Harry descended the stairs into the basement kitchen, today's Daily Prophet tucked under his armpit. The gas lamps lit at his passing, chasing away the gloom and revealing the aftermath of Sirius's birthday party. He paused on the last step to survey the mess. Half-eaten snacks and tissue paper littered the floor, the enormous table was stained with spilled drinks, and there were bottles and glasses perched on every surface.

He ventured in, kicking the rubbish and vanishing it with sharp swishes of his wand. Upon arriving at the pantry, he unearthed a clean plate and salvaged enough provisions to fix himself a ham sandwich, then Apparated to the drawing-room upstairs where consuming his meal would prove less of a biological hazard.

Setting the plate on a coffee table, he ran his eyes over his trophy couch appreciatively before plopping down. Due to basilisk leather's innate resistance to anything short of Fiendfyre, it remained in mint condition despite years of usage. Unfortunately, same couldn't be said for other furnishings.

Producing his wand, he jabbed it at a fuzzy purple stain on the rug where some jackass had dropped a vial of an exotic potion.

"Scourgify."

Much like during his previous attempt, the stain frothed, absorbing the soap suds with an angry hiss. This time, however, it also expanded by an inch and appeared to be developing feelers. Eyeing it warily, he sidled away; he'd let Sirius deal with it when he got back. The nerve of the man, running off gallivanting with a witch he just met and leaving Harry to clean up after him.

He bit into his sandwich, then flicked a crumb off his T-shirt, watching the purple fuzz slurp it up. To be fair, he was just as slovenly as his godfather, and barring an occasional woman's touch the Grimmauld Place was turning into a pigsty. Two solutions came to mind: putting in a little elbow grease, or indenturing a representative of a species who couldn't say no to their master's orders.

Not much of a choice.

Retrieving the newspaper, he snapped it straight. With his vault depleted by years of living the good life, he doubted he could afford a house-elf outright, but perhaps his name would help him haggle down. Sirius wouldn't chip in: the man would rather live in filth than ask anything of 'those stuck-up snobs'. Alas, house-elves came from magical homes with long histories, which meant wealthy pureblood families.

As he was flipping through to the classifieds, a large photograph near the middle caught his eye. Shaky as if shot from a great distance, it depicted a winged woman soaring under storm clouds, her blurred breasts bouncing with every powerful flap of her wings.

The embers in the marble fireplace sputtered to life, then flared green, forcing him to abandon his intellectual curiosity. Chucking the Prophet onto the table, he reached for his wand.

Anthony Goldstein's head appeared in the Floo, bloodshot eyes under a mop of straw-colored hair quickly centering on Harry.

"There you are. The great Harry Potter."

He smiled. "I know I am, but it's always nice to hear a reminder."

"Couldn't... couldn't rest without giving you a piece of my mind," Tony slurred. His shoulders materialized in the flames, followed by the rest of his lanky frame, but his advance was stalled by an invisible barrier. "Ow! What the hell?"

Harry rolled his eyes and waved his wand to let him through. "I told you yesterday, we installed additional security because of all the solicitors."

Rubbing his forehead, Tony gave him a dark look, then crawled out of the grate. He began rising to his feet unsteadily, then seemed to change his mind and plonked down cross-legged on the rug. Harry watched him scatter ashes on it with a sort of resigned exasperation.

"Yesterday," Tony said, raising a finger. "You know what else you did yesterday?"

"Learned first-hand that Knotgrass Mead and Gillywater are never to be mixed?" He took a bite out of his sandwich.

Tony furrowed his brows, then nodded. "Useful data, that. But!" His finger pointed at Harry. "Don't think I didn't notice you talking to Evelyn all night."

He grimaced. "It was more her talking to me—at me, really. You should've come to my rescue instead of transfiguring lewd ice sculptures all night."

"Those are art," Tony said. "And I shouldn't have done shit. She broke up with me."

"Ah," he said delicately. "Sorry to hear that."

Tony crossed his arms. "You better be."

He gestured with his sandwich. "Look, she might've been dropping hints the size of Quaffles, but I made it clear I wasn't interested."

