Fire and Water

I\'m posting a few chappies today so get to reading. Thanks for reviews, duckies!



Chapter Twenty Four



Harry slammed the door to Number 4, Privet Drive behind him and pressed his back up against the cool wood. His aunt, uncle and cousin had just reluctantly departed to parts unknown for an extended holiday. Harry sighed. Persuading the Dursley’s to leave had been exhausting. They were convinced he wanted them out of the way, not to keep them safe, but so he could steal their home.



Harry gave a short snort as he looked around the abnormally clean house he had grown up in. They really had no idea just how miserable he had been here for all these years. Well, maybe Aunt Petunia had an inkling. She had paused before she left and he got the feeling that she wanted to say something to him; but instead, she had turned away and followed her darling Dudders to the car.



He pushed himself off the door and made his way upstairs, lost in his thoughts. Soon he would be leaving this house forever. It was true that the house held no happy memories for him, but he had been safe here for the last 16 years. Harry’s stomach turned over unpleasantly at the thought of the uncertainness of his future. He knew he had to find the Horcruxes before he could face Voldemort, but he had no idea of where to begin. Harry thought briefly of his parents and, for a moment, wished they or Sirius were here to guide him. Or that he could talk to Dumbledore about his anxieties. He shook himself. He couldn’t ask his parents or mentors for advice: they were all gone. He was on his own.



He pushed open the door to his room. Although it was late morning, the room was in shadow, the blinds pulled, allowing only a sliver of light in. He knew the protective enchantments surrounding the house would keep Voldemort and his servants away for now, but Harry was still nervous. He walked over to his school trunk which was lying half unpacked on the floor. He had been out of bed early this morning sorting out everything he thought he might need. Harry didn’t know what to expect on his journey, but wanted to be prepared for every contingency.



As far as he knew, there were no plans to come for him yet. He knew he’d end up at The Burrow at some point, but he hoped that he didn’t have to wait until Bill Weasley’s wedding for The Order to collect him - it was still nearly six weeks away. He wanted to be prepared though, for when they did arrive, so he turned back to his trunk.



School books and robes were tossed, carelessly into a corner of his room. He held up a Herbology textbook: he wasn’t likely to need this. Without looking, he tossed it over into the corner to join the rest of his discarded belongings. It hit the wall with an unexpectedly loud crack, causing Harry to look up at the door hastily; waiting for the explosion from his uncle. Then he grinned as he realised he never had to listen to another Vernon Dursley lecture about what an ungrateful brat he was. Still smiling, he was just shoving the last of his clothes into his knapsack when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Harry turned his head and across the room, saw a figure standing in the shadows.



Adrenaline raced through Harry as he spun around, wand raised and yelled, “Stupefy!”

A bright white light flashed from the other side of the room, and his spell rebounded, the red jet of light singing his hair even as he ducked and lost his balance.

“Expelliarmus,” he coughed out as he hit the floor. The light flashed again and he thought he heard a chuckle. Were they laughing at him?



Harry felt his temper burn. He pointed his wand at the shadows and thought ‘Levicorpus‘. Again his spell was deflected and this time, he definitely heard laughter - female laughter.

“Who are you? Show yourself!” Harry yelled in frustration.



Suddenly, Harry, with a thrill of fear, he felt his body leave the ground. He tried a shield charm to no avail. He was now levitating in the air a foot off the ground. He sent a stream of hexes towards the shadowed stranger, all of which were blocked.

In desperation, Harry yelled “Crucio!”



There was a flash of silver light as the spell was sent rebounding into his dresser, smashing his mirror and sending shards of glass showering to the floor. At the same time, Harry felt himself fly backwards through the air. He grunted as his back hit his bedroom wall hard, feeling the breath rush out of his lungs. He only just managed to hang onto his wand, which he now raised, but before he could cast a spell, it flew out of his hand and across the room towards the arm that had emerged from the shadows. Harry gasped, struggling for air as his attacker stepped into the light.



