Carry On

Harry did not feel guilty as he dropped the letter in to the mailbox—pleased that he had the idea beforehand to write his landlord’s name and address before this whole mess began. With so much that kept happening to him, his former address wasn’t coming to mind. The letter heavily dropped in to the slot, and with a heavy sigh Harry ambled away to the café where Longwei was waiting. Harry had texted the man a few hours ago, and this is where they settled on. Apparently the circus crew wasn’t… ‘traditional’, as Longwei had explained through the voicemail.

Harry hadn’t exactly been the most accommodating, when picking up Longwei’s calls. Harry had picked up the first one—and it had freaked him out. His body had had a visceral reaction to Longwei’s voice. His chest had throbbed, his hands hadn’t stopped their shaking for the entire phone conversation. (It was like his very soul had screamed at him to go find Longwei and stay at his side—and Harry ached—)

All his thoughts had slowly descended in to ‘I’llbebackI’llbehomesoon’ and Harry hadn’t appreciated it one bit. It had taken hours and a bit of meditative driving before he had gone back to normal.

As normal as normal was for Harry, and he was starting to think his current normal was not quite right at the moment either.

“Oodako, I think he drugged me.” Harry murmured in to his coat. Although when Harry thought logically, such a dosage should have worn off by now. Harry, in ignorant hindsight, really blamed the food that the Chinese man had fed him. Harry felt the tightening of tentacles around his chest and grimaced to himself about Longwei.

At this point… well, there were really only few reasons to come back here and follow through with the circus shenanigans. The first of which, he really did need the money. He had recently charmed a petrol pump to give him some much necessary petrol. The second of reasons was the fact that Harry would get to meet the ‘circus crew’ and find out if Longwei was part of the wizarding world or the mafia world.

He couldn’t possibly be a normal bystander. Harry was not that lucky.

Besides… it was…

It was creepy—the longer he thought about it with an unclouded head—how much the other man had kept touching him. And even creepier was how much Harry had allowed it.

Which gave credence to the idea that Longwei was wizard backed and had fed Harry some kind of potion.

It wasn’t a demented love potion—Harry didn’t suddenly love the man. But he did want to follow his every command. And it made his skin crawl.

So, in the end, for Harry it was a bit of an espionage self-appointed mission that he was going to do. Harry itched at his wrist and felt his wand there. His bike was parked in front of the café, and he had transfigured a new bag to make up for the one he had lost to the arcobaleno. It was a lot nicer than his other attempt. But then again Harry had just powered more magic in to the transfiguration and that had worked things out rather well.

“Sir,” the lady at the register waved a hand to get his attention. Harry startled slightly, and grinned sheepishly at the woman when he noticed that he had spaced out rather spectacularly all the way to the front of the café line. Harry quietly ordered a plain coffee and (after checking his bills) an apple tart. When he had his goods in hand, he walked to where Longwei was flagging him down and dropped in to the saved seat at a tiny round table.

Harry found his mouth tasted like copper. And his hands didn’t shake.

Longwei’s face had a pleasant little smile, “got some heavy thoughts in there?” And Harry found his body slowly relaxing from a tenseness that he hadn’t even noticed. No, this wasn’t normal at all (but his thoughts on the subject slowly, slowly started to cloud over and… drift.)

“Not really,” Harry shrugged, lowered his mouth cover, and took a bite of his apple tart.

“Great,” Longwei murmured, even as he opened up a file on the table. “Anyway—Tsuna had me bring these to you. Just some forms that you need to fill out before we do the whole ‘good fit’ interview. Basic information and things like that.” Longwei pulled a pen from his pocket and added it to the table. Although he lifted his dark eyes and focused on the sugar-sticky tart in Harry’s hands and promptly offered a “why don’t I write it for you?”

“Ah, sure.” Harry agreed before he took a sip of coffee. “The internet was right, by the way—this café does have phenomenal apple products.” Harry eyed the tea that Longwei had, “want me to pick you up something to nibble on?”

“No, I’m fine… anyway—full name?” Longwei asked, clicked the pen to make it active.

“H-A-R-R-Y, A-B-A-G-N-A-L-E.” Harry patiently spelled out his currently chosen name. It was the one he had used for the contest, and he might as well stick with it until someone directly confronts him about that.

“Country of origin?” Longwei continued, moving to the next line.

“… The UK? Britain?” As if they couldn’t hear it in his accent. Longwei gave a very American thumbs up and scribbled something down.

“Age? 28, right?” Longwei asked with a grin.

Harry frowned, “ah, no. It’s 24.”

Longwei’s pen paused above the paper, and he gave a slow blink. “I… am pretty sure you said 28 last time.”

“Maybe you need to get your ears checked mate. I’m pretty sure I’d remember being that old.” Harry added before he nibbled at the last chunk of his tart. Well, what had he told Longwei in the past? Well, he had talked about his children and wife, so when the question about being married popped up, Harry quietly asked Longwei to put down ‘separated’ and left it at that.

Half of Harry’s coffee had gone cold by the time the paperwork had finished.

“Anyway—time for the interview. And if we’re golden—straight to a physical and rooming.” Longwei added, an absent minded peace sign flicking through his fingers even as his eyes remained on the papers.

“Great. Sounds lovely. Let’s, um, get moving I suppose.” Harry glanced around the busy café and at the group of four young adults that were blatantly staring at their table. Three boys and a girl. Harry’s eyes would have drifted away, but his eyes not locked with the girl’s electric green and he couldn’t help but still under her gaze. She was young and Harry could see that in the smoothness around her eyes and mouth. But the twist of displeasure to her lips and the slow near lack of blinking showed that she wasn’t missing a thing. The boys were staring at the table and their surroundings, obviously hoping to poach the table.

But the girl was staring at him. Not at the table. Or her surroundings.

Her mouth moved. Mouthing words.

‘COME’ – Harry squinted. ‘COME PLITH HE’?

Was that English? Harry had defaulted to English lip reading, he couldn’t read lips in any other language (as far as he knew).

In the corner of his eye, Harry saw Longwei tilted his head to the side, “hm?” He asked, head turning to look at what Harry was looking at.

(Don’t let him look—) Harry’s gut lurched.

Harry reached out and let a heavy hand drop on Longwei’s forearm with a smile, easily gaining the man’s attention as he tugged Longwei’s arm closer to insure maximum attention, “let’s go. You mentioned, uh, physical?”

“Yes. New hires have to pop through it. We’ll be doing a show in about five days, so Tsuna would rather you be healthy and do something appropriate to your newness.” Longwei helped clean the table and the two of them exited the shop without a problem.

“So… how are you getting there?” Harry asked after the trash was thrown away and they stood together in front of the café.

“Well—could I hitch a ride with you, instead of a taxi?” Longwei asked, hands coming up in a praying gesture he directed at Harry, a guileless shrug soon following.

