, "otherwise you won't be able to." Harry tried again and this time managed it. The phantom wand was cool to the touch and weightless as air.

"It's amazing," breathed Harry, turning it his hand. "Where'd you get it? What's the core made of?"

Danny did not answer for a while, and when he did, his tone signaled finality. "A friend gave it to me a couple of years back, and that's all I'm going to say. Some things I've got to keep confidential, you know." He retrieved it and, with a flick of his fingers, the wand slipped it back into his palm. He lowered his arm again, looking up into the sky. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone either. Sometimes the element of surprise is the only thing that keeps me alive. Anyway, what about your wand?"

Harry fished it out. "It's 11 inches, made of holly, and has a phoenix feather core."

"Can I?"

Harry passed it to Danny, and he turned it around with his fingers. "Ollivander," he muttered. "Thought so. Good balance, not tip-heavy. I like the make, and holly's always a good choice if you want to control something as intense as a phoenix feather." Harry felt a bit of pride at these words. He had always liked his wand.

Danny twirled it around his fingers, nodding in approval, then unsheathed the black wand from his belt. "This one's made of ash," he announced. "Nine inches. The core's a helix made from a bicorn's horns. It's not much good at long range, but the short length lets it pack a punch up close. Perfect for busting through Wandshields."

"Did Mr. Ollivander make that too?" asked Harry, warming to the conversation.

"Na-a-a-aw," came Danny's laughing reply. "If Old Ollie put out combat wands like these for boys like us to pick up, the Ministry'd haul his ass to court! I got this while I was abroad, in America, right after I got out of school. You want good dueling wands, you get them in America. All shapes and sizes, any core of your choice without restrictions, and no hassle on the paperwork, so long as you have the money!"

"I'll keep that in mind," said Harry, though he doubt he'd ever make it outside of Britain, much less get to America. "But I'm quite satisfied with my own. It's my first one, after all."

"Yeah, but it's good to have some backups, you know, if you can get them. You never know about these things."

"Do you still have your first one, then? Or did you just discard it?"

Harry was surprised to see Danny's smile falter. "My first wand? I, uh, no, I didn't discard it."

"Oh? What happened?"

Danny's smile vanished altogether as he gazed at the forest edge. "The Ministry broke it."

Harry took a moment to hide his shock. The Ministry of Magic only broke wands as punishment for crimes. He was threatened with that back at the beginning of Third Year, and he instantly remembered Hagrid, who was expelled from Hogwarts many years before. They were both innocent, but something told him Danny was not.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," said Harry.

Hearing this, Danny seemed to snap out of it. "Don't be," he said, laughing a little. "Don't be. Merlin, it's been so long ago, it hardly matters. Yeah, the Ministry snapped my old wand in two before kicking me out of Hogwarts."

"But...why?"

"Oh..." Danny's smile was sharp and secretive. "Because I was 'bad.' Or so they said. I did some things they didn't agree with."

No wonder he's reluctant to talk about anything linked to Hogwarts, thought Harry. "But what did you do?"

Danny opened his mouth to reply, but a sudden noise interrupted him. "What was that?" he asked, sitting up. "Did you hear it?"

Harry jerked his head up. His ears had caught it too: a low rumbling, distant and obscure. He frowned. "It sounded like...an explosion."

Both of them leaped to their feet, and Danny grabbed a nearby branch of a tree and hauled himself up. Swinging up from branch to branch, he was soon back at the vantage point where Harry had seen him that morning.

"What is it?" Harry called up to him. "Do you see anything?"

Harry saw him cock his ear to the south. Harry strained to listen as well, but heard nothing more than the susurration of the wind in the leaves, and the low droning of Moody's Dark Detectors.

Finally, Danny said, "It's a battle. I see some smoke over the treetops, and I think I hear spellfire."

Harry turned south, and sure enough, he saw a thin ribbon of rising smoke marring the jet blue canvass of the sky.

"A battle? The Death Eaters?"

Danny nodded. "Most probably. Fighting the members of the Order, I bet."

A wild hope surged in Harry's heart. "Dumbledore IS searching for us!" he exclaimed. "This is our chance! We ought to go there, help them somehow!"

But Danny was shaking his head. "I don't think so."

"What? Why not?"

"From the looks of it, the fight's a good three miles away. It'd take more than an hour should one or both of us go there, and by that time the battle would be over. It'd be good if the Order wins, but what if the Death Eaters do? We'd be a sight if we walked in on them in the middle of their victory party."

"But--" 'We're this close,' Harry wanted to say.

"Plus, that would mean leaving Moody behind. I'm not going to do that. No way."

Harry's face fell. Again, Danny had a point. They'd be risking Moody's life if they left him alone. And Harry knew he wasn't skilled enough yet to either go off on his own or stay and protect Moody. It was too much of a risk.

Danny leaped down and landed beside him. "Don't you worry about it," he said. "Whoever wins, they're likely to come looking for us here. If it's the Order, then we get to thank our lucky stars. But if it's the Death Eaters, well," he grinned, "at least we'll be the ones waiting for them, hey?"

Harry took a deep breath to drown his disappointment. Patience, all they needed was patience. Now was not a time to make a mistake by splitting up. They'd made too many mistakes already. The next one may well be fatal.

---

For hours, they watched both the distant plume of smoke and the forest edge, and strained to catch voices or the sounds of fighting. Harry felt an equal measure of hope and dread as he watched the smoke fade to nothing. He had forgotten all about training. Sooner or later, he thought, people--hopefully the right ones--were going to step through those bushes in the south and find them.

The sun swept low, reaching for the horizon hidden behind the treetops. The shadows lengthened once more, and a cool breeze began to blow from the far-off mountains. Still, no one came looking for them, and they gave up when twilight descended on them.

They crept out of the hollow down to the brook. Danny kept his eye on their surroundings as Harry knelt to wash. The water felt cool against his skin as he splashed his face. After Danny took his turn, they filled a kettle and returned to camp, where they ran it through purifier device Moody had in his trunk. After a long afternoon of tension and expectation, the water was a godsend. Harry nearly choked in his eagerness to drink, the water so cold and painfully sweet on his parched tongue.