“Is that really the best you can do? You don’t stand a chance, Harry Potter - Boy Who Lived.’

The last few words fell sarcastically from the mouth of the seemingly amused woman standing before him.

‘Here you are; defenceless and helpless - completely at my mercy.’

She raised an eyebrow as she walked up to him, her right arm held out in front of her and her left holding his wand. She stopped very close to him; he shuddered as he felt her breath on his neck. She raised his wand to his throat.



“It would be so very simple to kill you right here; right now,’ she whispered tauntingly into his ear. ‘And the wizarding world would lose their last hero.‘

Harry felt sick: he’d failed everyone - his parents, his friends, Sirius, Dumbledore. He had been beaten before he’d even begun.

The woman turned her head and looked into his eyes, seeing the dread there. ‘Are you frightened, Harry?‘ she asked, moving so she was looking directly into his face.

He looked up at her and shook his head defiantly.



She let out a soft laugh. “I can see your fear, Harry. In your eyes.’ She frowned and he thought that she looked somewhat uncertain for a moment.

But then, her face closed up again and her eyes drilled into his, seeming to search for something.

‘But, considering what you think I am, you’re not nearly as scared as you should be,’ she murmured, thoughtfully. ‘I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

She shook her head, and lowered her arm, turning away from him with a sigh.



Harry felt himself slide down the wall. He dropped to the ground, his shaking legs unable to support him. The woman spun around and threw his wand to him. He caught it, fumbling and looked uncertainly up at her, wondering what was going on.





“Good thing I’m not a Death Eater; disarming you was far too easy,‘ she said briskly, a reprimand in her voice. She turned her back on him and waved her hands at the glass on the floor.

“And you are the last, great hope of the wizarding world?‘ she muttered, shaking her head as the smashed mirror repaired itself. “God help us all!”



“You’re not a Death Eater? Who….who are you then?” Harry stuttered, confused.

Now that his fear had receded a little, he realised that she hadn’t tried to curse him, only deflected his spells. Maybe she was telling the truth; maybe she really wasn’t going to kill him. He raised his wand slightly, though, as she strode towards him, still unsure of her intentions. She glared down at him for a moment, as if hurt he doubted her, and then put out her hand to help him up.



After a moment’s hesitation, he took it, allowing her to pull him to his feet. She held onto his hand as they stood face to face. He looked into her eyes - the vivid blue seemed familiar. Her face, pretty, but hard, softened a little as she looked at him.

“If I didn’t know better….” she said softly, her free hand reaching out as if to touch his cheek.



Harry thought he saw a shadow move across her eyes for a second before she blinked and shook her head, her hand falling to her side. She dropped the hand she still held and stepped back.

“I’m Krystal,” she said, matter of factly. “I’m the one who is going to help you win this war”.

He looked at her, gob smacked by her announcement.



The corner of her mouth turned up slightly, and she looked away.

“Finished packing?’ she asked lightly, picking up his knapsack and handing it to him.

He nodded, still a little wary of her. She looked around the room, her eyes lingering on a photo of his parents he had not been able to fit in his bag.



She frowned again. “Nothing left for you here then,’ she said, quietly, tearing her eyes away from the picture. He could see a muscle jump in her clenched jaw as she grabbed his arm firmly.

“Come on,‘ she said, dragging him out of the room; out of the house.

Once they were in the street, she said, ‘Hang on tight,’ as she spun on the spot.



**************************************************************************************************************



Darkness engulfed him, squeezing tighter and tighter. He felt sick; the world was spinning. Then, when he thought he could take no more, the grip on him released and light shone into his eyes, blinding him for a second after the gloom of his room. He drew a shaky breath, filling his compressed lungs as he looked around him. He was no longer in Privet Drive but in a wide open field. He felt the wind on his face and the scratching of long grass against his jeans.



Harry glanced at his companion, who was walking quickly away from him, head turning from side to side as she looked around the field. She hadn’t given him a chance to protest as they Disapparated from the Dursley’s.