Harry mentally swooned and his stomach gave a tepid squeeze.

“Yes, I can. Just… have you ever been on a motorbike before?” Harry asked, even as he brought Longwei over to his own bike.

“Um…” Longwei trailed off, smile still firmly in place.

Harry mentally winced, even as he reached out and dropped his helmet over Longwei’s head. Longwei jumped slightly upon contact, his hands flying up to take a hold of the bottom rim of the helmet. “Buckle it under your chin,” Harry added, even as he swiftly used the helmet distraction to throw a few charms from his wand on to Longwei and the bike to prevent slippage. Four spells and Harry nudged the visor up so he could look Longwei in the eyes.

Like a hippogriff. Something dark and regal. Not a dragon, like Harry first thought. Longwei was more like a hippogriff.

“Just lean with me, alright? I won’t go crazy fast.” Harry promised, before he threw a leg over his bike and waited for Longwei to slide in behind him. Harry ruffled his hair and could only hope that his lack of helmet wasn’t an issue. Hopefully it wasn’t a law he was breaking in this country.

Unfounded worry, in the end.

The hotel hadn’t been too far from the café, and they zipped through traffic without much further ado. The parking lot was fairly large and mostly filled. Harry coasted by more than a few cars that looked like the kind Uncle Vernon had coveted during Harry’s childhood—although would they be considered classics now, rather than the future?

“So, you’re all currently in a hotel?” Harry asked once at a firm stop in the parking lot. There weren’t any motorcycle spots, so Harry just found a whole spot to take over.

“Yeah—we’ve got a rented field near here. We’ll set up for a three day thing and then have a single day take down,” Longwei explained, sliding off first so that Harry could pop off next. Harry made sure the stand was down and the key was in his hand before he got off. Harry retrieved his bag from the compartment under the seat. His most precious things were in his pockets, but he had to keep up the muggle appearance. A few things in a bag just to give it the appearance of weight and he was golden.

Harry did one last glance to his bike.

… he could always get on and just leave.

Longwei nudged Harry’s helmet against Harry’s arm, and Harry quietly took it. He tucked it under his arm and turned to face Longwei. The center of his chest squeezed hard and Harry took a shallow breath through his nose.

… it couldn’t be drugs. This had to be something else. It had to be a potion.

It had to be wizards.

(Yeah—wizards. But… but what if things are sideways? Not what we assume? – the little voice in the back of Harry’s head rumbled. Something thick and confusing and ultimately a voice that was lost in the mess of things.)

Harry motioned for Longwei to lead the way, and once the man’s back was to Harry, Harry quickly dropped a few anti-theft charms over his motorcycle. A proximity ward. And a soft muggle repellant ward. Harry shoved the wand up his sleeve and spun to follow Longwei. Harry finished his turn to follow, and stumbled when the world kept spinning for a second even after he stopped.

Okay. Strange. What—Longwei stole Harry’s attention with a casual look over his shoulder, and Harry trotted after.

“So… this Tsuna—how would you describe him?” Harry fished for information as Longwei waved Harry to follow after. The hotel they were at—Harry didn’t catch the name but it was fairly swarming with people once they trotted through the large glass doors. Business casual and full suited.

“Fluffy—like a cloud.” Harry could practically hear a chortle in Longwei’s voice.

“Uh… that sounds like an inside joke.” Harry pointed out, falling in to step with Longwei.

“He is a bit young, but his grandfather had him tutored in business practices. His main tutor recently inherited a circus, so Tsuna wanted to fix it up a bit and make it more profitable as a thank you for all the hard work over the years.” Longwei chattered, and Harry let his eyes rove around the halls as they moved toward rented out business meeting rooms. It was interesting. The front of the hotel looked pretty normal as far as hotels went.

There was a nice hall to the left that led to several glass walled rooms full of suited people. There was even a pleasant mosaic pattern midway through the glass that allowed privacy to some presentations. Harry reached out and ran his fingers along the glass as they walked by. Glass cool to the touch—not magic warm nor bitter chilled.

Points toward Longwei being mafia influenced. And not Wizard.

(Not lucky at all—someone is always pulling a string to somewhere… Where do the lies end? Where does reality start?)

“So, teenage or close to my age?” Harry asked, because age in the business world did speak of experience.

“Maa, a bit between,” Longwei took the end of his braid between his fingers, rubbing the end against his jaw.

“Will anyone else be there for this… interview?” Was there even a circus?

(Fon wouldn’t lie to us—shut it!)

Harry rubbed a thumb over his left eye. He felt a headache thrumming behind his eyes, and they felt hot and swollen to the touch. In fact, he was rather feeling hot everywhere but where Oodako was squished against his side inside of his jacket.

“Hm, maybe our circus doctor will be in? Some personal aids?” Longwei gave a shrug, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“What will the physical entail? I don’t much like doctors.” Harry nonchalantly put out there as he looked to the side. Harry could always back out (but if Longwei insisted, Harry’s skin crawled with the faint idea that if Longwei said to do it, he would oblige. Not normal not normal should have run awayawayaway when he had the chance—) and leave if he didn’t like how things were folding out before him.

Longwei’s eyes drifted up to the left, “I’m not too sure. I had my latest physical on hand. Took one before I started to travel. So…” The man gave a shrug, a peaceful smile on his face and his eyes sedately calm.

Harry’s brain itched.

(I’ve seen this before…)

Harry felt his body chill as his feet stuttered to a brief stop. Longwei stopped with him—ever calm and at ease. And for one moment Harry tasted copper, his knees ached, and the spaces between his fingers itched and burned.

(The at peace smile—the blankdeadblank eyes—the arch of jaw and cheek and—)

(Move—his mind begged. MOVE.)

Harry shuffled his feet and watched Longwei walk to one of the glass doors and held it open. With a sweeping gesture, Longwei smoothly gestured for Harry to step inside as he spoke. “Hey Tsuna, I brought him and the pre-made papers.”

Harry dragged his feet all the same, eyes to the blurred glass—there were definitely more than two people shapes in there. Harry held his breath, shoving his fists in to his pockets. Because now was the moment of truth. He shifted his hand, launching his wand from his sleeve in to the hand in his pocket. The room was limited—but this detection spell only needed a quick jab.

Human shaped soft white light minutely sparked across his vision—five shapes—that disappeared after two hard blinks. And just two steps in to the room Harry dug his heels in and felt Longwei walk in to his back.

(RUNRUNRUNRUN)

Harry took a deep breath and dug in his mental heels as well against the wrenching reaction of his body. His chest hurt from the thrumming of his heart.

(I want to go home—!)

Harry blinked hard again, watching the amicable gazes focused on him turn sharp and—

(But where is that? Home? … home is family, and my family is…?)

