Harry trudged wearily down the street. He had exited the Tube at the nearest possible station but it was still taking quite a bit of walking to get to the headquarters. The long day and his injuries were taking their toll from him. He anxiously watched the other people who were walking, checking for any behavior that might mark them as a wizard or witch. The sun had set and the darkness cloaked him, keeping him hidden as he skirted the streetlamps and stayed in the shadows. He chuckled softly and muttered, “Constant vigilance, Potter,” to himself in an imitation of Moody.

Suddenly the headquarters was in front of him. The dark building huddled between its neighboring structures, looking somehow menacing in the gathering gloom. Harry walked past it and ducked into a nearby alley to assess his options. He needed to get into the back yard. That would be impossible from the front so he decided to try cutting across the gardens from the alley.

He looked with dismay at the intervening fences he would have to negotiate. Fatigue sat on his shoulders like a hippogriff, weighing him down. Leaning against the nearest fence he slid to the ground with a groan. “I could really use Hermione now,” he muttered. “A brilliant idea is desperately needed.” His mind wandered to the many ideas she had come up with during the Triwizard Tournament. Inspiration struck and Harry staggered to his feet. He threw the pack down and began to rummage around inside it. With a crow of triumph he withdrew his most prized possessions – his Firebolt and the invisibility cloak. “Go with your strengths,” he said with a laugh. “Sneaking about and flying, that about covers it.”

Harry slung the pack on his back, mounted the broom and draped the cloak over his shoulders. With a quick kick he soared into the air and over the first fence. Number twelve was only a few houses away from the alley and he was in the garden in seconds. After touching down lightly and replacing the broom in the pack he quickly made his way to the garage in the back corner of the yard. He and Ron had never investigated the dilapidated building but he felt sure that what he sought would be inside.

He carefully opened the door and slipped soundlessly inside. It was completely dark in the building and after a moment’s hesitation he lit his wand with a whispered, “Lumos.” Hoping that the Fidelius charm on the house would hide his magic from the ministry and Voldemort, Harry peered into the dim corners of the garage. A large, tarp covered shape immediately caught his eye.

“Gotcha,” he murmured. With a trembling hand he pulled the tarp from the mound and stepped back with a gasp. It was the motorbike. Sirius’ incredible flying motorbike. It looked brilliant – the chrome sparkled in the wand light and the paint gleamed as if it had been recently waxed. “Wow,” he breathed. He stepped forward and touched the handlebars reverently. It felt almost warm to his touch, as if it were somehow alive. With trembling hands he stroked the seat and gas tank. Images of Sirius on the bike with his hair blowing in the wind crowded into Harry’s mind.

Breaking free of his reverie he moved to the garage doors. He had entered through a small side door that would not accommodate the bike. Pulling hesitantly on the handle at the bottom of the door he breathed a sigh of relief as the door rolled up silently. He carefully arranged the cloak over himself and the bike and began to push it out into the yard.

Once outside the building he stopped and closed the door. He found a small gate hidden behind some overgrown hydrangea bushes. It also yielded without a sound, opening onto a small path that ran along the back fences of all the yards. With a faint smile he pictured Sirius as a young man, spelling the door and gate to facilitate getting out without getting caught by his mother. “Thanks, Sirius,” he said softly as he looked up at the star for which his godfather was named. The lump returned to his throat but he pushed on doggedly.

Harry paused as he prepared to push the bike back down the path to the alley. He pulled the broom out one more time and mounted it before he could change his mind. He flew soundlessly back into the yard and up to the silent house. He easily identified Ron’s window and hovered noiselessly outside it. “Can’t leave without saying goodbye,” he muttered. With the tip of his finger he drew a small circle with two small squiggles coming out each side of it. A lightning bolt shape in the center finished the sketch. He smiled faintly and returned to the bike.

In a matter of minutes he was back in the alley with cloak and broom back in the pack. Harry had watched carefully when Dudley had gotten a minibike for his birthday. He had not been allowed to ride it but had memorized the technique for starting it ‘just in case.’ It proved invaluable tonight as he smoothly started the engine and rode away. He couldn’t resist a small whoop of pleasure as he shifted into third gear and felt the bike leap forward powerfully.