As he put his cup down, Danny laid out the smooth black rock again, an artifact that emitted heat without light. He set it in the middle of their camp, next to Moody. After checking all the Dark Detectors to make sure they were working properly, he sat himself near his godfather's bedroll again. The elder boy didn't seem much interested in either drinking or eating. He stayed by Moody, sometimes adjusting the blankets and checking the old man's pulse. Harry heard him muttering something he couldn't make out, but the tone was unusually gentle, even soothing.

Even if you did lose family to the war, what gives you the right to deprive others of their own? Danny's words to the Death Eaters echoed in Harry's mind. Danny said he had no family he could rely on, but now Harry realized this was not true. Despite all the fighting, all the insults, the old man obviously meant a great deal to him. Harry found himself imagining, just for a moment, that Sirius lay there instead of Moody, and he felt a pang of sympathy for other boy.

Harry wanted to say something reassuring, but before he could think of anything, Danny got up and moved to the entrance of the hollow.

"Go and get some rest," he said, sitting down. "I'll take first watch. I'll wake you up in six hours so you can take a turn."

Harry lay down on his bedroll, looking up. Misty moonbeams slanted through the branches above him, and through the gaps in the canopy of leaves he could see the stars. He'd never seen the night sky so vast, or the stars so many, like diamond dust scattered on black velvet. Ironic that he would notice that out here, but perhaps that made all difference. Maybe knowing danger was always near heightened his senses, making cold and wet days a complete misery, and yet making peaceful nights such as these glimpses of paradise.

Danny abruptly said, "Let me ask you something, if you don't mind."

Harry blinked. "Yeah?"

"What's it like being Harry Potter? How does it feel to be the savior of wizardkind?"

Surprised, Harry asked, "Why do you want to know?"

Danny shrugged. "I've never met a celebrity before. I'm curious."

At first, Harry couldn't think of a reply. So many feelings came to mind, he thought he'd have no way of explaining it completely. Then he blurted out, "I'd rather not be one. A celebrity, I mean."

"Hmm?" Danny turned and peered at him. "Why not? I thought you'd be living a sweet life, being the darling of the public. What's wrong with being famous Harry Potter?"

"'Famous Harry Potter?'" Harry gave a bitter laugh. "'Famous Harry Potter's' just something everyone else has created! It's got nothing to do with me. What's wrong with it? Almost everything! People staring at you all the time, wanting to be your friend just because you're famous, having all these expectations on how you ought to be, and when you don't live up to them they think you're dirt. And everything you do, whether you succeed or fail, gets pasted on The Daily Prophet. People are always eager to see you mess up; at a drop of a hat, they'd use your name and make up all sorts of stories about you. You think I'd put up with that, just to be 'Famous Harry Potter'?" He sat up to look at Danny, who was watching him silently. "I'd rather live like this, like a different person, like a nobody. I'd rather have no one to use me and nothing to live up to. I'd much rather trade fame for freedom. You said something like that once, right? Of anyone, I'd think you'd understand!"

Danny sat quietly for a moment, considering him. Then he gave an amused snort and said, "Gods, are you always this angsty? How do your friends stand you?"

Harry gave a cold stare and slumped back down. "You don't get it at all."

"I do, actually, and I agree--there's nothing quite like living with no one tugging at your strings. So I'll tell you what: as long as you don't pull any of that 'I'm Harry Potter, Gotta-Save-The-World' crap on me, and thank goodness you haven't, I'll treat you like a regular person. How's that?"

Harry considered this, then deciding Danny was sincere, he turned to face him. "Sounds good."

"And I get to call you Robbie."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What for? It's not my real name."

"Yeah, but what the hell. I like it better. Besides, you did say you'd rather be someone other than 'Famous Harry Potter.'"

Harry smiled. Danny always wanted his way. But this was something he could readily agree to.

He closed his eyes, shifting around until his body felt comfortable. Soon, he felt it, the tiredness of his body, and the first little gaps in his thoughts that signaled sleep. As he yawned, an idle thought came to him.

"Danny?"

"Yep?"

"I was wondering...why'd you stay? You could've just walked away back in Hillsdale... when you found out who I was. What made you stay?"

He didn't expect a reply, but he heard one, right before he finally fell asleep. "Well, I can't just leave you to face your 'evil uncle' alone, can I? Us orphans have to stick together."

---

Harry dreamed. Somehow he knew he was dreaming, aware as he was to the unreal quality of his surroundings. This time, however, he did not see the tall woman in the crimson robe, as he expected. This time it was something infinitely more terrible.

When he opened his eyes he was still lying in the hollow, but neither Moody nor Danny was there with him. Moonlight poured in through the leaves and the branches of the trees; the shadows they cast on the forest floor looked like grasping, skeletal hands. Despite the chilly air, the autumn mist had somehow lifted and the forest had taken on a distinct clarity.

Harry tried to get up and suddenly found the muscles in his arms and legs had seized up. It felt as if something heavy and invisible pressed down on his chest. He struggled to raise his arms and sit up, then froze as his ears caught a noise from somewhere nearby.

Click. Click.

His breath caught in his throat. A nameless fear filled him. Something was out there, just out of sight beyond the flimsy circle of trees. He heard heavy footfalls. One after the other, circling the hollow. Looking for a way in.

Click. Click. Click.

Fear pumped from his heart to his limbs, galvanizing him. He struggled to move and managed to sit up. The clicking noise came from the front now, near the gap in the trees which was the only way out. In desperation, Harry pushed himself off of the ground, trying to get to his feet. But his legs were useless. He fell back down in a heap.

It was too late anyway. The clicking ceased, but a shadow had blocked the moonlight filtering through the gap in the trees. It had come at last, blocking the exit. It had come for him.

Harry felt a rush of terror, so strong he thought his heart would stop. The shadow was a great, featureless lump of darkness, but for the twin coin-like eyes that glowed with an unholy white light. They fixed him in their lidless stare.

A heartbeat later, with a roar of two voices, the shadow lurched forward. A massive arm shot towards him. Harry screamed as a huge paw reached him, ready to tear out his heart.

