Chapter 5: Displacement Activity

Harry pulled on his new jeans, socks, and combat boots, followed by a black T-shirt and navy blue jacket. He felt filthy underneath it all, where soot and sweat still stuck to his skin, but there was nowhere to wash inside the café.

The café was closed, but it was early on a Saturday, and chances were it was going to open for breakfast soon. He couldn't stay.

If he remembered correctly, the café was right in the middle of London, which meant he was closer to the Ministry than he had been so far on his journey. It was hard to believe less than a month ago he'd been back at Hogwarts, sleeping in his quarters next to Ginny and having breakfast with his friends in the Great Hall.

Maybe his student, Rose Zeller, had been right. Hogwarts was a lot more fun than it seemed, now that he was far away from it.

Harry scrubbed his face clean as best he could, using water from a tap in the kitchen and the shiny side of a pan as a mirror. The back door could be unlocked from the inside, thankfully, and Harry slipped out and closed it gently behind him. Unlocking Charms were simple enough to do wandlessly, but considering a simple Arousal Charm had been enough for an AEG truck to pinpoint and raid Number Four Privet Drive, he didn't want to take any chances.

The little side-street was empty except for puddles and dumpsters, so Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked out onto the street, trying to appear normal. Samantha's wand was in his rucksack now – it was too dangerous to keep it in his pocket where someone might recognise the outline.

Tottenham Court Road had less traffic for the time of day compared to a weekday, but there were still plenty of people out and about. Harry focused on his breathing and slowed his nervously-quickening pace. Nothing attracted attention more than running. He passed by Muggles, most of which ignored him. Some, he exchanged polite nods with, but nobody stopped to chat.

Stores were opening, and Harry followed an old man's example of ducking into a newsagent and purchasing the day's newspaper.

"We're a dying breed, mate," said the old man as Harry paid for his purchase.

Harry cocked his head, his mouth going dry. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Nobody reads newspapers anymore. It's their computers they go to for news these days." The man shook his head and wandered off.

A little shaken, and annoyed that he had been so easily shaken, Harry tucked the paper under his arm and decided to pretend he was just a regular Muggle living in London.

A small café, out of the way but in better condition than the one he'd just vacated, was taking its first customers, and Harry joined them. It felt surreal after the events of the previous hour and a half to be sitting at a little table ordering poached eggs.

The waitress smiled at him when she delivered his meal. She had straight dark hair that was tied back in a ponytail, and her high cheekbones made her look like royalty despite the setting. He smiled back as best he could with the remains of adrenaline in his bloodstream.

Harry nodded at the TV mounted above the counter. "Do you think I could catch the morning news?" he asked. The paper would be useful, but it wouldn't show the results of what happened in Privet Drive.

The waitress gave an exaggerated sigh like she was put-out by his request, her eyes sparkling, and reached up to turn on the TV. Harry nodded his thanks, his eyes already scanning the headlines.

"Breaking news, a serious magical attack is taking place in Surrey, centred on Privet Drive," said the blonde presenter. "It appears some sort of magical fire is sweeping through the area, and despite the efforts of the local fire department, there seems to be no sign of it slowing down. AEG Chief James Somber made a hasty statement only minutes ago."

The video cut to an impromptu mobile press conference. James Somber, a dispassionate-looking man with short black hair, was walking to a waiting car with his staff, followed closely by early-bird reporters.

"We are familiar with this form of magic, and AEG personnel are already evacuating the surrounding area," said Somber. His voice was deep and smooth, completely calm despite the ongoing disaster. "This spell in particular is considered extraordinarily dangerous even by magic users themselves, and we believe it may have been used in this case as a desperate attempt to destroy evidence of an important magical safe-house. An AEG patrol detected magic as they were going down Privet Drive, but we lost contact with them soon after."

As Somber and his people boarded their motorcade, the camera switched to a helicopter's point of view, and the presenter's voice overlapped the sound of distant roaring flames.

"As you can see, the magical fire has taken the form of a d-dragon, and . . . oh my god . . ."

Several people in the café gasped as the fiery dragon simply blasted straight through an entire house. Harry had never seen Fiendfyre allowed to grow that large. It had limits, like all magic, but it was sentient and reaching its full power, which made it dangerous beyond words.

As he watched, a fire department helicopter dumped a huge amount of water over it, but the entire load evaporated before it even came close. Fire trucks couldn't dare come close enough to spray directly at the Fiendfyre, so they were watering down everything they could reach in an attempt to deny the flames any more fuel.

"Oh, Jesus," whimpered the waitress. Tears were rolling down her smooth caramel cheeks.

Harry stood up and touched her shoulder on reflex, and she surprised him by burying her face in his shoulder.

"God, I-I think I'm going to be sick," she said, swallowing repeatedly.

The other patrons made room as Harry led her into the customer bathroom and over to a sink. Without really thinking about what he was doing, Harry turned on one of the taps, wet his hand, then wiped the waitress's cheeks and dampened her forehead. She began taking big, shaking breaths and closed her eyes. Her arms shook as she leaned on the sink, and Harry was ready to pull his hands back at any moment if she began to retch.

"How could someone do that?" she asked, her voice raw. "Why would they kill so many people and burn all those homes?"

Harry knew the truth wasn't relevant at that moment. "I don't know," he said gently. "But it'll be okay."

Maybe it was wrong to comfort her. Maybe it was a brilliant way of looking like a regular Muggle. Harry wasn't sure. He didn't think this girl had ever killed a wizard, or gloried in their deaths. She looked like she was around eighteen or nineteen years old, fresh out of high school, probably wondering whether she should go to university.

After a few minutes, her breathing began to steady, and colour slowly returned to her cheeks. She cupped her hands and drank a few mouthfuls from the tap before turning it off and drying her hands and face with paper towel. Harry stood by the entire time, watching carefully for signs she might faint.

Another woman, this one middle-aged and wearing an apron, popped her head into the bathroom.

"You alright Charlotte?" she asked the waitress, eyeing Harry in a way that was probably supposed to be discrete.

'Charlotte' nodded and touched Harry's arm lightly. "I'm alright. He's alright."

The new woman nodded. "You've been working yourself ragged, love. Take today and tomorrow off and try to relax a bit, will you?"

Charlotte nodded mutely and began fixing her makeup in the mirror. Her eye shadow had been smudged by Harry when he touched her face, and her lipstick was a bit messy from the way she'd been chewing her lip.

The new woman, who Harry presumed was the owner, pulled Harry out of the bathroom. She had a nametag pinned to her breast that said 'April'.

"Are you a friend of Charlotte's?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "She thought she was going to be sick, so I led her in there."

April's eyes flitted over his face for a second or two. "You seem decent enough. If she's okay with it, will you make sure she gets home alright?"

"Er, alright," said Harry, rubbing the back of his head.

Charlotte emerged from the bathroom looking almost the same as she had before seeing the news report. Harry was always amazed by the way women did that. The only difference was that her eyes had lost their sparkle.

"Um," said Harry, "Do you want me to walk you home?"

Charlotte's cheeks went red and she narrowed her eyes at April. "I don't need you roping in customers to look after me, alright? I was just . . . shocked."

"I know, dear," April replied remorselessly, meeting the younger woman's stare. She reminded Harry of Mrs Weasley somewhat.

After a second, Charlotte folded her arms and looked away. "Only if you don't have anywhere to be, um . . .?"

"Harry," he said, holding out a hand. She took it.

"Charlotte," she replied. "And really, if you have a job to get to, I'll be perfectly fine getting home on my own."

April's gaze shifted to Harry, and he quickly shook his head. "I could probably use some fresh air anyway," he said lightly.

April nodded and returned behind the counter to serve the growing line of customers, most of which were still staring at the TV.

The Fiendfyre was still rampaging through an increasingly desolate Privet Drive. A plane flew past, dropping water as it went. Boiling steam gushed into the wreckages of a dozen houses, engulfing a number of AEG men. Their screams were audible even from the helicopter's height. The camera quickly panned away.

Charlotte pointedly ignored the TV as she strode across the shop and out into the street. Harry followed her, and they began walking side by side down the footpath. The Saturday morning had well and truly begun, and people were out enjoying the sights. Phones rang, people talked excitedly about the latest events, and Harry tried to pretend he hadn't indirectly caused the deaths of who-knows how many people.