Hours later Harry pulled off the country lane he was traveling and hid the bike in a small stand of trees. He had put many miles between himself and London during the night. The need for sleep was becoming impossible to ignore and as the sun rose he pitched his small tent and crawled inside. He fell asleep almost immediately.

oOoOoOoOo

Hermione looked at Ron with teary eyes and said, “I can’t believe he is doing this to everyone.” She wiped at her eyes angrily. “Your poor mum is beside herself with worry, not to mention US!” Finishing the diatribe at full volume she grabbed handfuls of her bushy hair and tugged herself into silence.

Ron, who had run out of comforting things to say, merely repeated, “Yeah, what about us,” in a hollow monotone. After a few moments of tense silence he said quietly, “I hope he’s alright.” He looked blankly out the window. “It’s just not like him to be so...callous.”

The trio minus one had been holed up in Ron’s bedroom for most of the two days since Harry had been reported missing. They had hashed and rehashed the circumstances of his disappearance until they were both sick of hearing about it but couldn’t seem to reconcile themselves to the situation. Ginny had floated in and out of the room in a near trance, disheveled and tear stained. She did not join in their rants, preferring to worry in silence.

“That’s what is so hard to understand,” Hermione said. “He’s always so careful about other people’s feelings. So much for his ‘saving people thing.’” She glared across the room at Ron who shrugged listlessly. Suddenly her expression changed to one of wide-eyed discovery. Ron eyed her dubiously as she narrowed her eyes and brought the side of her extended finger to her pursed lips. “Saving people thing,” she repeated slowly. Ron waited patiently for her to finish her thought. Her eyes snapped to capture his as she said, “Of course, Ron! Why didn’t we see it before?” The finger jabbed in his direction to emphasize her point.

Rolling his eyes Ron said, “You’ll need to clue me in Hermione. What exactly have we been missing in this wretched situation?” He crossed his arms and waited for her to elucidate.

“It’s not like him to be like this,” she crowed. Ron inclined his head and waited for more information. “We’ve missed the point entirely. He’s not running away to get away or save himself, Ron.” She leaned forward across the bed they were sitting on. “He’s protecting us by staying away.”

“What a load of rubbish!” Ron spat. “Why would Harry do that?”

Hermione pushed her hair back from her face. “You know how he agonized over Cedric’s death, blaming himself for everything.” Ron nodded reluctantly. “Well, it stands to reason he’s even more torn up over Sirius. He’s had a week on his own to convince himself that we’re better off without him.” Waving her hand to emphasize her point Hermione continued. “Why would he wait for the Dursleys to come home like Snape said? To warn them so they would be out of danger too, that’s why.” She leaned back against the headboard with her arms crossed in unconscious imitation of her friend.

Ginny walked in at that moment and took in their identical poses. She snickered in spite of her distress and said, “So what’s this, some kind of scrying technique?” The smile left her face immediately as she continued, “I’ll join you if you think it’ll help.” She flopped on the bed next to Ron and crossed her arms as well.

“No, Ginny. Ron and I were discussing this whole thing again.” Here Ron sighed and scowled. Hermione gave him a sympathetic glance and continued. “I think we are wrong in our assessment of Harry’s motives. Don’t you think it’s out of character for Harry to run off like this? Don’t you think it’s odd for him to act so selfishly?”

Ginny nodded and swallowed hard. “That’s the hardest part, I think. Worrying is bad enough but I’m just so ANGRY...”

“Right,” said Hermione. “Angry enough to stop being friends with him?”

“No!” Ginny said quickly.

“I thing Harry may be hoping for that very thing.”

Tears leaked from Ginny’s already moist eyes. “He wants me to stop being friends with him?” She sank back and hid her face on Ron’s shoulder. “Why?” she sobbed.

Hastening to comfort Ginny, Hermione said, “No, not just you Ginny! I think Harry is trying to protect us by staying away from us all. He’s making us angry on purpose so we’ll be safe.”

Reddened eye stared back at Hermione. “Safe from what?” Ginny gulped.

“I reckon he thinks he’s responsible for Sirius’ death and for what happened to all of us at the Department of Mysteries. I think he wants to keep us safe from him.”

Silence followed this statement as the three teens thought over Hermione’s theory. Ron was the first to speak. “That makes a lot more sense than thinking Harry is just out for a lark.” He gave a halfhearted snort. “The prat wouldn’t know a lark if it crapped on him.” Ginny and Hermione both laughed in spite of themselves and the tense moment was broken.