---

"HEY, WAKE UP!"

Harry's eyes flew open as he jerked away from the hand on his arm. Gasping, he recoiled from the figure before him, his back hitting the nearest tree trunk.

Danny was crouched in front of him, staring at Harry in surprise. "Calm down," the elder boy said, looking somewhat unnerved. "You were moaning in your sleep. I tried waking you up but you started shouting. You all right?"

Harry's eyes darted from left to right, confirming to himself there was nothing waiting beyond the trees. The air was silent but for the wind in the leaves and branches. Only when he was sure of this did he lie back down, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.

"What the hell was that about?" Danny asked him. Harry couldn't answer. The terror was still too near.

"Just a dream," he said. "Just a stupid dream."

"Your dreams always give you heart attacks?"

Harry did not answer. I should be so lucky, he thought angrily. He hated this, hated the waiting, hated the shock of waking up to nothing even though he felt danger at every side. Why doesn't somebody--anybody--just come and take us away already? Anything but this endless, slow-burning tension that was killing him inside out. Why doesn't something just happen?

"Anyway," said Danny, "It's only been about three hours. Have some water then go back to sleep."

"Forget it," said Harry listlessly.

"Hey, you're jumpy. You need some rest, that's all."

"What's the use?"

Danny frowned. "What do you mean 'what's the use?'"

"We're going to die out here anyway, right?"

"What?"

"You said it yourself. The Order's never going to get here in time."

Danny's jaw fell open. "Now wait a minute--"

Harry's voice was devoid of emotion. "Dumbledore must be at wit's end by now. We've tried everything and we're still stuck out here. Now the Order probably doesn't even know where to look. I guess it's just a matter of what kills us first, right? If the Death Eaters don't get us, then hunger will. Or maybe disease. Or some hungry animal while we're asleep in our beds."

"Hey, cut that out! I didn't say any of that! Of course Dumbledore's going to find us! Of course we're going to get rescued!"

Harry grinned without humor. "Awfully optimistic, aren't you?"

"Stop that!" Danny grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. He's afraid, Harry realized dimly. Danny's bravery had only been a façade and it had given way. Oddly enough, Harry didn't care. He roughly shoved Danny away.

"You cut it out!" he shouted back. "I'm sick to death of this! Nobody's done a thing to save us! We're going to die out here!"

"WE'RE NOT GOING TO DIE!"

"YES WE ARE! WE ARE AND IT WON'T MEAN A THING! IT WON'T--"

A low moan sounded through the still air. Surprised, Harry fell silent. Danny whirled about, simultaneously drawing his wand. But there was no threat. Their gazes converged upon the figure lying on the bedroll.

Moody's eyes twitched, then opened to gaze dazedly above him.

"Moody?" The word dropped from Danny's mouth, filled with hope and disbelief.

The old man's magical eye swayed, first to Danny, then to Harry, then back to his godson. Danny edged towards him. "You're...you're awake? You're all right?"

A low muttering issued from the Auror's cracked lips. Danny bent down, turning his head to listen. Harry watched them, silent and astounded.

A moment later, Danny straightened up and turned to Harry. His smile overflowed with relief, and his eyes were moist and bright.

"He's asking, 'Who do I have to jinx to get some sleep around here?'"

---

The day dawned quickly in the east. At his post, Harry watched the sky change, chameleon-like, from dark violet to pink to a startling light blue. Not even the Black Barrier could fully erase that beauty.

I've lasted another night in the woods, he thought, watching sunrays streak through the sky. That's got to count for something.

Danny had woken up ahead of him and had headed down to the stream to wash up. Harry had opted to keep watch over Moody. He was about to settle back when he noticed the old man was already awake. Moody's magical eye swiveled a full circle, taking in his surroundings, before settling on Harry.

"Danny?" he rasped.

"It's me," Harry said, wondering if Moody could recognize him. "Danny's outside."

Moody shook his head a little to clear it. "Can't see very well. Kind of...hazy."

"It's still a bit dark," Harry assured him "Are you feeling all right?"

"Do I look all right?" groused Moody. "I can't raise my legs and most of the feeling's gone from my left arm." With an effort, he raised his hand to take a look.

"I've been meaning to ask," said Harry, "what's that thing around you wrist?"

Moody shook his hand to loosen the flesh beneath the bracelet. "Piece of lodestone. Known to have healing properties. Useful." He put his arm down and shut his eyes.

Harry watched him for a minute, and felt restless in the sudden silence. "Can...I get you anything? Water? Food?"

"In a minute," Moody replied, "Don't have much of an appetite right now." After a long pause, he said, "You did good, by the way."

"Huh?"

"You and Danny...you did well in getting us out of trouble and finding a place to hide out."

"Oh," Harry shook his head, smiling ruefully. "It was...it was Danny who did that. I didn't do anything at all."

Moody's magical eye swiveled towards him. "Danny?"

"Yeah. If you want to thank anyone, thank him. He saved your life." And he called you family, Harry mentally added. I don't think he'd do that if you weren't knocked out.

"Tell me," Moody said quietly. "Tell me everything."

So Harry related to Moody the entire battle, how Danny showed up just in time and his battle with the Death Eaters, and how he carried Moody through the forest until they found this little hill. However, he purposely left out the incident with Irian. He didn't feel ready to tell anyone about that.

Moody nodded as Harry came to the end of the story. His face was expressionless, but every now and then Harry thought he saw a flash of approval in his eyes.

"So you see," concluded Harry, "I really didn't do much. It was Danny who saved us. It's pretty strange, but I imagine that if he didn't go around that gorge, he would have fallen into that trap with us." Abruptly, his eyes fell. "Actually...did you...did you hear what I was saying last night?

Moody nodded.

"I...guess I haven't done much good now, have I?" Harry went on. "I haven't done a lot lately except complain. I mean, I see you and Danny doing everything you can and getting hurt and all...I just feel useless." He picked at a piece of grass at his feet, unable to lift his gaze. He felt heavy inside, and wondered if, as of last night, he'd lost all of Moody's respect. It was a bit bewildering to realize he actually wanted that respect.

