Chapter Text
Harry had not slept in three days. It wasn’t just the nightmares. Harry had been dealing with nightmares for longer than he had even known his name was Harry, back when the only things he was called was Boy or Freak. Even the visions from Voldemort, didn’t stop him from lying down on the thin cots inside Perkin’s tent. He would never admit it to Hermione, but he sometimes welcomed the visions. Harry knew it was sick but to be someone else, even Voldemort, for a second felt like a reprieve from the hellscape that was his own mind.
He tried to sleep but every rustle of leaves outside or twig snapping, sent him bolting upwards, wand in hand. It had only gotten worse since Godric’s Hollow. Not even the sounds of Ron snoring and Hermione soft breathing brought him any comfort.
“I can take first watch tonight,” Harry said to Hermione, already scanning the forest around them that was bathed in a warm glow from the setting sun. There was still a layer of frost on the evergreen trees from the night before. Hermione was sitting outside the tent, sorting through her beaded bag. Her every breath came out like a puff of smoke in the cool air.
At Harry’s voice, Hermione looked up at him. Harry felt her eyes lingering on the deep purple bruises under his eyes.
“You took watch last night,” Hermione said, “you should get some sleep.”
“I’m not tired,” Harry said, his fingers tracing the scar on his left hand.
Hermione simply raised her eyebrows at him.
There was ripping sound behind him and Harry spun around, wand raised but it was only Ron unzipping the tent’s entrance. He ducked out, raising his hands.
“Same side,” Ron said, jokingly. He was holding a pocket radio in one hand, the same one he’d spent the last few weeks fidgeting with.
Harry lowered his wand, cheeks burning.
“We’re out of food,” Ron turned to Hermione.
She put down her beaded bag with a sigh. “There’s a village within apparating distance, Crickhowell.”
“I-I can go,” Harry stumbled over his words in a rush to get them out. That’s just what he needed: a distraction. Without sleep the days bled into each other and the thought of spending another night, lying idlily on his bed staring at the canvas ceiling made his skin crawl. He needed to get out of here, just for a moment.
He hated Hermione’s pitying look. “You need sleep. There might be dementors and we know how that went last time.”
“That’s only because I was wearing that damn locket,” Harry hissed a little angrily.
“We could all go,” Ron suggested.
“We won’t all fit under the cloak,” Harry argued. He’d found himself fluctuating between desperately needing to stay close to his friends and wanting to be alone. Without them near, he couldn’t stop envisioning horrifying scenarios where they were kidnapped by Snatchers, leaving Harry with no idea where they were or if they were still alive. Yet, a voice in his head kept yelling at them to get away from him. No one survived long when they stood beside the Boy-Who-Lived.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes, thirty at most,” Harry said, reaching into Hermione’s beaded bag and pulling out his cloak. Before the others could protest, he wrapped the cloak around him and spun on the spot.
Staggering slightly, he found himself on a mostly deserted cobblestone street. There were a few muggles walking by. He saw a young couple holding hands and two boys chasing a slightly deflated soccer ball down the road. Behind them ran a slightly frantic looking woman with a stroller and several bags of shopping.
“Not near the road!” the woman called out and Harry noticed that the shadows under her eyes could rivel his own. Under the cloak, he flicked his wand and the ball froze. The woman caught up with the boys and Harry watched her scold them gently but firmly, completely unlike Aunt Petunia’s behaviour to both Dudley and Harry. Harry couldn’t remember her ever saying “no” Dudley and he knew Aunt Petunia would be delighted if he ran directly into traffic. He cast a minor feather light charm on the woman’s shopping and scanned around for signs of a supermarket.
Hermione and Harry had scouted out this village before setting up camp in the middle of the forest that bordered it. It didn’t take long to find the local corner store. He crossed the street silently and ducked inside just as another man was leaving. Noticing that there wasn’t anyone else inside except the teenager at the counter, he flicked the sign outside from open to closed. The shop itself was an eclectic mix of crowded shelves with no sense of order that Harry could see. There was tinned tomatoes next to the bread and candied pecans beside the toothbrushes. It was much too small for Harry to take products off the shelves without the single employee noticing them disappearing.
He could just cast a confundus charm on the girl behind the counter but she barely looked twelve. She was humming some muggle song that seemed vaguely familiar as she wiped down the counter, tucking a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. He’d heard stories of muggles getting brain damage from overpowered spells.