Longwei’s hand spread across Harry’s back, and Harry felt Oodako squirm with unease. Longwei jerked his hand away at the feeling of shifting tentacles under Harry’s coat. Longwei’s hand soon landed on Harry’s shoulder, and the Chinese man continued on as if nothing had happened. “Come, let’s take a seat and introduce ourself, yes?”

(That’s not a question—that’s an order. He is ordering us around! RUIN HIM--!) Harry’s mind was screaming against the other part. His entire being was screaming to RIPTEARKILL and to JUSTDOITALREADY and PLEASEPLEASEWHEREISHOME—)

Harry picked out a seat and noted that Longwei took a seat next to him. Harry smiled to the lot of them—he really did need the money. And Longwei wanted him here, so that was reason enough to make himself seem as presentable as possible.

“Hello, I’m Harry. I, uh, do stunt riding for fun. And I have really strange luck.” Harry tried to tack on something rather interesting just to make himself seem more likeable. Because what if they turned him away? It would be such a waste of time especially for all of the investment that he had already placed on to this meeting and getting this job.

“I’m Tsuna,” the young man with the baby face introduced himself, threading his fingers together on top of a smile pile of paperwork.

“I’m Dino,” a blond man with the slender jaw spoke, not even bothering to look to Harry as he motioned toward Longwei. Longwei provided the file of paperwork that they had concluded at the café. Harry’s eyes tracked the slim folder for a moment before he focused on Tsuna again, because Tsuna was motioning to the man at his own side.

“This is Gokudera—he is my right hand man, ah… I guess in English it is an ‘aid?’” The disarming face that Tsuna was making would have looked smarmy on anyone else. But Harry could just feel that the young man was completely genuine about the feelings he was showing on his face. Harry would trust his gut on that. This man here wore his heart on his sleeve and Harry would trust in that.

Would trust all the tiny micro expressions that Tsuna was casting—a soft joy, tiny fringes of guilt and a space or two full of self-loathing. A body relaxed with trust. All of this came together and formed up the man that called himself Tsuna. “You’re a business man, right? What business do you do?” Harry asked, if only so he could have a lead in to asking about the circus.

“I am currently acting CEO of my grandfather’s corporation. We do a little bit of everything. Insurance. Investments. Italian non-profits, as well as Italian real estate.” Tsuna listed off, eyes going up and to the right as he flicked up a finger for each point that he brought up.

“Don’t forget regional grants and vineyards. Plus rural factories and other such similar investments in Germany, France, and the Ukraine.” Gokudera gravelly assisted Tsuna, fingering through a thick stack of his own paperwork. Harry couldn’t tell what color the other’s eyes were, since they were lowered and focused on the papers. All Harry could see were silver eyelashes.

Harry looked to the man in the doctor’s coat—and blundered on, “and you’re the, ah, circus doctor?”

“No, I just had a free day… and I owed Tsuna a favor.” The man drummed two fingers against the top of the table. Tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap—on a continuous repeat. There was a faint line of sweat clinging to the doctor’s hair line. The corners of his mouth were taunt and his lips thin. A little hunched in his body posture. Harry shifted, and was about to speak up when Tsuna spoke.

“This is Shamal. Family friend. And friend to my old tutor—Shamal is very invested in making sure things run smoothly.” Tsuna added cheerfully to their conversation, and Harry mentally applauded the young boy’s conversational intuition, to guess what Harry was going to ask before Harry had even fully made the thought.

Harry turned to Dino and the black haired glasses man standing behind him. Dino glanced to Harry from the files, up to the man hovering at his shoulder, before he politely smiled. “My associate. I’m Tsuna’s senior in our business circle. I’m here to make sure things run smoothly.”

“Ah, so you’re having on the job training?” Harry asked Tsuna, because he could understand that.

Tsuna gave a little shrug, “not really on the job training, so much as a failsafe when I try new things.”

Harry hummed, and allowed himself to be drawn in to a thorough questioning of his driving history, skills, acrobatics, and what not. Longwei presented video clips from Harry’s competition as proof of his claims.

“Well… it is impressive. But this business doesn’t really have room, nor the agenda, for that type of show. You seem impressive enough with your acrobatics?” Tsuna led on with a smile.

“Yeah. I have quick reactions. Never a formal study, but I’ve been told I’m a natural in sports.” Harry grinned and fondly thought of Wood.

Tsuna nodded minutely, “well, maybe we can see if you have the aptitude for it?”

“Sure…” Harry trailed off, and pondered over what else he could bring to the table. “You wouldn’t happen to have a magic act, would you?” Really, magic was pretty much the only other thing he could think of to bring to a circus outside of cooking and cleaning or being security.

Tsuna gave an excited smile, “you can do magic?”

“I consider myself a professional magician,” Harry grinned, laughing a little bit to himself on the inside.

Dino had finally focused on Harry and their conversation rather than the papers. The man put his elbow on the table and chin in his hand. “Can you turn water to wine?” The man asked, looking a little chuffed at his joke.

Well, jokes on him—Harry technically could. Harry pulled a bit of string from his pocket in to the palm of his right hand, held in place with his thumb loosely“Well, that might be asking a bit too much. But how about…” Harry trailed off as he reached over to Longwei and reached for the back of Longwei’s silk collar. Longwei raised an eyebrow, and Harry merely grinned. It was his right hand, and with a bit of willpower and practice, silently transfigured the string in to a fistful of forget-me-nots from the back of Longwei’s collar.

Longwei’s body physically jumped, hands flying back to clamp down on his collar even as Harry presented the flowers to Tsuna with a flourish. Tsuna blinked before he leaned forward and sniffed (Gokudera looked properly horrified and glared at Harry as if Harry had tried to poison Tsuna) before Harry took the flowers back. He squished the flowers in to a ball in his hands, and once it was all sealed from sight…

A bit of wandless magic, paired with silent casting—and he opened his hands to drop ten paper flowers, each a different color of the rainbow.

Dino looked a little stunned, and Harry playfully flicked a paper flower toward the blond. And a few toward Tsuna and Longwei just for kicks. Harry laughed at their awed looks. Even Gokudera’s tense face had relaxed, a slack open mouth as he stared at the flowers.

“H… how did he do that!” Gokudera near shrieked, and Harry mentally cackled at the one up.

Dino slowly shook his head before he turned to look to Tsuna, and then back down at the paperwork.

Harry blinked—and between blinks and fighting with himself, Harry was sitting at the oval table with a half drunk cup of tea in front of himself, and his magic tingling in his hand from a left over detection spell.

It took him as moment to realize someone was talking to him—a blond haired man, his pointed hair shaggy and thick around his head. Prominent cheekbones paired with a slender jaw made for an interesting face that seemed stuck in a ‘serious business’ expression. Harry listened, even as his eyes focused beyond the speaking blond to the man behind him.