Moody was quiet for a long while. Then he shut his eyes and grunted, "Don't put yourself down."

Surprised, Harry raised his head.

"Don't put yourself down," Moody repeated. "Don't beat yourself up. It's good you know what you were doing wrong, but take it like a man and let it go. I think you should take a look at your arm and tell me if you haven't recently done something quite brave, by anyone's standards."

Harry turned his gaze down at the bandages that swathed his arm. "But this was different. I was fighting for my life--"

"And if you'd given up, if you'd cowered in some corner and let us do the fighting, we'd all be dead now or worse, wouldn't we? You ought to keep that in mind."

Harry did not know what to say. He had not acknowledged himself for that. "I...I suppose..." was his only reply.

Moody nodded again and said, "Tell me something--you ever thought of a career once you get out of Hogwarts?"

Harry was surprised by the question. "Why do you ask?"

Moody shrugged. "No crime to be curious."

Harry thought for a minute. He had considered some careers, but only one sprang to his mind with complete clarity. He had mentioned it to Professor McGonagall last school year, and his response felt natural and true: "I'm thinking about being an Auror."

"Ah," said Moody, and Harry realized he'd spoken out loud. "Interesting that you'd pick that."

"What do you mean?"

"I'd be doing you a disservice by telling you otherwise," Moody said. "Being an Auror's no High Tea on the balcony, boy. We live meaningful lives, not pretty ones." He took a deep breath, considering, the said, "Here. Name an Auror you know, apart from me."

Harry thought for a minute. He could only come up with one, actually. "Neville's father, Mr. Longbottom, is an Auror...."

"Frank? Frank's a good man, one of the best of us. His wife, too, Alice. I'll name you another: Amanda Dethory, currently still in Ministry employ. Then there's Lionel Bishop. He's Commander of the Order of the Phoenix, under Dumbledore's charge. These are all good, true Aurors. Know what they have in common?"

"Um..." Harry thought for a minute. "They're all Gryffindor?"

Moody's dry lips split into a grin. "I'll grant you that. Something to be proud of your House for. Now what else?""

"I don't know, then. What?"

Moody cast his eyes on him. "Each one of them's been injured. Each one of them's lost something over the course of their career. The Longbottoms lost their sanity. Dethory's lost one eye. Bishop's lost 'em both. These are extreme examples, yeah, but if you go down the line of the finest Aurors in history, you'll catch the pattern over and over. Each one of them's been hurt. Each one of them bears scars, some of the body, some not. And what for? Why did they suffer?

"So that other people can have the chance to live normal lives. You remember that, lad, if you're staying your course. Nothing worldy matters to an Auror: not fame, not money, not praise, because at any moment, he or she may have to surrender his life. More than medals, an Auror is known for his scars. He's known for what he's given up to live by his Creed."

They were looking at each other, and it seemed to Harry that Moody's vast array of injuries became more pronounced. Every patch of broken skin, every pale, jagged mark and missing chunk of flesh. More than medals, scars.

Harry looked back again at the bandages on his forearm. I share something of that now, he realized. Ten little markings on his arm. Unlike the one on his forehead, he earned these through an act of bravery he could truly claim as his own. Moody was right: he had done something incredibly courageous, he had saved all their lives. In these past two weeks alone he had sacrificed so much in order to protect everything he loved.

Now he felt an odd kinship towards the old man...and the Aurors, too. Of all things, sacrifice was one he could understand.

Danny's loud voice shook him from his musings.

"I've got scars myself, you know!" he said as he swaggered in, looking very proud of himself. Slung over one shoulder was a pair of hares he'd caught.

Moody favored him a disinterested glance. "Do you, now?"

Danny puffed out his chest. "I've got a blast mark on this shoulder, burn marks on my left hand, cuts on my stomach and two huge ones on each cheek of my buttocks."

"And which of those did you get when you weren't learning to cook?"

Harry stifled a laugh. Danny glared at Moody as he put down the hares and took out his knife. "Keep that up and see if you'll get any of the stew I'm making."

"Right. And would you mind doing that somewhere else?"

Danny obliged him by moving away to hide his workmanship. Harry watched him prepare their meal with an interest that grew from the pit of his stomach. Some faraway part of his mind wanted to be disgusted at the bloody sight. Another simply smelled fresh meat and declared, I got to have some of that.

After skinning the hares and mincing the meat, Danny took out a pot from Moody's trunk and filled it water. He then set it on the heating stone and prodded it once with his wand. Harry felt a sudden gust as the air around them palpably warmed.

"I'm afraid we won't have a lot of seasoning for this," said Danny, pouring the meat into the pot. "All we've got in the trunk's some salt and garlic."

"You realize I need those ingredients to ward off vampires and evil spirits, don't you?" Moody said sardonically.

"How 'bout warding off hunger first?" Danny chopped up some garlic and added it into the stew, following it up with a pinch of salt.

"There," he said. "Rabbit stew for lunch. Meanwhile, let's talk about something important--like what are we going to do now? Moody, any ideas?"

"Is there another place we can get help?" Harry joined in, trying to forget the rumbling in his stomach. "Is there another Order outpost nearby?"

Moody sighed. "None that I know of."

"Well, maybe someone we can trust, then," offered Danny, who was enchanting a spoon to stir the stew by itself. "Someone with a house we can hide in. Then we'd just let Dumbledore know where we are and--"

Moody's magical eye rolled to look at him. "Even if we could find some nearby wizard who'd like to help, I wouldn't endanger them by staying under their roof."

"It's not like we're staying for the rest of the season. As long as they have an owl we can borrow..."

"No."

Danny stopped to glare at him. "Why the hell not?"

Moody was not looking at them anymore. He was staring up at the sunlight through the leaves. "That boy, Winterwake. He was under emotional control. Someone planted him there, to ambush us. I know only one person who operates that way. And I think he's waiting for us to make the mistake of looking for outside help." He fell into a pensive silence.

Harry looked at him in confusion, until something occurred to him.

"You mean Gallowbraid?"

Silence fell, and a dangerous chill seemed to emanate from Moody. The old man's eyes flicked towards Harry. "How do you know about him?"

