Love Potion No. 13

Chapter 6

“Morning Harry dear, sleep well?” Harry ran his hand through his scruffy hair as he slumped down into the chair beside Ron, who was already stuffing his face with the bacon and eggs. Unlike last night the Weasley’s kitchen was practically empty, the pile of washing up in the sink testament to the fact everyone had already been and gone.

“Yeah.” Harry mumbled sleepily as Ron’s cheery mother sat a large plate of breakfast in front of him. “Where is everyone?” Harry questioned as he shoved a crispy bacon strip into his mouth and reached for the tomato sauce.

“On the prowl as usual.” Ron smiled as his mother put another two fried tomatoes on his rapidly emptying plate. “Hermione and Ginny had gone picking wildflowers with Fred and George.” Ron offered as he sipped from his orange juice to wash down the mouthful he was currently chewing.

“Picking wildflowers.” Harry muttered hardly believing that Hermione was one to go picking flowers. Ron glared at Harry to keep his voice down, as he made sure his mother wasn’t listening before leaning across to whisper to Harry.

“Not really, Charlie and Bill have gone with the Auror’s to practice dueling in next field over, those four weren’t invited but they’ve gone to watch anyway.” Ron sat up straight quickly as Mrs. Weasley turned around from the fry pan to smile at the two boys who were just mopping up their plates with the remains of the toast.

“So what do you two have planned today?” Mrs. Weasley inquired as she flicked her wand at the table clearing it of the dirty dishes.

“Harry’s got to practice flying Mum.” Ron offered as he burped loudly and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his t-shirt. Mrs. Weasley scolded her youngest son’s crude manners before glancing sternly across at Harry.

“Well I want you two to be careful, stick to the fields, stay away from the muggle power lines and steer clear of the forest. More than one young animagus have been injured with foolishness.” Thrusting an apple and a brown paper bag containing sandwiches into each boy’s hands Mrs. Weasley scooted the two wizards out of the backdoor and with a curse about the mess slammed the door closed behind them. Ron sighed heavily as he tossed the apple in the air a couple of times before tucking it into his pocket.

“At least she didn’t give you the lecture about the ‘little wizard who thought he could fly’, that story grosses me out every time she tells it.” Ron laughed as he and Harry sauntered down to the shed to collect their brooms. In the field across from the backyard they could hear the dueling practice, the occasional spark of red or green visible from atop of the hill. Harry had no desire to duel today, and was kind of glad he hadn’t been up early enough to undoubtedly get roped into practice. This was his holidays, and he wanted to do nothing he didn’t have to. Dumbledore reminded him constantly that Voldemort didn’t take holidays, but Harry was damned if he let the Dark Lord himself ruin his summer break. Ron and Harry took off from the path up the yard and soared into the bright blue sky, swooping, ducking and circling around one another playfully on their brooms as they took off across the countryside. It was a good half an hour before Harry spotted a perfect little field to practice his animagus transformations.

With a half-barrel somersault roll Harry landed perfectly in the lush, uncut field. Far less graceful and with an uncontrolled spiral Ron landed on his arse half a second later beside Harry who laughed loudly. Ron’s specialty on a broom certainly wasn’t his landings. Spitting out grass and brushing dirt from his jeans Ron crawled over to the shade of a low bush.

“Alright I’ll try it here, I’ll fly over to that fence and back.” Harry chuckled as he tossed Ron his broom for safekeeping before he stood still and calm ready to focus. Just as McGonagall had taught him Harry transformed seamlessly into his animagus form. For a second thought it looked like Harry’s tiny bat form was plummeting towards the ground and Ron let out a concerned shout, but Harry regained his self awareness and with Snape’s words echoing in his mind he caught the updraft several inches from disaster and glided back up into the air. Ron let out a relived sigh as he watched Harry’s bat form glide easily over to the far fence before circling twice and coming back. Harry’s landing wasn’t up to scratch and the boy transformed back into himself as he tumbled in the dewy grass with a laugh.

“Smooth Harry, real smooth.” Ron laughed sarcastically as Harry sat up and smiled proudly at his best friend.

The next few hours were spent transforming themselves back and forth between their animagus forms. Having races around the field, Ron’s squirrel reflexes against Harry’s flying. Before long however their stomachs began growling in emptiness despite the sandwiches and apples Mrs. Weasley had given them that morning. Afternoon tea was calling, and if Ron’s nose was anything to go by sticky buns and cream puffs were waiting for them back at the burrow.

“Come on you fly back and I’ll follow you on the broom.” Ron suggested as he picked up his own and Harry’s broom. Harry hesitated nervously. The flight back to the burrow was a good fifteen minutes away and he’d never flown so far. Still there wasn’t much that could go wrong, especially with Ron following on his broom. With a sigh Harry nodded and having seen Ron take off easily transformed himself into the bat. It was surprisingly easy to ride the updrafts higher into the sky to reach Ron’s level and after the first five minutes of flying by Ron’s side Harry relaxed. There was little effort involved with flying in a straight line, a few wing adjustments and the occasional dip where the air pressure changed but nothing unusual Harry couldn’t handle. In order to get home quicker they’d taken the short route over the top of the wooded grove that bordered the Weasley’s property. Neither Ron nor Harry paid it any heed until an ear-piercing screech echoed in the air above them. With his beady eyes in the sun Harry could see nothing until the gush of swooping air and stinging bite caught his thin membrane of a wing.

