Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.
Chapter 2
Findings
“Where can we go?” Ron beseeched, his voice hinting at panic. “They have the front door practically blocked!”
“We’ll just have to Disapparate “ despite the noise factor,” Hermione volunteered. “Hopefully, the pantry walls will block the sound to some extent.”
“All right,” agreed Harry, “Where do we rendezvous? Some place safe.”
“Diagon Alley?” suggested Ron. “The Burrow?”
Harry shook his head. “Too many wizards about. We need someplace where we will be totally anonymous. Someplace like a Muggle crowd.”
“You can’t just Apparate into a Muggle crowd and expect to remain anonymous,” Hermione observed.
For the second time that morning, Harry glanced at his new wristwatch. It was just nearing half-past eight. The height of rush hour!
“I have it! What about a tube station?” he volunteered. “During rush hour, no one will notice a few extra bodies.”
“Still too noticeable to pop into the middle of a crowd, though,” Hermione warned.
“You could actually bowl somebody over,” cautioned Ron in a tone that bespoke of having experienced such a calamity before.
“We could Apparate in the loos,” Hermione considered, “Inside a cubicle would be best.”
Harry cleared his throat softly. “What if the cubicle is, you know, already occupied?”
Hermione screwed up her face in disgust. This was obviously a situation she had not considered. “Do you have any better ideas?”
“An empty broom closet,” Ron put forth with aplomb.
“And do you have a blueprint of the building that would show those?” Hermione hissed. “It’s hardly the thing one remembers in passing.”
“I would hate finding myself inside of a maintenance closet that had been locked from the outside, mate,” Harry considered.
“But, they’re going to think we’re pervs,” Ron moaned.
“Especially the two of you together,” Hermione noted wryly.
“Unless anyone has any better idea within the next ten seconds, I suggest that we risk it,” Harry concluded urgently. At Ron’s mortified expression, he added, “Look, you can Stun them and then I’ll Obliviate them if it comes to that! Improvise!”
Hermione was lost in thought for a moment. “Perhaps if we just concentrated on an empty cubicle, visualized it clearly in our imagination.”
“You mean, if we had enough determination?” Harry ventured as the words of their Apparition instructor came immediately to mind.
“Desperation would be more like it,” Ron mumbled under his breath.
“Fine,” agreed Harry as he returned his attention to the principle dilemma. “Let’s agree upon a specific tube station, already. I don’t know London very well.”
“I don’t know Muggle London at all, mate,” complained Ron. “Are you sure we shouldn’t try for the Burrow? I know Mum will be about, but--”
“There’s a station near here that feeds a lot of the tourist attractions,” whispered Hermione hurriedly. “Do you remember going on any field trips when you were at Muggle school?”
Harry rubbed his scar absently as he pondered, but all he could think about was his rapidly racing heart.
“Do you remember visiting the Tower of London? The British Museum?” Hermione suggested frantically. At his blank look, she tried again, “Do you remember the Egyptian mummies?”
Finally a dim memory came back to Harry: holding hands in a long string of rowdy children and winding his way past the glass enclosed mummy cases. Wanting to linger to look at the details and being dragged along like a long, winding snake. He nodded tentatively.
“Now do you remember the tube station?” she ventured, but Harry shook his head in frustration once more.
But slowly, his nine-year-old self was coming into view and he was standing in a long queue of boys this time, on a sidewalk… There was a row of red telephone boxes right next to the building.
“There’s a line of call boxes where everyone likes to pose for pictures with the royal guard?” he suggested hopefully.
She smiled and nodded.
“What about me?” Ron asked shakily. “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”
“Side-Along Apparition, Ron,” declared Harry. “I did it a few times with Dumbledore. Not exactly the most pleasant sensation, but it will get you there.”
They could begin to hear sounds coming from the dining room, sounds that the intruders had begun to open the double French doors that led to the main hall, but then thought better of it.
“It looks like they are turning back down the hall to the back staircase,” whispered Hermione, peering anxiously into the little viewer. “They’ll be at the kitchen door presently. We need to get out of here now!”
“What about the Evil Eye Detector? I can’t just leave it behind.” Ron cracked the door to the pantry open and was about to poke the tip of his wand through the small opening. “Here let me just--”
Hermione grabbed his hand back. “Don’t,” she commanded tersely.
“All I have to do is Summon the thing back,” he countered.
“Leave it,” warned Harry.
Suddenly, an ear splitting wail assaulted them. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, including the patches that they wore on their shirts. The intruders had gotten too close to the alarm!
Stuffing the patches hurriedly into Ron’s rucksack, Harry motioned for him to put his wand away also. Ron grabbed Harry’s upper arm with both hands as Harry counted down to three. At least in this commotion, no one would notice the noise of their Disapparitions, he thought.
His last gesture was to snatch the Foe-Glass from the shelf, nearly dropping it in the process as it had become almost too hot to handle. He did not have time to notice the menacing face that had materialized behind Kreacher’s pointed one.
