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Author: DaisyFlo Story: The Dark and Twisting Path Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: WIP Reviews: 5 Words: 12,353
A/N: Hey! I've not been doing much writing recently but I've finally managed to get this chapter out! Thanks to my sister who inspired me to get back to writing and thanks to my new beta Ladybug who's helped enormously with this chapter! Enjoy . . . *** Harry turned in his sleep. He was dreaming of Ginny … He was staring into her brown eyes – "Bye, Harry, I'll see you sometime" – they were shining, silent, secret tears gathering – "Take care, Ginny" – awkward glances as she was ushered quickly out of the hall – trying to avoid his gaze as he stared at her, willing her to turn back – "I'll see you sometime" – He felt her lips touch his … he could see the lake in the distance, the June sunshine reflecting off her hair, the grass beneath their feet … he was trying to hold onto the dream, but he could feel the image slowly slipping away … He could feel himself slowly waking up, but he could still feel Ginny's lips on his … He realised that he was still kissing her back, and he blearily opened his eyes to check that Ron hadn't seen anything … he could still vaguely see her face before him … He could make out two closed eyelids … Ginny? This face seemed fairly real … and the lips were still kissing, the tongue probing … and his own lips were responding … Wait – this was so real … he was actually kissing someone … But Ginny was at The Burrow … Harry froze and so did his lips. Oh God … He reached up to push the girl off him, and his hand brushed against her bushy curls. He tried to speak, but her mouth was in the way – "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?" Hermione squealed and pushed Harry away immediately, leaping off the bed, but he paid her no attention as he frantically grabbed for his glasses. Shoving them on his face, he gathered his courage and chanced a glance at Ron. Ron was staring straight at Harry, but he didn't appear to be taking anything in. "I'm so sorry," breathed Hermione, wide-eyed and looking desperately at Ron. "I thought it was you! I didn't want to kiss Harry!" Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. Hermione was still burbling on. "No, of course not, I meant to kiss Ron – I thought you were Ron – it was dark!" she tried to explain, looking frantically from Ron to Harry. "Oh," said Harry and he leant back against his pillows. "Thank God. Hang on … you meant to kiss RON?" Harry sat straight back up, glancing at Hermione's scarlet face and Ron's matching ears. He felt sick. "So you two are …" he gestured at the two of them, both looking slightly ashamed and very nervous. He leant back and sighed. "Why didn't you tell me?" "Harry, we wanted to, but we thought that you had a lot on your mind and, and, erm …" Hermione mumbled. Harry sighed and looked at Ron. "Er … yeah. Well, it's true, mate, we thought that you had a lot to cope with, right now and everything." Ron was avoiding Harry's eyes. "How long?" Harry demanded. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances until Hermione spoke. "About a week?" "A week? Then you got together at … Grimmauld Place? We've been at the Leaky Cauldron for a week now, and you've been keeping it quiet all this time?" "Er … sorry?" said Ron hopefully. "Please don't be mad at us … Please?" Hermione said. "Well …" he grumbled. "It's not like I wasn't expecting it to happen …" *** "Morning," Harry grunted as Hermione came down the stairs. He looked down at his breakfast as she kissed Ron on the cheek. It had been two days since he had found out about Ron and Hermione, but he still wasn't used to it. Plus, it didn't help that he had kissed Hermione, however inadvertently, and he couldn't stop a shuddery feeling every time he saw Ron kiss her. Despite himself, thoughts from last year kept rushing back: what if they just forgot all about him? What if they broke-up? What if they never spoke to each other again and Harry was forced to find new best friends? But then, what if they got engaged – or married? What if they wanted to stop helping him on his hunt for Voldemort and wanted to go off and start a family? Stop being an idiot, Harry. They're seventeen years old! They're only going out with each other; you knew it was going to happen one day … "Morning," Hermione replied while sighing. She started to read a letter. "Who's that from?" Ron asked. "It's from Ginny. She says that there are Apparition tests being held on Halloween … oh, and your mum's invited us to dinner afterwards … but not Ginny, obviously, she'll be at school …" "Dinner after what?" Ron interrupted. "After your