Harry Potter (wholly_harry) wrote in that_day, @ 2012-01-18 21:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | harry potter, week 01: aug 1-7 |
Fri, 6 Aug 2005 - Grimmauld Place (briefly the Puddlemere pitch) after the Ministry explosions
Harry had stuck around the pitch for a couple of hours after practice, doing some drills, but mostly just flying and catching the Snitch because he loved the feel of being in the air. It wasn't work at all; that was the thing he loved most about what he did for a living now. Finally the call of his stomach outweighed the thrill of flying, and he touched down on the ground, tucking the little winged ball into the pocket of his robes and slinging his broom over one shoulder.
He'd made it halfway to the locker rooms when one of his teammates rushed out to meet him. "Harry!" Nestor called, his expression frantic. He had changed out of his practice robes, and Harry wondered if he'd come by here just to find him. It was no secret that he often practised later than the others. "Did you hear? There's been an attack at the Ministry."
"An attack?" Harry said automatically. His heart was suddenly pounding twice the normal speed. "What do you mean? When? What happened?"
"Just a little while ago," Nestor said. "There was an explosion, or several. No one's sure yet. But the Atrium is trashed, and some other areas, too. A lot of people were hurt...or worse." He paused as if unsure of continuing. "They're saying it was Death Eaters."
"It couldn't be Death Eaters." Harry knew it couldn't be, because he'd helped track down most of them during the years he'd been with the Aurors. But even as he said it, a little ping of doubt hit him. Just because they'd picked up the known Death Eaters didn't mean there couldn't be others. Or others like them. It had been seven years, and there had been a lot of positive changes, but the world wasn't going to magically be fixed just because Voldemort was dead.
What he was trying not to think about was the rest of what Nestor had said. A lot of people were hurt...or worse.
His teammate seemed to sense the wheels turning in his head. "They aren't letting anyone in, and the Aurors are clearing those who are leaving. All we can do is wait to hear the news."
No, that wasn't all he could do.
"Thanks for letting me know, mate," Harry said, putting a hand on Nestor's shoulder for a brief second before dashing off to the locker room. As soon as he'd reached his clothes, he rooted around in the pockets of his jeans for a moment before he found it. His D.A. galleon. Ever since the war, he'd taken to carrying it around with him, just in case. There was a feeling of safety in being connected, even during a time of peace. He only hoped that others had done the same. He had to make sure everyone was okay.
He set the message on his coin. Now. #12 G.P.
Then without bothering to grab the rest of his stuff, he apparated home. "Hermione! Ron!" he called, rushing through the house, searching. They were all right. They had to be. "Hermione! Ron!"