Vicis

Chapter 15

Harry stepped out of the floo with his wand at the ready, expecting a battle. He was not disappointed, as upon stepping out he was welcomed by a red beam of light heading straight for his face. He smoothly stepped to the side, noting the culprit, a masked death eater. He flicked his wand in response. He was already turning to someone else as he heard the scream signaling his curse had met its mark.

He moved fluidly through the battles, only attacking when he was attacked. He was not actually trying to help either party. The fight was, after all, only a way to make sure that he could manipulate both Dumbledore and Voldemort to his liking. Perhaps not as subtle as it could have been, but he was sure that at least Dumbledore didn't know. Voldemort, knowing of his Dark nature, would certainly know, but that did not mean he would not still be able to make Voldemort do as he wanted.

He dodged another spell, slinging his own in return, and slipped upstairs from the living room, sure that no one had seen him. He quickly entered the first room, rifling through the drawers. Upon only finding pointlessly sentimental missives, he went through the room. He found nothing, and moved on to the next.

In the next, in the second drawer of the desk within, he found what he was looking for. It had been locked, but he had used a little-known unlocking spell to correct that quickly. He took out the invisibility cloak, reveling in the feel of the silky, slippery fabric against his skin once again. The cloak belonged to him, and no Order member, not even Dumbledore. He would not allow them to use it. The safehouse had been under Fidelius, however, and while he had been able to retrieve which safehouse it was in he had not been able to determine where the safehouse was. So he had used the fights to get him there with Dumbledore's blessing.

He tucked the cloak into an enlarged pocket in his pants, then turned and walked downstairs, still taking care not to be seen. The fighting was still going, although a few lay dead or unconscious on the floor. He found a suitable spot, sitting slumped down against the wall, his head lolling to the side as if he were unconscious. He wove an illusion around himself with his magic, giving him the appearance of one who had actually been hit several times. He had a few cuts on his cheek, along with sore looking bruises, and made it appear as if he had a stab-like wound in his abdomen.

He waited, then, until he heard the fighting finally stop. The Order had won. The safehouse went quiet, and all he heard were murmuring voices and footsteps.

"Where's Harry?" He heard the question voiced by Hermione. This was followed by more footsteps, these coming closer to where he lie prone, until he heard them stop directly in front of him. A voice, which he identified as Arthur's, called out, "I found him!"

More footsteps, until he realized they were all gathered around him. "Go get Madame Pomfrey," he heard Arthur order. More footsteps moving away from him.

"Oh, but what happened to him?" he heard Hermione asking, sounding worried.

"I would assume he got cursed," Sebastian's voice answered. He sounded as calm as ever.

"You aren't worried?" Hermione asked, her worry transforming into anger at Sebastian's blasé attitude.

"Why should I be?" Sebastian answered, and he felt arms lift him into the air. Sebastian was carrying him.

"Because he's injured! It could be serious! Where are you taking him, it could be dangerous to move him-"

"I am taking him to our own healer," Sebastian answered, "so if you would all kindly step away from the floo."

"You can't just take him-", Arthur's voice now, and a cacophony of voices joined him in agreement. Pravus could practically feel Sebastian's exasperation.