“Harry it’s a hawk, change back!” Ron screamed already sitting up on his broom waving Harry’s broom around his head like a mad man, trying to put off the attacking bird that was considerably larger than Harry at present. Harry didn’t know what to do, and blinded by the sun couldn’t see his attacker. He was far too high up to transform back and there were no fields to land in. The only place he could go was down into the dense upper branches of the wood. With Ron still swatting uselessly at the attacking bird Harry let himself drop, instinctively catching another draft as he soared through the upper canopy of the trees. The branches of the trees stung like hell as the ripped and torn at his tiny body but Harry kept flying, knowing that behind him was the bigger frame of a Hawk that could easily eat him. With his acute senses it was easier to navigate the larger tree trunks and branches as he flew between them, but it was the smaller sharper little branches that did the damage. Harry could see the edge of the wood and the Weasley’s front yard but in his haste to get there to safety he made a fatal mistake. A thorny vine that had curled around a tree branch caught his wing and like a lasso tore into the paper-thin wings, and whipped him back into the tree branch like an elastic band. Harry screamed in pain, the inaudible squeal of pain that left his bat mouth echoing around the wood and to the ears of the one man that could hear it.

Snape had been sitting on the picnic bench in the Weasley’s back yard enjoying tea and cakes after a day’s dueling with the Auror’s when the high-pitched scream, audible to only his ears made him drop his plate and clutched at his ears. The sound died and was replaced by a much more audible sound that everyone else heard as well.

“Potter.” Snape had been off running through the yard towards the wood before any of the others had made it to their feet. The high-pitched squeal had been one of pain, of imminent death and had made Snape’s blood run cold. As he reached the front gate Snape met a deathly white Ron, the boy shaking as he pointed to one of the trees on the edge of the wood. There balanced precariously on the top most branch, amongst the foliage and vines was Harry. The boy was barely hanging on, his feet scrambling to find purchase on the less sturdy lower branches. Blood poured from his right arm that despite the massive injury was still being used to desperately hold.

“Oh sweet Merlin.” Mrs. Weasley uttered as the group that had been behind Snape finally saw the scene.

“Charlie, Bill get the ladder!” Mr. Weasley shouted as Snape closed his eyes and transformed himself easily into his own animagus form. Taking to the air Snape carefully negotiated his way through the thorny vines and up onto the same thick branch Harry was precariously holding onto before transforming back into himself. Harry was slipping and Snape lay himself down along the branch and reached for Harry’s hands. Reluctantly the boy offered his left hand his injured right still locked uselessly around the branch.

“Give me your other hand Potter.” Snape growled angrily knowing that he would never hold Harry’s weight with just one grip. Harry shook his head fearfully looking down at the ground where the Weasley were bringing in the ladder. “Potter!” Snape shouted angrily losing his patience with the boy. “Give me your other hand unless you want me to drop you!” With what effort he had left Harry let go of the branch Snape managing to just catch the injured arm before it fell out of reach. The scream of pain Harry let out into Snape’s face as the man locked his hand around the boy’s wrist would have woken the dead but Snape didn’t flinch. Harry’s blood made the grip slippery and even as Snape tightened his grip, his fingers began gouging into the boy’s open wounds making Harry scream even more. Snape was loosing his hold and the Weasley’s were taking far too long to get the ladder up to them. There was only one thing Snape knew what to do. “Potter!” Snape had to scream to be heard over Harry’s own cries of agony. The boy’s green eyes were wild with pain and fear and flickered back and forth around him not really paying any attention to Snape what so every. “HARRY! Look at me!” At the use of his first name Harry’s attention snapped to Snape who sneered in successes even though his grip was faltering. “You have to change back.” Harry shook his head far too fearful to concentrate long enough to change back into the bat. “Listen to me Harry, you have to do this I can’t hold you any longer.” Harry continued to shake his head vehemently clutching uselessly at Snape’s loosening grip. Snape sighed his fingertips beginning to slip from Harry’s hands, he had to do this and pray Dumbledore and Harry forgave him. Sometimes it was cruel to be kind. “Harry please do this for me.” With his gaze firmly locked with Harry’s Snape let go watching as Harry’s form fell away from him through the branches of the trees below him.

For one heart stopping minute Snape had thought he’d made the wrong decision but in the blink of an eye the boy’s form had changed back into the injured, little form of the bat. Like a leaf falling from the branches of a tree in autumn Harry’s tiny black body fell gracefully the rest of the way down, his wings catching the air like a parachute guiding him safely to the ground below.

“YOU DROPPED HIM!” Below him Snape heard Ron screaming in angry disbelief and Snape rolled his eyes. Transforming himself back into his own animagus form Snape glided far more gracefully to the ground transforming back the instant his feet touched the ground. A crowd had already gathered around Harry’s body and Snape pushed his way through the crush to get to the injured boy. Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and Tonks were already trying to stop the multiple lacerations on Harry’s arm from bleeding. Harry was pale, and shaking clearly upset and in agony. Snape knelt down beside Harry and gently brushed his bloodied hair of the boy’s face.

“You dropped me.” Harry whimpered as he stared up into Snape’s onyx gaze.

“You’ll thank me one day.” Snape bit sarcastically before he was being pushed roughly away by Albus Dumbledore and a flustered looking Madam Pomfrey, who’d been contacted by Bill only moments before. Harry stared at Snape as he was carried away into the burrow, leaving Snape standing alone under the battered canopy of the wood.

TBC>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>