─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Clara zipped her bag and tossed it onto the bed. It ruffled the light blue sheets a bit, but she had a feeling Mr. and Mrs. Granger wouldn't mind.
She combed her hands through her hair and looked around the room once more, looking for anything she might've missed. The room was spotless, of course. Clara was not a messy guest. She went towards the bag once more, ready to leave before a shimmering light caught her eye.
A tiny bracelet sat on the desk and the sun reflected off of its silver exterior gently. Clara walked over to the desk and picked up the jewelry. An olive branch. A peace offering. Clara's heart skipped a beat as she recalled the moment she'd first received the gift. Her heart had been doing that frequently as of late. It seemed that every time she thought of Harry Potter there was a sudden jolt in her pulse.
Clara put the bracelet into her pocket and grabbed the bag off of the bed. A quiet knock sounded on her door before it opened slowly.
"You ready?" asked Hermione. Clara only nodded in response and left the room alongside her friend. It had only been a little over a week of Clara staying at the Granger's residence, but already it was time to start their journey. Clara was anxious to begin, but she was also dreading every second of it. She worried greatly that staying with Harry for every minute of every day would end horribly, but it was something she had to do. And she still hadn't forgotten about her desire to make his life a living hell. Although that desire had diminished a bit.
Without his constant stares, glares, and awkward encounters after their break up, Clara had actually found her anger replaced with sadness. It was a new experience for her, and she wasn't baring it well. Even so, she decided taking out her emotions on Harry might be devastating to their ultimate mission, so it could wait until after they had found and destroyed all the horcruxes.
The girls silently walked down the stairs, Hermione's wand in her trembling hand. They reached the bottom of the staircase and stood there for a moment. Clara's gaze crept to Hermione's parents who were sitting peacefully in the living room. They were watching the news and had still not noticed the two girls.
"Do you want me to wait outside?" whispered Clara. Hermione nodded to her, a tear already streaming down her cheek. Clara gripped her bag tightly and left the house. She waited, just as she said she would, right outside the house. It really was a lovely home.
There was a small garden in front of it which was dutifully tended by Mr. Granger and the sun seemed to shine perfectly on the front windows. The two cars parked outside were in perfect condition, and had obviously been cleaned recently.
Hermione shut the front door quietly and walked towards Clara. The two girls continued on their journey. They had just made their way to the other block when Clara grabbed Hermione's hand and held it in her own. Hermione paused for a second and looked at Clara with confusion. She only smiled at her friend, and Hermione smiled back, a shy, sullen smile, and kept walking.
Only hours later, they were entering another Muggle household: Harry's. One by one, figures began to pop into sight as their Disillusionment Charms lifted. Dominating the scene was Hagrid, wearing a helmet and goggles and sitting astride an enormous motorbike with a black sidecar attached. All around him other people were dismounting from brooms and, in two cases, skeletal, black winged horses. The back door opened quickly and Harry hurtled into their midst.
Clara's mind went black when she saw him. He still looked exactly the same, it had only been a week. Still though, there was an obvious sadness that had enveloped him, and it made Clara frown just slightly. She shook her mind free of the thoughts and returned her attention to the task at hand.
There was a general cry of greeting as Hermione flung her arms around Harry, Ron clapped him on the back, and Hagrid said, "All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?"
"Definitely," said Harry, beaming around at them all. "But I wasn't expecting this many of you!"
His eyes met Clara's and his smile immediately dropped. He nodded at her and she nodded back. Fine, she thought, this is just fine.
"Change of plan," growled Mad-Eye, who was holding two enormous, bulging sacks, and whose magical eye was spinning from darkening sky to house to garden with dizzying rapidity. "Let's get undercover before we talk you through it."
Harry led them all back into the kitchen where, laughing and chattering, they settled on chairs, sat themselves upon Aunt Petunia's gleaming work surfaces, or leaned up against her spotless appliances.
"Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle PrimeMinister?" Harry called across the room.
"He can get along without me for one night," said Kingsley. "You're more important."