Tony glared. "And then she dumped me because the only reason she was with me in the first place was to get closer to you!"

"What was I supposed to do, huh?" He exhaled slowly; getting irritated over Tony's drunken drivel wouldn't help. "She tell you that herself?"

"Not in those exact words, but yeah. Among insulting my parentage and manhood." He averted his eyes. "I confronted her about yesterday. We had a... slight argument."

"And then you got sloshed and decided to come whinge to me." He raked a hand through his hair. "You've been together what, a couple weeks? She isn't worth it, mate. Plenty of mermaids in the sea."

"Easy for you to say," Tony muttered.

Harry opened his mouth, but a loud tapping came from the window, and he turned to find a frayed owl on the sill outside. "Not again... Hang on, I better take this before it starts diving at the window or something."

"See what I mean?" Tony said morosely.

"The letters get old after the first few hundred, trust me." Harry trudged to the window and yanked it open. The owl hooted and proffered its dirty leg to which a thick envelope was affixed with a length of cord. He did his best to undo the knot with as little contact as possible before slamming the window shut. "Bloody pests... Sirius said his ward would keep them away... Should've known he'd be shite at it." Returning, he tossed the letter onto the couch and sat down heavily beside it.

"Well, don't let me keep you from reading that, Mr. Popular," Tony said. "My paltry problems can wait."

He shrugged. "If you insist."

Picking up the letter, he turned it over in his hands. Instead of a return address, the back of the envelope had 'Secret Admirer' written in a loopy script. Sighing, he tapped the envelope with his wand in a practiced gesture, causing it to rip open at the top. Another flick had the parchment inside unfolding and levitating before him.

"Dear Harry, blah blah... Saw you in Diagon Alley... Want your wand in my cauldron... Wore these thinking about you..." His eyebrows climbed higher with every line he read. Allowing the letter to fall, he upended the envelope, and a bundle of red fabric dropped into his lap. Spearing it with his wand, he lifted it up, where it unfurled into a pair of lacy knickers. "Okay, that's new."

"Do you have to rub it in?" Tony cried.

He gave him an incredulous look. "Mate, it's some creepy stalker. Probably half-troll or worse."

"At least you have stalkers! All I'm known for is being that guy who hangs around Harry Potter."

"You were pretty happy about being that guy when I got you prime seats to the Quidditch Cup." It hadn't cost him a penny, either—he rarely had to pay for tickets these days.

"That's..." Tony stared down at his lap before sighing. "That's true. I'm sorry, man. None of this is your fault."

"It's cool," he said absently, sliding the knickers into his pocket. He would thoroughly check them for curses later; one could never be too careful.

Tony lifted his head, peering at him with suspiciously glistening eyes. "You know I love you, right?"

Harry bobbed his head. "Sure."

Tony clambered around the table and toward the couch. His foot landed squarely in the middle of Fuzzy the Stain, and it deflated with a pitiful whistle. "I mean it. You've always been a good friend, and here I am blaming you for what some bint did. You deserve better."

Harry scooted to the right to avoid his ungainly lunge. "It's cool, mate, really—"

Undeterred by his failure, Tony lurched to wrap his arm around Harry's shoulders. "I hope you still want to be mates," he wailed. "I know I've been a shit friend. I haven't been there when you needed me. Like—like when you fought V-Voldemort."

"For fuck's sake," Harry muttered, wrinkling his nose at the reek of alcohol. He patted Tony's back, then extracted himself from his clumsy embrace. "Of course we're mates—but try to hug me again, and I swear I'll Stun you."

Tony sniffled. "You mean it?"

"Every word. The last ones, especially." Rising to his feet, he jabbed a finger at him. "Stay here and don't touch my sandwich. I'm going to get you some tea."

Nodding quickly, Tony slumped on the couch and wiped his face with a sleeve. Harry sighed. The bloke was such a drama queen when drunk.

Turning on his heel, he popped down to the kitchen and employed his meager arsenal of domestic spells to brew some Earl Grey. Levitating a couple of mismatched mugs, he took the long way back up. Exorbitant prices or not, he had to get an elf, if only so he wouldn't have to fix his own tea like a plebeian.

