Harry had been planning his escape for a week.
Memorizing the schedules of the different order members acting as his jailors had been a simple thing, thanks to his new found memory skills, but determining who to make the switch on had been a little more difficult. He certainly could not have done it with Mad-eye, the man's magical eye would have spotted him leaving the house and he would have to explain why he was trying to sneak off under an invisibility cloak. Kingsley would have been a bad idea too. He was much too thorough in his searches
Although he had made and assessment of the different guards, Harry believed that making his escape on either Dung or Tonks' shift would be his best shot. But he had some preparations to do before then. He was going to leave a little surprise for Dumbledore and his Order of the Fried Chicken.
For years, Harry had been doing independent studies on multiple subjects, even muggle ones, late at night in his own bed. His studies had hit a snag in his fifth year as he could hardly stay awake long enough to read a page, but would wake up screaming less than an hour later. His little stint in Azkaban didn't seem to help either, but he was much farther advanced in his studies than most people were in the entire school. He believed he was beyond seventh year in his studies as far as knowledge, but as far as practical application was concerned, he was not sure yet. That was why he would have to be on his own, to further his abilities and hone his skills. With the restrictions placed upon him by Dumbledore and the rest of the self proclaimed leaders of the light, he would have no freedom. That was something that was going to change.
The majority of his independent study had been on theories of magic, its effects on muggle technologies, and mechanics of practical magic and how it is channeled through objects. He had developed a theory by combining the basic theory of magic and the theories on channeling magic. The first theory stated that within all people there was a core of magic locked away, supplying the body with energy and revitalizing the cells of the body. This magical core was accessible to those who could touch magic, but inaccessible to muggles. That was the primary difference between muggles and magical peoples. Now the theory for accessing that magic is based on the idea that a focus is used to draw magic from the core and to focus that magic into a certain form called a spell. Now, the trick behind the use of wands as a focusing agent is their cores. The core is drawn from a magical creature and contains magic in itself. The magic in the wand allows the wizard to sync his magic with that of the core, effectively bringing it out of his body to perform a spell. Thus, in effect, the wizard is using another article of magic as a focus to draw out his own magic. If this was so, then could a wizard not just pull out he magic by himself? Did he really need a wand to draw the magic out? That was the basis of his studies, the utilization of will and intent in order to develop wandless magic.
The branch of magic known as wandless magic was not an exact science. Wandless magic developed naturally, from years of using spells. Thus someone like Dumbledore could utilize his wandless abilities to summon objects, banish objects, and other simple spells. But Harry had another idea that supported his theory of wandless magic. He believed that because someone like Dumbledore had so much magical energy and that he used the spells so often, he had begun to unconsciously memorize the magical signature and was able to use the magic without a focus.
It was strange that all the books he had read, even those filched from the restricted section, as well as those taken from the headmaster's private collections, something he had been proud of that he had managed, never hinted on that idea. They never said that it could be done. The idea of magical
signatures and memorizing magical signatures to create wandless magic was foreign to them. Harry thought, from observing modern wizarding society, that because they were so set in their ways that they did not know how to innovate and did not know how to develop new ways of doing things. Something that muggles were very good at doing, thus the disparities in their society versus the muggle society.
Thus, Harry had been practicing his wandless exercises for some time now. At the end of fourth year, Harry had been able to wandlessly cast a lumos spell with great success. He had first done it after Cedric's death and the resurrection of Voldemort. With really nothing left to do for the year, he had taken to pulling in on himself from his friends. Make that former friends. And had begun practicing it in his room religiously. He had first begun by restricting his senses. Casting deafness, blindness, and sense deadening charms on himself, he had been able to cast the spell and actually feel the tingle of magic flow from within in him. After that it was easier to feel the tingle and to recognize the feeling it gave him. A week later he had begun to isolate the sensation and was able to picture in his mind, exactly how the spell felt to him. Finally by the end of the year, he had been able to cast a lumos spell without contact to a wand. The spell was such that it had to have a focusing point, but now he knew that his theory had been at least partially correct. He still hadn't done anything major without a wand, and wanted to take it as slow as he could.
His studies suffered from the lack of sleep and focus that year, thanks to Voldemort's constant harassment, but he was able to pull off excellent scores on his OWLs (Harry had been able to request a release from the international OWL administration board directly instead of going through the school). He realized that although he had been sacrificing his grades and his reputation for Hermione, he could not very well sacrifice his entire future just to assuage her feelings of inadequacy, thus he had tried his best on his OWLs. He had cursed Voldemort during his history of magic exam double, one for Sirius and one for the six OWLs he could have earned if he had not passed out during the exam. He would have taken the makeup, but being imprisoned for false crimes and then tortured by his jailors who liked to flog him then heal him, and then tortured by dementors when he was not being flogged, there was no time to escape and take the exam. Of course he would have if he had been free, but thanks to the corrupt government, he was unable. His attempts at appeal fell on deaf ears.
So, by the time he completed the last year, he was nearly as proficient in wandless magic as he was in normal wand casting magic. Of course he needed a wand for focus spells such as lumos, serpensortia, and the patronus charm, but for others such as stupefy, accio, and his very handy disillusionment charm, a charm he had been very proud of mastering last year, he could do them all without a wand as easily as he could do them with one. This little factor would be important to his plans as he would need a way to spring the information he wanted on the unsuspecting order and their head hancho.