There was something feral about his expression, and Harry felt inexplicably afraid. "I heard it from one of the Death Eaters," he replied. "He mentioned it to their leader when they captured us. He said Gallowbraid used some kind of magic to control Winterwake..."

"Mesmery?"

"Yeah." Harry fidgeted. "Who is he?"

Moody's reply was deadpan. "An old acquaintance."

"Well, why is he after us?"

This Moody did not answer. His brows knitted in deep thought, then he said, "No more questions. Leave me alone a bit. I need to think."

Something about his tone forbade argument. "C'mon, kid," said Danny, motioning to him. "The stew will take a while. Let's get some practice done."

They made for the exit through the gap, but Moody suddenly called out, "Wait."

They both turned to look at him. Moody had a pensive look on his face as he gazed at his godson. "You got a minute?"

Danny shrugged and instructed Harry, "Go on out and wait for me. Just don't wander off, okay?"

---

Harry waited for Danny out in the clearing. He though that Moody was going to tell Danny off for teaching him how to duel, and waited to hear raised voices. But before long, Danny reemerged. His face was a mask of bewilderment.

"He thanked me," he muttered. "He actually thanked me. For everything. I don't believe it."

Harry couldn't help laughing. "Oh, is that all?"

"What did you tell him?"

"Not much, just how you rescued us from the Death Eaters and saved his life."

Danny shook his head. "You must've turned it into some kind of heroic epic or something."

"Just the plain truth, Danny," Harry replied, smiling. "Maybe he just wanted to give you a break and say he appreciates what you did. Ever thought of that?"

Danny snorted, but it lacked derision. "Right, whatever. Wand up--we've work to do. Show me middle guard."

Harry fell into the stance, his wand in front of him. But Danny shook his head in disbelief. "What?" asked Harry.

"Your arm's too straight, you're gripping your wand too tightly, you're holding your head too low, and your feet are spaced too close together." Danny gently pushed his shoulder, and Harry nearly toppled. "See? You're off-balance. Start a fight like this and you're asking for trouble."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Then how am I supposed to do it? It's not my fault my professor was a complete idiot."

"Do it again and I'll show you."

Harry ran through the stances he knew--middle guard, high guard, and low guard--and each time Danny had something to correct and refine. "At the beginning of a duel," he lectured, "stance is everything. It disciplines your mind and makes your moves quick, balanced and efficient. You'll want to learn every one of the Six Defenses, because each of those stances allows you to do certain things easier."

It was a little later, when they were taking turns defending themselves with their Wandshields, when Harry remembered a question he wanted to ask. "So, who is this Gallowbraid?"

"A criminal Moody used to chase a long time ago," Danny answered. "Moody mentioned him to me a few times, but never told much. He's supposed to be really good. Terrifying was the word Moody once used, and Moody doesn't terrify easily."

Harry dissipated his Wandshield and hurled a Leg-Locker Curse at Danny. "Have you ever met him?"

Danny shook his head, deflecting the hex almost as an afterthought. "Nope, not once. I'd like to, though, and find out if I can beat him. Moody never could, you see, not in the many duels they've had."

Harry didn't like the thought of that. If Moody couldn't beat him, then the man must be hair-raising indeed. Before he could think further on this, however, another curse came straight for him. He barely had enough time to shout the incantation and catch it on his Wandshield.

"Why does he want us?" he asked.

"Two reasons. First, he's working for the Dark Lord, whom he has some kind of contract with. Second, he and Moody have some very unresolved grudges."

At Harry's prompting, he continued. "He's a right foul bastard, Gallowbraid, an entirely different breed of bastard. Dark Wizards come and go, always trying to make a name for themselves. Gallowbraid doesn't even try, and that proves he's sharp. There isn't a shred of evidence linking him to a crime. Nobody can figure him out because nobody knows he really exists. Somehow someone else always takes the blame for his crimes. That's Gallowbraid's power..."

Danny twitched. Harry raised his Wandshield just in time to ward off another curse.

"Pretty good," Danny said. "You're getting better."

"And you're just getting sneakier," Harry replied. "You were saying about Gallowbraid's power?"

"Oh yeah. He's got the Jagan."

A pause. "Um, the what?" Harry asked.

Danny gave an impatient snort. "Haven't you ever heard of the Evil Eye? Bloody powerful artifact? Can make anyone it gazes at have incredibly realistic hallucinations?"

At Harry's confused stare, Danny explained. "There are these two artifacts, see, both of them eyes. First, the Jagan can make you dream of getting your heart's desire, or trap you in your worst nightmare. Second, the Wadjet, otherwise known as the All-Seeing Eye, does the opposite--it allows you to see things as they truly are. Get me?"

"Okay," said Harry, "and Gallowbraid has the Jagan?"

"It's a long story. Here's the abridged version: The Jagan was under the protection of Sanzenin the Sage in Japan while Orcus the Sphinx guarded the Wadjet in Egypt. Gallowbraid killed them both and stole each of their eyes."

"Both? Gallowbraid actually had both?"

"Yeah. Took out both his eyes and put those ones on. The Jagan allowed him to Mesmerize, or manipulate people through their emotions. Call it the feeling form of Imperius, if you will. Meanwhile, the Wadjet allowed him the ability to see through walls, disguises and illusions, making him impossible to sneak up on or trap. He was nearly unbeatable.

"According to Moody, Gallowbraid showed up in the 60s, nearly the same time as Lord Voldemort. He had been far subtler, though. First there was a rash of jewelry theft. Then bank thefts, all across the country. The Aurors always caught the perpetrators because they never ran, and while they swore that they were guilty as sin, they couldn't remember what they'd done with the money. Which led Moody to suspect that the people they caught were just stooges, that there was another figure running things from the sidelines. He finally managed to pry a description from one of the criminals: a tall, wiry man, bald pate, spoke a foreign accent, always wore dark glasses, and never introduced himself. Testimony eventually pointed Moody to a flat in Kensington, and that was where he first met Andros Gallowbraid."

"So Moody fought him, then?" asked Harry.