Samantha cast the spell. I had no way of knowing what would happen, he reminded himself.

It didn't help.

"So do you live nearby?" he asked to distract himself.

"Yeah, only a couple of blocks," Charlotte replied quietly, her voice distant.

Harry supposed he wasn't the only one who needed distracting. "How long have you worked at the café?"

"Three years." She took a deep breath and seemed to collect herself. "Listen, I know April bullied you into walking me home, but you don't have to. I'll call her when I get there and tell her you did."

"If you don't want me to walk with you, that's fine. I understand. Trusting strangers is probably not the smartest thing to do these days." Harry raised his hands calmingly. "But you seemed pretty shaken up, and I'd feel better if I could make sure you got home alright."

Charlotte's dark eyes filled with water, and Harry thought he'd screwed up.

"Sorry," she said, breathing a laugh as she wiped her eyes. "God, it's all so messed up, isn't it? A hundred years ago, you'd be considered a gentleman." She shook her head. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry had a strong stomach, but hearing the hollowness in Charlotte's voice when she talked about the past made him sick.

He stuck out his elbow and stood up straight as he walked, like a gentleman should. Charlotte looked at him, blinked, then slipped her arm through his with the ghost of a chuckle. It would have to do.

Charlotte lived in a cramped apartment a couple of blocks away. Harry had been planning to leave her at the door, but she ushered him inside before he could refuse. He sat on a small, squashy sofa while Charlotte got changed in her bedroom, which, aside from the bathroom, was the only other room in the apartment. Thin violet curtains hung over the windows, and Christmas lights were taped along the picture rails, twinkling softly.

Charlotte emerged from her bedroom barefoot, her hair loose, dressed in running shorts and a grey sweater. She had her mobile to her ear. "April, I'm fine. It just took me off-guard," she was saying. "Trust me, I'm not even going to turn on the TV for the rest of the weekend."

Harry pretended to fiddle with his rucksack, which was on the floor beside the couch. His umbrella was still attached to the side, and he could feel Samantha's wand within.

"Alright, see you on Monday." Charlotte tapped her phone and tossed it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She sighed as she sat down, and Harry put an arm around her without really thinking about it.

He knew it wasn't right, but if he was honest, he was pretty shaken up by recent events as well. Feeling Charlotte's warm body against his was reassuring on a basic, primal level. She seemed to understand.

Somehow, the day slipped away from them, and Harry woke from a doze to realise the temperature had dropped significantly. Charlotte was shivering against him in her sleep. The light outside had been replaced by crisp darkness, and only the gentle blue and white Christmas lights provided any illumination.

Harry rose, gently transferring Charlotte to a couple of cushions. He got the fire going with some matches and a piece of charcoal, and heat slowly returned to the room. As he crouched in front of the crackling flames, Charlotte sleepily sat up, pulling her bare legs off the floor to curl up.

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "I hope you really didn't have a job to get to."

Harry smiled back at her. "This was more important," he replied.

"Yeah, but I kinda kidnapped you," she chuckled.

"Do you want me to go?"

"Only if you want to. Otherwise . . . are you as hungry as I am?"

Harry had felt hunger gnawing at him since he woke up, but only now that she drew attention to the fact did he realise how long it had been since his last meal.

I had dinner with Samantha yesterday, right before everything went wrong.

"I didn't even get my poached eggs this morning," he whined lightheartedly.

Charlotte gave a throaty chuckle, her head cocked as she stared at him. He liked the way the dim, shifting lights accentuated her caramel skin. Her running shorts had ridden up during their sleep, revealing the slightly paler skin of her upper thigh.

"Let's go find someplace to eat, then," she said, hopping off the sofa and retreating once more to her bedroom for more suitable clothes.

Harry glanced at his mobile. It was 9PM, which shocked him a bit.

I must have really needed that sleep.

They left the apartment and joined the nightlife of London. Charlotte now wore more sensible pants, as well as a beanie that covered her ears. Harry just had his regular jacket and jeans, but he didn't mind. He had left his rucksack in Charlotte's apartment, and they had both pretended not to notice the implications of doing so.