His plan started on the night of the first big Order meeting of the summer. He knew Dung was outside from the smell of his disgusting cigars, the man could at least smoke something more pleasant like a pipe or something less overpowering. Harry started by packing his clothes and all his other belongings, even the extra candies and pastries he had stashed under the floor boards of his room. It was a simple task. One wave of his hand, no incantation required, and the clothes, books, and other items, sans his stolen Firebolt, jumped into his open trunk and packed itself, each arranging its bulk into a desirable position for organization and space. Yet another wave of his hand caused the room itself to magically clean the entire room of the remenants of his passing. The spell was akin to the typical scourgify, but Harry had found that with wandless magic, typical spells could be tweaked. The more complicated a spell was, the less flexibility there was, but with a simple spell like scourgify, there were really no limits to what specific thing it could do within the realm of its original purpose of creation.
Now all Harry had to do was to wait. Hedwig was out hunting and she would be able to find him no matter where he was. He spent his time preparing what he would need to do once he was free. He had removed the tracking charm that Dumbledore had placed on him from his mind several days ago. Harry had first discovered the little bit of cleaver magic when he had been exploring his mental barriers with his newly developed awareness. While probing his mind for the damage caused by the dementors and Voldemort himself when he possessed him, Harry had found something strange lodged in one of the corners of his mind. It was a tiny presence, a little beacon that sent pulses along a thin filament of magic, running off somewhere to the north. At first he had no idea what it was. He simply played with it at his own volition, never willing to disturb it, lest he damage his own mind. But once in a while, the connection jumped around. He had no idea what was doing that, it was going in one direction one minuet and then another direction the next. After some thinking, he had figured it out. This was how Dumbledore was tracking him. A mix of occlumancy and traditional magic. Ingenious. The old man was a meddling bastard, but he was a resourceful meddling bastard.
Originally he had decided just to crush the tiny bit of magic. It would have caused the old man a lot of pain, and it would have taken care of his little tracking problem. But then he had figured something else out. While in the garden one day he had come across a snake. It had been intrigued to find someone it could talk to and Harry told him of his little problem. The snake had agreed to take the bit of magic from the tracking charm and have it implanted in his mind as a favor to the first snake speaker he had ever met. In return, the snake wanted him to leave its burrow the way it was, as Harry had been forced into doing some landscaping during the conversation. Harry had ingeniously hidden the entrance and exit and both Harry and the snake were happy. A new and secure home for the snake, and a load, literally, off his mind for Harry.
His other preparation had been to apply the glamours he had worked out to hide his appearance. He had utilized simple spells, not the elaborate spells he had at his disposal, and they had worked wonderfully to change his appearance. He had first changed his hair color and shape. From the black unruly hair that was so like his father, one of his signature defining traits, he used a physical morphing spell to change the texture of his hair and the color. In the end he had turned out to be blond with shoulder length hair held back in a pony tail with a black ribbon. Very Pure Blood, he thought to himself. Next he used a simple masking glamour charm to cover his curse scar, not the easiest feat as mixing magics not completely compatible often had negative results, but he had been able to form a seamless looking illusion around the scar so that it was no longer visible. He then changed his jaw line slightly, removing some of the planes and rounding it out very lightly. Lastly, he changed his eye color. His vibrant green eyes inherited from his mother was his most defining characteristic. Everyone knew of his "lily-like" eyes. He had changed that with another illusion glamour. Giving his eyes a dull shade of blue. After transfiguring his glasses into something more presentable, he had come to realize that he looked quite the part of a young Pureblood, even though his clothes were old and tatty. Something he would have to remedy once he was free of the Order of Friend Chicken.
With all his glamours on, his trunk shrunk down with a spell and stuffed in his pocket along with his wand, Harry was ready, waiting for Dung to do just what Harry knew he would do. Fall asleep. Dung's routines were like clockwork. After switching off with the order member with the previous shift, he would make a circuit around the perimeter, making sure that he had killed enough time to be certain that another order member wouldn't pop in to check on him, he would slump down under the rose bushes and sleep. And usually a very deep sleep. Harry had once tried to wake the sleeping wizard by poking him with a stick. Even after ten minuets of poking various soft spots on the fat man's corpulent body, he still did not wake up. He had probably been drinking or smoking something before coming on shift, he did once get a whiff of the sweet savory smell of the stuff his cousin Duddly usually smoked. Not that Harry cared either way, but tonight was different, he was going to capitalize on Dumbledore's poor judge of character and slip out quietly while the sleeping wizard was still incapacitated.
As he watched the fat wizard settle in under the bushes, Harry pulled the letter he had charmed from his pocket. He had written the letter and charmed it using the howler charm, and had bound it to be opened only when Dumbledore and at least five of the order members were near. After calmly setting it upon the desk, he waved his hand over the parchment several times, recreating the disillusionment charm he had perfected last year. He had a lot of fun with that charm after he had finally mastered it. He had once enchanted Malfoy's robes to disillusion themselves in front of any Gryffindor girl, but to be undetectable when a teacher was nearby, much to Malfoy's anger and embarrassment. He had spent a month in detention for flashing various Gryffindor girls that year, despite being on the inquisitional squad. Harry had never been caught, nor had anyone found out who did it.
Once the charm was set, Harry cast the same charm on himself and slowly tiptoed down the stairs and walked out the backdoor. He would have left some nasty surprises for his relatives to repay all the "kindness" they had shown him, but he realized that he didn't care anymore. He was better than them, and he didn't need to do anything to harm them, they would do everything they needed to destroy themselves eventually.