“—your records state that you’re 24—“, Harry heard even as his eyes focused on the glasses that the black haired older man with the black mustache was wearing. Harry’s nose bridge ached in sympathy over the lost weight of his own glasses before the words that the blond was saying caught up to him.

“I’m not 24—I’m 30.” Harry frowned, and clenched his hands in to fists from where they were perched on his knees as the blond man paused and eyed the papers of the file in front of him.

Where had the blond gotten a file… of Harry’s information?

“Harry, you told me you were 24 earlier—“ A voice came to him from the right, and Harry turned to look. The man was sitting close to him, a pleasant face with slanted eyes. A neat braid casually tossed over his shoulder and—

(I know this man. I KNOW THIS MAN! FON—! Everything scrambled for a moment—his vision scrambling with white as the murderous intent rose up before being smothered under a blanket of black that SUCKED EVERYTHING AWAY. EVERY THOUGHT EVERY FEELING NOTHING IS LEFT—)

Harry blinked at Longwei, “I did…? That’s odd…” Harry trailed off awkwardly, and glanced around the room. There was a young man with a baby face, brown hair, and eerie orange eyes (SKYSKYSKYNOTHOMEWRONG). Most of the paperwork piles on the table were in front of him, so Harry assumed that this was Tsuna.

Sitting casually to Tsuna’s left was another man—with silver hair, despite the young face. That face was rather pinched and had a hefty frown as the young man glared at his own fistful of papers.

“You’ll get wrinkles like that, you know.” Harry slipped without thinking much on it, and Harry automatically (defensively) smiled when squinted green eyes focused on to him. Harry didn’t even have to speak a name (did they do introductions already? Harry couldn’t remember. He must have spaced…)  for the direction of his comment to catch the silver haired man’s attention.

“What.” It wasn’t even a question, the way that the accented English strung out that single word spoke of near murderous hostility.

The orange eyed young man slumped a little, “don’t worry Gokudera, it’s only a short meeting…” His voice was soft and soothing (and gratingGRATINGGRATING Harry was going to get up and MAKE THE VOICE STOP—) and Harry didn’t want to hear it anymore as he focused on the last many if the room he had yet to observe.

Nervous was the first thing that came to mind.

He doesn’t want to be here, Harry could tell. The man in the white coat (the doctor!) was drumming his fingers on the table. His breaths were deep in a forced calm and overall, Harry could only imagine that there was probably some worse consequence elsewhere if the man wasn’t here as he was not.

The doctor had to be some kind of dangerous. Because Harry had only been staring for a moment before they locked eyes. The brown hair and eyes were easy to overlook. The doctor man was plain compared to silver hair and orange eyes—but the stubble made him look unkempt and therefore memorable.

“So, Harry… you were in a motorbike accident?” The man pointed out, sitting directly across from Harry at the table allowed him to lean forward. Harry glanced to the side, where Longwei was talking with the blond man and the glasses man about paperwork. And orange eyes—Tsuna—was calming down the agitated Gokudera (the pointed stabbing of Gokudera’s finger to something on his fistful of papers seemed important), which made the little room seem rather tense.

Harry had thought it was a pretty large meeting room for a group of seven—they had at least ten extra seats.

It didn’t feel like he could breathe.

“Yeah—not a scratch on me though.” Harry slouched in his seat, knee bouncing quickly under the black glass of the table.

The man threaded his fingers together as he leaned back. (Smart move, the threading hides the nerves in the worried…) He raised an eyebrow, “I’m going to insist on a full physical then.”

Harry frowned, “… and what does that entail?”

The man raised an eyebrow, “stripping down so I can visually see that you’re in good health.”

That was not going to happen. Harry’s skin itched at the thought.

“Not gunna happen—no.” Harry bit back, because his gut told him not to. It would not be a good thing to have his body in the hands of strangers. He had had so little control for so long that he refused to put himself somewhere where he didn’t want to be.

The doctor’s face pinched, “then I see we’re at a disagreement. I insist—“

“Don’t be so stiff, Shamal,” orange eyes murmured softly as he focused in on Harry. The huffing Gokudera wasn’t even listening anymore. “Longwei stated that he is an accomplished motorist. If he was hurt, he would have the smarts to see professional help.” Orange eyes had continued, and Harry watched the older doctor slump, loudly sucking on his teeth to show his displeasure but not putting it to words.

Well… that was convenient, Harry thought this as he focused on orange eyes.

Harry wanted to punch them all till his knuckles bled. This was entrapment. Definitely mafia. Harry could practically taste the sky flames that saturated the room. And instead of calming Harry, he just felt a simmering kind of fury building behind his eyes—

Wait—sky flames? Harry blinked to himself, listing a little as he focused on that thought. Sky flames… it was a common thought. Or at least it seemed common now. But when had Harry thought of it before?

.. wait, is this what he called the flames, from his memories? The fires that… that he remembered? Wait…

Longwei touched Harry’s shoulder and gathered Harry’s wandering attention.

“Hey—you’ve been quiet for a bit. Did you change your mind?” Longwei’s voice was soft and concerned—

(Don’t trust him—Harry’s gut shrieked. So Harry shrugged his shoulder out of Longwei’s grip and—trusted him—)

“Dunno. I kind of need the money and…” Harry trailed off.

Tsuna smiled and clapped his hands, “it’s settled then. Here is a schedule of duties. We’ll see how well of a fit you are with the group the first two nights. And if all goes well, we’ll give you a time slot on the third to do acrobatic tricks.” Gokudera didn’t even have to look up at Tsuna’s gesture before sliding a paper toward Harry. Longwei reached out and slid the paper the rest of the way in to Harry’s hands.

It was a hand written… ‘chore list’, pretty much. It was pretty extensive, too.

“Right…” Harry murmured, fingers delicately cradling the richly thick muggle stationary. It reminded him of Vernon’s business letters the few times that Harry was given the chance to handle them as he delivered them to the breakfast table. The English was block lettered and easy to read, if nothing else. Harry carefully folded the buttery smooth paper and stuck it in to a pocket, smiling at Gokudera’s irritated gaze at the casual regard for the hand written list.

(Harry absently wondered why he was going out of his way to irritate—but maybe it was just his passive-aggressive tendencies rearing their head again as he forced himself in to a situation that really was rather distasteful for his soul.)

“As it is… that was certainly impressive. I think we’ll have to stage a show on the first night. Give you a… ten minute slot?” Tsuna inquired. And Harry paused as he tried to bring to mind what exactly, Tsuna was talking about.

“… sure.” Harry murmured. If nothing else, Longwei would remind him wouldn’t he?

“Thank you, for your time. I’m glad this turned out for the best.” Harry trailed off, and got a series of well wishes from the lot of them.

Harry turned to Longwei. “So, um…” Harry paused and trailed off, and Longwei soon had a hand wrapped around Harry’s elbow and the two left the room. Harry listened to Longwei’s chatter—from the gist of it, he understood that Longwei’s room was a double single and Harry had agreed to share, so they could talk about the list. The list felt heavy in his pocket, and the wand in his hand, hidden in Harry’s deep jacket pocket tingled as he kept casting detection spell after spell.

