Stonehenge
My pulse is clear, rushin' in my ears
I hear something calling me
My pulse is clear, rushin' in my ears
I hear something calling me
- Sleeping Giants by The Crane Wives -
"The House of Sayre..."
The train shook loudly around Harry as he buried his nose in his book. He had been travelling for an hour changing trains once; after being led out of the woods by his patronus and dropped off at a small railway station Harry had to navigate England's rail network with the help of a hard-of-hearing ticket agent. Prongs had taken him quite far, god knows how. In any case, he was further away from his destination, Stonehenge, than where he started.
But let's go back to being the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Sayre. Thanks to the goblins at Gringotts Bank, he learned that he had inherited, but that did not explain the mystery of the Sayre family at all. As good as it sounds, Harry gets chills. There's a saying about not looking in a gift horse's mouth. But that's exactly what he's doing- questioning. Nobody just gets a noble house.
"Why she chose you is hard to say," he hardly remembered the goblin's words. "I'm afraid Mr. Potter you'll have to find that out for yourself."
And that's what Harry did. Researching.
Apart from the fact that there was hardly any mention of the Sayres anywhere, there was a name that appears relatively often in connection with the Sayre family- Ilvermorny, America's Wizarding School. Harry actually found a lot of stuff about it. Ilvermorny was modelled on Hogwarts back in the 17th century, with similar layouts - although Harry liked Ivermorny's a little better. It’s four houses were Horned Serpent which represented the mind, Wampus- the body, Pukwudgie- heart, and Thunderbird- the soul. It was not hard to guess that they were named after native animals. Others say that Horned Serpent favours scholars, Wampus the warriors, Pukwudgie the healers and Thunderbird the adventurers. Harry thinks he would fit into the Wampus or Thunderbird house, but he's not sure. He doesn't really know himself these days.
Tracing the family tree was a lengthy process. First through the Boots (who were adopted into the family), then the Steward (a muggle) family. In the end, the school led him to the story of one of its founders, a biography of Isolt Sayre from the 17th century. He already knew from the goblins that Isolt was a child from a Sayre and a Gaunt, and this was even more confirmed by the fact that she was a registrated Parselmouth.
But the book does not mention any previous Sayre family member.
There was also Martha Steward, Isolt's daughter, but she was a squib and married a Muggle. They may have had children, but it isn't known. But Martha was a Steward already, not a Sayre.
Isolt was the last known one.
"Why she chose you is hard to say."
She.
There is someone else in this story.
Someone, whom Harry has overlooked. Someone who chose Harry.
But as there are no more Sayre left alive, it leaves only the dead - which pleases him even less. Chosen by an ancient spirit? Perfect recipe for disaster if you ask him.
This 'She' could be Isolt or even Martha, given that Harry knows no one else and they are apparently both female, but... Harry suspects otherwise.
Whoever chose him was not Isolt Sayre, nor her daughter.
Someone who's more... ancient.
The train slowed to a screeching halt, and Harry shoved his book back into the deep pocket of his bag quickly. It was far from the only book his goblin manager made him buy back in the Diagon Alley. Maybe in those he will find the answers. What is certain now is that he has to keep looking to figure out who could have chosen him as her heir.
By the time the train had come to a complete stop, Harry had moved out of the compartment and was waiting for the doors to open. He had to make a small jump from the last step of the stairs, and the summer heat hit him as soon as he landed. He casted a quick cooling spell after making sure no one was watching. Harry sighted in relief - much better.
He got down at the central of Salisbury, which was the nearest train station to Stonehenge. The city itself was not particularly interesting, apart from a few tourist sights. Still, it had a charm to it. The air was somehow thicker here too- maybe Harry was just sensing the magic that surrounded the place, who knows. A cathedral spire rose above the idyllic houses, in an early English Gothic architecture theme. He remembers the look of the church from his art class, where his teacher used to bring up the church as an example of the architectural style.
Asking around, he soon found the bus stop where the bus to Stonehenge leaves from. After he found out that it departs every hour he took a glance at his old, broken wristwatch. The time was 10:20 a.m., meaning he still had forty minutes to do whatever he wanted. Harry wasn't really interested in the church or any of the other tourist attractions, so instead, following his growling stomach, he decided to find a place for breakfast. His endless bag had some non-perishable food he'd brought at a Muggle supermarket in his way back home from the Diagon, but he thought he deserves a sweet breakfast after yesterday's excitement... After the Ministry tried to eliminate him... Right. Harry's still getting used to the idea. To solve the another problem, the one concerning blood rituals, he has the pre-prepared concoctions for the blood-magic-blocking potion in the bottom of his bag, which he plans to make tonight.
When he was finally alone on the street, he casted a Notice-Me-Not and a dim Cloaking charm. The way the Cloaking spell worked was simple: it changed the way Harry looked a little for those who have not paid enough attention, but not actually changed him. It was just a camouflage layer, just like the one on his lordship's rings, it didn't actually transform him like the polyjuice potion. For higher level transformation a potion or NEWT level transfiguration knowledge would be needed, and Harry unfortunately didn’t have either.