Making his way across the freshly mowed lawn he had been working on that morning, Harry hopped the picket fence in the back of the home and landed in the Polkis' yard. He knew if he could get away to a more metropolitan area, he could call upon the Knight Bus to take him to the Leakey Cauldron. Where he would base his operations on before getting his own place with the money the twins sent him.
Still disillusioned, Harry took his time. Walking down the streets, the street lamps illuminating his path, he lost himself in thought, has he made his way through the two miles of suburbia he would have to pass if he were to call upon the Knight Buss. He remembered running down this very street once, trying to get away from Dudley and his gang of wannabe hooligans. They had been off on one of their "Hunting Harry" expeditions. Four boys, his whale cousin Dudley, his weasel faced friend Piers, and two other retards who hung around them, had chased him into Mrs. Delainey's garden and up a tree. After throwing stones at him for the better part of an hour. They got board and started throwing stones at the large glass windows of the house. After hearing a car screech in the drive, they four boys ran off, leaving Harry huddling in a tree. The police had been called after that, and Harry, being stuck in a tree, hands dirty and cut up, had been charged with the crime. His uncle had been furious and had beaten him until he couldn't move, then thrown him in his cupboard, locking the doors with a padlock. All the while, Dudley shooting him gleeful grins. He spent the night with a broken rib and a hair line fractured wrist, while Dudley banged on his cupboard. He had been stuck in there for two days, without food and water, but surprisingly, his wrist and rib were healed by the time he was out. Just another bout of accidental magic. There had been many times many incidents such as this over his childhood. Being called freak and hooligan. Hell, he hadn't even known his real name until he started school at five. But that was over now. He would never see those horrible people ever again, and he would have his revenge on the people who, regardless of knowing how horrible his past was, would stick him in another kind of Hell, just because they could.
Finally making his way to the area outside the wards, a much more crowded street as he was nearing the main city of Surrey, Harry called the Knight Buss. Waiting a few seconds, Harry was thrown back from the impact as the violently purple Knight Bus appeared in front of him.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, I'm Stan Shunpike, and I'll be ye-, Eh? You, you're Neville Longbottom ain't ye?" said the pimply faced conductor of the wizarding bus. The man was as skinny as a rail, but with a head three sizes too big that made him look like a lolly-pop, but one with horribly bad posture. His purple conductor's hat sitting a skewed atop his head, and his change counter overly large on his flat and sunken chest, the older wizard fixed a critical eye on the younger wizard, "Nope, you ain't my pal Neville Longbottom. No siree. He's got messy hair and green eyes. Not like yers? You a pure blood or somefin? Nah I woun't seen no Pure Blood wearing digs like yers, I think-"
Harry picked himself off the hard concrete, and dug into his pocket for the five sickles that would take him to London and the Leakey Cauldron, "Here you go," he said, dropping the silver pennies into the man's sweaty hands, "To the Leakey Cauldon please. And the name's Bob."
"Bob!? That ain't no wizarding name I ever did 'ear. Ey! Ern', this 'ere is Bob, ever 'ere of a wizard named Bob?" Stan said, yelling to the front of the bus.
The older man turned around, "No mon. Never 'ere of no Bob da Wizard. Now will you just give the mon his receipt and sit down!"
"Fine fine, 'ere ya go, one-way ticket to the Leakey Cauldron in London. If ye have yerselves a seat, we can be on our way."
With that, the bus shot off, moving down the road at unbelievable speeds, shaping and molding itself to fit through any obstacles that were in its way. Harry on the other hand, had not been seated when the bus took off, and had been reaching for his receipt when he went flying to the end of the bus, smashing painfully, but without permanent damage, into the back window, face flat and plastered all over the back.
Picking himself up, he sat on one of the back seats, as far away from Stan as he could get, he didn't want to talk to the annoying and tall-tale telling conductor, but his luck was not in as the skinny man came sauntering over and plopped down right next to him. Trying to be as non-chelant as possible, Harry crossed his arms and looked away, hoping the older wizard would get the hint that he didn't want to be talked to. Harry was in a rude awakening as the annoying wizard began to spin one of his tall tales to the apparent stranger.
"Ya know Bob, I was once in the runnin for an Order of Merlin first class ya know," he said leaning back, his hands crossing in back of his head to give him an unneeded cushion, "Yup, I was the one who bagged me Sirius Black, ya know."
Harry groaned inwardly, of all the things the man could talk about, he had to make up a story about capturing Sirius. He felt like he wanted to slug the skinny wizard, but took heart as the lights of London began to flash all around them.
"Yup, I was there, and he was standing there with about fifty death eaters," he exclaimed, his hands gesturing wildly as he reenacted the make-believe battle, "Then he brings out this huge wand, nothing I've not faced before mind, then I's jumps up," he actually does jump up, "and then I's-" he didn't get to finish his story as Ernie slammed on the breaks in front of the Leakey Cauldron and Stan went flying, to find himself plastered over the front windshield, groaning weakly.
Chuckling to himself, Harry jumped off the side of the bus as he heard a feeble "Le-Leakey Cauldron, Lon-, oh forget it," from Stan, and walked into the old inn just as the loud crack of the Knight Bus was heard leaving the vicinity.