"Wasn't much of a fight. Gallowbraid immediately Mesmerized Moody and forced him to, uh, damage himself."

Harry peered at him curiously. "What do you mean by that?"

"Let's just say there's a reason Moody has a peg leg."

At Harry's horrified expression, Danny added, "Don't worry, Moody got back at him. See, Gallowbraid left him to bleed to death, but Moody managed to get help from backup. After he recovered, he started plotting for a way to capture Gallowbraid.

"He found out that Gallowbraid had this particular Chinese restaurant in London which he loved to visit whenever he was in town. Moody staked that place out for days. He finally got lucky one night when Gallowbraid strolled in. Moody snuck in through the back, found the stew Gallowbraid always ordered, and slipped some nightshade into it."

"He poisoned Gallowbraid?"

"It wasn't a lethal dose. Just enough to knock Gallowbraid down and keep him from using any of those powers of his. And it worked. Gallowbraid keeled over and Moody charged out of the kitchen to arrest him. Unfortunately, his enemy came prepared. He had a Port-Key built into one of his rings, and activated it just as Moody reached him. Gallowbraid escaped, but he left something behind. The Wadjet had been jarred loose from his head when he collapsed. Moody retrieved it, and later decided to put it to use. So that's where that magical eye of his came from."

"You're joking! That's the Wadjet?"

"You bet. Moody figured the only way he could beat Gallowbraid was to render his mind tricks useless. The two Eyes can't work well against each other, so that really levels the playing field when they duel."

"I can't believe Moody did all that. But...how come Gallowbraid's working for Voldemort?"

Danny shrugged. "Not even I know that. Moody figures the Dark Lord had some sort of Enslavement Charm binding Gallowbraid to him--I don't know, maybe losing the Wadjet dealt a real blow to his powers. In any case, Gallowbraid served as an agent of the Dark Lord up until the war ended one year later. After that, he fled the country. Now that the Dark Lord's returned, so's he." He paused, then added, "And I'm guessing he still wants his eye back."

---

They practiced some more, until the sweet aroma of the rabbit stew called them to camp. By then, even Moody was trying to sit up and sniffing appreciatively.

"The cook goes first!" cried Danny, grabbing some wooden bowls from the trunk and handing them out. "Don't want to poison your stomachs if this thing turns out bad."

Watching as he raised the ladle to his lips, Harry didn't care if the stew tasted like rotten turnips. His guts were on the verge of declaring rebellion if he didn't fill them immediately. When Danny proclaimed it "bearable," Harry practically shoved his bowl into the other boy's hands.

The stew turned out to be brilliant, though Harry was too busy to say so. He wasn't sure if it was his own hunger that sharpened the taste for him, or that this was the first time he'd tasted anything other than nuts and raisins since he left on this journey. He emptied his bowl within a minute and went for seconds.

Danny sat Moody up and fed him spoonfuls, every now and then sipping from his own bowl. "We can't stay here and wait for the Order to come looking for us." Moody was saying. "We need to get ourselves someplace where Dumbledore can have an easier time finding us."

"Where did you have in mind?" asked Danny.

Moody wiped his mouth on his sleeve and said, "Dumbledore has a friend who's retired out here in the wilderness. Brilliant fellow, bit of a recluse. I think we can trust him, though. Name's Nicholas Flamel."

The name touched a chord in Harry's memory. "Nicholas Flamel? As in, Sorcerer's Stone Nicholas Flamel?

"Yep. He retreated out here in the woods with his wife to keep the rest of the world out of his business. I figure he can shelter us until Dumbledore comes, if we ask him nicely."

"I thought you didn't want to put anyone in danger," Danny interjected, "let alone some egg-head alchemist."

"Son. This is Flamel we're talking about. He isn't an alchemist. He's THE Alchemist. And the oldest living man in the world, if I'm not mistaken. You don't live that long and not pick up a thing or two about protecting yourself. He'll help us out, once we find out where he lives."

"You mean we don't?" asked Harry.

Moody shook his head. "I don't."

"Well, that's a first," said Danny.

"If you've got a better idea, let's hear it," Moody countered. "If not, I do remember Dumbledore mentioning that Flamel lives somewhere near Lake Mab. That's northeast from here. If we can get there, I bet we can find him easily enough."

He eyed each of them critically. "As much as possible, we can't let ourselves be seen. We can't stop to ask help from strangers. The Dark Army is using them to get to us. Things've gotten more dangerous than Dumbledore and I have imagined. We must be careful, now more than ever."

Danny nodded to Harry. "I've told him about Gallowbraid."

Moody's eyes flicked to Harry for a second, but he didn't seem to want to comment. "We'll fight him if we have to," was all he said. "Our first priority is to get to ourselves to safety."

Harry asked, "Can Nicholas Flamel really help us?"

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore and a living legend. I don't see why he can't, or won't. Don't worry, boy." He grinned at him. "I swear, I won't die until I find a way to get you back home."

They waited quietly together, till evening fell over their eyes like a dark curtain. To Harry it felt long in coming; time seemed to creep slowly here in the wilderness than anywhere else. The night wind came again, bearing with it the call of owls and creaking branches.

"Why don't we have a light?" Moody said in the gloom.

"You're the last person I'd think would ask that," Danny replied. "A fire can be seen from miles away, or overhead from a broom. We're trying to stay out of sight, remember?"

"I didn't ask for a bloody campfire. A candle would serve. Better than squatting around in the dark like a bunch of mushrooms."

Harry caught the sound of someone rummaging through the trunk, then a brilliant spark of light revealed Danny, candle in hand. He set it in the middle of the camp, on the dark stone.

"That's better," sighed Moody, sinking into his bedroll like a turtle into sand.

"Yeah, this isn't so bad," said Danny. "It's like a camping trip. Well, except for the matter of people trying to kill us and all."

Moody gave Harry a sidelong glance. "So you're learning how to duel."

"Yeah," said Harry. "I reckon I can be more useful if I know how to defend myself."

"I've no qualms about that. But learn when to use force and when to use wit. Learning to duel is no excuse to turn into some hex-happy hothead--"

"Oh, leave off, Moody," said Danny. "You're not his mother, you know."