Ultimately—there was nothing even remotely magical here.

Harry was the most magical thing around.

Harry didn’t know how to feel about this.

In fact, Harry supposed he was feeling a bit… dizzy.

The feeling remained, intermittent between feeling disturbed and terribly pleased with Longwei’s attention (all the while knowing that that was not right, not one bit—something was causing it but WHATWHATWHAT—be patient, all is always revealed in time). Harry felt too much but not enough—and about an hour in to settling in to the hotel room, Harry was viciously sick and throwing up in the bathroom under Longwei’s concerned gaze.

Harry blearily looked around the bathroom from where he was tucked between dark wood cabinetry and chills white porcelain. Longwei had called for the doctor, and Harry closed his eyes and tilted his head back and wondered how he got here.

Time stretched and shortened—

Harry jerked in to wakefulness at a soft kick to his leg and he squinted up at the doctor from before—… .Doctor Shark?

The man’s hands didn’t shake as he pressed the back of his hand to Harry’s sweaty forehead.

“You’re burning up—come on. Off with that jacket. No wonder you’re sweating.” The doctor murmured, hands going down to Harry’s jacket and swiftly undoing the zipper.

Harry’s body felt… too heavy. And too light at the same time. His left leg gave a feeble little jerk, and Oodako, once revealed, struck out with three tentacles and gave Doctor Shark a mighty slap to the hand. A not wet ‘SMACK’ rang through the room, and the doctor drew back with a hiss, immediately sticking the struck part of the back of his head in his mouth.

“… ew—was that the hand that touched my sweaty forehead?” Harry gagged, just a little.

It was amusing watching the doctor pale with disgust. A snort from Longwei, hovering in the doorway, had Harry grinning. “He got you, Shamal.” Longwei was constant cheer, despite the line of worry between his eyebrows.

“You’re both such a little shits…” Mumbled Shamal, probably thinking that Harry wouldn’t hear the words that he hissed to the back of his hand. Well, Harry had heard. But this was a spying mission, it was best to play the idiot and let everyone just assume incompetence.

(That wasn’t really a way to live, but the thought process was rather familiar…)

Harry shrugged out of his jacket and shoved it in to the small space behind himself. Between his body and the wall. Oodako squirmed himself under his shirt and wrapped himself around Harry’s chest, skin to skin. The motion was wonderfully cooling, Harry sighed as he relaxed in his small space. Shamal cautiously reached out again and wrapped a hand around the back of Harry’s neck to feel the heat like one would a small child.

Harry didn’t dare look away, and watched the man through his eye lashes.

“Ice,” Shamal snapped his fingers at Longwei, causing the Chinese man to disappear. Shamal unlaced Harry’s boots and Harry helpfully slipped out of them, and let the man take his socks. Harry soon had several ice bags under his feet, under his left armpit, and on his groin. A bit strange, but it quickly cooled him down enough that the heat shakes disappeared. And the soft, reoccurring gagging stopped as well.

It took less than an hour, but Harry felt wretchedly tired by the time Shamal declared that the ice could be removed. Harry complied under Longwei’s watchful gaze as the doctor took his heart rate, listening to his lungs, and chuckled when Oodako gave the man another slap for staring too long at the Basilisk scar on his arm.

The dizziness was gone. The air had the aftertaste of regurgitated apple tart.

Once declared eerily healthy, Harry rolled in to bed and closed his eyes… he must have feigned sleep long enough, because Longwei eventually wandered out with the doctor Shamal at his heels. A discussion in hushed Chinese proverbs between them as they left.

Harry rolled from his side to his stomach, pulling his cell phone out of his back pocket of his pants as he peered out of his blanket cocoon.

He was feeling very… vulnerable.

I need… someone to trust.

He itched to grab some of his vials… but if he was having some kind of illness, he should hold off.

Longwei is not to be trusted.

(Maybe just a bit?)

(NO!)

Harry blearily stared at the phone number that he used to contact Reborn. Because the sad of it was—he had Reborn’s number, and Longwei’s number. And no matter how much his body relaxed and turned to malleable goo around Longwei, of the two of them… Longwei was the more distasteful. The feeling only grew stronger the longer the braided man was away.

Harry pressed the little phone icon before he could think too hard of it. One of his fingers shifting to tap ‘speaker mode’. Harry counted three rings before the phone’s words of ‘CALLING’ shifted to ‘CONNECTED’ and Harry heard… silence.

The silence continued before Harry heard a sigh, “yes?” Reborn’s voice rumbled high pitched over the phone.

“… I called you a lot—in the past. Didn’t I? You always pick up.” Harry murmured.

“… we’ve conversed.” Reborn mutedly agreed.

Harry hummed to himself, eyes drifting shut as he thought for a moment he could taste a lie in that, but at the same time exhaustion was tugging at him too hard for him to really care. Harry tugged out his wand from his back jeans pocket and, while hidden under the blankets, extinguished all of the lights still on in the room.

Even before Harry could settle his wand back in to place, a bitter hot swell swept through his body, and he gave a shudder. Suddenly feeling a bit too hot.

“Reborn,” Harry cleared his throat, “… I have… I have this feeling—I need to go home and there isn’t a lot of time to get there, but—“

—Harry blinked the water out of his eyes, a bar of soap in his hands and cold water blasting his body. Harry blinked at Oodako’s red body clinging safely from the showerhead. The cold water didn’t really affect his body, but all the same wasn’t he… just on the phone? Harry felt clean enough, and quietly set the bar of soap down to a molded spot in the shower and let the water raining down wash away the soap from his hands. Harry mutely turned off the shower and held out an arm for Oodako to climb on.

“… I’m in trouble.” He could feel it in his bones.

A heavy knock on the door, “Hurry up Harry! We have to be to the tents soon!” That was Longwei.

… wasn’t the circus event in… five days?

Have rubbed at his throbbing eyes. His face felt hot, despite the icy shower that he had just taken. Oodako’s tentacles massaged at his arm, and Harry placidly stared at the back of the bathroom door.

What… what was happening?

He was in trouble, and he wasn’t sure what to do.

His phone was on the counter. Harry reached for it and unlocked the phone. The screen wasn’t the phonebook, or his texts. It was the memos. There was one saved memo. Harry didn’t hesitate to click on it.

It was a simple sentence.

‘DO YOU REMEMBER WRITING THIS?’

“… No, I don’t.” Harry murmured to himself as he let the screen go dark.