The place was the same as ever. A long bar ran along one side of the common room, all decked out in dark soothing colors of brown, with little embellishments of gold and silver. The bald headed and jovial Tom, his ever present dirty rag thrown over his left shoulder, was behind the bar, cleaning glasses and serving drinks to several elderly wizards sitting at the bar and dictating to the waitresses where the different plates should go to each table. The common room itself was very homey. It had a large fireplace that was used as a floo access point, and a few wizarding paintings on the far end of the room facing the bar. The paintings were mostly of elderly wizards, but one painting, a pleasantly plump woman in a French can-can dress smiled lascivious at all the male guests, using her fan to hide her face. Stairs leading up to the rooms were on the far wall, along with a large door leading out into a seemly dead end alley way, the entrance to Diagon Alley. He would need to go there tomorrow, but first he would have something to eat. He had been anxious to leave and had skipped trying to steal anything from his aunt's kitchen that day.
Plopping down on one of the empty tables, a polished square of wood with a candle under glass as its centerpiece, he waited while one of the serving witches came up to him. He was pleased when he saw his serving witch walking towards him. Not wearing typical wizarding robes, she wore a modified white muggle dress with a wide leather belt around her waist, and a short hemmed skirt, reaching down to just above her knees.
Flipping her long brown wavy hair and giving him a wink with those large brown eyes, she slightly older than he, but not by much, she asked, "What can I get you hun?"
Harry smiled at her, thinking of several nice things she could get him, but refrained and asked, "What's the special today, "he said, squinting his eyes and looking at her name tag, "Shari?"
Flashing him a dazzling smile, she replied, "Shepherd's pie with gravy. Its exceptionally good today, Mum was really happy with the results."
"Mum? So you're Tom and Betty's daughter?" he asked, curious. He had got to talking to Tom during his stay in his third year. Harry had nothing to do after getting his things from Diagon alley and had ordered a butterbeer from the older wizard. The day was slow, so he had taken his time to talk to Harry, a conversation that was both enlightening and fun. From that day on, every time Harry stopped by Diagon alley, he usually stopped in to see Tom and have a little chat.
"Yup, been working here since I was ten, daddy insists," she said rolling her eyes, "but the dresses are cute, and it's not too bad, especially when a cute guy like you pops in."
"Well Shari, I wasn't expecting to have a waitress as pretty as you," he said, trying out some flirting techniques that Sirius had taught him before he passed, "but if you keep smiling like that, there may be a much larger tip in it for you at the end of the night," he trailed off, leaving the innuendo open for her to decipher.
She unconsciously licked her lips and smiled at the skinny young man. He looked like a pure blood, but was kind to her, even though he had talked to her father and would know she was a squib. There was a cute bantering tone in his voice as he flirted with her, and, although he was a few years younger than her, she found herself enjoying the flirting, "Well Mr.-I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?"
He grinned, "Its Bob. Bob the wizard at your service!" Harry said, as he stood up and bowed to her, flourishing his hand.
She nearly fell down laughing, drawing the eyes of the entire common room.
"Bob!?" she said, fighting to find enough breath, "Bob the wizard!? What kind of a name is that?"
He simply grinned at her, "That is my name Shari. And I kind of like it, I think its dashing don't you," he said with a mock playful grin.
"Oh for sure," she said, fluttering her eyes and pretending to swoon.
He just laughed at her, "Well, Shari if-"
Harry cut off as he hear a few musical notes being played in the back ground. Looking around, he saw a small wizarding band with a kettle drum, a flute, a strange looking string instrument, and a long brass horn that looked like a contraption that Dr. Seuss had thought up, start tune their instruments. Feeling frisky, and enjoying Shari's company, Harry walked over to her and took her hand.
"Feel like a little kick and a twirl?" he asked, eye brows quirked and wiggled as a sly smile appeared on his lips.
Shari smiled brightly and looked over to the bar, where her father and a tall plump woman were standing. Tom and his wife, Harry thought. They were both smiling and nodded to her, as they and a few other couples joined on the large dance floor in the center of the common room.
He held her loosely, but in a different style that she was used to. Left hand in her right held away from her body, his hand resting on her hip and hers resting on his shoulder, he pulled her closer, so he could speak into her ear.
"Watch closely on the turn, we're going to do something a little different than most people are familiar with," he smiled at the quizzical look that appeared on her face, but chuckled as it turned into smiling acceptance and readiness for the challenge.
The song started. It was a traditional English song, not one suited for the courts, but one suited for times like this, in the common room of a village inn. It was a happy song that would prove to be just as enjoyable to dance to.
She followed his lead as they started. He dipped forward, leading her with his hands, brought their feet together, kicked out with his leading foot, spun her back and forward into his arms, and then pivoted, moving back the other way. After the first pass she got the hang of it and she started to move on her own, with less help from his leading hands. After the second pass, she was an expert, laughing as she spun, dipped and twirled like a feather in his arms. As the music continued to play, he signaled to the band with a wave to increase the speed of the music.
Leaning forward, he whispered, "Watch closely now, the steps change slightly here and become a little more complicated." She nodded and he started in on his new steps, picking up his pace to match the beat.
He added and extra dip here, an extra kick there, picked her up over there, and finished with a twirl. Again, she let him lead as the steps became more difficult, but at the second pass she had picked it up and was laughing hard as they danced across the floor, their steps becoming elaborate and boisterous as they took over the floor. The other dancers had stopped after the first part and were now forming a circle around them as they clapped and laughed as the music picked up.
After a few more turns the song began to end. Harry picked up the pace, throwing in a few extra moves and as the final note of the song was played he twirled Sheri as fast as he could and caught her halfway to the ground. She was breathless, laughing and a large smile on her face, as the roars of the crowd and the clapping of the spectators thundered in their ears. He was panting as well, she may have been a feather in his arms, but over five minuets of picking her up, twirling her around, and dipping her was taxing, especially on Harry's Azkaban battered body.