"All right, all right, we'll have time for a cozy catch-up later," roared Moody over the hubbub, and silence fell in the kitchen.Moody dropped his sacks at his feet and turned to Harry, "As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He's made it an imprisonable offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here, or Apparate in or out. All done in the name of your protection to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you.Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother's charm does that already. What he's really done is to stop you from getting out of here safely. Second problem. You're underage, which means you've still got the Trace on you."
"I don't— "
"The Trace, the Trace!" said Mad-Eye impatiently. "The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, theway the Ministry finds out out about underage magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters. We can't wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen you'll loose all the protection your mother gave you.In short: Pius Thicknesse thinks he's got you cornered good and proper."
"So what are we going to do?"
"We're going to use the only means of transport left to us, the only ones the Trace can't detect, because we don't need to cast spells to use them: brooms, thestrals, and Hagrid's motorbike. Now, your mother's charm will only break under two conditions: when you come of age, or"—Moody gestured around the pristine kitchen— "you no longer call this place home. You and your aunt and uncle are going your separate ways tonight, in the full understanding that you're never going to live together again, correct?" Harry nodded. "So this time, when you leave, there'll be no going back, and the charm will break the moment you get outside its range. We've choosing to break it early, because the alternative is waiting for You-Know-Who to come and seize you the moment you turn seventeen. The one thing we've got on our side is that You-Know-who doesn't know we're moving you tonight. We've leaked a fake trail to the Ministry: They think you're not leaving until the thirtieth.However, this is You-Know-Who we're dealing with, so we can't just rely on him getting the date wrong; he's bound to have a couple Death Eaters patrolling the skies in this general area, just in case. So we've given a dozen different houses every protection we can throw at them. They all look like they could be the place we're going to hide you, they've all got some connection with theOrder: my house, Kingsley's place, Molly auntie Muriel's—you get the idea."
"Yeah," said Harry, although he sounded hesitant.
"You'll be going to Tonks's parents. Once you're within the boundaries of the protective enchantments we've put on their house you'll be able to use a Portkey to the Burrow. Any questions?"
"Er—yes," said Harry. "Maybe they won't know which of the twelve secure houses I'm heading for at first, but won't it be sort of obvious once"—he performed a quick headcount— "fifteen of us fly off towards Tonks's parents'?"
"Ah," said Moody. "I forgot to mention the key point. Fourteen of us won't be flying to Tonks's parents. There will be seven Harry Potters moving through the skies tonight, each of them with a companion, each pair heading for a different safe house. With one group of three of course, Mundugus was a last minute addition." From inside his cloak Moody now withdrew a flask of what looked like mud. There was no need for him to say another word; everyone understood the rest of the plan.
"No!" he said loudly, his voice ringing through the kitchen."No way!"
"I told them you'd take it like this," said Hermione with a hint of complacency.
"If you think I'm going to let six people risk their lives—!"
"—because it's the first time for all of us," said Ron.
"This is different, pretending to be me— "
"Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry," said Fred earnestly. "Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever."
Harry did not smile. "You can't do it if I don't cooperate, you need me to give you some hair."
"Well, that's that plan scuppered," said George. "Obviously there's no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate."
"Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who's not allowed to use magic: we've got no chance," said Fred.
"Funny," said Harry, "really amusing."
"If it has to come to force, then it will," growled Moody, his magical eye now quivering a little in its socket as he glared at Harry. "Everyone here's overage, Potter, and they're all prepared to take the risk." Mundungus shrugged and grimaced; the magical eye swerved sideways to glare at him out of the side of Moody's head. "Let's have no more arguments. Time's wearing on. I want a few of your hairs, boy, now."
"But this is mad, there's no need—"
"No need!" snarled Moody, "With You-Know-Who out there and half the Ministry on his side? Potter, if we're lucky he'll have swallowed the fake bait and he'll be planning to ambush you on the thirtieth, but he'd be mad not to have a Death Eater or two keeping an eye out, it's what I'd do. They might not be able to get at you or this house while your mother's charm holds, but it's about to break and they know the rough position of the place. Our only chance is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who can't split himself into seven."