Between blinks, Harry was dressed professionally in an all-black outfit, a logo printed on the back in neon yellow, his face smoothly painted on with thick purple rings of eye shadow and dark lips. The him in the mirror wasn’t someone that Harry could recognize as himself anymore (who is that in the mirror, but the mystery that—). Harry drove himself and Longwei to the tents (when did he learn where the tents were?) and watched Longwei run off to parts unknown amongst all the colors, bright electric lights—Harry pulled up the chore list.

‘Feed the animals’ was the first thing on the list.

… right, where were the animals? Harry caught the first person that looked even remotely kind and got pointed to the tent behind the main one. There was a man directing a string of helpers around, so Harry quietly joined the throng and fed the horses, counted the rabbits to make sure they didn’t escape, and eyed the random donkey that had been painted like a zebra.

Odd, but okay?

Next on the list, ‘MAKE COTTON CANDY!’

Harry had to wash his hands thoroughly, be inspected, before he was given a work station inside a trailer and a machine. A cart full of sugar and plastic bags was also provided. Harry nursed his fingers whenever the plastic blade slapped him when he was a little slow, but overall he numbly followed his task list.

(If he ignored the little screaming voice inside—would it eventually go away?)

When he finished making all the pink and blue cotton, Harry was off and on his third task.

3. Check the electricals.

Was that a word?

Harry bounced around, checked the lights and supposed everything was in line as he glanced to task number four. Which was to… Harry squinted at the smudge of a word.

Okay. Skip on to five.

Check the ticket booth? Sure. That was fine.

Harry speed walked to the front of the circus.

(What am I doing…?)

Harry bumped right in to someone (someone just slightly taller and blonder…?) that was exiting the ticket booth. Harry caught that someone was still inside, but the blond he ran in to took his attention. The green fatigues and the headband caught his attention, they were so bright in the circus light. Luminescent white lights shining down against the black of the sky.

Harry frowned, “sorry—didn’t mean to run in to you… you alright?” Harry asked, staring at the true-blue eyes of the blond that seemed frozen in to place. Harry waiting a moment before he waved a hand in front of the man’s face. The man’s eyes tracked his hand, but he didn’t move.

“… right.” Harry blink, and then promptly squeezed past the man to enter the ticket booth. It was a woman in a clown wig. Harry glanced to the weird flame mark on her cheek—it looked like she was covering it up with some make up?

“Hey, do you need help in the booth?” Harry asked, and the woman blinked at him, freezing briefly before she continued to apply the concealer to her cheek.

“Not at the moment, no.” She spoke in German, and Harry realized belatedly that he was speaking in kind.

“Right… okay, I’m gunna move on.” Harry waved and ducked out of the booth, hearing a faint ‘later!’ from the woman in the wig. Harry ducked around the still frozen blond and left. He checked the list and… found that the rest had been scratched out.

Right… had he done that? It did look like his hand writing.

… Why did he do that?

Harry flipped the list over and saw his own inelegant writing sprawled over the back in technical pencil.

‘FIND HOME’ was the message.

Not helpful.

Still, Harry drifted to some tables and found some other men and women in uniforms that matched his and got in line for a bite to eat. Harry lingered at his table. The blankness between his memories left him at a loss of what, exactly, he should be doing. Harry poked at his food, the overwhelming smell of a grill and its smoke irritated his nose, and Harry wondered what he was doing with himself. Why he was so calm.

“… I should be panicking.” Harry murmured to himself.

He should be calling someone for help. Harry case a quick detection on his food. And then another area spell—no magic anywhere close by. Once again, he was the most magical thing for miles. Harry left his wand in his sleeve and pulled up his phone.

There was another memo.

‘GET HELP’ was typed.

“… I’m not a very helpful person…” Harry numbly noted to himself. He had twelve missed calls from Longwei. Harry put his phone face down on the table and ate his food.

Harry finished his meal, dumped the trash, and returned the tray. From there, he walked out in to the booths and wandered. He watched the slowly forming crowds. Watched them swell. His eyes caught red hair—

Heart stopping.

Ginny?

Harry slipped through the crowd, following the short flash of red until he caught up after sending a tripping hex after his intended target. The fall and following standing from the ground of the red head allowed Harry the time to catch up. Harry grabbed the arm of the red head, and blinked at the masculine face that greeted him. Red eyes—compass pupils—Harry pulled his hand back like it burned from the soft grip he had had on the red head’s arm (notGinnynotGinny). Harry found himself out of breath, and stuttered out a quick sorry, and fled to the young man yelling, “wait!”

He could feel the chase.

An invisibility spell and Harry quickly squirreled himself away—

Harry blinked back to himself, throwing up everything he ate behind one of the smaller tents. When his stomach finally settled, Harry vanished the mess.

And found himself in front of a bunch of children. They were at the tables. Harry blinked at their cheerful little faces and clapping hands. He found a hat in his hands and the cheering thundered in his ears. His eyes felt so hot—and he desperately needed Oodako… but he was back in to the hotel room, wasn’t he?

“Bring the rabbit back!” A little girl at his feet called. Blond hair in pigtails and dreamy blue eyes fixated on him. Harry couldn’t help but automatically smile at her. Was he… playing magic for them? Harry looked in to the empty black top hair and shifted it upside right and wiggled it a bit to show that nothing was inside.

“What color should the rabbit be?” Harry asked, somehow speaking clearly despite the heavy tongue.

A boy in the back of their cluster snidely yelled out, “rainbow!”

An easy request.

It felt like his head was on fire. Harry, with his wand poking out of his sleeve, grinned. He offered the hat to one of the crowding in parents. “Something from your pocket. Whatever you’re willing to sacrifice to the magic?” The man balked for a moment, but the instant begging from the children had him rifling through his pockets. The man deliberately grabbed a long piece of white string rather than a coin and dropped it in. Harry smiled and brought himself to ‘center stage’.

He waved the hand with the wand over the hat, mumbled some nonsense and—a little nonverbal transfiguration—pulled out a small rainbow bunny.

The screams of pure ecstatic joy made him grin. He always enjoyed pleasing an audience. That was the best part of show business. Harry gently set the rainbow furred bunny in to the eager hands of the closest child, even as the children swarmed closer.

The man who donated the string was gaping, just a little.

“Sorry ‘bout the string,” Harry gave a little shrug to the incredulous gaze of the man. “had to give up a little something,” and that was what Harry had changed in to the bunny. Harry clapped his hands and produced flowers out of his sleeve, and with a flick of his hands he changed the petals in to something sparkly—and passed them out to the children. Whispering that they were only going to last for a little while. Many of the children pulled out phones and proceeded to take pictures with them.

Harry laughed and—his gut said look—and he looked sharply to the left. There was Longwei, looking out of breath and a little wide eyed. “Did you… pull those flowers out of air?” Longwei looked a little off center, and for the first time Harry could remember the other looking so.

“Yeah. Just about.” Harry shrugged and wiped at the sweat that was pouring down the back of his neck. It felt like the middle of summer, he was practically rolling in sweat, now that he noticed.