They sat down at their table once again, both breathing hard, Shari fanning herself with her apron, "That was wonderful Bob! I've never danced like that before! Where did you learn those steps?"
Harry smiled and answered, "A good friend taught me. After a horrible showing at a ball, I figured I should at least learn to dance, if only to save my partner's toes. I think I did pretty well," he admitted, a satisfied smile on his lips.
"Well!? That was bloody fantastic! I've never seen anyone dance like that before!" she exclaimed, finally catching her breath.
Harry blushed and smiled at her, "Thanks," he mumbled, his ever present shyness flooding through the fake persona of Bob the Wizard.
She grinned at him and was about to ask him another question, when her mother called from the kitchen, "Ok mum!" she called. Turning back to Harry, "I've gotta go, waitress duties and all that, but I'll see you around then. Oh! Shepherd's pie right? Good."
With that she winked at him, and spun around, flouncing to the kitchen to get the customers their meals.
Harry had been quite pleased with himself with the results of his dancing practice. Originally, he had decided to learn to dance, after nearly squashing Parvati's feet at the Yule ball in his fourth year. Although he had no one to teach him how to dance, he did have books, and he had checked out books on dancing steps and the etiquette of dancing in different settings. Studying different styles from many different countries and time periods, Harry had been able to build up a wide knowledge base in a matter of a few months, but to practice them had been slightly harder. To do this, he had asked several girls he knew he could trust to dance with him in secret. Although he had to endure teasing and quite a bit of blushes, not a single girl had turned him down. He had used a large room in the third floor corridor, the previously named "Fluffy's Room", as a place to practice, and a pilfered wizarding wireless set to supply the music.
At first he had a hard time asking the girls to teach him how to dance. He had started out with Ginny. After a huge amount of blushing and near panic, she had agreed to teach him. They had spent a week learning how and he had picked up the different steps without too much problems. But as it happened, Ginny's knowledge of dancing steps was very limited, she had only learned a few steps from her mother before taking to other interests, like quidditch. Although she had no idea of any others, she recommended Alicia Spinnet. Harry had taken longer to ask her, as he was only familiar with her during quidditch season. When he had finally asked her, she had been shocked, but had agreed readily. She had told him that although she was a muggle born, she had made it a point to learn a lot of the wizarding culture as she could, that included dancing. They had progressed quickly, Harry learning new steps at a phenomenal rate, and by one month before the end of the term, he had learned everything he needed to know. The last month, they had moved on to muggle dancing steps, which were very different, but infinitely much more enjoyable, than wizarding dancing, it was always nice to have a young fit girl grinding her hips into you as you did the same to her.
When he returned for his fifth year, Alicia had Head Girl duties to perform, so their dancing had only been sporadic. It was all for the better, as they had just been doing it for fun after having learned pretty much everything in each other's repetuar. Although his skills had been pretty complete, he was still missing the area on pure blood dancing traditions. He had no one to teach him, as the majority of the pure bloods were in Slytherin house. Dejected, Harry had put off that little part of his education, until he got a chance during one of the DA meetings.
After one of the meetings, he had been approached by Alicia, to whom he had voiced his problem too. He couldn't have told Hermoine as she would have suspected something was wrong, or Ron, who would have taken the mickey out of him for even mentioning dancing. Ginny had helped him before because she was pretty much inocquious and she had sworn an oath, without his asking, to not reveal anything about his dancing to anyone. Alicia had told him she had brought up the topic of dancing with some of the girls in the DA in hopes of flushing out a girl who could teach them Pure blood dancing traditions, Alicia was still interested in expanding her knowledge, so she would participate as well. As it turned out, a Ravenclaw girl a year younger then Harry named Su Li, one of the newer members of the DA was a pure blood and had been trained in traditional dancing etiquette and styles.
After one of the meetings, both Harry and Alicia had recruited her to teach them. She had agreed under the condition that they would teach her what they knew of muggle dancing, to which her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she first saw it. They had continued to learn from each other until the demise of the DA by Umbridge and her Inquisitional Squad. After that, the whole fiasco at the Department of Mysteries and Harry's one month stint in Hell pretty much destroyed his chances at learning any more.
"Here you go hun," Harry heard as he was snapped from his musings, "Shepherd's pie and gravy." Shari placed the meal in front of him as he thanked her. She gave him a dazzling smile and a wink, "So do you think you're going to be staying around for a while?"
Harry nodded starting in on his meal, "I'll be staying at the inn for a few days, just to get my affairs in order. I've got some business in Diagon Alley and need to take care of a few things in muggle London, so I'll be here at least two more days."
"Then will you dance with me tomorrow? The band will definitely be back after what happened tonight," she asked hopefully, "I would really love to dance with you again."
"Sure Shari, I'll be out during the day, but we could have a dance or three when I get back in the evening."
She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek, "Thank you Bob!" she said as she skipped away, Tom and Betty giving him a warm, but critical eye, as if warning him to keep his hands to himself. Harry just smiled indifferently to them and finished his meal. Shari was right, it was wonderful. After leaving a tip for Shari, two galleons that made the customers eyes pop, he walked over to the now deserted bar to talk to Tom, who was standing and polishing glasses.
"I'd like a room please," he said evenly, not willing to betray his identity to familiarity, "one with an in suite bath if you have it."