He returned to the drawing-room to find Tony hunched over the Daily Prophet. "Anything interesting in the paper?"

Tony fixed him with a feverish stare. "This is it!"

"What?" he asked, meticulously guiding the steaming mugs down onto the table.

"There are these mountains in Slovakia—just look!" Tony slapped the paper with his palm, making tea slop over the rims of the mugs.

Harry glanced down at what had him so excited. The admonition he'd been about to speak was forgotten when he saw the photograph of a winged woman, and above it, a headline: 'Harpy Queen Flies over High Tatras'.

"It says the queen lays a golden egg once a century," Tony said as Harry skimmed the article. "It's supposed to have all sorts of magical powers—here." He tapped the relevant paragraph.

"'Local authorities are overwhelmed as potioneers, magizoologists, and poachers from the world over flock to the country,'" Harry read aloud. "Sucks for the chick, I guess."

Tony grinned. "So, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm not helping you steal the egg. You really ought to do something about your unhealthy obsession with gold."

"I don't want to steal it, I want to protect it!" Tony exclaimed. "Look, it's simple: we travel to the continent, help the poor downtrodden harpies, and they shower us with grateful hospitality." There was a faraway look in his eyes and a goofy grin on his lips.

Harry guffawed, wishing he had a Pensieve so he could show Tony the memory once he sobered up. "Hey, sticking your dick in a bird has always been your dream, not mine."

"First of all, they're not birds. Says right here they're distant cousins to the veela. Second, I don't want to..." He glanced at the photo. "Okay, so maybe I do. Can't blame a bloke for wanting a piece of that, right?"

Harry chortled. "Mate, you're plastered out of your mind. Drink your tea."

Tony gave him a shrewd look. "What happened to conquering new frontiers?"

"What are you on about?" he asked, washing down the remains of his sandwich.

"Your little speech back after the second task! Did that mean nothing to you?" Tony took a careless gulp from his mug and winced, sticking his tongue out.

It took him a moment to recall what Tony was talking about. Taken aback despite himself, he covered it up with a chuckle. "I grew up. Happens to all of us."

Tony glanced pointedly at his T-shirt, which had 'The Fake is of Greater Value' emblazoned underneath a cat ear headband.

"Well, maybe not that much." He stood and patted Tony on the shoulder. "Come on, hit the shower and I'll let you kip on my couch. You'll end up in the bloody Orkneys if you Floo in that condition again."

"I thought it was great," Tony said.

He paused mid-stride toward the door. "What?"

"Your speech." Tony made a vague gesture. "Really, you know, moving. Made me want to go on a journey or something."

Harry just snorted and went to fetch a blanket. It was nice to be appreciated, but Tony probably wouldn't even remember it tomorrow.

"Rise and shine," Harry said in a sing-song voice and raised the blinds with a flourish. Dazzling sunlight poured in, yet Tony continued to slumber. When Harry shook his shoulder, he merely grunted sleepily and turned his back to him. Losing his patience, Harry took aim with his wand. "Aguamenti!"

Tony yelped and rolled off the couch, sputtering. His reddened eyes landed on Harry, and for a moment, he looked like a betrayed puppy. Snickering, Harry spelled him dry, more out of concern for the carpeting than Tony's benefit.

"What's the big idea?" Tony demanded, wiping his face.

Harry swept his arms out. "We're going to Slovakia!"

Tony stared, then slowly shook his head. "The only place I'm going to is the bathroom."

"Don't be long. We've got about"—he glanced at the clock—"two hours to prepare. I'll be down on the ground floor."

Tony mumbled something and shuffled out of the room like a zombie. When he walked into the dining room a quarter of an hour later, his hair was damp and his gait decidedly more human-like. Harry greeted him with a smile that wouldn't leave his lips since that morning and a plate of English breakfast.

"Dropped by the Leaky," he said to the unasked question.

