Work Text:
Archie was going out of his mind with worry. He dug through his things at a frantic pace, flinging possessions to and fro with wild abandon. What things would give them away? What must he vanish, and what could he keep? What traces of Harry clung to Rigel Black? Had they covered enough of their tracks? Was there anything they were forgetting, what other contingencies to their Plan B did they have?
“Archie, hurry up! James is waiting for us.” Sirius called from the doorway, his voice tight.
Archie swallowed thickly and drew an old letter out of his pile of correspondences; he curled his body around to prevent his dad from seeing how many he vanished as he went. He knew where Harry’s apartment was, of course. They'd gone over every version of this exact situation more times he could count. If Archie closed his eyes, he could almost pretend this was just another scenario—another practice in case anything and everything went wrong.
He let out a deep breath and pushed himself away from his jumbled possessions as Harry. He was simply stalling to make sure she had as much time to prepare as possible. Though he had faith Harry would organize her side of Rigel’s escape plan even more carefully than he ever could—Harry was nothing if not meticulous. Still, he worried.
“Coming, dad.” He spoke to his own father as if to a stranger, the energy between the two of them coiled and twisted, far away and yet closer than it had been for years. Straightening, the letter between his fingers, he read off the address as if he didn't already know it by heart. “Harry should be at 8 Dogwood Lane.”
“What in Merlin’s name is she doing in Knockturn Alley?” Sirius’ voice still managed to sound incredulous.
Archie hesitated. “She… she has an apartment there. It’s where she stays when we’re— when I and Rigel are at school.”
He can feel Sirius trembling beside him as they walk, and he wishes he could reach across that distance towards his dad. Sirius is still full of questions; he’s practically vibrating with the urge to wring them out of Archie despite the few stumbling efforts he’s made so far to explain without giving away too much.
But Archie has no answers to offer—none that will satisfy. Archie’s fingers tremble too, the edges of his AIM uniform twisted in his fingers. Merlin, he wished Harry were here. He needed her here.
They needed to match stories, to compare alibis. To figure out how to fabricate a boy and make him disappear in a single breath. To convince the entire world, to convince their own family, to – to- to— figure out how to make things right They both knew that this day would have come eventually but…Archie still felt unprepared.
The entire world felt wrong, tilted on end, the same people he had known all his life practical strangers.
Archie ran a hand through his hair as he and Sirius hurried across the lawn back to where Uncle James was waiting. He still didn’t even have a full story of what exactly had happened at the end of the final task. Harry had…won? But been confronted by a hidden plot and ritual to steal her magic at the very end, only to thwart the plot and revealing herself to be a halfblood before apparating into the ether.
A classic Harry move, truly.
Archie would laugh bitterly at the dramatic end all her adventures at school as him seemed to conclude with, if he weren’t about to tear his hair out wanting to know her side of the story. If he didn’t want to break his healer’s oath for the sake of every single person who twisted his cousin into their plots, dragged the two of them into issues bigger than even their own ambitions.
Soon. Soon, they would be together again. Just as the ruse started, it would end. With the two of them together. And together, they would fix everything. Archie repeated the mantra below his breath as the three of them portkeyed back to England. As they flooed into Knockturn Alley.
He grounded himself with it, clung to the idea that he and Harry could figure everything out together as soon as they found her, every step of the way up to the quaint little doorstep of Number Eight Dogwood Lane. He winced as Uncle James slammed the front door open, the man tense as a live wire as he stormed into the tiny apartment. He readied himself to find whatever Harry had prepared for them all—for the world to see—of what she had been up to...only to be greeted by silence.
“…Harry?” Archie ventured through the doorway.
All three of them tread together into the furnished apartment. After the loud THUD of James nearly tearing the door off its hinges, the silence felt almost palpable.
Archie hadn’t seen Harry’s apartment before, but it seemed set up for regular use? Fresh produce sat on the countertop, and no visible dust seemed built up on any of the desks or nearby surfaces. A throw blanket laid rumpled across the couch, and there was a dish or two left in the sink.