Harry was faithful, but he was no longer confident that his decision-making skills were synchronised with his rational mind. After all, if he was thinking straight, wouldn't he have immediately used the blue Skittle he'd taken from Samantha's house in order to get in contact with another member of the Arcane Underground?

Instead, he was traipsing around night clubs and food stands with a girl who was likely several years his junior, if still an adult. Harry went with her to places that blazed with light and colour, listened to music that he couldn't stand, and drank things that he'd never tried before. Neither he nor Charlotte took the lead, they just seemed to push each other onwards with their mere presence, and for some reason they both let themselves be pushed.

They ended up in Richmond Park, stumbling through the mist as the horizon turned orange. The air was brisk, but alcohol and body heat kept them going.

"God," Charlotte whispered, pulling Harry down to the dewy grass. "I haven't cut loose like this since graduation."

Harry pressed himself against her, and she pressed back just as hard. Their hands wandered. They had been for a while.

"I think my mum had the same method of coping with bad stuff happening," she slurred. "I used to think she was stupid for not dealing with it straight up. Guess I'm a hypocrite."

Harry didn't answer. He could feel her warm skin under his fingers, and the capacity for rational though had left his head hours ago.

"God," Charlotte repeated, her eyes watering. "All those people. What could they do against that? Just out of nowhere . . ."

Harry hugged her close, but his hunger hadn't abated. He barely had enough restraint to keep himself from pulling her jeans down right then and there.

"It'll be okay," he said, his voice a shade huskier than usual.

He touched her neck, and she made a noise that sounded half-sob, half-moan.

"Got you, fucker," said a voice behind him.

Charlotte screamed and stared over his shoulder. Harry turned to see a police officer standing over them, a baton in one hand. There was a click, and a flashlight suddenly blazed in the officer's other hand.

"Stay where you are," barked the officer. "Ma'am, please move away from him. I'll get help for you in a moment."

Charlotte didn't move, one arm raised to shield her eyes against the sudden light. "What?" she breathed.

"You're not the first rapist to drag a girl out here," snarled the cop. "Thought it would be out of the way, did you? Thought you could have your fun and leave the girl out here alone?"

"I'm not a rapist," Harry growled. His blood was still hot, but now it was turning towards anger rather than lust.

"So I just happen to find you holding down a crying girl, but you're really just a good guy?"

Harry wished Charlotte would speak up and defend him, but the girl was blinking blearily in the light, confusion painted across her features.

"Ma'am, please move away from him. I'll have a female officer talk to you once the situation is under control."

Charlotte clumsily crawled a few metres away.

"What did we do?" she slurred.

A touch of uncertainty entered the officer's expression.

"Ma'am, was this man forcing you to do anything you didn't want to do?" he said, flicking the flashlight between them.

Charlotte looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned away and vomited.

The officer made a face and turned back to Harry. He froze.

"Raise your fringe," he snapped.

Harry, surprised, obeyed at once.

The officer dropped his baton on the grass and immediately drew his sidearm.

Without thinking, Harry flicked it away with a wandless Levitation Charm. It was difficult to summon the focus through the booze, but the adrenaline had sobered him somewhat.

Unexpectedly, the officer turned and ran, grabbing at his radio as the flashlight lit the path in front of him. Harry tripped him up with another Levitation Charm, sending both the radio and flashlight flying.

It was pure luck that any of the spells were working at all, let along hitting their intended targets.

I suppose a lifetime of experience functioning under pressure has its benefits.

Harry dragged himself to his feet and seized the fallen firearm, training it on the officer as he tried to crawl away.

"Stop," Harry said.

The officer stopped, rolling onto his back to look up at Harry. It was impossible to make out his features in the darkness.

"Harry Potter," the officer spat. "What are you going to do, you sick fucking freak? Wipe my memory? Make me do whatever you say? You're a goddamn monster."

"How do you know that name?" Harry asked. The insults washed over him easily; he'd grown up in the Dursley household, after all.

"Go fuck yourself."

Harry weighed his options. Without a wand, there was no way he could wipe the officer's memories. A wandless Stunning Spell was also beyond Harry's skill level.

A wandless Body-Bind, however, was not.