Grunting, Tony slumped on a chair and tucked in. Somewhere between demolishing the black pudding and wolfing down the fried eggs, he raised his head and frowned at Harry, who was observing him with a mix of amusement and disgust.

"Aren't you gonna eat?"

Harry shook his head. "You ever take an international Portkey?"

"No, why?"

His perpetual grin widened. "You'll find out."

"Lost me there, mate," Tony said, swallowing another mouthful.

Harry clicked his tongue. "Stop being obtuse, it was your idea."

Tony scratched at his nose. "Look, if this is about what I said yesterday..."

"You bet your bollocks it's about what you said yesterday. I stayed awake half the night thinking, and you know what I realized?" Harry pointed at him. "That you're absolutely right!"

Tony's eyebrows rose. "I am?"

He nodded emphatically. "There's a world of wonders waiting out there, yet here I am worrying about household chores. Well, that's about to change. You and I, we're going on an adventure!"

Tony gave him a long look, then sighed. "Mate, I'm sorry, but I never thought you'd take my ramblings seriously. You do realize how insane this sounds, right? Besides, I got work tomorrow."

Harry's lips curled in disgust. "Wage-slave."

"NEET," Tony retorted.

"Hey, if I'm a NEET, so's every pureblood living off their estate."

Tony cleaned his plate with a slice of toast. "They're a dying breed. Even Malfoy's taken up a job at the Ministry. Acts like a goody-two-shoes now, attending seminars and remembering birthdays and all that."

"How the mighty have fallen." Harry shook his head. "Anyway, while you were drooling on priceless basilisk leather, I dropped by Padma's and got all the gear we might need. You only have to pack some extra clothes."

"You're not listening," Tony said, waggling a fork in his direction. "I'm not going. You're not, either, if you have any sense left."

"Open your eyes. Accio Daily Prophet!" He laid the paper out on the table, the blurry photograph in full view. "The harpies are only sighted every few decades, and no one knows where they disappear to afterward. This is your only chance. Either we go now, or you continue working your soulless job—and thirty years down the road, when you're filing yet another TPS report, you'll remember this day and go, 'man, if only I had listened to my best mate back then'!"

"TSP, actually, for Typical Spell Proficiency." Tony squirmed under his stare. "They're indispensable to regulating correspondence courses like Kwikspell."

He snorted. "Listen to yourself. I know this isn't the life you envisioned. I know your heart yearns for more. I know, because you told me yesterday—and those were your true feelings, unclouded by everyday mundanity!"

"Laying it on a bit thick, mate." Despite his words, Tony's gaze strayed to the photograph, and he swallowed. "You're not taking the piss, are you?"

"I'd never trifle with a bloke's dreams like that," Harry said solemnly. "Are you with me?"

Groaning, Tony rubbed his temples. "My parents were so proud when I got accepted into the Ministry too..." He gave Harry a determined look. "I'll call in sick with spattergroit and grab my stuff. Give me half an hour."

A couple of hours later found the duo lounging in a booth at the London Portkey Terminal. Harry bounced his knee as he eyed the stretch of rope atop a low table before them with trepidation. The Invigoration Draught he'd taken only made the jitters worse. He had sworn off potions since his Hogwarts days, but getting up at an ungodly seven in the morning warranted a little pick-me-up.

Tony, meanwhile, was whistling a tune. A fool, oblivious of the tribulation that awaited them. "Did you let your godfather know? He'll assemble a search party if you just vanish off the face of the earth like that time with the merrows."

"Spoke to him this morning." Not knowing how long they would be gone, he also left Padma a note to pass on to Hogwarts.

"Oh yeah? What did he say about your latest madcap idea?"

Harry grinned wryly. "He laughed at first. But then he clapped me on the shoulder and wished us godspeed."

"Sirius might not be a man of culture, but he understands," Tony said with a sage nod.

An unseen bell chimed, and Harry's smile was wiped off his face as a disembodied female voice said, "Passengers, please take hold of your Portkey. Departing in ten... nine..."

"Alright! Bratislava, here we come!" Tony whooped, clasping the rope.