Another blink and—and he was back in his hotel room, the dark-dark night bleeding through the thin curtains as he faced Longwei. Longwei had a hard grip on his hands and Harry stared at the Chinese man. His heart was thudding hard like he had been running for his life. And Longwei was so, so close. But Harry’s back was to the door.

“Was it something I did? You ignored my calls all night. Are you okay?” Longwei pressed, subtly looming all the closer. It was all calculated, Harry dimly realized it even as yanked his hands away. The small move hurt his very soul, and Harry could swear he felt a burn through his chest, clawing at his throat and springing tears to his eyes.

“Harry?” Longwei didn’t press closer. In fact, Longwei took a step back

“Stay… away.” Harry raised his hands, and gently pushed Longwei back with a shove to the Chinese man’s chest.

It wasn’t designed to hurt, but Longwei looked wounded.

“Go away, Fon!” Harry snarled—in pain and hating and hurting and Longwei-Fon’s eyes minutely widened—

Harry lashed out with a punch. It connected with Longwei’s jaw—and Harry felt like his whole body was laying on nails. It hurt it hurt it hurt—

Harry gasped in to consciousness.

He felt like he was burning hot—not just from temperature, but from the fact that it felt like he hadn’t slept in days and he still felt terribly awake.

He was at the border between Germany and France now. Well, Harry knew that logistically it was called ‘the border’, but in reality it was just a road with signs on either side declaring which side of the road was which county. Harry had parked to the side where he could on his motorbike, and was sitting on the curb. Harry glanced up to the nearly dark sky, and sighed to himself. He felt Oodako squirm a little, and Harry dropped his head in his hands.

The streets were empty. The night was quiet.

Harry didn’t feel like he could sleep. And ultimately that wasn’t healthy. Harry rubbed at his eyes and shifted to sit back on his hands and stare up at the sky. He took a deep breath and let it out slow. And then he did it again. Harry appreciated the quiet, but at the same time his skin felt like it was crawling. Harry watched the last of the sun drift away and blacken the sky. Watched the lingering clouds go from orange to dark greys under the full moon.

He wondered how the werewolves faired under the hidden Unspeakables rule. Teddy wasn’t a werewolf, but it was always a thought that he remembered in conjunction with his godson. Harry watched the moon for a time, counted the twelve cars that drove by and just sat himself for a bit.

Teddy is dead. Was killed.

Harry closed his eyes, and recalled Teddy’s face the last time he had seen it. Or, well… he tried too. Harry frowned, brows drawing together as he hazily brought what he could to the forefront. Piecing together skin tone, face shape, smoothness—Harry slowly opened his eyes.

… it hadn’t been too long since he had seen Teddy. Three months at most.

This couldn’t be normal.

… what about James?

James, his nosey son who loved to cause little mischiefs that often sent his siblings scrambling to find misplaced toys around the house. So self-sufficient, with a confidence that Harry could only assume came from Ginny. The son he gave his invisibility cloak to, the Christmas after he came back from Hogwarts the first time.

… but what did his face look like?

Harry’s fingers clenched, and he felt his heartbeat thrum in his ears.

Albus?

They shared the same eyes. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to recall his son. Bright green eyes. Black hair… But in the end, Albus’ face was as fuzzy as James’ in his memory.

As fuzzy as Lily.

…. As fuzzy as Ginny.

“… this can’t be normal.” Something was wrong. Harry had been saying to himself that something had been wrong for some time now. But it was this that really brought it home. Harry had memorized Ginny’s face for years. Her hair, he had been able to pick out flowers and leaves of the exact same shade and present them to Ginny on a whim. He had been able to find leather Quidditch guards that matched her eyes without her being there at his side.

These were not his other memories. These were his own. Memories from days, and weeks, and months ago were washed out and blurry. But he could remember thinking about his wife after waking up with Frank in that stupid little office. He had pictured her face clearly, that first night at the Cauldron before he had pushed the thought away. He had… he had…

What had happened?

Harry scrubbed at his face.

… the history book. He needed… Ginny, Frank said she had remarried. But to who? Where had she lived? Harry had had a single page. But Hermione’s life had been detailed. Ginny’s life had to be as detailed. Right?

Harry shifted and glanced around. Well, the street was empty. The buildings around were dark. Harry pulled off his trunk and unshrunk it. He dug through and pulled out the wizard shoe box and re-shrunk the trunk. It took a bit of time to get the book he wanted. He had shoved his arm in up to the shoulder and dug around for what felt like hours before he pulled out the right book. Harry eyed the pile of books he had pulled out from the black library.

“… I spent over a week in that apartment… why did I never read these?” Harry asked to himself, even as he felt Oodako crawl out from under his driving jacket and stick to his back. Reading had not been a thought outside of taking care of Oodako. He had read that. And then he had just stopped. Why had he stopped?

He needed information for the future.

Why had he stopped?

The pile went back to the box, and Harry shoved the box and the book in to the front of his jacket. He casted a quick bit of charms on Oodako to make others look away. He needed a bit of light to read this. A quick drive chilled his overheated body with the cold night air (and he was able to safely travel even though he felt a little light headed), and Harry settled himself in front of a 24 hour convenience store in France. Harry walked his bike up on to the sidewalk and settled himself next to it in front of the window. He glanced up to spot a camera, and found a stationary one facing away from him. Harry glanced up at the bright light, and with a flick of his wand he knew he had to prepare a line.

Harry placed the tip of his wand to the cement.

… and came up with a blank.

This… this, he had learned in the Auror corps for stake outs. Why was it gone? It was one of the first things he had learned, right? The wand movements and the incantation should be ingrained. Harry shifted and leaned back against the wall of the store and stared down at his wand. Subtly, he tucked it under his leg and focused on his knees.

This… this was not good. Harry took a deep breath—tried to think of his medical skills.

Bandages. Sewing. Wrapping. Sunshine colored flames—

Where were his memories from the Auror corps?

“… fuck.” Harry exhaled.

Harry felt the tentacle tapping his face, and he turned to look to the disillusioned Oodako…. Or, Oodako that was supposed to be disillusioned. It was half faded. Harry stared for a moment before he reached out and ran a hand along the top of Oodako’s visible head.

This was not good. And Harry couldn’t even think of where to start.

… other than where he already was.

Harry slid his wand back up to his sleeve and pulled the book out of his jacket. There was nothing for it at this point. Harry watched the magic dissipate along one of Oodako’s tentacles for a moment before he cracked the book open. The pages hissed as he ran his fingers over the words.

It was easy, finding Ginny Potter.

Her early life was not explained in detail. It was after his death, that the details started. The trials—Ginny Potter accused of having Harry Potter murdered while under a deep cover mission that succeeded. She was removed from the Potter will, and fled to France. There, she re-married…

Harry rubbed his eyes—he felt numb. He just… couldn’t.

