HP/LOTM: Visionary - 418

Chapter 418: Drifters With Nothing Secure, Lost On the Road Ahead

While Harry’s godfather and Ethan were living their rough-and-ready vigilante life, things were far less rosy for Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Engorgement Charms and doubling spells could just about stretch what they foraged in the wild into enough to live on, but they couldn’t do anything about the taste. Ron, raised on Molly Weasley’s cooking, found that hard to swallow. At the same time, the Horcrux moved between the three of them, its chaotic taint slowly seeping out and watering the darkness buried in their hearts.

Lunch that day was wild mushrooms Hermione had gathered in the woods and boiled in a tin can. Ron took one mouthful and shoved the bowl away, looking ready to retch. Harry forced himself to finish his thin mushroom broth so Hermione would not feel any worse.

After they ate, Hermione went down to the stream to wash up. Space rippled. A group of Death Eaters appeared, dragging two Muggles past.

The sudden arrival made Hermione jump, but she did not move or make a sound. The wards she had layered still held firm around her.

One Death Eater walked right past her. Then, like a dog catching a scent, he stopped and turned back. His nose came closer and closer to the invisible barrier, so close that the faint shimmer of magic over its surface was almost touching him.

All at once, his pupils warped, turning amber and deep blue. A tiny line of letters flickered across his irises: one.

Hermione’s eyes flew wide. That mismatched gaze was unmistakable. Someone was using this Death Eater to send her a message.

"What are you doing?" another Death Eater snapped, dropping his Muggle.

"Nothing. Just… suddenly felt homesick," the one in front of Hermione said with a wave, then walked on.

"Search party?" Harry’s voice came from behind her.

Hermione, strung taut as a bow-string, almost leapt out of her skin. She whirled and punched him in the chest.

"Ow, what did I do?" Harry said, clutching his ribs.

"That was Aiden’s message. What do you think that ‘one’ meant?" Hermione said, quickly explaining the heterochromatic eyes and the word in the Death Eater’s gaze.

One… could it be something to do with the Deep Realm? Harry wondered. There was not much else that would make Aiden go to that much trouble to warn them.

"Ron’s shoulder still has not healed. He really does not handle Apparition well," Hermione said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Then we walk for now," Harry said, heading back toward the tent.

Ron lifted the flap in time to see Harry and Hermione walking together, heads bent in discussion. His face was chalk-white, his lips cracked, the shadows under his eyes so dark they looked bruised. Hunger, injury, lack of sleep, and the Horcrux’s influence all piled together until he felt as though he were being roasted alive.

The next day, they reached the outskirts of a small town. Harry pulled on the Invisibility Cloak and slipped in to look for food.

He realised too late that the sky over the town was thick with Dementors. He raised his wand to cast a Patronus, but nothing came. A Dementor drifted a little too close, and he had to dart away, heart pounding, before it noticed him.

In the end, he fled empty-handed and slumped on the ground outside the town.

"So we still have nothing to eat," Ron said, temper snapping. He kicked the leg of a folding chair.

"I am starving. I nearly bled to death, and since then I have had a few poisonous mushrooms, that is all."

Shame bit deeper into Harry’s insides, and the jab hit a raw nerve. "Then you deal with the Dementors," he snapped back.

"Enough," Hermione said, forcing both of them down. "You have had that gem on for more than twelve hours. Take it off."

Harry realised he had been wearing the Horcrux without a break. No wonder he had not been able to cast a Patronus.

He yanked the cord over his head. The weight seemed to fall off his chest. His dried-out mind felt a cool drizzle for the first time in hours.

They trudged on until they reached a farm on the edge of the fields. Leaving money on the doorstep, they took bread, milk, and eggs. The first proper meal in days cleared some of the cloud that had settled over them.

The brief respite did not last. Back on the road, they soon fell into the same pattern of never knowing where the next meal would come from.

Hunger chewed away at Ron’s reason, leaving him short-tempered and jumpy.

"So where now?" became his favourite line of the last three days. He had no ideas of his own, relying on Harry and Hermione to produce a plan, sulking over the lack of food.

The only Horcrux they had found had come from Aiden’s information. Everything beyond that was a blank. Hermione and Harry spent long stretches talking through places they might search for more Horcruxes, or ways to destroy the one they had. New leads grew rarer and rarer. Their conversations grew thinner and more repetitive.

"…The Ministry’s new Deputy Minister, Severus Snape, has been appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts. All students are required to obey the new regulations or face severe punishment," the radio crackled.

"Oh, brilliant," Ron said with a bitter laugh. "His school."

"…We are talking about You-Know-Who, right? Not about you?" he added after a moment, idly flicking the gem at his throat.

Harry nearly lost control and throttled him.

Ron yawned. Harry clenched his fists, swallowed the urge to throw something, and dragged the topic back to the Horcrux’s hiding place.

"I still think she left something at Hogwarts," he said.

"With Dumbledore there? You really think You-Know-Who would dare stash anything under his nose?" Hermione said, shaking her head.

"I think he might have hidden one in Albania, or in Borgin and Burkes," she added, staring into the fire.

"Not likely. Horcruxes need to be properly protected. He would not dump one in a forest. And Borgin is a Dark wizard who can recognise a Horcrux when he sees one. You-Know-Who would never trust him with something that important," Harry said, rejecting both options.

To spare Ron’s frayed nerves, he did not use Tom’s name at all.

Ron shot back another cutting remark. After that, silence fell over the tent.

On the third day, they finally left the countryside behind and reached the fringes of London.

"Where are we going now?" Ron asked again, bored and restless.

"To Wool’s Orphanage. You-Know-Who is incredibly sentimental. We have to check every place that meant something to him," Harry said, striding ahead.

But when they stood on the spot where the orphanage should have been, they froze. A tall tower block loomed over them. A few questions told them the old orphanage had been demolished. The children had been scattered to other homes long ago.

With nothing to be found there, the three of them went back to drifting. Every night, they Apparated somewhere new. At dawn, they scrubbed away every trace of their presence and went out again to look for the next place they might stay.