Harry followed his example, swallowing as he hoped against hope that the transit would be smoother than the last time he went abroad. Almost too late, he glanced down to make sure his shirt was buttoned and tucked in. Loose, flapping clothes were a suffocation hazard, and wizards being wizards, no one bothered to explain these things beforehand.

"Three... two... one..."

With a characteristic tug behind his navel, he was catapulted skyward at a speed humans had no business traveling at. The rope in his palm yanked him right, left, up, down, nearly wrenching his arm from its socket, until direction lost meaning and he felt like a bug being churned in a washing machine. He squeezed his eyes to shut out the disorienting flashes, but he could do nothing about the hurricane roaring in his ears.

When it felt like his brain had well and truly turned into mush, he was spat out into the real world, landing on his feet by sheer miracle. Wavering, he only remained standing because Tony reached out to support him.

"Welcome to Slovakia!" chirped a set of triplets in white-and-red robes.

Groaning, Harry rubbed his eyes and adjusted his glasses. The triplets coalesced into one woman standing just outside the circular platform he and Tony had landed on. A very attractive woman, for that matter, but he was beyond caring about that.

"Please follow me and ready your wands for registration," she said with a professional smile.

He made an unintelligible noise of assent and allowed Tony to drag him along. His stomach roiled, but due to his foresight, he didn't have anything to spew up. As an insult to his suffering, Tony seemed positively chipper.

"You're not puking," he observed.

Tony frowned. "Why would I?"

"I saw you polish off a full English. I even asked Tom to add extra grease!"

Tony snorted. "Nice try, asshole. Not everybody's a weak-stomached sissy like you."

"Oh, fuck you," he groaned, willing the world to stop spinning. "Just fuck you."

They weaved around other arrival platforms, one of which just received a group of corpulent folk in gaudy shirts who immediately started clapping, until arriving at the wand-weigher. Harry had just enough presence of mind to snatch back his before the receptionist could rattle off its composition, saying that he knew his own wand, thank you very much. Then he located the nearest bench, and did nothing but revel in its stationary nature until he was functional again.

He withdrew a water flask from his malletspace and took a long pull before retrieving the Globetrotter's Map provided by Padma. The square foot of parchment not only held within the entire world map but centered on the current location to boot. He compared it to a cutout from the Daily Prophet, where the harpy sighting was marked on a much rougher map. Tony leaned in to watch.

"The nearest town we can Portkey to... here." Harry tapped the name Štrbské Pleso, which was labeled with an encircled wand; according to the map's legend, that meant wizarding presence in a Muggle settlement. "We'll rent rooms and start from there. It's bound to be swarming with tourists, so we won't stand out."

Tony shrugged. "Sounds good."

They queued up for domestic Portkeys behind the party of Dursley-sized people, who were now wolfing down snacks from enormous multi-colored bags. Harry struggled to suppress his nausea. When they finally trooped away, he stepped up to the counter, grimacing as a potato crisp crunched underfoot.

"Good morning, gentlemen," a smiling female clerk said in lightly accented English. "What can I do for you?"

Harry grinned, entertaining the idea of forgetting the whole fuss and relocating to Slovakia until Tony's elbow in his ribs brought him back to reality.

"Hi, we'd like a Portkey to Shtrb... Strbks..." Wondering whose bright idea it was to string all those consonants together, he raised the map and pointed. "Here."

The clerk's gaze lingered on the tea-stained cutout still clutched in his hand. "Certainly, sir. May I ask what the purpose of your visit is?"

"Uh..."

"Snowboarding," Tony piped up.

Her smile wavered. "Snowboarding?"

"Um, yeah. We're big enthusiasts." The clerk still looked skeptical, so Harry added, "It's a Muggle sport where you balance on a plank—"

"I know what it is, sir," she said, her earlier smile nowhere in sight. "The snow season ended months ago."

Repressing the urge to smother Tony, he forced his lips into a smile that rarely failed to work on witches back home. "We knew that, of course. We're just... scouting for good locations. Now, how about that Portkey?"

The clerk glanced to the side before smiling back at him. "Of course. Please wait here, gentlemen."