Tom smiled at the strangely family stranger. He looked like a pure blood, certainly tipped like a pure blood if those two shinning gold disks that disappeared into his daughter's apron were really galleons, but he definitely did not act like a pure blood. What kind of pure blood would hold a conversation and flirt innocently with a squib, then take her hand and dance a country jig with her, and then order a Shepherd's Pie of all things. Plus his clothes were nothing like what a Pure blood would wear. This boy was very confusing, but he liked the lad. He didn't know why, but he did.
"Sure thing, Bob, was it?" he asked, doubtfully with a wry smile.
"Yes sir, Bob the Wizard at your service," Harry said, bowing a little and holding out his hand with a genial grin.
Tom chuckled at the boy's antics, "Sure thing 'Bob'. If you would sign here, rooms are three galleons a night, that includes breakfast, and turn down service. A tab will be started under your name."
Harry grinned at the likeable bald wizard, "Three nights should be fine for now I think. Number 12 you say? Thank you very much," he said, accepting the keys and waving goodnight to Sheri, who blushed and waved back, as he ascended the stairs. As he walked up the stairs, his legs protesting to the extra exertion he had to expend while walking up the stairs after dancing his first dance in public, he thought about his effect on the inn keeper's daughter. Harry had never been a ladies' man, and had made a fool out of himself when he first asked a girl he liked out. Then he sulked about it when he found out she was taken, that last thought he pushed away quickly. Focus on the positive and you'd be surprised by the results. But after his dancing with a complete stranger, even if his hair and eyes were different, he knew that she was attracted to him. He had felt her eyes, seen her blushes, and felt her shivering as he placed his hands on her as they danced. The sensation of her was exhilarating. Maybe Sirius was right, he should cut loose and just enjoy a, as Sirius told him once, "a wench or ten".
Chuckling to himself and remembering better times, Harry came to his room, a big gold twelve across the door. The door was thick and heavy, but a bit drafty for his tastes as there was a gap between the bottom of the door and the floor nearly two inches wide. He had to remember to place silencing wards around the room before he slept. Opening the door with the key, Harry pushed and was surprised to find a very nice room very unlike the one he stayed in when he had run away from Pivet Drive in his third year.
A large four postered canopied bed was the centerpiece of the room. It was elevated on a dais towards the back of the room, a large single framed window took up nearly all the space on the wall in back of the bed. The view from the window was a spectacular panorama of the London Skyline, surprising as he thought he was only on the third floor of the building. The rest of the room was very finely made as well. A great desk with a lavish leather working chair was placed in front of the main door, which led into a wide and open area, and finally a lavish bathroom on the far wall held a large bath, a toilet, sink, and a muggle shower with working plumbing. In all, it was one of the finest rooms he had ever spent the night in. It was easy to see why this room would cost three galleons a night.
Stifling a yawn, he let open one of the side windows for Hedwig. She already knew where he was going, but she would need a way to get in once she did find him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his shrunken trunk and re-enlarged it with a wave of his hand. Another wave sent his personal effects into the different compartments of his room, clothes flew into the drawers, books arranged themselves neatly as they flew and landed on the bookshelves, writing utensils and parchment flew over and inside of the desk, and his most personal items arranged themselves on his desk. In a matter of two minuets he had set up all his belongings and made himself a new home. As he stripped off his clothes for bed, he commented to himself, grinning in an ironic fashion, "Isn't that pathetic. My entire house can fit into a normal muggle trunk." But he surely was going to remedy that tomorrow.
Minerva McGonagal was a frustrated woman.
She had been over every single inch of Diagon Alley that night and still had no sign of Harry Potter. After finding Harry's room completely empty, they had searched Surrey, but found no magical signatures of any kind.
Even using his tracking beacon, Dumbledore could not find Harry. They had finally tracked down the source of the beacon and, much to Mad-eye's delight and, surprisingly, the headmaster's, they had found it on a garden snake, hiding in a particularly well hidden burrow.
After that, they had reconvened at Grimmauld Place, the three teens still sitting there as they left them, the two girls frantic and asking the adults where Harry was, and the boy scrunched in a chair, sulking because the attention was yet again back on Harry Potter. She was beginning to feel the beginnings of irritation at the boy.
When they had all settled down once again, it was in trepidation. Nearly all the members of the order were quite literally bursting out of their skin with the need to find and return Harry back to his "safety" on Pivet Drive. Some wanting to do it because they were genuinely worried or just too guilty about they way they treated Harry to do anything else but keep him safe, and others wanting their weapon back, saying some very unflattering things about Harry and his bid for freedom.
Minerva herself was torn, on the one hand, she had wanted to apologize to Harry for the way she treated him and for the treatment she could have prevented if she had stood up to the headmaster to prevent him from entering the home of his muggle relatives, but on the other hand, she wanted him back so she could berate him for running away from the protection of the blood wards. Her conscience was being battered from each side, either seeing Harry as the lost little boy, or the potentially dangerous run away weapon. But she also wanted answers from the aging headmaster.
Turning to Dumbledore, she was dismayed to see the twinkle gone from his eye, and sadness tear at his soul. It was visible to anyone that looked, but the members of the order were too busy arguing with each other on what they should do when they found Harry to do anything else but tear at each other's throats.
After several minuets of the bickering, Minerva could no longer take it, "Albus, we need to know why. Why did you not tell us, and why did you not tell Harry?" she asked, concern lacing her voice, but also the imperative need for answers.
