Break Me || Harry Potter

Chapter 102 - 7 Potters

3 Months later

Cold air pushed back my hair and kissed my cheeks. Gripping the handle of my old Nimbus 2001 broom, I soared through the air with the rest of group. Lights passed beneath us, signs of the life that was taking place below us with no inkling we existed.

Or at least, if we succeeded.

If we failed, that life would no longer be oblivious to our existence.

"We're getting close! Start dropping!" Mad Eye Moody's voice was gruff and steady against the howl of the wind. I blinked away from the ground, turning instead towards Ron and Hermione who flew together next to me. Poor Hermione had never really trusted herself with a broom, and while I was confident she could master it in moments, I said nothing when she asked she ride with Ron.

"You ready for this?" Ron asked over the wind, swooping close to my broom as we dropped down into the quiet neighborhood. I shared a quick glance with Hermione as I responded.

"It's been 3 months since we've seen him. I've been ready since the day he was swept away with those sons of bitches," I scoffed. Ron grinned, nodding his agreement. Wind curled around the nape of my neck as I touched down onto the ground, as silent as a shadow. I quickly dismounted, then raised my hands towards the sky. The invisible shield I had been holding around us, quiet effortlessly mind you, lowered to the ground and sealed itself on the asphalt. Once I was sure it wouldn't crack, I dropped my humming hands and turned towards 4 Privet Drive.

The house Harry Potter had grown up in his entire life. The house that had abused and tortured and pushed him down during the years he so desperately needed a hand up.

I was neither surprised nor worried to feel a rumbling in my chest, the sign of an on-coming storm.

"Easy, easy," Lupin said, placing a warm hand on my shoulder.

After spending the last three months with everyone at the burrow, Lupin had figured out how to read me like a freakin' book. Between him and Ron, it was getting harder and harder to lie. They could both tell when I was struggling with my magic, even if there were no visible signs. It was getting annoying, but some small part of me was glad they could.

"They hurt him here Remus," I said quietly, eyeing the others in our group. Hagrid, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Mr. Weasley, Fred and George, Lupin, Tonks, Ron, Hermione, Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacoure, and Kingsley Shaklebolt. We had been planning this "Harry Potter Protection Party" for weeks now, gathering people and planning a night to get Harry out of Little Whinging and back to the Burrow.

The weeks we spent planning had been interesting – I got to meet the famous Bill Weasley, formally meet Fleur (who was apparently Bills finance?), reunite with Sirius and be introduced to Shaklebolt, who was helping from the ministry side of things.

Oh, and then there was the rat that went by the name of Mundugus Fletcher.

When Mr. Weasely and Remus had called in that scoundrel, I had almost burst into flames.

"Saige, come meet the last member of our party," Lupin called, beckoning be into the kitchen of the burrow. The flames I had been playing with winked out of my hands. I followed the werewolf into the kitchen to find a short, bald, dirty little man.

One that was wearing an unmistakable clock necklace around his neck.

The only thing I could comprehend was the roaring in my head and the burn of white-hot anger under my skin. I was sure my flesh was boiling. Mundungus Fletcher. The man who had helped make my life hell when I was 13 years old.