Uncle James paid it very little mind. He surged forward shouting Harry’s name, his voice probably carrying across every apartment in the building. He charged into the tiny bedroom, practically broke down closet doors, until finally they turned corner to the the final room: a small makeshift lab.
Every corner of it screamed Harry: the mini cauldron in the corner, the open window for ventilation, the pristine safety equipment tacked up on the wall. Except for the distinct lack...of Harry.
Archie’s heart sank deeper and deeper in his chest as he watched Uncle James grow more and more frenetic with every door he wrenched open to reveal no Harry behind it. At the potions lab, James cursed loudly, brokenly. Archie cringed as the cauldron in Harry’s lab splintered.
“James—“ Sirius stepped away from his own search to make a cautionary step towards his friend.
James turned, his eyes bloodshot and his wand hand trembling from the force of staying still. His eyes lit up upon Archie once more. James stalked towards him, and for the second time that day, Archie felt genuine fear gazing into his own Uncle’s eyes.
“Where.”
Step.
“Is.”
Step.
“My.”
Step.
“Daughter?”
Archie shrank with every step, his eyes darting around the sparse but lived-in apartment. James' hoarse breathing seemed to fill the cramped space, leaving Archie little room to run. “I-I don’t know. She should be here, she might be out? This is the only address I have for her, we…we could search the rest of the alleys?”
James’ hands clenched and unclenched at his side, and Sirius drew a protective hand around his son. Archie leaned into the touch, trying to use it to ground himself once more.
But he couldn't quite bring himself to feel the comfort that he once did. Where was Harry? She should’ve been here— would’ve been here, for the sake of their plan. Unless she had been more hurt in the final task, unless someone had caught her, unless she hadn’t made it out of Hogwarts after all... a dozen possibilities swirled in Archie’s head, each one worse than the last.
Sirius arms tightened around Archie’s shoulders as if to hold him together, to keep him close, to keep from losing him like Archie felt like he was losing himself.
“She…she has to be here.”
Archie didn’t know what he would do otherwise.
The three of them searched the apartment for several more minutes, but it was more than evident that there was no one there, much less one Harriet Potter.
“Let’s ask around, perhaps? If she lives here, like Archie says, I’m sure others would have seen her come and go.” Sirius offered weakly.
James barely seemed to hear his old friend, and frankly, he looked as if he might drop from the weight of his own worry at any moment.
He breathed heavily, in, out, and with the barest glance at the shards of the exploded cauldron in the corner, made his way back out the front door that still drifted open from their original intrusion.
Archie followed, but not without another heavy stare at the tumult they were leaving of Harry’s “home.” If she wasn’t here...and he doubted she would be in the alleys at a time like this... where could she be?
None of the three, even in all their frantic searching, noticed a couple of jet-black feathers beneath the fluttering curtains of the open window.
None of them, as they confronted the old lady outside the door who came to investigate the commotion, found the tiny raven slumbering in the corner of the bedroom, nestled in the corner behind the desk where she had collapsed after flying straight into her own apartment.
None of them saw the raven jerk up at the sound of the cauldron bursting inches away. The panic swirl around in avian form, wings pressed up against her sides and feathers ruffled up in distress.
None of them saw her open her beak to cry out, only to close it silently as she struggled to shed the feathers that had granted her such sweet freedom just a moment ago. Traitorous freedom, one that she didn't quite want to give up quite yet. Perhaps not ever.
No one saw her give up, slumping brokenly against the corner.
None witnessed the near-silent footsteps treading into the apartment soon after their departure, the very same that had rushed in earlier with a handful of fresh produce and cleaning charms.
A voice breathed out, relief and worry laced through it in equal measure, as Leo reached down behind the desk to cradle the rumpled raven in gentle hands.
“Oh lass,” he brought the bird, who stared back at him with brilliant green eyes that knew and feared too much all at once, up to eye level. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”