The headmaster sighed, he had hoped to never have this conversation with the order. He had already had this conversation with Harry after the events of the Department of Mysteries and before the start of his trials and imprisonment. Standing, and letting the naked worry lace the old man's features, Albus poured his heart out, "There is only one reason why I did not tell Harry about his destiny, the first time he came to Hogwarts. It is because I cared too much for him."
Minerva's brow knitted together in a frown, "But if you cared so much then why did you insist on placing him in the clutches of those evil people?" At this, nearly the entire table sat up in anticipation, they too wanted to know why Harry had to suffer the way he did.
"To my everlasting shame, I did what I did to prepare Harry for what he would face," the headmaster admitted.
"What!?" Molly Weasley shouted, "You put that poor boy in that horrible place, with people who did not love him, in a place where he was starved and beaten nearly every day, so you could prepare him!?"
The headmaster's eyes rose and met each of the people around the room, his eyes blazing with purpose and duty, "I did so, to harden his heart. To forge him into a weapon that would be ready to fight the dark lord. The pain of his upbringing and his yearning for love would have, and has, given him strength beyond the reach of normal men and women. I knew that his personality, as I knew James and Lilly's personalities, would force him to become better and better so that he could overcome what he would have to face.
"He was a weapon. A nameless weapon of prophecy. I had never met the child before in my life and, much to my shame, I thought I could turn him into a weapon. But when I saw him for the first time as he walked through the doors of Hogwarts, when I saw the pain in his eyes, the state of his health, I knew that I could not treat him as a weapon any longer. So I waited. I needed a weapon, but he wasn't ready. I had suspected that he was ready, but had let my own concern for the boy's well being and my own guilt at causing his pain cloud my judgment. So I waited and with held the vital gift of teaching until he showed that he was ready. But he never was. In his fifth year, I had even tried to force it by arranging him to be taught occlumancy by Severus, knowing Severus would have made it difficult for Harry. I never realized it would be taken so far as to destroy his natural barriers, but I had hopes for Harry as both a boy and a weapon. But it was not to be. He tricked us all, and I failed him. He had to go through too much pain because of me and my meddling. I will no longer meddle in his affairs."
The headmaster sighed and stood, his shoulders slumped and weary, he began to walk from the room.
"Professor!" Diggle called out, he was the leader of the faction that wanted Harry captured, restrained, and set on Voldemort immediately, "What about Potter? We can't just leave him out there! He's got to fight Voldemort!"
The headmaster turned slowly, his eyes filled with anger for the second time today, "What did I just say Daedalus? I-Will-No-Longer-Meddle! Harry has stated in his howler that he will not be leaving the fight, but will be doing it his own way. I trust Harry, and I will no longer stand in his way. Leave him be. He is more resourceful and much stronger than anyone has given him credit."
With that admonishment, the headmaster left the room and the sound of roaring flames and the green flare of the floo igniting could be seen coming from the living room. They rest of the Order was shocked. The Great Albus Dumbledore, giving up? It was unheard of, but he did give his countenance to Harry. Although Albus had made mistakes in the past, he was not making one now. Minerva was certain of that. After all the strange things she had seen today, the 29 OWLs, the way he was able to transfer the tracking beacon to a snake, his casting of a charm that was post-Hogwarts level, and the creation of all these things without a wand, was mind boggling. How had he done it? She wanted to know so badly, but she would respect the wishes of Albus Dumbledore and leave the boy to his own devices. Whatever that may be.
She was shaken from her thoughts by the very unwanted opinion of one Ronald Weasley.
"Since he's got to kill You-know-who, we've got to track him down and force him to-"
"Shut the bloody hell up Ron, no one wants to hear anything you've got to say," Charlie Weasley said, eyes trained on his younger brother with the raptor gaze of a full fledged dragon handler, "I'm going to follow Dumbledore's lead and leave Harry alone. Goodbye," he finished as he stood from his seat and walked into the living room. The floo igniting a few second after.
A little while later, Arthur and Molly stood and left, calling out to Ron and Ginny to follow them. Ginny followed readily, not willing to go against the wishes of her parents as well as the headmaster, but stubborn Ron wouldn't budge. He was still Hell bent on dragging Harry back by the scruff of his neck.
"I'm not going home with you Mum. Harry needs to be found and he needs to face Voldemort. The sooner he does it the faster he's gone and we can get on with our lives," he argued stubbornly. Ignoring the fact that Harry actually did come face to face with Voldemort at least four times and had actually dueled him twice, both times having him end up in the hospital ward with severe injuries.
"Come here Ronald!" His mother shouted, stalking towards him.
Ron dodged in back of the table, "It has to be done Mum, it has-"
"Oh shut up Ron!" It was Ginny who shouted this time. Ron looked surprised as she was one of the idiots who sent that letter to Harry, "Don't you think if Harry could have done it, he would have killed the bastard by now? He fought Voldemort at least four times in the past five years, and every time he ended up nearly dead in the hospital ward. You can't just grab Harry and throw him towards Voldemort and tell him to fight like a chicken or something. Prophecy isn't that simple you idiot! Not stop acting like a little jealous baby and come home!"
Minerva was shocked at the girl's deductive reasoning. She understood that it wasn't as simple as just catching Harry and throwing him to the wolves. Even Diggle was starting to see that his reasoning was flawed, pretty simple as he was watching Ron Weasley the idiot's version of his way of thinking, making an arse of himself.
Still frowning and throwing a fit, Ron tried to argue back, "But-"
"That's it! I'm tired of this tantrum! Stupify!" Arthur shouted and launched a stunning curse at his son, which hit square in the chest and knocked the ranting idiot out. The entire room was looking at the kindly man with a sense of wonder and confusion. Arthur Weasley, one of the most level headed and low key individuals they had ever met, had just lost his temper and cursed his son. Even Molly was a little appalled by his actions, but accepted them, as she bustled over to check on her misguided son.
"I am very sorry for that outburst. We will be taking our leave Minerva. Good day the rest of you," he said as he disappeared after his family into the living room, dragging the body of his tall gangly son in back of him.
Mad-eye stood up and limped over to her, "I agree with Albus on this one. The lad needs to be on his own for a wee bit, but I still think we need to at least run a search for him, just to make sure nothing is out of the ordinary. I'll take Hogsmede, ye'll take Diagon Alley?"
Minerva nodded to the scared old Auror, agreeing that even though they were not going to meddle any longer in Harry's affairs, they should at least make sure everything was safe before turning in. She watched the man take out his wand and disappear with a crack, heading over to Hogsmede village to check for any disturbances that might indicate either death eater activity or Harry's whereabouts.
As the others left, cracks resounding through the room, Hermione Granger, her favorite student, walked up to her, eyes downcast and still in a slight state of shock. She had seen herself in the girl when she had first come to Hogwarts. Always a bit bossy, hypercritical and overly meticulous in her
work, she had grown to become proud of the little muggleborn student. But tonight, she had learned something horrible, the inner workings of a teenage girl. Full of faults and prejudices. It was nothing she could fault the girl for because she had been the same way towards Harry, never giving him a chance and thinking so little of him, as to discard him when he needed them the most.
"What are we going to do Professor?" she asked, looking as lost as Minerva herself felt.
"I am not certain Miss Granger. The only thing we can do is wait for Harry to return and hope that time will forgive at least this wound," she sighed heavily and looked at the girl, "Do you have a way home Miss Granger?"
The younger witch nodded, "I had a floo connection installed at our house. Its protected by wards so only those I personally give my address to can enter. I'll just floo home. Goodbye professor."
"Goodbye Miss Granger," she said as she watched the young girl walk away.
Minerva sighed deeply when she was alone in the old and drafty house. She had always wondered how anyone could live here, but she had just supposed that the house would have been a lot nicer several decades ago with a full staff of elves and people actually living here. She was tempted to just hit the sack, but decided to complete their search, it had been a very long day.
After pulling out her wand and apparating, she found herself, not in the quiet common room of the Leakey Cauldron, but in a boisterous dance hall surrounded by milling people clapping and stomping in time to the beat being hammered out loudly on a kettle drum. Although she was in a bad temper all day, the mood of the room seemed to lift it quickly. It was difficult to scowl when the entire room was laughing, clapping, smiling. As she approached the dance floor to see what all the ruckus was about, she found herself watching a very attractive couple dancing quite expertly to the music, the entire common room watching them. The woman was probably in her early twenties, long brown hair sweeping back and forth as her partner spun her and dipped her, her perspiration glistening on her pretty face. As she looked at the young man she felt a glimmer of familiarity, but it was gone as soon as she saw his face. The boy was shorter than the girl, but only slightly. He danced fluidly, his long blond hair held back in a pony tail in the style of Pureblood wizards and his dull blue eyes shinning with enjoyment as he twirled the young lady expertly in his arms. She could have sworn the boy was a Pureblood, but his clothes, a baggy pair of muggle clothes, and the fact that he was dancing with Shari, the squib daughter of Tom the owner of the Leakey Cauldron, told her that he wasn't.
After a few more spectacular moves, Minerva found herself clapping in time to the music, enjoying the spectacle as much as those around her. As the music ended, the young man spun her in a fantastic spin and caught her halfway to the floor. Minerva whooped and shouted with the rest of the common room as the couple left the dance floor to take their seats.
She had been troubled before, but seeing the joy around her and the excitement of the patrons of the inn, she was feeling much better.
"Hello Tom," Minerva said as she approached the bald inn keeper.
"Good day Min!" Tom greeted her jovially, "It is very nice to see you. Will you be staying for dinner? A drink perhaps? It's on the house," he tempted.
Minerva laughed, she had always like the charming old barkeep, "No, not today Tom. I'm actually looking for someone. Have you seen Harry Potter come in today?"
Tom shook his head, his face scrunched up in thought, "Nope, sorry Min, but I would've known if Harry had come in. Good boy that kid, always liked him. It was a sad day when the ministry did those
horrible things to the poor boy. I'll never forgive them for that," he said, then turned a critical eye to the deputy headmistress, "Did something happen to him?" he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.
Minerva was always amazed at how easily Harry could worm his way into people's hearts. It was probably his simple honesty, or the honorable way he treats everyone, regardless of birth or race. She suddenly felt sad. Only now was she realizing what kind of a person Harry was, now that he was gone, when she had five years to figure all this out. She sighed before answering.
"He's not missing per se, but we still want to get in contact with him."
"Ah, I'm sorry Min, but he's not here. I'll drop you a floo if I see him though," he said jovially.
"Thank you Tom," she said, walking away to the door leading to Diagon Alley and waving back to the barkeep. As she walked out of the common room and into the lonely alley, she felt the cheer wash out of her, replaced by the same despair she had felt before. Taping out the right sequence of bricks, she sighed and thought to herself, this was going to be a very long night.