As soon as she was out of earshot, he rounded on Tony. "Snowboarding."

"Always wanted to try it," Tony murmured. He stood on his tiptoes to peer over Harry's shoulder, then blanched. "Don't turn around."

Harry was about to see what the big deal was, but Tony grasped his lapels to keep him still. "What?"

"She's speaking to an Auror," Tony mouthed, eyeballing the proceedings. "And another's coming up to them."

"Shit." He rubbed his forehead, lamenting his stupidity; even the damned Prophet had mentioned the Slovaks were on the lookout for poachers entering the country. "They can't prove anything—probably just going to send us back—"

Tony's grip on his lapels strengthened. "You promised me harpies, mate. I might lose my bloody job for this!"

Taking a deep breath, Harry glanced around the hall. The cute receptionist was welcoming another batch of arrivals, while the gaudily dressed tourists, presumably waiting for their Portkey, were shoveling more snacks into their maws. The exit to the city was a good hundred yards away, in the form of double door reminiscent of Hogwarts's.

"They're coming," Tony hissed.

"Okay... Okay, I need a distraction," he whispered, a giddy recklessness bubbling up inside him. "Get them to look away, even for a moment."

Tony's gaze darted around before he raised his wand, hiding it from the oncoming Aurors behind Harry's torso. He aimed at the group of tourists seated nearby and squinched his eyes.

"Oh my gawd!" screeched a woman rivaling Aunt Marge in girth, and heaved aside her bag of crisps. It landed on the floor with a crunch, and out poured a swarm of spiders, centipedes, and roaches. "They're crawling up my legs! Get 'em off, Joe, get 'em off!"

Amid alarmed cries, Harry produced his invisibility cloak and flung it over himself and Tony, then stuck his wand out through the gap to tie together the shoelaces of a red-robed baldy running their way. The man yelped and went down, his wand clacking to the floor, where Harry affixed it with a Sticking Charm before bidding a hasty retreat—well, as hasty as was possible with him and Tony shortening their strides so their ankles wouldn't show.

An angry voice cut through the din, barking orders. Harry risked a glance back. Ignoring the stampeding tourists, the baldy was pointing at the exit and shouting while scrabbling at his wand. One of his colleagues strode briskly toward the door, while another, having burst out of the loo, went about unsticking the wand from the floor.

Harry pulled Tony into a hobbling run. The exit was an arm's reach away when a siren blared, and a hefty iron portcullis fell over the door with a resounding boom. Swearing, he jerked back his outstretched hand, then gaped at the blue aura enveloping it.

"Stupefy!" a voice cried behind them.

Harry whirled, shielding in the nick of time. The cloak did nothing but hinder his movements now, so he took it in with nary a thought. "Get the door!"

The iron tinkled as Tony rapped it with his wand. "Nothing's working!"

His gaze alternated between the three approaching Aurors. Spells splashed against his shield until it sparkled and gave out. "Protego! Did you try Vanishing?"

"Duh," Tony snapped, drumming the metal as if intending to hack it apart.

Harry's eyes widened at the incoming salvo. "Duck!" he yelled, pulling Tony to the floor. A cerulean jet broke his shield, and two simultaneous Stunners splashed against the portcullis above their heads. Returning fire, he groped for the grating behind. He winced as he tried and failed to take it in. "Too heavy!"

Tony thrust out his wand, transfiguring the belt of the closest Auror into a snake and causing him to yell and bat at his crotch. "Give me ten seconds."

"What are—gah!" Suddenly finding himself face-to-face with a hulking gorilla, Harry couldn't help but jerk away, which saved him from a Body-Bind Spell that left his nose feeling rather stiff.

The gorilla stomped and roared, making the Aurors step back in unison.

"Hrom a peklo," one exclaimed, then yelped as Harry's Disarming Charm wrenched the wand from his fingers.

Allowing the wand to fall next to him, Harry stepped on it to prevent Summoning. Beside him, Tony gripped the bottom of the portcullis and flexed his bulging arms.