Apparition tests, of course." "What?" "Well, Harry hasn't taken his yet and you failed yours …" she said. "By half an eyebrow! Come on! You're going to make me take it again because of half an eyebrow?" "Ron! I'm not making you take it. Anyway, I thought you wanted to; last year you were desperate to learn!" She paused while Ron struggled for something to retaliate with. "Well, anyway," she said in an extremely matter-of-fact manner, "you're taking it aren't you, Harry?" As much as he was dreading returning to Hogwarts he said, "We need licences, we don't want the Ministry after us." Ron grunted, not willing to accept that Hermione had won, and looked down at his food. She finished the letter and watched Harry and Ron eating breakfast for a moment. "What's the matter?" Harry asked, as he looked up at her frustrated face. "Oh, it's nothing … But I just think that we need to do – I don't know, just …" "Yes?" Harry prompted. "Well, I think we need to do something. You know, we don't know how long we have to – to – well, before something happens." Harry looked up from his breakfast. "You mean we should start looking for the –" "Well, whatever we do, I don't think we should discuss it here," Ron said, looking around at the crowded hall of the Leaky Cauldron. Once upstairs and in Ron and Harry's bedroom, Ron and Hermione looked at Harry expectantly. "You're right, Hermione, we need to at least start visiting places were they might be. Dumbledore says – said – that he might have hidden them in places that were significant in his past," Harry said. "There was the cave, that me and Dumbledore visited; there was the house which Dumbledore visited – the Gaunts' cottage; there was, um … well, there were loads of places that he mentioned." "Harry, we need all of them! We need to narrow down where we're looking. What places did you see in the memories?" asked Hermione. "Didn't you mention something about an orphanage?" suggested Ron. "Yes! The orphanage he grew up in!" Harry said. "Well, there's probably nothing there, but it's worth a try, we have to start somewhere." "All right, so where exactly is this orphanage, Harry?" Hermione asked, grabbing a spare piece of parchment and a quill. "Um … well, let me think …" he said, resting his forehead against the wall. "This is useless, if he doesn't even know where the orphanage is," grunted Ron, as he plonked himself down on his bed. *** "Are you sure this is going to work, Harry?" Hermione asked once more. "Of course it is," said Harry impatiently. "Well, pour it in then." "I still don't like my role in all this," said a grumpy Ron. "Ron, you've got the most important role, remember? We couldn't do it without a lookout! Or do you want to transform into a girl?" Harry smirked at Ron's disgusted face and turned to face Hermione. Hermione poured the Polyjuice Potion that she had bought for a reasonable price in a small potion shop in Knockturn Alley this morning out of the bottle and into the cauldron. "Never thought I'd be saying this, but I'm actually very grateful for Pansy Parkinson at this moment! It would have been so much harder to get some of his hair without her … but I mean, keeping a lock of his hair in her locket! That is ridiculous," she muttered as she stirred the potion. "And Ginny – we wouldn't have been able to get either sample without her," Ron added. "Here you go, Harry," she said as she held out a goblet full of the black muddy liquid. She added a hair to her own as Harry added his. "Cheers," Harry said and held up his glass. He started to gulp it down, coughing and spluttering as the thick liquid oozed down his throat. It was just as horrible as it had been the first time he had tried it. About to throw up, he ran straight into a toilet cubicle and heard Hermione slam the door of hers soon after. This was a different experience to what he had felt before: instead of getting bigger, he was shrinking, just slightly. He watched his skin turn a shade lighter and he could see wisps of his black hair slowly turn into blond. With his clothes feeling just a tiny bit too big for him, he finally stepped out of the cubicle and watched Ron jump at his new appearance. "Blimey, Harry," he said. Harry stepped forward and glanced at his reflection. He felt sick. He felt like himself, but the silvery-grey eyes staring back at him from the mirror gave him an urge to drink another dose of the potion and turn himself back into Harry as soon as possible. He put a pale, thin hand up to his face, as if to check whether it was real. Then he heard Hermione leave her cubicle and he turned around. He stared at her for just a moment, and then his eyes fell on the pug-like nose in the middle of her face. "That's sickening," he