❝𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲?❞
❝𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 had a few, perhaps a little or more than a palm of qualms in his life. First up was the whole "The Boy-Who-Lived" shenanigans, then there was an ungodly am...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
LXXXI. UNDERDOGS
━━━━━━
"Here's the best part distilled for you
But you want what I can't give to you"
RECENTLY, SHE HAD MADE A valid conclusion: Marjorie Evermore did not like waking up in the morning anymore.
Granted, of course, she should be thankful that she could still wake up, but that didn't mean it was anything near enjoyable. Things had become more tiresome when she woke up, greeting the sight of the sunshine of the dawning sun from her armchair that she slept on. Constantly, like a routine, she would look around and when she deduce that they were already awake, she could merely observe as none of would speak — even if they did speak, it wouldn't be for long as they would prepare for their next move.
By next move, she meaning moving locations.
Both Harry and Hermione felt that it was better not to stay anywhere too long, and Marjorie and Ron merely agreed, though Ron with the sole proviso that their next move took them within reach of a bacon sandwich. Routinely, Hermione would remove the enchantments she would place around the clearing, Marjorie would clean up the mess that they would have made the night before, all the while Harry and Ron would obliterate all the marks and impressions on the ground that might show they had camped there. Then they would Disapparate — sometimes it would be another forest, sometimes it would be the rarity of the outskirts of a small market town. Kind of like currently.
Once they had pitched the tent in the shelter of a small copse of trees and surrounded it with freshly cast defensive enchantments, Harry ventured out under the Invisibility Cloak to find sustenance. The market town was small and bustling with activity, and Marjorie worried about Harry as he disappeared off, the Cloak making him invisible but not invulnerable. She hoped he would find something edible, perhaps some bread or fruit —they definitely could not just live off tea and coffee any longer.
Time passed slowly. Hermione was buried in her The Tales of Beedle the Bard, her brow furrowed in concentration. Ron was laying down in the bottom bunk, listening to the radio in deep thought as he absently twirled his wand, his stomach growling occasionally. Marjorie busied herself with organizing their belongings, trying to keep her mind off the gnawing hunger in her own stomach.
After what felt like hours, Harry returned, but not with the food they had hoped for. He was out of breath, his face pale and strained as he mouthed the single word, dementors.
"But you can make a brilliant Patronus!" protested Ron.
"I couldn't... make one," he panted, clutching the stitch in his side. "Wouldn't... come."