He doesn't think this little trick will stop anyone who knows him from recognizing, but now that the bloody Ministry is after him, he certainly can't rely on it. He has to do better. But unfortunately he doesn't have anything better. Life would be so much better and simpler if he could just disappear. Actually-
That would be quite useful. Very useful. Not necessarily disappearance, but transformation.
The idea had been on his mind for a while now. Then he saw the book in Knockturn Alley and bought an animagi handbook (along with several other books) without hesitation. He didn't really think about it, he just thought about following his father's footsteps. Then he bought the ingredients. Technically Harry had this idea for a long time but still... he was not yet fully committed.
But now?
The Ministry is after him. They want to destroy his wand and silence him for good, but they are not the only ones. Voldemort is after him after all.
He needs another way to disappear in any case.
That's it. He needs a way out if he has to disappear suddenly. Not that he needs to worry about his illegal registration. There are bigger problems between the Ministry and him right now. He might even end up saving himself from them whit this little trick. This was how Sirius escaped from the Azkaban. I mean, they're not going to lock him up in Azkaban for a little patronus spell, are they? Harry shuddered. He never wants to see dementors in his life again. If he starts at the next full moon - which if he remembers correctly won't be for another week or so - he won't finish until early September, but by then he'll be already at Hogwarts-
No.
He forgot. He won't be there.
Malfalda Hopkirk's letter burned in his head and his stomach was churning. Harry wanted to scream. How could he forgot? No more Hogwarts for him. He was expelled by the Ministry. He won't go back to his real home. He won't go back to the Dursleys' either. And Sirius... Sirius doesn't want to live with him.
He was all alone.
(Could he spend his life travelling? Alone? He frankly doesn't know. But until he figures it out, that's what he'll do.)
And he will need all the help he can get.
I will become an animagus, he decided surprisingly easily. There was more good to come out of it for Harry now than the potential risks. Yet he couldn't help himself from wondering... Would Sirius be proud if he succeds? Would he answer then?
Harry shook his head. Sirius was nothing but a sore subject.
He had to move on.
Finally, he settled down in a nearby café as he didn't want to wander too far, lest he miss the bus. His appetite although there was, but not that much, so he just ordered a croissant with tea. The nervousness in his stomach knot up, not only because of the letter from the Ministry. His fingers tapped on the table nervously. Harry didn't really know why he was nervous -or maybe even excited. After all, this was the reason he travelled so much in the first place. He was almost there.
He didn't think it would really happen, but if what the bubblegum pink haired Emma said back on the Knight bus was even a little bit true, it's worth a try. Maybe there was a chance that the more ancient places he was in, the more susceptible he was to old magic. He wondered if maybe he would experience the feeling of the ancient magic, like she said she did. Maybe. Not that he has anything else to do while he's on the run from the magic police. The old magic could help, for him and for others. War was approaching, and Harry wasn't going to turn his back on the world.
But still, Emma certainly was telling the truth about one thing.
She said the wind whispered to her.
And Harry knows it's true.
Because the wind whispered to him too.
Stonehenge was not what he expected. In fact, it was a disappointment at first.
It was exactly what the average muggle would see: rocks. Nothing more, nothing less. In the middle of a meadow, tall stones reached skyward, but so many of them had fallen. The circle was broken. The remaining ruins formed gates and the wild wind whipped through them, ruffling Harry's hair.
The bus had just dropped him there, with a small group of visitors. Some of them were foreigners and some were British. The noise of their conversations merged around Harry. They bought tickets and were taken on a tour of the stones. They were told not to litter, climb on the stones or even touch them. The air seemed a little heavier here than it was in the middle of the city, but there was nothing else.
Harry refused to let that be all.
So, naturally, he decided to break some rules.
He waited for the guide to pass by as he trailed off to the back of their small group. They didn't have much time left. The guide was talking about some theories about the purpose of its building, but only the asian couple in the front seemed interested, as the rest of the group was more curious about the birds passing by. Harry drew a deep breath, preparing for the unexpected. Maybe if he touches the stone he would be able to make a connection. Emma didn't say anything about it on the bus, but something told him that he needs to do it. His magic isn't strong enough to apprehend it without contact. Somehow he knows it will work.
His hand shook in the air as he slowly reached out.
The moment the skin touched the stone the entire world changed.
A violent beating of his heart and he appeared to be elsewhere. The colours shifted around him; the sky was rose instead of dazzling blue, the grass became black. The ants on the ground stopped- the whole world stopped. Yellow glow emanated from the stones, spreading through the air like a virus. People were distorted, but at the same time they looked the same as Harry had seen them.
The world leapt before his eyes, twisted and tangled. It was still, then its focus changed with each passing moment. He saw everything, and simultaneously nothing. Everything rushed at him at once. Transparent threads forked in the air, all together forming something like a spider's web, some of the yarns are as ancient as those that built Stonehenge. Harry recognised a few around his own hand, more intense than elsewhere. Different colours, different strengths. Magic.
Then, faster than a heartbeat, something took shape in front of his eyes - someone.
A woman with long black hair.
