Order of the Phoenix: You Got Kidnapped, Robbed a Supermarket, and Fought a Drag Queen with a Wand? Part 2

“So,” Harry continued, “after we… borrowed some food, and Lucius presumably stormed off in a rage spiral, we did what anyone would do in our position.”

“We wandered through New York City at five in the morning,” Daphne added flatly. “Still soaking wet, starving, lost, and with the general look of Victorian orphans recently struck by lightning.”

“We’d been going non-stop all night,” Harry said. “I checked my watch. It was five a.m., and I think I lost feeling in both feet somewhere around Times Square.”

“And Harry here decides now’s the time to panic,” Daphne added sweetly.

“I did not panic.”

“You asked me if I had a compass. A compass, Harry.”

Harry scowled. “Well, excuse me for trying to figure out which bloody way Washington D.C. was.”

“It’s south,” Daphne said to the hall, deadpan. “In case you were wondering. America’s geography is deeply stupid, but at least that part makes sense.”

“I hate to ask,” said McGonagall cautiously, “but how did you plan to get there? That is rather a long distance to walk.”

“About 200 miles,” Hermione muttered, horrified. “At least.”

Harry threw his hands up. “We didn’t have a plan, alright? We just started walking. Headed south. Assumed we’d… figure something out along the way.”

“Hope is a strategy now,” Ron mumbled.

They continued.

“We walked down every street imaginable,” Harry said, rubbing his temple like he could still feel the ache in his calves. “Midtown. Chinatown. Little Italy. Greenwich Village. Passed a hundred tourists. No idea where we were going.”

“Until we collapsed on a bench in Union Square,” Daphne said. “Which, by the way, was still soaking wet. And made entirely of emotional trauma and damp concrete.”

“We were knackered,” Harry admitted. “Sat there like lost kids after a school field trip gone wrong.”

“I told him I hadn’t used that much magic outside of Hogwarts since I was ten,” Daphne said.

“And I told her I missed Hermione nagging me about O.W.Ls,” Harry added. “And then she reminded me we were still being hunted by Death Eaters. So that was fun.”

Tonks blinked. “That’s… a wild escalation.”

“We were just starting to calm down,” Harry said. “Sun was coming up. We were thinking, okay, maybe we’ve got a shot at this. Then—”

“Police officer,” Daphne said grimly.

“Oh bloody hell,” groaned Sirius.

“Woke up out of nowhere, looming over us like he was two seconds from arresting us for being tired in public.”

“He started asking questions,” Harry said. “Why we were there. Why we looked like drowned rats. Why we were loitering.”

“So we did the only sensible thing,” Daphne said with a shrug.

“We ran.”

“Straight through morning commuters, rain-slick pavement, dodging cars—”

“Nearly died crossing the street,” Daphne added. “Twice.”

“The officer tried to follow,” Harry said. “But luckily, Muggle fitness is about what you’d expect. We lost him.”

“By the time we stopped, we were a mess,” Daphne admitted. “Soaked. Sticking out like two weirdos in cloaks and mud-stained robes.”

Harry nodded. “We knew we needed to blend in. So I suggested we find some Muggle clothes.”

Ron leaned forward, fascinated. “And did you?”

Harry gave a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah. We stole them too.”

There was a long silence. Then Fred stood up and clapped slowly. “That’s my boy.”

“We scoped out a secondhand shop,” Daphne said. “Low-key, no alarms. Perfect place for a little... retail improvisation.”

“We only took what we needed,” Harry added quickly. “Jeans, T-shirts, trainers. Nothing flashy. Just stuff to make us look normal.”

“You two,” said Calleigh, arms crossed with a smirk, “pulled off two thefts, avoided magical capture, evaded American law enforcement, and infiltrated one of the busiest cities in the world — all in about twelve hours.”

Eric nodded, impressed. “Honestly, we’d give you badges if that didn’t sound wildly irresponsible.”

“That,” Ryan added, “is one hell of a first day on the job.”

“I don’t understand half of what they’re saying,” muttered Blaise Zabini.

“Me neither,” said Theodore Nott. “But it sounds impressive.”

“So,” Hermione said carefully, “you changed clothes. Then what?”

“We packed away our cloaks,” Harry said. “Figured if Lucius was still tracking us, he’d be looking for two kids in robes, not a couple of Muggle teenagers with New York attitudes and backpacks full of contraband cereal bars.”

“Honestly,” Daphne added, “it felt kind of freeing. Terrifying, obviously, but freeing.”

“We finally stopped sticking out,” Harry said. “Walked through the city like we belonged. For the first time all night, people stopped staring.”

“And then,” Daphne continued, “we reached the ferry.”

“The what?” Neville asked.

“Big Muggle boat,” Harry said. “Takes people to an island.”

“Free,” Daphne added. “Which we liked, because, shockingly, our magical bank accounts weren’t super useful in Muggle transport systems.”

“We approached the guard casually,” Harry said. “Asked how much it cost. Tried to sound like normal tourists.”

“Guard looked at us like we were three flavours of suspicious,” Daphne said. “Started asking questions.”

“Where we were from. Why we didn’t have a camera. Why we looked like escapees from a Victorian fever dream.”

“I panicked,” Harry admitted. “Blurted out we were from Canada.”

“Canada?” said Ron, incredulous.

“I panicked!”

“To be fair,” said Eric from the CSI team, “Canada is the go-to when you don’t want to say where you are really from.”

Horatio nodded sagely. “It’s the beige of nationalities. Non-threatening. Invisible. Well played.”

“Thanks?” Harry said, unsure.

“Anyway,” Daphne cut in, “we legged it onto the ferry as soon as the guard looked away. Managed to blend in with the crowd before he could stop us.”

“And just like that,” Harry said with a tired laugh, “we were on the move again.”

The Great Hall fell quiet for a moment.

Then Luna piped up, dreamy as ever, “That’s how the Wampus gets you. Right when you're relaxed on a ferry.”

Harry opened his mouth, then thought better of it.

Harry took a breath. “So we got off the ferry. Staten Island.”

“Honestly,” Daphne cut in, “I don’t know why they call it an island. It’s just London with less character and more garbage.”

“We didn’t exactly have a tourist map,” Harry said. “So we just kept walking.”

“Suburbs,” Daphne said. “Row after row of the most aggressively boring houses I’ve ever seen. Cookie-cutter, plastic window shutters, the occasional garden gnome that looked like it wanted to die.”

“We were exhausted,” Harry admitted. “Running on adrenaline and cereal bars. No sleep, legs like jelly, nerves frayed to hell.”

“She almost collapsed,” he added, nodding toward Daphne.

“I don’t collapse,” Daphne muttered, folding her arms. “I… recline dramatically.”

That earned a snort from Tonks.

“Eventually,” Harry went on, “we found a park. Silver Lake.”

“It was wild,” Daphne said, her tone softening. “Not like Hogwarts grounds. This was proper overgrown woodland. Quiet. Private.”

They looked at each other for a moment.

“We found a spot deep in the trees,” