Chapter 10
Harry yanked back the tent flap and stepped inside. It took a moment to adjust his sight to the lone, smoky oil lamp on the tiny round table. The inner part of the tent was suffocatingly small.
A hunched figure was seated in the shadows just beyond the oil lamp. It leaned forward and the light brought into sharp focus a hooked nose, greasy hair, and piercing black eyes.
Severus Snape.
“The great Harry Potter,” Snape drawled sarcastically, his eyes flashing scornfully. “Pardon me if I don’t bow before you.”
YOU! Harry yelled, pulling out his wand from his jeans pocket and pointing it directly at Snape’s heart. “You bastard!”
“Harry!” Ginny cried, trying to step between the two; she remembered Harry’s promise to kill Snape and worried that he would die instead. “Let’s just leave!”
In response, Harry grasped Ginny’s jumper with his free hand and pushed her out of the way.
Snape was on his feet in a flash; his own wand drawn. “I knew you and your little friends--” he sneered at Ginny contemptuously, “--couldn’t resist this ridiculous Muggle circus.”
“What in the bloody hell are you doing here?” Harry asked, stunned. “You’re--”
“--A half-blood in hiding? How observant, Potter,” Snape intoned snidely. “My being here is none of your business.”
“How long have you been hiding here--like a coward?” Harry wanted to kill Snape at first sight, but curiosity was winning out; he had to know why Snape was seeking refuge with Muggles.
“Again, that is information you need not know about.” There was an edge to Snape’s voice--a deadly tone that hinted Harry ought to back off.
But Harry wasn’t listening. “I ought to blast you right where you stand!” he growled, bringing his wand up a notch. “You killed Dumbledore!”
“Harry! Don’t do it! Please!” Ginny pleaded, tugging at Harry’s shirttail.
Harry ignored her; his focus was solely on Snape.
“May I remind you, Potter, that I can easily hurt you--without words?” It was true; Snape was quite skilled at wordless magic--something Harry had not truly mastered.
“Why don’t you, then?” Harry growled. “Why won’t you kill me--isn’t that what you’ve wanted to do all along? Are you too much of a coward--killing a defenseless old man instead?”
“Albus Dumbledore was never defenseless,” Snape replied quietly, his tone rather cool.
“Are you saying he could have fought back? That’s ridiculous! He was weakened by--” Harry stopped, thinking it was probably a bad idea to reveal too much to Snape; he might pass the information on to Voldemort.
Snape’s eyebrow shot up an inch. “Is it?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“Stop trying to distract me!” Harry shouted back. “He trusted you--and you killed him, you... you coward!”
“Baiting me with feeble-minded, childish taunts won’t work again, Potter, so save your breath.”
“Murderer! I’m going to kill you like you killed Dumbledore! “ Harry shouted.Avada Ke--”
“NO!” Ginny screamed, flinging herself onto Harry. “HARRY, STOP!” The two fell headlong into the dirt floor of the tent.
Harry angrily shoved Ginny off of him. “Stay out of this!” he ordered.
“How touching,” Snape commented in a nasty tone. “The little woman comes to the rescue, only to be scolded by the tragic hero.”
“You shut up!” Ginny hissed at Snape. “We wouldn’t be in this predicament if it weren’t for you!”
“Touché, Miss Weasley.” Snape retorted, with an quick incline of his head. “After all, it wasn’t me who suggested the two of you come in here.”
Ginny reddened and looked away.
“Stay out of this, Ginny,” Harry barked again, pushing her out of the way. “I told you--nothing was going to stop me from killing Snape--not even you.” He turned back towards Snape, who hadn’t moved at all. “Avada Kedavra!”
A thin jet of green light shot out of Harry’s wand, but Snape, ever vigilant, ducked out of the way; the chair behind him exploded into tiny pieces.
“Your heart’s not into it, Potter!” Snape taunted him. “Is Dumbledore not worth it--or do you like me too much?”
“Be quiet! Dumbledore meant more to me than you’ll ever know!” Harry hissed, searching the near darkness for the Potions Master. He saw a slight movement in the corner to his left. “Avada Kedavra!”, Harry shouted, watching as the green light hit nothing but dirt.
“Harry, please stop!,” Ginny pleaded from behind him. However, Harry was distracted by the sound of Snape’s voice eminating form somewhere in the darkened tent.
“How many times,” Snape called loudly, his oily voice filling the tent, making it impossible to detect its origins, “must I tell you to never reveal what you are going to do to an enemy? It’ll only give them time to prepare for your attack and think of one of their own.” He pointed his wand at Harry in response and flung a silent curse at the young man.
Ginny screamed again, as Harry fell to his knees; his wand clattered to the floor. The pain overwhelmed him, nearly consuming him, and he fell onto his side. The top of the darkened tent seemed to rush up to meet him. Was he dying?
Ginny’s cries seemed to fade away, being replaced by another, deeper gut-wrenching sound. It was then, Harry realized, it had come from himself.
”ST-STOP IT!”
Snape’s nostrils flared, as he glared down his hooked nose at Harry. A moment later, he lowered his wand and turned away, cursing.
“W-why are you g-giving up so easily?” Harry panted, still lying on the hard ground. Ginny stood in the corner, sobbing; he wanted desperately to comfort her, but could barely move.
“That is no business of yours,” Snape replied coldly, whipping around to face him. “Go back to Hogwarts and forget you ever saw me here.”
“You’re my teacher no longer; I don’t have to listen to you!”
“Spoken like a true man, Potter,” Snape replied sarcastically. “Suit yourself, but I’m not going to stand here, listening to your foolish ranting.” He turned his attention to Ginny. “Take him home and see to it that your parents help him recover properly.”
Ginny, who was more concerned with Harry’s well-being, merely nodded. She grasped Harry by the elbows and hauled him to his feet; surprisingly, Harry did not resist. With some difficulty, they reached the tent’s entrance and began to move out into the fresh night air, but Snape’s voice held them back.
“One moment.” Snape strode forward and thrust out his hand; there lay Harry’s wand. Ginny gasped and tried to search Snape’s features for some sort of understanding, but the Potions’ Master kept his face devoid of emotion. “Take this and do not seek me out again.”
Ginny didn’t need to be told twice; she snatched the wand from Snape’s hand and stuffed it into her jeans pocket, along with her own wand. She pulled Harry out of the tent and down the lane, heedless of the curious stares they were receiving from passersby.
She needed to find someone in her family--and quickly; Harry still couldn’t stand on his own two feet and he was becoming rather heavy. The only thing he seemed capable of doing was repeating one word over and over: “Why?”
Ginny wanted to cry; she wished she’d never made Harry go into that tent; he’d warned her--even tried to get her to change his mind, but she was too stubborn to listen. Part of her wanted to march back and hurt Snape too, but Harry’s predicament was indication enough to obey Snape just this once and stay away; next time he might just kill one of them--and that wasn’t a chance Ginny was willing to take.
She found a bench and helped Harry be seated; she plopped down next to him, and hugged him tightly, tears streaming from her eyes. “Harry, you’ll be all right, won’t you?” she asked quietly.
“Ginny?”
“Harry!” the redhead gasped, sitting upright and staring at Harry incredulously. “Are you okay?”
However, it wasn’t Harry who said Ginny’s name; a few feet away and closing in fast were Hermione and Ron, both looking pale and frightened. Ginny stood up and threw herself in Hermione’s arms.
“What in bloody hell happened here?” Ron asked angrily, looking at Ginny’s tearstained face and then at Harry, who had quite a vacant expression in his eyes.
“Snape!” Ginny bit out, tears flowing freely now. It took a few moments, but she was able to give her brother and Hermione the shortened version of recent events. When Ron wanted to storm back to the tent and kill Snape himself, Hermione and Ginny had to restrain him forcibly.
“Someone must get Molly and Arthur,” Hermione said, attempting to remain calm. Ginny and Ron agreed; their parents would be able to get Harry home quickly, but there was a problem: who would fetch them? None of the trio wanted to leave Harry’s side. At the moment, all Harry seemed capable of was sitting upright--a defeated, haunting look in his eyes.
After a moment’s silent deliberation, Hermione had an idea.
“I’ll be breaking one of your father’s rules, but in this case, I think he’ll make an exception,” Hermione began. “I’ll go behind those tents--” she pointed to a cluster at the edge of Magician’s Alley, “--and send up some red sparks. The Muggles won’t know the difference; they’ll think it was fireworks or some such thing.”
“What if my mum and dad think the same thing?” Ron asked, seated next to Harry. Harry had come around a bit and was nodding after everything Ron said.
“Mum and dad know aren’t that thick, Ron,” Ginny replied sarcastically.
Hermione moved behind the tents, careful not to be seen; moments later, Ginny, Ron, and even Harry saw red sparks shoot high into the air. Several Muggles turned their faces to the sky and made noises of awe, but didn’t attempt to look for the source of the lights; Hermione predicted correctly, it seemed.
Within five minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who’d been on the Swinger, came running over, their faces full of concern and alarm. Arthur opened his mouth to scold the children, but one look at Harry made him clamp his lips together.
Molly decided to was best not to make Harry move any more, but wasn’t certain how to get him home without using magic--and without the Muggles seeing.
Arthur suggested that he call in Aurors to modify the Muggles memories, but Molly voted against that, stating there were too many non-wizarding folk for the Aurors to handle.
In the end, it was Hermione who came up with the best idea. When Bill, Charlie, and Fleur approached--also looking frightened--Hermione spotted Harry’s backpack over Bill’s shoulder. She quickly removed Harry’s Invisibility Cloak--to the shock and awe of several Weasley’s-- and asked them to crowd around Harry.
Quickly, the group complied; Hermione wasted no time in throwing the shimmery fabric over Harry until it covered him completely.
“Harry,” Hermione said quietly to the now-invisible boy, “you must remain quiet and still until we can get you home to the Burrow. Do you understand?”
A weak “Yes” was all Hermione needed; she straightened up and looked about to see if any Muggles were nearby.
Molly, understanding what Hermione wanted to accomplish, pulled out her own wand instead and murmured, “Locomotor Harry.”
The group had to rely on touch alone to be certain Harry where was--floating two feet off the ground. When they were assured of Harry’s exact location, they proceeded towards the fair’s entrance, surrounding Harry on all sides--to be sure no Muggles accidentally bumped into something they couldn’t see.
Each was contemplating the evening’s events and all came to the same conclusion: this would be a night no one would forget.
Once they made it to the top of the hill, they group began Disapparating back to the Burrow two by two: Mrs. Weasley with Harry, Ginny and Charlie, Ron and Hermione, and Fleur and Bill. Only Mr. Weasley remained, stating he would fetch the twins.
After the last of the group had vanished, Arthur Weasley trudged back to the fair, determined to locate more than just his sons that evening.