"--And it remains to be seen whether or not your instructor will teach you anything of worth."

Harry grinned. "I try to learn in spite of him, sir."

"Keep at it, then." He turned to Danny. "And as for you, don't tire him out with too much practice. It's no use if neither of you have enough energy to fend off an ambush."

"Don't worry about it," said Danny, who was heating up the last of the stew. "He's stronger than he looks. Which reminds me, Robbie, you play any sport?"

"Yeah. I play a bit of Quid--"

Harry caught himself, then looked away. No, not anymore I don't.

At Danny's puzzled look, Harry said, "I was going to say I play Quidditch. It's just that....I don't anymore."

"You don't?"

"I quit."

He looked even more puzzled. "Why? Weren't you any good?"

"I...like to think I was. I was a Seeker."

Danny gave no indication that he found that impressive. "You didn't enjoy it?" he asked, passing him a bowl of stew.

Harry thought back, and for a moment remembered the cold blast of wind out on the pitch, the exhilarating jolt as he leaped into the air to meet it. "For a while, very much."

"Then why'd you stop?"

Cedric's face floated before him, pale and lifeless. "It...it didn't seem worth it anymore."

"Huh. Lost too many games?"

"No, that's not it. My team did very well." Harry sipped his stew, feeling a keen discomfort at having to be forced to think about it. He wanted to steer the topic away to a less personal matter, but Danny seemed interested in pursuing his reasons.

"Then what is it? Professors saying it got in the way of your studies? Developed acrophobia? What?"

Moody, thankfully, sensed Harry's discomfort. "Leave 'im alone, Danny," he muttered. "People have their reasons. Not all of them need to be brought to light."

"I just find it strange, that's all," Danny replied.

"What's strange?" asked Harry.

"You're the first person I met who consciously gave up something he was good at."

His tone was neutral, conversational, but Harry felt stung. "Like I said, I've got my reasons."

"They must be strange reasons, then. I was born with a wand in my hand--I can't be anything but a Duelist. Moody's an Auror through and through, and whatever else you can say about that, he never stopped being an Auror for any reason. How do you think people get so far if they don't play to their strengths?"

Harry studiously kept his face turned away from them.

"Ah, whatever," Danny said after a while. "Not like it's a big loss, anyway."

It was Harry's turn to favor Danny a look. "What?"

"I don't get Quidditch," Danny continued. "What's the point? What's all the fuss about flying around with some balls?"

Harry surprised himself by feeling defensive. "That's not all that it's about! Quidditch is all about strategy and teamwork and nerve!"

Danny gave a little smirk. "Nerve, yeah, I'll give it that. That game takes a lot of balls. You try and throw a ball--"

"The Quaffle!"

"--through some hoops. Then you try to knock another player out with yet another ball--"

"A Bludger! It's called a Bludger!"

"I mean, if you have to knock someone senseless why not stick with the club? Then there's that business with that ball that looks like a mosquito--"

"The Snitch!" Harry seethed. "Didn't you watch any games?"

"A couple of times, but I'd always lose interest. Hey, just because you've got a bunch of people screaming at a stadium doesn't mean you've got a sport. Dueling--now there's a sport. I'll never understand why they outlawed it."

"Maybe it has to do with the fact that dueling can get you killed?"

"Not much different from flying around with a bunch of homicidal balls, is it? Well, that's a problem with wizards nowadays. If it can get you killed, it's a sport."

Harry gave up. Putting his empty bowl aside, he lay down on his bedroll and announced, "I'm going to bed. I don't have time to talk to complete nutcases."

"Nutcase, am I?" Danny returned. "You should see Gryffindors during a Quidditch match--there's nutty in living color. It's like you people turn into savages whenever the Quidditch comes into discussion."

Harry, who had shut his eyes, opened them again. "Wait a minute. You people? What do you mean you people? Aren't you from Gryffindor?"

Danny looked gravely insulted. "Gryffindor? Me? What made you think that?"

Harry didn't immediately answer. He just assumed Danny came from the same House as he did. "I...I dunno. I just thought...well, you seem brave enough to be-- "

Danny's eyes blazed. "Just a minute here! You're implying that Ravenclaws can't be brave?"

"I'm not saying that," Harry hastily replied. "I'm just saying--wait. You're from Ravenclaw?"

"From The Most Illustrious House of Ravenclaw!"

Harry paused. "Oh."

"Oh what?"

"Nothing."

"That wasn't a nothing 'oh,'" said Danny, leaning forward. "You definitely meant something by that 'oh.'"

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you're going on about."

"You're saying while I fit in with Gryffindors, I don't fit in with Ravenclaws. That's what you're thinking, isn't it, you typecasting little--!"

"No, I'm not saying that! I was just a little surprised, okay?"

"Oh yes, you were surprised! You think I'm brave enough to be a Gryffindor but not smart enough to be in Ravenclaw. Well let me tell you something, Quafflehead: not everyone's intelligence resides in their brains." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Some people are physically intelligent, and I happen to be one of those. That's why the Sorting Hat put me in Ravenclaw. And who are you to argue with the Hat, anyway?"

"This conversation is completely preposterous," Moody suddenly announced. "I'm going to sleep." He pulled the blanket to his chin and turned away.

"What is it with you about Ravenclaw, anyway?" muttered Harry.

Danny sat up, palms held up in a nonchalant gesture. "I have every right to be proud of my House. Ravenclaws are renowned for their great skill and intellect. We take only the brightest and most gifted students--"

"How does that explain you, then?" said Moody from his side of the hollow.

"I happened to have my OWN genius, as I've mentioned before," said Danny. "That's why the Sorting Hat made it a point to put me in the right House, the House for people destined to be great. Look behind every major advance in wizarding history and you'll find a Ravenclaw behind it. Look for the most successful businesses in Britain and you'll find a Ravenclaw responsible. Face it, those who make it into my House come out on top: any time, any place they go to, not only do they survive, they thrive."

"They sure do," Harry retorted. "They thrive into stuck-up, nitpicky, ivory tower nerds."