“Well,” said Ginny. “It won’t work. I say we find him and let him know what we think of his trying to protect us.” She looked at the other two for support. “This is a war, after all, and it’s going to take all of us to win it.”

Hermione smiled. “I agree!” Now the trick is to figure out where he is.”

“That’s the trick all right,” said Ron. “The whole order is out looking. How can we expect to just figure it out?”

“We have an advantage,” smirked Hermione. “We know Harry.”

With a matching smirk Ron said, “And we have the smartest witch of all time on the job.” Hermione blushed and Ginny giggled. Then they began to talk in earnest about possible places Harry would choose to hide in.

oOoOoOoOo

Riding aimlessly through the countryside, Harry existed in a sort of haze. Alternating between feeling exhilarated by his freedom and being completely crushed by grief and loneliness, he ate little and slept less. His dreams were assaulted by images of Sirius falling through the veil as well as Voledmort’s hideous and often cryptic contributions. The book on Occlumency consumed many of his evening hours as he lay on his cot and wished things had been different at the Department of Mysteries. He was too distraught to fully clear his mind but the information in the manual slowly began to help him understand the technique.

The miles and hours rolled by unmarked as Harry pushed the bike to greater speeds, trying to outrun his demons. As he rode along enjoying the third sunrise of his independence he noticed an elderly man struggling to unload a lorry. It appeared to be filled with heavy sacks of feed. Without thinking Harry pulled into the weedy yard and stopped beside the laden truck.

“Like some help unloading that?” he asked.

The man squinted at him, obviously unimpressed, and replied, “What would you charge me?”

Harry was a little taken aback. “I just thought you needed help,” he said. The smell of food cooking wafted past his nose from the nearby cottage. He hadn’t felt the need to eat much during his travels but the smell awakened his appetite. With a grin he said, “How about breakfast?”

The man smiled at this and seemed to relax. He stuck out his hand and Harry shook it. “Sean is the name,” he said gruffly.

Harry hesitated minutely. The healer’s nametag came to mind and he said, “Ian. Granger. Um, Ian Granger.”

Sean noted the hesitation but said nothing. He motioned to the truck and said, “These sacks weigh about 50 pounds each, a bit much for an old coot like me. I appreciate the help.” He eyed Harry’s slight build but refrained from comment.

Harry stepped up to the back of the lorry and grabbed one of the sacks. Sean did likewise and led the way into the nearby barn. The smell of horses and hay enveloped Harry like a comfortable quilt as they stepped inside. He inhaled deeply and shifted the sack for a better grip. “Nothing like the smell of a horse,” he said with a smile. Sean grunted agreement and dropped the bag he was carrying onto a pallet.

“We’ll stack them here, Ian,” he said and Harry dropped his burden down next to the one Sean had released. In less than an hour the two had unloaded the entire truck and were on their way to the house. A pleasant looking older woman opened the door and after Sean explained their deal she cheerfully added a plate to the table. Sean introduced her as his wife, Karen. She beamed as Harry loaded his plate with eggs and sausage then lavishly praised her cooking skills.

“I’ll be needing another load of feed, Ian,” said Sean gruffly. “If you’d care for dinner you can help me to unload that too.”

“Sounds brilliant,” said Harry enthusiastically. Together they drove to the feed store and unloaded another large load from the lorry. By this time Harry’s back was tired and his arms were aching. Sean smiled as Harry stretched and groaned.

“Few more days like this’ll put some muscle on you, boy.”

Harry grinned wryly. It was strange how being called ‘boy’ by this man carried none of the negative implications it did when Uncle Vernon did it. “It would be nice to be a little bigger,” he admitted.

Sean gave him a calculating look. “We could use some help around here, if you’ve a mind to stay,” he said as he crossed his arms in front of him. Harry considered the offer for a few moments then smiled and stuck out his hand.

“Same pay?” he said as Sean pumped his smaller hand with his large, calloused one.

“Sounds good to me. You can throw your bedroll in the loft if you’d like.”

“See you in the morning, Sir,” said Harry as he walked to his bike.

“Sir!” Sean yelled at his retreating back. “Sean is good enough for the likes of me, boy. Sleep well.”