Harry caught Clara's eye and looked away at once.
"So, Potter— some of your hair, if you please."
"No." said Harry, standing his ground, "I won't let you all take this risk. It's too- OW!"
Clara handed a few strands of Harry's hair to Moody and returned to her spot in the group. "You need to learn when to stop talking, Potter."
"You need to learn boundaries." Harry spat back.
"Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please." said Moody. Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Fleur lined up in front ofAunt Petunia's gleaming sink.
"We're one short," said Lupin.
"Here," said Hagrid gruffly, and he lifted Mundungus by the scruff of the neck and dropped him down beside Fleur, who wrinkled her nose pointedly and moved along to stand between Fred and George instead. "I've told yer, I'd sooner be a protector," said Mundungus.
"Shut it," growled Moody. "As I've already told you, you spineless worm, any Death Eaters we run into will be aiming to capture Potter, not kill him. Dumbledore always said You-Know-who would want to finish Potter in person. It'll be the protectors who have got the most to worry about, the Death Eaters'll want to kill them." Mundungus did not look particularly reassured, but Moody was already pulling half a dozen egg cup-sized glasses from inside his cloak, which he handed out, before pouring a little Polyjuice Potion into each one. "Altogether, then . . . "
Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Fleur, and Mundungus drank. All of them gasped and grimaced as the potion hit their throats. At once, their features began to bubble and distort like hot wax. Hermione and Mundungus were shooting upward; Ron, Fred, andGeorge were shrinking; their hair was darkening, Hermione's and Fleur's appearing to shoot backward into their skulls. Moody, quite unconcerned, was now loosening the ties of the large sacks he had brought with him. When he straightened up again, there were six Harry Potters gasping and panting in front of him.
Fred and George turned to each other and said together, "Wow—we're identical!"
"I dunno, though. I think I'm still better looking," said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.
"Bah," said Fleur, checking herself in the microwave door, "Bill, don't look at me— I'm 'ideous."
Clara laughed at Fleur's comment rather loudly as Moody ushered the Potters into identical clothing.
"I knew Clara was lying about that that tattoo," said Ron, looking down at his bare chest. Immediately Clara's laughter stopped and the real Harry turned and gawked at her. Thank Godric for Hermione, who saw Clara's jaw hanging wide open and quickly overtook the conversation.
"Harry, your eyesight really is awful," said Hermione, as she put on glasses. Her words had taken everyone else's attention off of Clara, except for Harry's. He gave her a tight scowl and shook his head at her before turning and talking to Ron. It was an odd sight seeing as it was essentially like watching Harry talk to himself.
Once dressed, the fake Harrys took rucksacks and owl cages, each containing a stuffed snowy owl, from the second sack."Good," said Moody, as at last the seven dressed, bespectacled, and luggage-laden Harrys faced him. "The groups will be as follows: Mundungus and Clara will be traveling with me, by broom— "
"Why'm I with you?" grunted the Harry nearest the back door.
"Because you're the one that needs watching," growled Moody, and sure enough, his magical eye did not waver from Mundungus as he continued. "Arthur and Fred— "
"I'm George," said the twin at whom Moody was pointing, "Can't you even tell us apart when we're Harry?"
"Sorry, George— "
"I'm only yanking your wand. I'm Fred really— "
"Enough messing around!!" snarled Moody. "The other one—George or Fred or whoever you are—you're with Remus. Miss Delacour— "
"I'm taking Fleur on a thestral," said Bill. "She's not that fond of brooms." Fleur walked over to stand beside him, giving him a soppy, slavish look that Clara hoped with all her heart would never appear on his face again. "Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by thestral— "
"Which leaves you and me, Ron!" said Tonks brightly, knocking over a mug tree as she waved at him. Ron looked none too pleased but mustered a polite smile at the clumsy witch.
"An' you're with me, Harry. That all right?" said Hagrid, looking a little anxious. "We'll be on the bike, brooms an' thestrals can't take me weight, see. Not a lot o' room on the seat with me on it, though, so you'll be in the sidecar."
