Blind - drarry

Chapter 6

Published: November 29, 2020

Updated: September 30, 2021

Harry hadn't seen Wyvern, or whatever his real name was, in days. He was starting to worry. He didn't think he saw or said anything that would indicate that Wyvern intended to hide from him, again. But it had been too many days, and Wyvern's caution about him getting too many coins might get him 'rolled' was playing in his mind. The fact that he lived somewhere in Knockturn Alley and Aurors don't generally patrol the area, did not ease his apprehension. Harry wished he had just followed Wyvern back home once, against his wishes.

However, he wore his red Auror robes today and had his wand at the ready as he invaded Knockturn Alley. Many people ducked for cover when they saw him, but he walked into a few shady places and caught a few off guard. Some would answer his questions, just to get him to move on. After four hours of searching, he had nothing, until he walked into a pub and saw Wyvern's Rubik's cube in the hands of a tweaked-out skinny jerk.

"Auror! Freeze!" Harry growled his usual line.

The potion tweaker shot an unformed spell at him and ran toward the back door. Harry chased him outside, hooked him on an invisible line and pulled him back. The moron tried to curse him, but Harry easily stripped him of his wand and summoned the cube.

He thrust it in the guy's face as he shoved him hard into the brick wall and growled, "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"It was a gift!" he garbled out, panicking.

"Gift? Really? You might have been able to sell that before you attacked me... twice. Where is he? Tell me or I'll rip your guts out... the muggle way," Harry threatened, hoping no one else heard and reported that to his boss.

"I don't know! I left him in the alley! Please don't arrest me!"

Harry tightened his grip and the potion-addict took him to the alley where he left Wyvern. There was still a bloodstain on the ground and Wyvern's white broken stick. He summoned another Auror to take his prisoner and examined the crime scene. He noticed that Wyvern had crawled away, as the blood trail was easy to follow. He slowly followed the dried blood down to the next alley and it sloped down to the water. The blood pattern changed. Like they rolled him.

Harry felt panic start to build as someone could have pushed him into the water. He ran to the water's edge and looked up and down the small stream, hope draining. He'd have to work with the muggle police and pulled out his ministry wallet to check that that he had his muggle officer badge, just in case of situations like this. He was about to Apparate to Scotland Yard when he saw a blood trail heading under a low bridge.

He trembled as he crouched under the bridge to follow it. He felt that he passed through a ward, but kept going. The blood smears stopped, but some droplets continued forward. Then he spotted a service hatch door that had been broken off. That had to be it.

"Wyvern?" he called and heard voices.

Please be okay, he prayed to anyone. Suddenly, a big burly man crawled out and came out to the path. He had red hair and was holding a blackjack. Harry had his wand at the ready, but kept it sheathed.

"Hello, I'm looking for my friend," Harry proclaimed, watching the man's reaction.

"Yeh gat no friends' ere, boyo," he said, with a thick Scottish draw.

"He was hurt not too far away from here. I followed the blood. See? It ends right here," he said, pointing to the pile.

The Scot studied him. "Might've fallin' in. Wha's wit' the cloak?"

Holy Merlin. He's a muggle, Harry thought. Wyvern is hiding and living with muggles. Crap, I might have to Obliviate him and all of them in the crawl space. But Wyvern isn't stupid enough to break the International Statute of Secrecy.

"Sorry, just came from my godson's. We were playing dress-up games and I wanted to show it to Wyvern, when I heard what happened," Harry lied. He could have sworn that he saw the muggle's eyes flash to the area just behind him, like he knew that a Muggle-Repelling Ward was there.

"You the cop?" the Scot grunted.

"Yes," he said, agreeing to the most uncomplicated terminology.

"Badge?"

Harry frowned. "You want to see my badge? He's not under arrest."

"Maybe yeh're the one who 'hurt yer friend."

Harry nodded. He pulled out his wallet and showed it to him. The Scot didn't take it, but read it.

"Tha's an NPA badge. What's yer business 'ere?"

For a homeless guy, he was smart, street smart. "He's my friend. I was trying to make sure he's alright as that's a lot of blood he lost. I caught the guy who did it. He was stupid enough to try me, and I arrested him. He's locked up for good."

The Scot nodded. "Tha's good, fur yer friend."

Harry did not want to play this game forever. "I brought him this," he said and threw a cellophane-wrapped sandwich at the guy. "It's his favorite."

The muggle examined it and nodded. "Looks familiar."

"I need to know that he's okay," Harry pressed.

"I'm sure yeh do, bobbie, bu' listen 'ere. Sometimes, people don' wan' their friends ter see them when they're naut well. Yeh understand? I think yeh should give yer friend a few days an' he migh' feel more comfortable comin' out."