Instead, Harry walked deeper into the store, peering around the shelves. There was a chipped red door labelled as toilet. Waiting until the girl was briefly distracted with a particularly stubborn smudge on the counter, Harry ducked inside. Checking that there were no cameras, he took off the cloak and studied himself in the dirty mirror. A quick glamour covered his scar and changed his eyes to a dark brown. It would have to do. Even if someone looked into the girls memories, they wouldn’t immediately recognise him. Harry turned to the toilet and pointed his wand at it, casting Aguamente until it overflowed.
He pushed the door back open causing the girl to startle.
“Sorry,” Harry said, ducking his head apologetically, “the toilet’s got clogged.”
The girl wrinkled her nose. She came out from behind the counter, sighing. As soon as she stepped inside the bathroom, Harry caused the door to close and fired off a weak sticking spell that would only hold for thirty seconds or so. In that time, he grabbed as much non-perishable food as he could carry, stuffing it into a plastic bag. He heard the girl struggling with the door handle and wrapped the cloak back around him. Trying to ignore the guilty squirming in his stomach, he emptied his whole supply of muggle money on the counter. He knew it still wasn’t enough. Promising himself he’d come back if he survived this war, he cast a tergeo over the counter and rushed out.
He was about to apparate back to the tent when he heard something that made his blood freeze. It was a scream, high and terrified. The screams of a child.
Harry didn’t even hesitate. He ran towards the sound, wand at the ready. Up ahead, people were running towards him, their faces stricken with terror. There was another scream, this one older and so full of anguish that it nearly made Harry double over as if their pain was in own.
In the middle of the street there was a crowd of men in black cloaks and white masks that were all too familiar. He counted at least fifteen of them, all laughing. Harry crept closer and to his horror, caught sight of just what they were laughing about. At the middle Death Eater’s feet, there was one of the boys he’d seen earlier. He was writhing on the ground, whimpering. Tears rolled down his face. His mother stood to the side, locked in a full body bind curse, forced to watch on. The other boy was clasped by the collar by another Death Eater, struggling desperately to get away. Harry had to do something.
“Expelliarmus!” Harry tore his cloak off and sent the spell directly at the Death Eater in the centre. His wand flew out of his hand and Harry caught it. All fifteen Death Eaters turned to him. Distracted by Harry, the body bind curse on the mother weakened and she dropped to her knees by her son, drawing him into her arms.
Harry did the only thing he could think of. He ran.
The Death Eaters took after him, firing spells off wildly. Harry ducked and dodged, weaving through the streets. He just needed to draw the Death Eaters away from the family, giving them enough time to find somewhere safe to hide.
“CRUCIO!” The spell hit him and Harry fell to the ground, gasping. He hadn’t recognised the voice that had cast it but it sounded young, barely much more than a teenager. The spell hurt but he could tell its caster wasn’t that experienced. He rolled out of the way of another burst of red light, noticing that several of the other Death Eaters were swaying. Their spells were coming out slurred like they were drunk. Anger coursed through Harry. Was this some sick form of Death Eater bonding? Why not grab a beer after work and torture some children?
He raised his wand, returning fire with any spell he could think of. A few of the Death Eaters fell, their legs wrapped in ropes or else unconscious on the ground but it wasn’t enough. There were just too many of them. Even though they were inexperienced and half of them were drunk, he was hopelessly outmatched. Harry almost felt like laughing. He wondered what Voldemort would do if he heard that a group of fresh-faced recruits had killed Harry Potter when he had repeatedly failed.
“DIFFINDO!” A fierce cutting curse slashed his right shoulder and Harry felt blood dripping down his arm. He tried to apparate away but there was another flash of red this time aimed directly at his throat. Harry choked. He raised shaking hands to his throat, trying desperately to stop the blood pouring out. Darkness was creeping into his vision. No, no, NO. Harry collapsed forward. He couldn’t actually die, he couldn’t. Hermione and Ron were waiting for him. The whole wizarding world was waiting for him. Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. He couldn’t just die here.
He spluttered, coughing up blood. Above him the Death Eater’s laughed. One of them kicked his side and he Harry groaned. It came out more of a gurgle. Why did he think he could take on fifteen Death Eaters? He was no saviour. The muggles would probably die anyways…all he had done was delay it and condemned thousands more. This couldn’t really be it, not some chance encounter in some Welsh town in the middle of nowhere.
The darkness grew. He could no longer feel the pain, everything was turning numb. Despite everything he had trained to do, his last thought before the darkness over took him wasn’t about the muggles, his friends or even Voldemort.
Eyes slipping shut, Harry let himself fade away thinking that perhaps, just perhaps…this meant that he’d finally be free.