stupid decisions lead to stupid encounters
Harry shivers, shrinking into himself as the footsteps grow closer.
He’s not sure if he’ll be able to fight, months of being on the run having taken its toll on his body.
Don’t look here, he chants in his mind, gripping his wand tightly. Turn around.
The creaking grows louder, before finally slowing down a few feet in front of the store.
“Are you sure Potter came this way, Avery?” One of the Death Eaters asks irritably. “If this is just some wild goose chase you’ve led us on because you thought you saw him…”
The other Death Eater, Avery, shakes his head. “Well…I’m not sure. The tip-off said he’d be here and I thought I saw a glimpse of black hair running into this alley…” he trails off, confidence wavering.
“Black hair? Do you really think Potter’s stupid enough to be out in the open without a disillusionment charm?” The other Death Eater barks out, angry. “We’re done here. Consider yourself lucky I’m not telling the Dark Lord about this.”
Harry doesn’t breathe until he hears the familiar crack of apparition ringing out in the alleyway, heart pounding in his chest from the close call.
He peeks out cautiously from the wardrobe, stumbling as he tries to regain his footing. Harry scrunches up his nose in distaste as the smell hits him. It’s humid, the scent of old parchment and something vaguely fishy hanging in the air.
The black haired boy grips his wand tightly as he explores the deserted place, eyes unknowingly landing on a section of the wall hidden deep in the corner. It looks odd, he thinks, raising his eyebrows. The gloominess reminds him of the Slytherin common room, and Harry frowns, walking forward.
He whispers a quiet Lumos, wiping off the dust on the plaque next to it. “Wand ingredients,” He reads, eyes adjusting to the light. “Fresh here, at Borgin and Burkes.”
“Wand ingredients? What kind of wand are they making?” He mutters to himself, putting his wand away as he shoves the curtain to the side before stepping back in shock.
It’s almost like an aquarium, gallons of water separated by a thin layer of glass. Harry peers in, trying to make out what’s hidden inside. He eyes the ladder to the side, contemplating his next move.
“Hermione would kill me for what I’m about to do,” he muses, snatching the gillyweed from the counter and putting it on top of his tongue. He climbs up, steps creaking, before he finally reaches the top.
He jumps in before he can second guess himself, water splashing onto the wooden floor as his glasses float next to him. He catches them before they disappear, feeling the cold hit him. He can feel the familiar sensation of gills forming on his neck and he shivers.
The water is murky, and as Harry adjusts to the darkness, his attention is caught by a shadowy figure at the bottom. He swims closer, thoughts rampaging wildly in his head as he tries to figure out what it could be.
The Grindylow catches him off guard.