"That's great," said Harry.
"We think the Death Eaters will expect you to be on a broom," said Moody, "Snape's had plenty of time to tell them everything about you he's never mentioned before, so if we do run into any Death Eaters, we're betting they'll choose one of the Potters who look at home on a broomstick. All right then," he went on, tying up the sack with the fake Potters' clothes in it and leading the way back to the door, "I make it three minutes until we're supposed to leave. No point locking the back door, it won't keep the Death Eaters out when they come looking. Come on . . . "
Clara followed the group to the dark back garden.On every side broomsticks were leaping into hands. Hermione had already been helped up onto a great black thestral by Kingsley, Fleur onto the other by Bill. Hagrid was standing ready beside the motorbike, goggles on.
Moody walked up to Clara and Mundungus with two brooms in hand. "Alright, this is going to be tricky seeing as there's three of us. Clara you're obviously the smallest so you'll have to ride behind someone. Issue is: I can't trust Mundungus to ride alone, but I also sure as hell don't want you with him alone. He's a sneaky bastard."
Mundungus sighed and rolled his eyes. He grabbed a broom from Moody, "So who's it gonna be behind me, huh?"
Moody grabbed Clara's arm gently, "Are you up for the challenge? I'll be right next to you the whole time."
"I can do this. I trust you, Moody."
He nodded, "Whatever happens: get to the Portkey. You'll be safe once you get to the Burrow, Molly and Ginny will be there." With that, Moody propped himself onto his broom and Clara got behind Mundungus. She gripped his shoulders loosely and prayed that this would be a short journey.
Clara caught Harry's eyes before the take off. He was sitting in Hagrid's side-car, a spot that was all too small for him. If it were any other situation, she would have laughed at the sight. He gave her a confused look, as if to say what are you doing with him? Clara just shrugged and turned her attention back to Moody.
"Good luck, everyone," shouted Moody, "See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One . . . two . . . THREE." There was a great roar from the motorbike, and Clara felt the jolt of Mundungus flying into the air.
And then, out of nowhere, out of nothing, they were surrounded. At least thirty hooded figures, suspended in midair, formed avast circle in the midst of which the Order members had risen, oblivious—Screams, a blaze of green light on every side: Clara tried to keep her eyes open against the speed of the broom.
Suddenly a horrid chill ran up her spine and she didn't even have to turn around to know that she was in bad company. Voldemort had picked their group, he thought Mundungus was the real Harry. It made perfectly logical sense, he was with Alastor, a skilled wizard, probably the most skilled of the whole bunch.
It happened in a blur. She could sense Mundungus' fear from a mile away, and her tightened grip on his shoulders helped in no way to keep him there. The Killing Curse rang through Clara's ears, and she ducked right as Mundungus apparated. Clara's body hit the broom at full force and it shot down. From below, she saw Moody fall. Adrenaline rushed through her veins and she shot after him. The broom pushed through the air, but Clara was no expert flyer, and no amount of force could get that broom to Moody in time.
It was too late. He was gone.
Clara regained her balance on the broom and rode on. There was nothing she could do now, and she needed to get the rest of the Death Eaters off of her trail. She rushed through the air, making as many turns as she could as two last cloaked figures followed her closely.
Curses and hexes rang through the air. Clara dodged them, but her body was growing weary. She'd been going for almost half an hour. She didn't know how long she could last on the broom. She took her path downwards, maybe she could defeat them on the ground.
Her broom whizzed downwards and she swung left and right, pushing her head down and around as bright flashes as green and red zipped past her. She was almost to the ground, 10,000 feet now... 6,000, 3,000. Clara smiled, she was going to make it!
She reached what she guessed was 100 feet to the ground and stuck her feet out. Her preparation to land had thrown off her focus and it wasn't until she heard a deep voice in the sky that she realized what was happening.
"STUPEFY!"
Clara's body slunk onto the broom, her chest falling straight onto it. The small piece of wood was no longer carefully guided down to the ground, it was falling. Clara hit the ground.
Everything went dark.