He could see that was the most confirmation he was going to get. It made sense that Wyvern didn't want him to see him when he's hurt. "Is there anything he-I mean-you need? Anything you want?"

The Scot smiled, like he was glad that he caught on. "I think some new shoes, would be nice."

Harry nodded. "Okay, sure."

"Maybe some clothes... and some gauze and a chest wrap," he said, quieter.

Harry nodded, somberly. "Give me an hour."

The Scot raised an eyebrow, but nodded, too. Harry went back into Knockturn and retrieved Wyvern's guide stick and repaired it. Then he apparated to Madam Malkin's and the Apothecary to get the clothes and healing potions. After deliberation, he exchanged some money and then out onto the London street to get muggle healing supplies, too. That part still threw him. That Wyvern, a former Death Eater, was living with muggles, but surely, by Wyvern's reckoning, muggles were safer than wizards and witches were.

He got back before the hour mark and got more sandwiches. He carried the crate filled with supplies under the bridge and set it on the ground. The Scot came out of the small hole and came closer. He waited for Harry to back away before he took the items.

"There's a pain medicine in there. I thought the liquid would be easier than pills, and there's a heavy-duty antibacterial healing salve in there for any cuts."

The Scot nodded. "An' sum food, I see. Thank yeh."

"There's money, too. In case you need something," Harry pointed out.

He raised his eyebrow in surprise and nodded.

"Wait. Here's his stick... a stick."

"Good on yeh, laddie," he said, taking it, and said, in a low voice. "I'm takin' care of 'im, don' worry."

Harry nodded and reluctantly left. He really wanted to make sure that Wyvern was okay, but the guy was right, Wyvern wanted some dignity. However, it didn't stop Harry from coming at noon the next day and the next. He brought a bag of ten sandwiches every time.

It had been over a week since he saw Wyvern, when he came to the bridge that day. The Scot was sitting on the path on the other side of the ward, his feet dangling in the cold stream. Harry slowly crossed the ward line, and the muggle nodded as a way of greeting.

"Come. Pu' tha' down and sit wit' me," he said, nodding to the bag of food.

"Sure," Harry said, taking his shoes off and copying the Scot. The water was bloody cold, when his feet went under.

"Yeh didn' 'ave ter pu' yer feet in, laddie," redhead huffed. "It wasn' a test."

"I doubt that. Is he alright?"

"The kid's sleepin'. I crushed up sum sleepin' pills an' put it in 'is tea."

Harry frowned. "Oh... why did y...."

"Yeh're the hero, right?" the Scot asked, looking at him.

"What?"

"He called yeh a 'ero. Yeh've bin helpin' 'im, righ'?"

"I guess. I mean, I try to, but he's stubborn."

"And yeh keep comin' back."

"I don't abandon my friends."

"Then why's he still 'ere?" the Scot said, pointedly.

"I've offered to help him every day I see him. He won't let me help him. He fights me for every sandwich I give him."

The Scot frowned and grunted, "It ain' jus' pride. Wha' is it?"

"He doesn't think that he deserves my help."

"I guess tha' makes sense. Were yeh in the gang wit' 'im?"

"Gang?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, the mark on 'is arm."

"Ah, that," he said, understanding. "No, I'm a cop. I stopped it-them, though. Got a lot of them arrested and the gang is gone, now."

"The kid was arres'ed as well?"

"Yeah."

"Yeh don' mind tha'?"

"He was young when it all went down, and he's blind, now. I don't hold grudges. He won't tell me what he did and why he thinks he needs to be punished for it. I don't care what happened."

"Alrigh', looky here, 'ero. The reason why I wanted ter talk to yeh... the kid, he's dyin' on the inside. He cries himself ter sleep every nigh'. He won' survive ou' 'ere much longer. He doesn' belong 'ere."

Harry's shoulders fell and he nodded. "I do. I want to help...."

"Whatever game yeh're playin' wit' him... ain' workin'."

"I don't know how to convince him."

"Figure ou' who he is," he declared.

"Easier said than done. Unless you want me to rip his blindfold off or force him to tell me. But he's been hurt by a lot of people and I don't want to hurt him."

"Figure it ou' and be quick. Don' let it drag on'. Before he decides that the world would be better wit' 'im gone."

"I will," Harry promised and was relieved when the Scot pulled his feet out of the water and got up. Harry copied him and got his boots on.

"Alrigh' git goin'. Oh... 'ero?" the Scot muttered and he looked. "He went ter school wit' yeh."

"What?"

"Tha's wha' he told me a couple o' weeks ago. 'Ope it helps," he said, and Harry nodded. It did.