The two armed Aurors burst into action. Harry parried three hexes before thrusting his off-hand forward to materialize a rolled-up tent. A swipe of his wand had it rocketing toward the baldy, and a twirl made it unfurl and swoop upon him like a cheerfully yellow Lethifold. As the second Auror hesitated between aiding his colleague and pressing the attack, Harry ended his dilemma with a deft Body-Bind.

Light flashed behind the yellow fabric, and it fell revealing a disheveled and pissed-off baldy. Trampling the squirming tent, the Auror took hurried aim at Harry before casting sideways glances at his incapacitated colleagues. "Drop your wand," he ordered. "Building is locked, you can't leave."

"My poorly endowed friend begs to differ," Harry said.

The Animagus roared again, and with a rattle of metal, the portcullis rose inch by inch. The disarmed Auror goggled before launching into rapid-fire babble; far at the back of the hall, a fireplace flared green, spitting out one red-robe after another. Baldy's eyes met Harry's, and his wand twitched.

"Accio!" Harry snapped, aiming for the tent under the man's feet. Then, squeezing his eyes shut, "Lumos Maxima!"

The flash blinded him through his eyelids, but judging by the frenzied swearing, his opponents fared even worse. Catching and taking in the tent, he stumbled backwards, pushed open the door, and slipped out through the gap.

It was brighter outside, but with the reddish afterimages swimming in his vision, that was all he could tell. Materializing his cloak, he draped it over himself.

"Mate," he called out, "we gotta scram."

There was a beastlike bellow, followed by an almighty clang.

"Where are you?" Tony gasped.

He held up one end of the cloak. "Under here! Can't see shit, you'll have to guide me."

Tony squeezed in next to him, and leaning on his shoulder, nudged him forward. They made perhaps twenty steps before he paused and shifted under the cloak.

"Confundo."

"Pursuers?" Squinting around in alarm, Harry still couldn't see much beyond that they were in some narrow alleyway.

"Muggle," Tony corrected, panting. "Saw us earlier. No problem. Reckon it'll take them a minute to open that door."

"Where are we?"

Tony craned his neck. "Cobbled road, old-timey buildings... Some touristy place." He was silent for a time, breathing heavily as they walked. "Holy shit. I can't believe we did that."

Harry chortled. "You said it. Way to go, Four Centimeters."

Green plains and cultivated fields sped past the window as the train's wheels beat a steady tattoo. Harry yawned and stretched, then slapped the Globetrotter's Map to prevent it sliding off the tray table he'd bumped with his knee. The adrenaline from their encounter with the local law enforcement had long faded, and he had to resort to copious amounts of coffee to keep going.

"We'll get off here." As he tapped a town called Poprad, the map helpfully centered on it. "Crash at some cheap hotel... Go up into the mountains tomorrow." Going Muggle was their best chance to blend in, but he hadn't brought enough pounds for an extended stay, and he had a feeling the currency exchange at the station had ripped him off. Worst case, they'd have to slum it in a tent and subsist on canned food.

Tony bent over the map. "How about we start here?"

His finger pointed to a tiny dot high up in the Tatras that had the name Zubrovec inked above it in equally tiny script. There were two crossed wands underneath, denoting it as the sole wizarding settlement in the vicinity.

Harry hummed in thought. "Having some information from the magical side would certainly beat combing the countryside blind, but there might be Aurors about."

"Damn, it still hasn't sunk in that we're criminals." Tony ran a hand through his blond hair. "Sorry, mate."

His eyebrows rose. "What for?"

Tony averted his eyes. "You know... fucking up back there. Snowboarding in bloody May—and then I make things worse by insisting we run away."

He waved dismissively. "Forget about it. Frankly, I'm relieved we didn't have to take another Portkey, even if it was only local."

It was Tony's turn to look surprised. "You're way too chill about this. We're wanted men, you know?" His voice lowered on the last words, and he glanced around the half-empty carriage apprehensively.

"What's an adventure without a little danger?" Harry smiled as he fingered the dragon scale pendant under his shirt. How long had it been since he felt this way?

Tony shook his head, but his lips quirked. "You're mental—but yeah, let's do this."