said, with a grim expression. "Not as bad as your new appearance," Hermione said, looking in the mirrors as well. Harry turned back to the mirror and examined himself once more. Then a thought struck him. Slowly, he pulled up his left sleeve with a shaking hand. Hermione gasped and Ron swore loudly. There, staring back at him from his arm, was a glistening skull, with that fatal serpent, poised mid-slither from its mouth. Harry felt sick. He pulled his sleeve back down his arm again and swept a strand of blond hair out of his eyes. "You were right. I don't believe it. He's seventeen! What does You-Know-Who think he's doing?" "Getting revenge on Lucius," replied Harry, with a bitter taste in his mouth. "Harry, we don't have to do this, you know, if you're having doubts," Ron said. "Yes, yes we do!" Harry snapped back furiously. "But, Harry, you really don't have to do this! I mean, come on – you're Malfoy." *** "Right, everyone know what they're doing?" Harry asked in a whisper. After receiving two nods, Harry and Hermione ducked out of the Invisibility Cloak and into Borgin and Burkes. They approached the counter and rang the rusty old bell placed on it. A young man came out of the shadows. Harry froze. It wasn't Borgin. "Yes?" he said eyeing them suspiciously. "My name is Draco Malfoy." "Oh, Master Malfoy," the man suddenly seemed much more alert. "How can I help you, sir?" "Could we see Borgin?" Harry asked. "I'm afraid he's out on business. I'm his son. May I be of assistance?" "Well," said Harry, he glanced at Hermione who shrugged, "we need to see, some, um, records." "Records?" the man asked. "Yes, employee records. We need some information on one of your previous employees, we believe he worked here at a certain time." "Well, we do keep a record of all employees, but they are completely confidential, I'm sorry." Harry leant forward towards the man nervously, all the while slowly lifting up his left sleeve. "I need these records urgently, sir." The man's eyes darted towards Harry's arm. "I-I see, Master Malfoy – well – well, we can always make exceptions." The man quickly hurried into the back of the shop and opened a deep drawer in a rotting old cupboard full of records. "Who were you looking for?" "Tom Riddle." The man whipped his head around and stared straight at Harry, his face white. "T-Tom Riddle?" he said weakly. "Yes," Harry said, trying to hide his nervousness. He wiped his brow with his sleeve. He was sweating. The man came to the counter and slowly leant forward. "I can't give you information like that," he hissed. Harry's eyes darted down to his sleeve and stayed there. The man followed his gaze and Harry raised his eyes to meet the man's. The man slowly swallowed and went to the back of the shop with a small nod of his head to Harry. A few minutes later he came out with an old and yellowing scroll of parchment and gave it to Harry, who immediately tucked it into his cloak. Harry turned to Hermione who was pretending to look very bored by these events. "Pansy? Come along." He turned back to the man. "Keep this quiet – you know, to yourself." "Oh, certainly, sir. Of course." He gave Hermione a very suspicious look and they started toward the door – when suddenly they heard a whistle coming from the spot where Ron was hiding. They stepped out of the shop, only to find themselves face to face with none other than the actual Draco Malfoy. Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and ran. He could hear Ron's footsteps behind them and Draco trying to follow them through the crowd. They ducked round a corner and into another small dark street; they ran past more shops and stalls but they could still hear one set of footsteps chasing them. Don't look back, just keep running, Harry thought. Ron glanced over his shoulder: he and Harry were moving quickly enough –he could only just see Draco's blond hair, now quite far back in the crowd, but Hermione was slowing down. That's who he's following, thought Ron, he can't see Harry or me anymore so he's following Hermione. "Harry, just keep running – we'll meet you at Fred and George's!" Harry glanced at Ron, nodded, and ran ahead. Ron started to slow down, becoming level with Hermione and looking at her red face. She looked up and saw what he was doing and breathlessly mouthed, "Keep going!" but he leant towards her, grabbed her hand and sprinted off. He was practically pulling her along now, she couldn't run any more, she wasn't half as fit as he was – but at least this way she was moving faster. They ducked into alleys and back streets, heading deeper and deeper into the gloom of Knockturn Alley. Hermione couldn't see where she was going, the streets were too filled with people and her sweat was dripping down into her burning eyes, she couldn't take anymore, she could barely move but she could still hear Draco thundering after them. She forced herself to keep going. They had lost Harry a long time ago – he had managed to sprint ahead with the parchment concealed in his cloak without being found by Draco. He had asked the friendliest looking hag he could find how to get back to Diagon Alley, and was now standing outside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes watching witches and wizards rush about doing their shopping. He sneaked down the gap between two shops so as not to be seen by anyone – he didn't want any members of the Order coming up to him. There were many wizards in groups with their friends, strolling around Diagon Alley, laughing and joking with one another, but all the while being extra cautious. How he longed to be one of them. Not hiding down deserted alleys in disguise. He longed to be in the warm halls of Hogwarts with his friends or lying by the lakeside with Ginny. No worries, no fears, no threats – just bliss. As peculiar as it sounded, he wanted to be in lessons. With his teachers and classmates laughing, even with Hagrid, the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, attempting to control vicious animals. Ron and Hermione appeared in the street. He ducked out of the passageway and followed them into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Hermione let out a gasp. "Don't worry, it's me," he whispered in his normal voice. "Harry!" Hermione was breathless. They all stood silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Harry kept glancing over his shoulder through the foggy glass, checking for the real Draco. "I still can't believe he's not being searched for," said Ron furiously. "I mean, the Order's got to believe he's a Death Eater, right?" "I don't know. I think Remus believes me, but there's no evidence. The only thing they know is that he's dropped out of school," Harry grumbled. "But he fled on the night that the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts! Surely they could guess?" Hermione said, frustrated. "Remus said that they have to have evidence to accuse him. Without that, they could get in serious trouble with the Ministry," Harry said, running his hands through his hair. Suddenly Harry noticed a strand of blond hair slowly turning black. "Um, is there a toilet in here?" From somewhere behind him he heard a shout, "Oi! You there! Malfoy! Get out of our shop!" and turned to see Fred marching towards him. "Hey, Fred, don't worry, it's us," said Ron, who still looked himself. "Oh," he said, and glanced at Harry whose hair was slowly turning black and then to Hermione whose hair was turning back to brown. "Could you show us to the bathroom, please?" Hermione asked, trying to shield her hair. "Follow me," Fred laughed as they headed through the shop. Harry turned around once more and sighed at the jolly wizards through the window. *** The woman closed the creaky old door behind her. With the light of her wand, she could see some old lamps around the walls. She quickly lit them and looked around. The whole place was covered in a thick layer of dust. The furniture and belongings could hardly be seen. No one had been here in years. No one had ever come to clear out the man's belongings when he had died. There was a kettle still on the hob, lying next to it, a hot water bottle. She walked into the centre of the room and shrugged off her travelling cloak. Then she quickly cast a spell around the house so that no one could see in. She lay her cloak down on the arm of a broken old sofa and headed toward the stairs. They were very narrow and as she started to climb them, they creaked loudly. The first room she came to was a bedroom. It wasn't exactly luxurious and the window had a view of the – land – she had crossed to get here, but it would do. She looked out of the window at the great manor that was across the land from the cottage and shuddered. She suddenly felt very cold. After finding her way about the rest of the cottage, she made her way back downstairs. She felt sick. She had been scared to come here in the first place, but now that she was here, she felt terrified. She knew she should be honoured to be doing such a task, but she still couldn't bring herself to feel it. She sat down on the creaky old sofa. There was even some of the man's unopened mail lying on the coffee table in front of her. She leant forward and picked it up. She brushed away the layer of dust that covered it and read: Frank Bryce *** I turned around just to watch you leave, Already Over - Janneh&Cooke
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