Before he had a chance to ask where they were, she stopped and called to him impatiently, “Come on, Harry, out of the open. Do you want them to find us?’

She strode towards a clump of trees, her cloak billowing out behind her.



Harry picked up his bag, noticing that a Disillusionment spell had been cast on him. His body blended into his surroundings as he followed the woman who had called herself Krystal. She must have cast the charm, although he was sure he hadn’t seen her do it. He wondered, not for the first time, if he should try and Disapparate away - maybe to The Burrow. He wasn’t licensed for Apparition, but he could do it.



He stopped, unsure of what he should do. Although he didn’t know who this woman was, he was no longer frightened of her.

‘Well,’ he corrected himself. ’He was no longer worried he was going to kill him, anyway.’

But the thought of just disappearing with some unknown person - Mad Eye Moody would murder him if he knew what he was doing.



‘She’s had plenty of time to hurt me,’ he argued with himself, walking towards her now. ‘Surely, if she intended on doing that, she would have done it by now?‘

He looked up and saw that Krystal had paused at the edge of the trees. She had turned back to look at him with a small smile, seeming to guess what he was thinking.

“If I’d wanted you dead Harry, you already would be,” she assured him.



Waving him forward, she handed him a piece of paper. “Read it - not out loud,” she ordered, as she looked around them.

He glanced at the note, seeing the words ‘Campbell Cottage‘. As he thought about what he had read, a small wooden house appeared in front of them. The note burst into flames, Harry dropping it quickly. He looked at Krystal who moved towards the cottage.



“I’m one of the cottage’s Secret Keepers - you know how the charm works?”

He nodded and she stepped onto the veranda which encircled the house. She turned to look at him and her hand twitched slightly. He saw that the Disillusionment Charm had lifted as she opened the door of her home, calling to him, “Take your shoes off. I just cleaned the floors.”



Harry stepped up onto the veranda and slid his feet out of his trainers. He tentatively stepped over the threshold into the house, his sock covered feet sliding a little on the wooden floor. He looked around, not seeing her as he made his way further into the room.



The small house seemed quite cosy. One large room made do for the common areas, with two closed doors leading off towards what he guessed were the bedroom and bathroom. The walls were painted a light blue and trimmed in yellow. Cupboards ran around the edge of one end of the room, a square pine table and chairs stood in the middle and a large colourful rug lay in front of a green couch at the other. The house seemed clean, although not in an unnatural, obsessive Aunt Petunia way. Harry was surprised at how, instinctively, he felt more comfortable in this strangers’ house than he had ever felt with his family at Privet Drive.



A door opened off to the side of the room and Krystal emerged. She had removed her cloak and shoes and was now barefoot, wearing Muggle clothes: cut off jeans and tight hot pink t shirt that proclaimed her as “HOT STUFF“. Watching her walk across the kitchen, Harry couldn’t help but agree with the shirt.



Back at the house, the cloak had hidden her frame, and the dark, disguised her features: but now he had a clear view of her. She was a taller than him; slim, but curvy in all the right places.

‘Very curvy,‘ he noticed, looking at the front of her shirt.



She was younger than he had first thought, mid to late thirties maybe, but she had a weary look about her; like she hadn’t smiled for a very long time. She reminded him of someone he knew, although he couldn’t think of who. As she walked past a window into the kitchen, the sun picked up red in her long dark brown hair which, now she’d let out from the ponytail it had been in, hung down to the middle of her shoulder blades.



Harry watched her as she filled a kettle and put it on the stove, realising as she filled the kettle who it was she reminded him of. Professor Lupin - his old defence teacher, and friend of his parents. He always looked exhausted and older than his years, his hair greying and face lined, but he was a werewolf. Harry had seen the transformations - they would be enough to make anyone look old and tired. Harry briefly wondered if this woman was a werewolf too, but didn’t want to ask.



“I don’t have a spare room, so you are sleeping on the couch, I’m afraid,” she said, her words slightly muffled as she bent to get a saucepan out of a cupboard.