Harry reappeared crookedly with one foot propped on the ancient toilet. Ron’s body was angled in the narrow space between the back wall and the cubicle partition. Unable to get their proper footing, the boys tumbled against the old wooden door which immediately yawned open. They fell into a heap onto the crumbling floor tiles, Harry barely grabbing his glasses at the last moment to prevent them from shattering on the hard surface. The Foe-Glass rolled out of his other hand with a loud metallic echo.
Luckily, no one else was about. Harry retrieved the Foe-Glass, now cool to the touch. He examined it closely, but no faces were currently visible in its smoky depths. Stuffing it absently into his jacket, he hurriedly brushed white plaster dust from his trousers as he rose shakily. Ron did likewise. The lavatory mirrors showed their reflections in ghost-like outlines through a thick layer of grime. Hearing men’s voices in the distance, they quickly tucked themselves into the shadows beneath the washbasins.
Slowly, they eased their heads around the corner for a better look. They could just see a small crew of workmen lounging about outside the far doorway, talking among themselves and sipping from plastic containers.
No wonder the place was deserted; it was being renovated.
“We have to get out of here before they finish their tea break,” whispered Ron into Harry’s ear. “I think I saw another way out.”
Turning back towards the bathroom depths, they could see a long line of transom windows along the back wall of the toilet stalls. Many of the windows were cranked open to allow for ventilation. Standing on the back of the toilet, Ron attempted to reach the window sill. His outstretched hand fell short by more than a meter.
“Give me a boost,” he suggested to Harry, as he handed over his rucksack hastily.
Using Harry’s shoulder as an impromptu step, Ron was able to swing his long leg over the cubicle wall after a few attempts. With both legs straddling the partition, he then shimmied over to the back wall.
“Now for the tricky part,” he mused.
Locating a slight lip from a misaligned tile, he dug his fingertips in for balance. Then, very slowly, he eased his trainers onto the top edge of the partition wall; it could not have been more than an inch wide. Walking his hands along the tiles for balance, he unfolded his lean frame until he was balanced as if he were atop a circus tightrope.
“I’m never going to be able to follow you, chum,” called Harry from below.
“You may not have to,” Ron answered, as he peered over the open transom. “Looks like the building backs into a wild patch. We should be able to Apparate there totally unseen.”
Swinging himself down from his vantage point, Ron stood next to Harry on the dusty floor. Another Side-Along Apparition was in order, but this time Ron was in the lead.
Once again, they landed in a crumpled pile. Carefully avoiding a sharp holly bush to his left, Harry slowly looked around as he worked his way into a standing position. They were sandwiched between the brick backside of the station and a rickety wooden wall that had been erected as a construction barrier.
Easing away from the direction of the workers, they circumvented the back of the building to arrive at the opposite side. Checking that there were no passersby looking their way, they nonchalantly stepped onto the sidewalk. Harry peered into the interior of the station as he absently picked a few bits of grassy twigs from his jacket sleeve. No sign of Hermione among the crowd.
“We’d better go inside,” he suggested to Ron as he held the glass door wide.
Ron looked around in awe at the totally ordinary surroundings. As Harry dragged him along to keep them from being trampled under the stream of frantic commuters, he was reminded of how infrequently Ron ventured outside his own world. Past the bored ticket taker, they found the rows of benches that comprised the waiting area. Still no sign of Hermione.
I should have suggested a secondary rendezvous point, thought Harry in hindsight, just in case we missed each other at the tube station.
Beyond the escalators that led down to the boarding platform, Harry spied a small coffee shop where a handful of commuters were seeking refuge from the crowds. It would make an ideal vantage point from which to survey the passing bodies without being crushed themselves. He guided Ron in that direction.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, the Muggle at a small table of the far right lowered the newspaper that she had been reading. They noticed Hermione’s familiar eyebrows and forehead, followed by her broad smile.
“Did you two have to hike cross country?” she asked as they drew near. She stood up to affectionately pluck some dried leaves from Ron’s ginger locks.
“Naw, we just had to take a slight detour out the backside of the building,” explained Ron as he slid into the seat next to her.
Hermione raised her eyebrows skeptically and turned to Harry for corroboration.
“Long story, Hermione,” he replied. “The loo was being renovated and we didn’t want
to barge through the workers’ tea party by going out the front door.”
“Good thing no one was at work when we popped in, eh?” added Ron.
“There was no one in the ‘Ladies’ when I Apparated, either,” admitted Hermione, half turning in the chair to gesture behind her.
The smile seemed to slide from her face as she caught sight of the door to the Ladies Lounge. Posted in plain sight was a huge sign that read: CLOSED FOR RENNOVATIONS.
Turning around sheepishly, she countered, “Well, at least no one would have noticed me when I came out. This place looked like a cattle stampede until about five minutes ago. Looks like the crowd is finally beginning to wind down…”
Catching sight of Ron’s haggard face, Hermione changed lanes in mid-breath. “What’s the matter, Ron?”
