Pack!

Pack!

               3 PM, 12 July

Countdown timer: estimated 48 hours

               Chapter One

               Seventeen year old Harry was barreling full tilt towards the Leaky Cauldron, brushing off startled shouts as he skimmed by those standing still, missing most by the thickness of a shirt sleeve. He had no time to waste, and he was moving at seeker-trained angles calculated on the fly to get from point A to point B, shaving off every possible fraction of a second. He spared a minute to toss a grateful thought that this year, he'd hidden his wand up his sleeve and not kept it in his trunk as he’d been ordered to do each summer. He’d decided he was through giving up every measure of safety he could manage to placate his uncle, and he was of age in the wizarding world, so his uncle could just lump it. If he found out, that is, no need to advertise his defiance up front. His lungs were laboring, as his brain was constantly replaying the start of what he was dubbing "The Issue". Forty minutes ago, he'd hung up the phone and walked blindly past his uncle, who'd just bellowed for his appearance. Vernon, after seeing whatever he'd seen on Harry's face, had paled and said not a word more. Harry stepped out of the house and calmly closed the door behind him. Willfully ignoring the Statute of Secrecy, and in a forcibly even tone, he cast a messenger Patronus. When the miniature stag appeared, he said, "Patronus message to Sirius Black. Padfoot, I need-" he stopped when the Patronus faded out of sight. He repeated the spell, with the same result. His heart dropped, if he ever needed Sirius' help, he needed it now. He hoped the failure of the messenger meant Sirius was just out of range, and not ... well. Pulling himself together, he thought for a brief moment. His heartbeat was getting louder in his ears, and the brief calm he'd clamped over his emotions for the last few moments was rapidly eroding under the testing nips of fear. Gringotts. He’d go to Gringotts, Harry was sure they dealt with everyone who’d ever had a galleon to their name. They could help.

               He moved on to his next most trusted adult, desperately wanting someone to tell him what to do. “Patronus message to Remus Lupin.” The brightly lit miniature stag waited patiently. “Remus, we’ve got a situation, and it’s bad. Globally bad. I can’t reach Sirius, could you please try? We need to talk, but right now I have to go. I’m heading to Gringotts to get my stuff and talk to The goblins, suggest you pack up and be ready to move. I’ll get a message to you with details soon.”

               He hadn't yet learned to apparate with any degree of reliability, and under stress? Absolutely not. With no nearby floos that he knew of, the first thing he could think to do was summon the Knight Bus to get him from Privet Drive to Charing Cross. As he boarded, he'd pulled out his coin pouch and dumped the couple dozen galleons it contained into conductor Stan Shunpike's hand. At Stan's questioning look, as the fare was only 11 sickles, and with rising dread thumping at his brain in a constant refrain of faster, faster, he gave them a short synopsis of the problem and a timeline. He followed on with a request for their help, and an immediate task to get him to the Leaky as fast as possible. Ernie was driving, and with a wide-eyed look, and dread he did his best to quickly lock away for later consideration, he opened the throttle and laid on all speed possible, sharing brief bouts of rapid conversation with Stan. Ernie said he could get him from Surrey to Charing Cross in 30 minutes, and Harry spent most of that time internally gibbering and trying very, very hard to not focus on the fear making room for the rage steadily growing in his core. His brain cells were all doing muppet runs in different directions, rendering coherent thought difficult. He sent a second Patronus to Remus to let him know he’d be at Gringotts within the next fifteen minutes or so, if he could, would Remus please find him as soon as possible? Harry lost himself again in whirling panic, unable to focus. The one thing it would absolutely be easy to concentrate on would be the two treacherous bastards, but it would also be not helpful, so he forced that thought down into his core where the rage was waiting for it, adding it as fuel to the growing inferno. Later. It had to be a "for later" consideration. Shunting it aside with what willpower he could currently muster, he still wasn't able to focus past Find Remus, Get to Gringotts, Find Sirius. A traffic snarl prevented a Leaky Cauldron front door delivery, so Harry bailed out the minute the bus had to slow. He thanked Ernie and Stan for their immediate understanding of the implications and willingness to put into action his idea, despite the restrained panic both Stan and Ernie were visibly experiencing. With a heartfelt and sincere “Good luck!”, he swung out the door.

               The bus vanished the minute he cleared the door, heading out on their self assigned task, Stan pulling out a map and plotting points, pulling in every location they'd ever picked up from, or delivered to, in the history of the line. He charted a route from North to South; The Bus's stated motto, "From Anglesey to Aberdeen" would certainly be put to the test. Ernie told Stan, "Send a Patronus message to the service mugs, have 'em pull everyone in, we're gonna need magical refueling on demand for about two days. We’re gonna need people working on the scheduling right away, the route we got right now is just the beginning. They need to get the spare bus up and runnin’ and make it all happen yesterday. Have Jim start up both the bus's portkey systems and feed us and Ol' Dolly a charge every time it gets used, we ain't gonna make the deadline if we don't have it." Bus Two, affectionately referred to as Old Dolly by the staff, the one the public not so affectionately called Squeals on Wheels, would need to tie into the networked map and start hitting the charted points from South to North, portkeying where they could instead of the slower drive time. Fortunately, the buss’s portkey system used permanently enchanted keys. Once a portkey from point A to B was worked into the system, it could be reused indefinitely, requiring only a magical recharge between uses. They wouldn’t be able to add in more portkeys, they took too long to create, so they’d have to make the best use of what they already had.

               Harry hit the door of the Leaky Cauldron in a shoulder-led rugby tackle, slamming it open and near embedding the handle in the wall. All conversation ceased, all eyes instantly on Harry, who didn't stop, whipping out his wand and still moving at speed through the pub to the back door, slamming into that one as well. He pulled up short in the courtyard at the wall to Diagon, rapidly tattooing the correct brick and squishing himself through the minute he had enough room. Harry once again put his head down and this time just bulled through the crowd, laying down a straight line to Gringotts, or as straight a line as the bends in the Alley allowed for.

               This time there were no judged angles to avoid missing people, these weren't muggles, he was just continually shouting "Move!", plowing through the waves of the crowd like the bow of a speedboat. People shifted rapidly to get out of the way, even if just barely. The idea was starting to make it’s way from person to person that there was An Issue, chatter gaining volume in his wake. Some few deciding to follow him, albeit somewhat more sedately, when they recognized who he was. They’d be the first, other than Harry himself, to become aware of the scope of the issue, something they would later look back on wondering if that had been a lucky break or not.

               Harry rocketed up the steps of Gringotts, skidding to a halt in front of two very alarmed and very alert guards, almost to the point of adopting an en guarde position. Heaving for breath, Harry said, "Magical England, shit, magical everything, is now a canary in a coal mine. I need to see someone who can make and enact decisions without needing a committee, and there is no time to waste." Harry followed one of the guards who'd seen the lightning bolt scar and known that whatever the issue was, it wasn’t going to be solved by a door guard. He’d said "Come with me", leading him past the tellers at a brisk trot, back into the shadowed hallways, and down to the door at the far end. Running footsteps sounded behind them, with Harry and the guard turning to see Remus skidding up to them, grabbing Harry into a fierce hug. Harry returned it, needing the reassurance of the older man’s presence. He turned back to the guard, nodding his readiness to continue, and in an aside to Remus, said “You’ll hear the story in a minute or two.”

               The name plate wasn't in English, but The goblin guard rapped a quick pattern and opened it without waiting for acknowledgement, pushing in Harry, who towed in Remus with a hand on his arm. There might have been a muttered, "Your funeral, bud." Harry didn't wait for introductions or spend time on the usual conversational conventions, blurting out "We need to gather everyone we can and get them away. I don't know how yet or where 'away' is, but we have to go, and we have maybe two days to do it, three if we get lucky."

               The stern looking goblin rose from her desk at the interruption, contemplating Harry for a moment, flicking her eyes to Remus, who shrugged his shoulders, indicating he knew no more than she. She shot a look at Harry’s scar, clearly recognizing him. Normally it annoyed Harry to no end that his scar was used by everyone and their Aunt Mavis as his sole defining feature, but right now it was saving time, so… yeah. The moment of study complete, she narrowed her eyes at them, then leaned forward and tapped a dark red square on her desk. Within moments, moments Harry spent uneasily shifting his weight from foot to foot, Remus a quiet and steady presence at his back, a clerk came in and The goblin said "Summon two dozen clerks in training to act as runners and send them to me as you assign them, you have half an hour to complete that. Have the floor manager open all the teller windows and keep them staffed for the next thirty five hours. Have the vault overseer put all cart operators on standby, in rotation, for thirty hours. All cavern housing liaisons are to meet with me in the expandable conference room in six hours. Go." She paused to light up twenty four numbered squares on her desk, she'd link them to the runners as they appeared.

              Harry staggered to the nearest office wall and slid down it, drawing a deep and shuddering breath, pushing down the rage, pushing aside the fear (there is no time!). This was one of the few moments since the phone rang at Privet Drive where he could force rational thought. He breathed deeply for a five count to gather himself and began to explain.