Danny merely laughed. "O-ho! And I suppose you're saying Gryffindors are the epitome of humility and virtue?"

"I'm not saying that at all." Harry propped himself up on an elbow to glare at him. "I'm saying Ravenclaws don't rule the world like the way you paint them to."

"And Gryffindors do?"

"We do a lot better than you Ravenclaws, certainly."

"Really now? And what's so good about being in a House of rabid Quidditch geeks?"

Harry forced himself to recall some of Percy's words back when he first came to Gryffindor. "Gryffindor House has the bravest--"

"I know that already."

"Shut up! Gryffindors are capable of great things exactly because of that! They're the first to volunteer, the first to be leaders, the first to fight for the things they believe in. You say it's the Ravenclaws who make the plans, but I say it's the Gryffindors who lead the way and make things happen. Yeah, we're nutters when it comes to Quidditch, but it pays off in the end when our players make up some of the best Quidditch teams in Britain. What's more, Gryffindor House has produced the largest number of heroes in history." Although for the life of me, he thought, I can't recall one right now, except for my Dad. He drew a breath, then decided to take a risk. "I hear the only Aurors worth mentioning come from Gryffindor!"

Moody's voice came up again. "Don't believe everything you hear."

Surprised, both Danny and Harry turned to the old man. Moody turned on his bed to face them. "I happen to be from Hufflepuff, and I'm good for a mention once in a while."

Danny gawked at him. "You? I always thought you were from Gryffindor!"

The Auror's eyebrows nearly vanished into his grizzled bangs. "Now who's typecasting?

"Yeah, I come from Hufflepuff. I won't mince words--folks look at my House like it's the dumping ground for students who aren't brave, smart, or ambitious enough make anything of themselves. True, we've had our share of people who sink without a trace, but I don't really care. There's one thing Hufflepuff's taught me, and that's drudgery.

"Gryffindors can be brave when it comes to big things, but Hufflepuffs know how to be brave in little things. Ravenclaws know what to do, but not when to work. In Hufflepuff, when there's a job that needs doing, you shut up, put our head down, and do it. You learn to face your problems. You learn to solve them. And you learn not to give up when things get hairy and you're left holding the bag. That's how I did things back in my House. That's how I did things at the Ministry. That's how I do things in the Order. Through drudgery. In the long run, it doesn't matter so much if you're not bravest, the smartest, the most ambitious--they don't mean a thing if you can't be strong."

A period of silence followed, after which Danny said, "Well...since there are none present to extol the virtues of their House, I think we can safely assume that Slytherins are the scum of the earth."

Harry laughed out loud, and even Moody cracked a grin.

With a mean glint in his eyes, Danny turned to Harry and asked, "Hey, how many buckets of tears do Gryffindors bawl out when they lose a Quidditch match?"

"No more than Ravenclaws do when they get something below Exceeds Expectations on an exam!" Harry shot back, still laughing.

"And when is Gryffindor going to come up with a cheer that won't make rational people want to blow their brains out?"

"Just as soon as Ravenclaw figures out which part of a racing broom is up!" Harry countered.

"Oh, that's how you want to play it, then?" Chuckling, Danny sat up and said, "Here's a well-known story. In Hogwarts, there's a magical mirror that will eat anyone who tells a lie.

"A Ravenclaw goes up to the mirror and says, 'I think I'm not smart.' CHOMP! And the mirror ate him.

"A Slytherin faces the mirror and says, 'I think I'm not evil.' CHOMP! And the mirror ate him.

"A Gryffindor faces the mirror and says, 'I think...' CHOMP! And the mirror ate him."

"You're a riot," snickered Harry, trying to come up with a retaliation. Finally, he said, "What's the difference between a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw? At the very least, Slytherins know they're boring."

He was astonished when Moody gave an appreciative chuckle. Danny, however, fixed his godfather a mock glare. "Why you--you want a piece of me, old man?

"Three friends, a Gryffindor, a Ravenclaw, and a Hufflepuff, go on a hunting trip. The first night, the Gryffindor student comes back to the cabin with a big deer on his shoulders. The others ask him how he did it, and he coolly replies, 'I saw the tracks, I followed them, and bang! I got the deer!'

"The next night, the guy from Ravenclaw comes back with an even bigger deer. His story: 'I saw the tracks, I followed them, I made certain I was downwind, I took careful aim, and bang! I got the deer,'

"So the Hufflepuff decides to give it a go. But the next night, when he drags himself back to the cabin, his two companions find him bruised and bloody all over. 'What happened to you?' they ask.

"'Well,' replies the Hufflepuff, 'I saw the tracks, I followed the tracks, and bang! I got hit by the Hogwarts Express.'"

Moody was apparently ready with a reprisal.

"A patient met her Medi-wizard after undergoing a complete physical exam. The Medi-wizard said, 'I have some very grave news for you. You only have six months to live.'

"The patient asked, 'Oh no, what should I do?'

"The Medi-wizard replied, 'Marry a Ravenclaw.'

"'Will that make me live longer?' asked the patient.

"'No," said the Medi-wizard, "but it will SEEM longer."

A round of breathless laughter followed. It wasn't long before Moody and Danny had quickly turned their barbs against Slytherin.

"Why is the sky blue?" asked Danny.

"That was old when Dumbledore was young," Moody groused. But Danny ignored him.

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Because God is from Ravenclaw." Groans from all around him. "Why is the grass green?" he continued.

"Why?"

"Because Slytherins are meant to be stepped on."

"Not good enough!" cried Moody. "How do you keep a Slytherin from drowning?"

"Shoot him before he hits the water!" Danny guffawed. "And you're saying mine was old?"

The jokes and barbs rolled on, and Harry soon found himself out of breath with laughter. He lay back, a silly grin on his face, and watched the stars slip in and out of the silver-stained leaves above him. For a moment he forgot the danger. He forgot his homesickness and the hunger in his guts. He even forgot about the ominous sounds of the night forest around him, lost as they were amidst a young man's prattle and an old man's hacking laughter. These were the last sounds he heard before sleep finally claimed him.

To be continued

Chapter XIX: Sleight of Hand, Sleight of Mind