James Potter defended his mother vehemently during and after the trials, and left England with his mother. The eldest Potter boycotted England, and finished his education in the colonies. Vowing never to return to British soil. Unlike his brother, Albus Potter remained at Hogwarts for all years of his education, living at the Malfoy estates. Lily Potter, youngest child and only daughter of The-Boy-Who-Lived and Ginny Potter, had her education in France.

This was… never something he wanted for his family. But… he could understand James. But why would Albus stay? Why did no one help Ginny? The mention of a trial was so bland—what kind of false pretense did they accuse his wife of? Harry drummed his fingers on his knee, before he turned the page.

Ginny Potter, renamed as Ginny Leandro…. Harry’s eyes fixated on that last name. Definitely not a British name. Harry slowly let out a breath. He had been, in the back of his mind, pained at the idea that someone he knew had married his wife after his ‘death’. Harry had forced himself to not think of it, but now he was just relieved that he wouldn’t have to think of it.

Harry’s fingers trailed down the paragraphs to the end…

Ginny Leandro was buried in France.

… no location listed.

Harry slowly closed the book.

Ginny died three months ago. And even Harry could see that that couldn’t be a coincidence. As he had been found by the unspeakables shortly afterward. Harry could tell, through the dates listed—Ginny had waited for him, in the end. Waited twenty five years. And then had remarried.

Harry raised the book and pressed the cover against his forehead. She had waited.

She had waited more than long enough. She had raised their children by herself. And when they were adults, found some form of happiness for herself.

“I’m glad… you found some happiness.” They had meant to be together until the end. But… but he was at least happy she didn’t have to live alone. She could have, but she didn’t have to. Harry blinked away a few tears and slumped back against the wall. He desperately wanted to find that graveyard. He wanted to just go, spend a few weeks—

Harry gagged at the sudden violent pull of his stomach that eased a second later. Harry, hunched over, blinked at the ground before he slowly straightened up. He pressed a hand to his forehead and checked for his temperature. Nothing. He hadn’t even done anything! He had just thought about staying and overseeing Ginny’s gr—

Harry groaned, hand pressed to his mouth.

… it was his thoughts, wasn’t it?

His body felt icy cold yet burning, now.

Something was wrong and he needed help. He needed help and everyone was dead, compromised or… or…

Harry’s eyes drifted down to the book.

… Albus. Frank had said that Albus was in France. And while Harry didn’t want to trust a single word that tosser had spoken to him… if there was a chance…

Harry pulled out the wizard shoe box and pulled out the books he had found earlier. He could have sworn he had seen it… Harry smiled when he found his chosen book, and shoved everything back in to the box. At least he didn’t have to shove his arm in as far as it could go this time.

‘THE MANY APPLICATIONS OF BLOOD AND MAGIC’

Harry’s fingers traced the cover, pausing a moment to search for a name. Finding none, he flipped inside and moved toward the location section. Albus was his child, and Harry had more than enough blood to spare for tracking the other down if he was close enough.

(This is illegal—the moral side of Harry hissed.)

(It’s now or never—crowed the more recent, more impulsive and infinitely more desperate side of Harry. It’s only going to get worse.)

Harry read the instructions. He was going to need a surface, blood, and a pure flame. Harry glanced around the street. And preferably not somewhere where he could be seen while he did it as well. Harry eyed the picture in the book for a moment, and when he felt he had it memorized he folded the corner of the top part of the page and then closed it. Harry closed his eyes, picturing what he would need to draw and burn. Harry started to count.

5 seconds.

1 minute.

4 minutes.

And Harry opened his eyes and looked out to the street. Already, he had forgotten the general shape of the image. The image that had clearly been pictured behind his eyelids had dissipated as rapidly as the afterimage of an open flame.

Harry sunk his teeth in to his bottom lip and carefully stood up. The shrunk the box and dropped it in to a pocket, and ducked in to the convenience store he had been sitting in front of for the last little bit. At the door, Harry paused and looked out over his shoulder to the street. He glanced up. The pink dawn hours twinkled back, and Harry shivered. Where had the hours gone?

He stumbled in, his legs like jelly and his lungs as if they were full of water.

(It’s only going to get worse…)

Harry took a moment to use the restroom—locked the door behind himself. With his wand he quickly burned the necessary rune from the book in to the tile. The heat coming from the tip of his wand almost matched the burning he felt in his chest. His body was in pain by the end, and cutting his arm to gather blood felt like nothing. Harry gouged his arm with a cutting curse, dipped his fingers in the welling blood, and quietly traced the rune. Of course, one dip wasn’t enough blood to trace the whole thing.

But when Harry went to get more—the cut was gone. Harry numbly brushed his fingers over the spot, smearing the small amount of blood around. Harry took a shuddering breath, and his hands were smooth as he gouged at his arm once more. Created another wound. Dipped in for some blood. Traced. Went for more.

Again.

And again. And again.

 With the rune eventually complete, Harry rushed to murmur the incantation after glancing to his book. The locking charm on the door was holding, even as someone started to knock on the locked room.

It was supposed to hurt. But Harry supposed he had met his threshold and had clearly gone beyond it. He couldn’t feel much, even as the rune transferred to his hands and burned itself in to his palms.

Go south, the rune whispered in to his mind.

The book stated that he would have an hour to find the intended target before he lost his mind.

Harry apparated. Disappearing from the clean bathroom and to the street. He shrunk his motorcycle and shoved that in to the zippered pocket with his vials.

And south Harry went.

He closed his eyes and focused on the magic, gut stabbing feeling the runes in his palms were giving him—and blind apparated.

Harry blindly dug his feet in to the ground once he landed—wards pushed at him—and Harry pushed back just as hard and shattered them. They shattered around him, and Harry felt something in his chest shatter too… and come together in to something that almost allowed clarity. Harry took in a deep breath and looked at the too early morning sky and…

And blinked, as he found himself standing outside the main base of the Carcassa famiglia.

Harry staggered to the side, and then toward the building.

HOME—his body declared. And his palms throbbed as he watched the burned runes slowly start to dissipate in to nothing. Each breath he took… he felt a little more like himself. A little more centered. A little more like Harry, and less like the silent scream he had become over the last few days (weeks? Months?).

Harry pulled out his hand, even as all the lights in the villa turned on, and casted, “appareo.”

Harry needed to know…

His eyes burned with the sudden influx—so much white light. There was enough magic here that would have put Grimmauld Place to shame. Harry took a shaking breath and stepped forward. He blinked hard and his vision returned to normal.

First. Albus.

Why was Albus here?

(The Carcassa were only a famiglia through sheer tenacity and bad reputation—but why would they kidnap someone affiliated with them? If Albus was hurt… Harry would burn this place to the ground. Questionable current relationships with anyone or no.)

Find Albus.

Burn everything that stood in the way.