“Wish I hadn’t had to leave the Eye behind,” he mumbled dejectedly. “Fred and George are going to kill me.”
“Casualty of war, mate,” Harry reminded him. “That’s what field tests are all about.”
“I didn’t exactly get their permission before I borrowed it,” Ron admitted.
Hermione shook her head sympathetically.
“They’re going to kill me,” he moaned.
“No, they won’t, Ron.” Hermione’s voice filled with resolve as her eyes lit up with the kernel of an idea. “You just did them a great service by testing their product in a real life situation.”
“I don’t think they’re going to see it that way, Hermione,” Ron moped. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, though.”
But Hermione was not letting go. “We’ll just have to make them see. First, you’ll prepare a report to detail your findings.” She looked pointedly at Ron. “You know, the features that worked well and those that could do with a bit of tweaking.”
Ron’s glum face showed that he was still unconvinced. Perhaps this was beginning to sound too much like schoolwork, observed Harry silently.
“All right,” offered Hermione, “I’ll help you get started.” She turned around slightly to fish a small memo pad and a ballpoint pen from the pocket of her windbreaker. “Let’s start with the areas that need improvement. That’s always easiest.”
“The focus,” volunteered Harry. “How it focused on Kreacher and then we could no longer see the face of his companion.”
Hermione scribbled furiously as she muttered, “Focus adjusted too close to floor level. Seems to catch on first moving object it sees. Unable to adjust to a wider angle.”
“Say, Ron,” Harry asked conversationally, “just how did Fred and George get into the business of making proximity alarms, anyway? It hardly seems like the sort of thing a joke shop would stock.”
“Actually, they were thinking about marketing it to practical jokers who wanted to make sure they weren’t caught in the act,” explained Ron.
“Then they’re going to have to do something about that alarm,” Hermione rejoined. “That would warn the, um, victims for miles around.”
“It’s supposed to have a vibrate feature,” admitted Ron, “but I guess I didn’t set it right.”
“Features should be easier to set,” breathed Hermione as she added to her notepad. “User should be able to easily double-check settings…Anything else? Let’s move on to the positives then.”
“How about the fact that we could see who was coming down the stairs even though the globe was hidden in the alcove?” offered Ron.
Hermione nodded her assent as she continued to scribble.
“I thought that the labeling on the patches with an eye and an ear made them very easy to understand,” Harry added.
Hermione surveyed her notes critically, her pen poised over the pad expectantly. “That’s a good start. Here, Ron, I’ll give you my notes and--”
Ron’s stricken face stopped her in midstream.
“All right,” she conceded, “I’ll try to get it organized and owl you over a draft. Feel free to add in anything else that occurs to you in the meanwhile. But you’re going to need to copy it over in your own handwriting,” she stressed.
“Do you think it will work?” he implored. “Do you think they’ll forgive me?”
“Forgive you?” she replied in an airy tone. “They’ll be positively thrilled with the findings. Do you realize the value of product field testing? I wouldn’t be surprised if they offered to pay you for your efforts!”
Ron gave her a hang-dog look that conveyed he was still unconvinced.
“Trust me on this,” she said more gently. Turning her attention to the other side of the table, she said, “What do you think, Harry?”
But Harry was not paying attention. He was staring grimly into the distance, clenching his jaw uncharacteristically.
“What is it, mate?” asked Ron worriedly.
“Did you see someone suspicious?” Hermione quickly added, her voice filling with alarm.
“We have to go back,” Harry replied deliberately, still staring off in thought. Then turning to face his friends, he repeated, “We have to go back to Grimmauld Place.”
Ron was taken aback. “No way. We almost got caught the last time…”
Hermione was of a like mind. “There’s no telling who might be lurking about,” she cautioned.
“Doesn’t matter,” Harry replied resolutely. “Look at this.”
Glancing discreetly around to make sure that they were not attracting any undue attention, he motioned them over to his side of the table. They stood staring down into a folded newspaper that Harry was guarding in his lap; the same paper that Hermione had discarded earlier. Slowly, he eased it open to reveal a bundled dishtowel, threadbare and so ancient it was practically grey.
“Where did that come from?” Hermione whispered.
“Stuffed behind one of the broken chimney bricks in the pantry,” Harry breathed. “It was a miracle I was able to grab it just as we were Disapparating.”
“Explains why we landed in such a heap,” Ron noted with a grimace.
“Yeah, sorry about that…”
Using the eraser end of a pencil stub, Harry carefully eased the towel open to reveal a jumble worthy of a magpie: shards of old china, broken earring parts, bits of sparkle that were probably glass rhinestones that had fallen out of their original mountings. Coiled like a serpent in the middle of a nest lay a thick oval pendant, tarnished to a dark shade of mahogany.
Hermione gasped involuntarily. Barely discernable through the grime, an ornate letter “S” had been incised into the metal.
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: A hasty escape plan leads to unexpected discoveries for everyone involved.