Harry laid the Bind on the officer as strongly as possible, which was much weaker than he could do with a wand, but was the best of a bad situation.

He was relying on a few assumptions to get him through the night alive:

One, that the officer didn't get a good look at Charlotte and wouldn't immediately be able to pick her out of a city of millions.

Two, that Charlotte was still out of it enough not to notice what he was doing.

And three, that there were no AEG trucks in the immediate vicinity.

The Body-Bind in place, Harry tucked the gun away under his jacket and went to collect Charlotte. His second assumption seemed to be holding true, as the girl seemed to be completely focused on bring up everything she had drank that night. He helped her to her feet during a lull, and they staggered out of the park together and back to the main road.

They caught a cab back to Charlotte's apartment, and during the ride Charlotte went from sick to grouchy. She groaned at every slight movement and shielded her eyes from passing streetlights.

Dawn had arrived by the time Harry laid her down on her couch (with a basin beside her head) and got the fire going to chase away the chill of the night. He kept the TV on the whole time to watch for news, muted so it wouldn't wake her. He sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch, and around an hour after getting back, he dozed off with his head on Charlotte's leg.

When he awoke, Charlotte's leg had shifted slightly and Harry had a crick in his neck.

The memory of the previous night replayed in his mind, and he groaned softly, putting his head in his hands. He'd been stupid. Really, really stupid, and in the wake of such stupidity his refreshed mind was left to pick up the pieces.

"I saw what you did," Charlotte whispered from behind him.

Harry turned slowly, but there was no gun, no knife in her hands. She just stared at him. He said nothing.

"The cop. I saw you stop him when he went for his gun. It was dark, but I'm sure you weren't close enough to knock it out of his hands," Charlotte continued.

Harry nodded, looking away. He didn't want to see the same expression of disgust he'd noticed on other Muggles when they spoke about magical folk.

"Yeah," he said, his throat dry and raw. "I didn't want to die."

Charlotte was quiet for a long moment. In the silence, Harry noticed he had accidentally unmuted the TV with his elbow at some point, and the soft hum of news anchors talking filled the room like white noise.

"At approximately four-thirty in the morning, a police officer was attacked while trying to rescue a woman from a magical rapist in Richmond Park."

Harry stared at the TV, his stomach already sinking.

"The officer in question was conducting a usual patrol of the area that usually yields no more than a few fines for loitering. But last night it was the key to finding one of the biggest targets that the Antimagic Enforcement Group has been searching for.

"Harry Potter, a 21 year old wizard, is apparently considered some sort of saviour by the magical population, and as such his capture and execution would be a devastating blow against their morale. Last night, he was discovered attempting to rape a young woman in Richmond Park, and when interrupted, lashed out in a violent frenzy, attacking the brave police officer who went to investigate.

"AEG Chief James Somber said that Potter's actions were those of an unstable, violent terrorist, and that if members of the public encounter him, they should not approach and should instead call the AEG hotline immediately. Somber also said there is reason to believe that the magical fire responsible for over seventy deaths yesterday is linked to Potter."

"Harry," Charlotte said, her voice trembling as she drew her legs up to her chest. "Please tell me you weren't involved in the fire."

Harry looked at her for another long moment. "I didn't cause it, but I was there. I didn't know it was going to happen."

"It was an accident?"

"No. The witch who cast it was mentally unstable. She cracked under the pressure of living in hiding, and when the AEG burst in, I guess she panicked and went to the strongest spell she knew. I barely got out of there alive."

That wasn't the whole truth, but Harry's rational thinking had sheepishly returned after a night off, and he decided there was nothing to be gained by telling Charlotte about the Floo Skittles and how Samantha, in her last, desperate moments, sought to destroy any connection to the other safehouses.

Charlotte sniffed. She was shaking and hunched over her folded arms. Defensive. Scared. Harry made absolutely no moves towards her, but didn't let her out of his sight.

"I promise you I had no way of preventing the fire," he said softly. "I'm just a guy trying to stay alive."

"So what are you going to do now?"

Harry shrugged. "Keep running, I suppose. It's a shame. For a few hours there, I was almost happy."

Charlotte shivered. "Me too."