Harry’s eyes unconsciously slid down to her rear, before he caught himself and looked away.

“It’s pretty comfortable, you should be ok,’ she continued, oblivious to his wandering eyes. “Are you hungry? I’m starved. I didn’t eat before coming to collect you and …..” the end of her sentence drifted off unheard as she stepped into a pantry.



Harry put his knapsack down next to the couch as Krystal emerged into the kitchen again, munching on an apple and holding some cans.

“Soup,” she muttered with a trace of disgust in her voice. “It’ll have to do.” She began to open the cans as the kettle whistled.

“Make yourself useful, will you?” she said, gesturing to the kettle. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee - not literally, of course”.

She glanced over at him and smiled. Harry couldn’t help giving her a small smile in return.



Harry moved into the kitchen. He found the mugs in a high cupboard and the coffee in a can on the bench. He made them both a cup, feeling as though he needed a boost as well. His mind flew as he made the coffee. Who was this woman? How did she get past the enchantments on his relative’s house? She was obviously a witch; she had shielded his hexes and placed the Disillusionment Charm on him, but he had yet to see a wand. He glanced at her as she stirred the soup, still chewing the red apple. She didn’t cook like a witch, he noted. Mrs Weasley always had her wand out in the kitchen. This woman cooked like a Muggle.



Harry handed Krystal her coffee and sat at the table with his at her insistence. Krystal clattered about the kitchen collecting bowls and spoons and serving out the soup. She placed his bowl in front of him and sat down with her meal across the table, scooping it into her mouth quickly. Harry was hungry as well and attacked the soup with nearly as much enthusiasm as Krystal.



He raised his head to sneak a look at her, just in time to see her wave her hand at the pantry. He watched as the door flew open and a loaf of bread came floating out, settling on the table between them.

’Watch it, Harry,’ she warned, as a sharp knife whizzed over his head, straight into her hand. He gaped at her as she cut the bread and handed him a chunk: he still didn’t see a wand.

“Many wizards and witches can perform wandless magic,” she said in a flippant tone.

He looked a little startled that she again knew exactly what he was thinking.



As he spooned soup into his mouth, he thought about what he knew about wandless magic. He knew it was unusual: that very talented witches or wizards could sometimes perform some spells without needing a wand, but the only wizard he had seen do wandless magic was Dumbledore, and even he usually used a wand. Who was this woman? Questions were flooding his mind, his hunger was disappearing as his need for explanations grew.



Harry frowned and looked up at Krystal. Her frenzied eating had slowed. She was sitting back in her chair chewing on a piece of bread and watching him, again seeming to read his mind.

“Go ahead,” she said with a shrug, “Ask me what you want”.

He sat back in his chair as well. “You‘ll answer me? You‘ll tell me the truth?” he asked, surprised by both her uncanny ability to read his thoughts and her invitation to ask the questions that were screaming through his brain.



Krystal smiled grimly at him. ‘You don’t sound like you get told the truth very often, Harry,’ she said, picking at her chunk of bread now. Harry shook his head.

‘Everyone seems to think I need protection; no one tells me anything,’ he said, a little resentfully.



Krystal leaned forward and put down her food. “I disagreed with the Order when they decided not to tell you about the prophecy. How they could have expected you to be prepared for what was thrown at you when you did not have the information you needed or the proper training required……….”

Her voice faded and this time there was no mistaking the sadness in her eyes. “They paid dearly for that mistake, though,” she said softly, her voice strained.



Harry’s mind flew back to the moment Sirius fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. He was still haunted by the frozen look on his godfather’s face. But how did this woman know about all of this?



Krystal stood, her scraping chair jolting him out of his reverie. She looked down at him with a determined look on her face. “I know what it’s like to be kept in the dark; to be always wondering what if…… ‘ She stopped and took a breath.

‘I promise you, Harry. If I can answer your questions, I will. I will never lie to you.”

He looked into her set face and believed her.