Harry doesn't really know if he just didn't notice her until now or if she has just really appeared. The woman stood in silence. She was surrounded by black birds, but none of them moved. Her eyes stared into space, not noticing the birds or anyone else. Her pitch black dress was as if it would never end, floating in the air. Looking closely, it was woven from the threads. She stood firmly in front of Harry, her pale arm by her side. A headdress adorned her head, and underneath her hair was caught in the wind as it passed by. Harry heard its whisper but it was too fast for him to understand. Nothing moved in the still world, not the woman or her birds, only the wind.
Honestly he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been studying her face, just as her whole body was still. However, the eyes, which a moment before had been staring into space, shifted. Less than a heartbeat.
Her eyes were fixed on Harry now.
Their eyes met.
Black fire blazed in her dead eyes, dark as her hair. It was the look of a victorious warrior, someone who had won countless battles. The black irises of fate itself. And her gaze is nothing but death, staring directly at Harry.
He pulled his hand back instantly.
When the contact between his hand and the stone broke the world returned to itself and the woman disappeared. The colours were back to normal, the ants continued their journey. Harry wouldn't have believed it was real if he hadn't felt the icy fear that was squeezing his heart. No one seemed to notice him touching the stone. Harry followed the group of tourists, still breathing heavily, as if not a second had passed.
Maybe it hadn't.
The following hours blurred together. The tour ended, but he didn't board the bus. Harry started on foot and did not stop until he saw some trees between which he could disappear. He was still trying to figure out what happened to him at Stonhenge. The moment was gone, just as it was. Harry didn't dare touch the stones again in case the woman showed up again. That world was just as Emma had described. But Emma didn't say anything about scary women- he suspected it would be another 'Harry Potter thing'. Let's not even talk about the fact that it's supposed to have taken him years to achieve this result, according to her. Harry was beginning to panic.
That's when Hedwig found him.
Frankly, he'd forgotten that the spells he had cast that morning, which prevented him from being traced through an owl, could affect Hedwig. But his bird is luckily the most wonderful owl, and she remembered that Harry wanted to go to Stonehenge. Harry used to be afraid that Hedwig was secretly an animagus, so they tested her and she wasn't. Just plain brilliant. She circled the area and pounced on Harry when he was finally alone. Since then Hedwig has been resting near him.
By the time the last spark of his fear had passed, Harry was watching the sunset.
He pitched his tent in a small forest, where no one was around. It wasn't difficult, he just took it out of his mother's bag and enlarged it when he finally found the perfect place. Not that he was afraid of people or even from the animals, say, he had casted a million protective spells and wards on his tent or around it. He found most of them in the auror training book or in spell encyclopedias. Harry repeated them in his head like a mantra until he could recite them all.
A potion brewed in his tent, the one that would prevent Voldemort from using his own blood against him. Though Harry had his reservations, having obtained it from Knockturn Alley, he had a potion that would block blood magic from being used on him and he had to use it. He doesn't think the potion will have any worse effect than what Voldemort can do with his blood. It's a wonder he hasn't done anything already. The cut on his forearm burned with phantom pain. Harry had the ingredients for the potion, he even put his blood in it. A shiver ran down his spine. He never wants anyone to use his blood ever again. When the potion was finished, he hesitantly drank it. The mixture was disgusting as it tasted bloody - he wouldn't make a good vampire, that's for sure. A faint warmth came over his body, and he knew it worked.
Slowly the beautiful sunset disappeared, and got replaced by darkness, black as that woman's hair.
Harry locked himself in his tent for the night. It had a small kitchen and bathroom too as it was like a mini house. He had a bath, which, judging by the amount of dirt, he frankly needed. For dinner (or for lunch) he ate some of his long-lasting bread with butter, brushed his teeth, put on his pyjamas (which were a large tank top with knee-length sweatpants if anyone's interested) and called it a day. There was a bedroom like area, separated by a curtain, where Harry's bed was a full-sized mattress on the floor, meaning he could stretch both arms out comfortably.
Harry looked sadly at Hedwig. He knew she can't stay with him. She wouldn't find her way back to him, and she could get hurt if Harry got into trouble. He couldn't lock the owl up again. And he needs a more solid solution if he's not going back to school.
He can't take her with him.
He doesn't want to let go of his best friend, but he knows that her safety is worth more. Saying goodbye is a painful thing. But where could she even go? She can't live alone; there are no snowy owls in England so she would attract too much attention to herself. And who knows if she could take care of herself. Harry could send her to Sirius, but he's also hiding. He doesn't want to lock Hedwig in one cage after another. Then there's Ron and Hermione. Technically, Harry knows that they'd look after the owl, despite the current state of their friendship, but they would know that Harry ran away immediately. They would start looking for him. He knows that if for nothing else, after the trial he didn't show up for, the Ministry will be looking for him. He can already see the wanted posters in front of him. Hermione and Ron would tell Dumbledore, or Sirius, who they live with as he guessed from their letters. They would search for him or even take him back. No, Harry needs every advantage and elude that he can get.
A faint memory of a quiet night came to his mind, filled with tears and compassion, and Harry knew who he could trust with Hedwig. They would even fit together. He grabbed a quill and started writing a letter.
"Dear Cho!..."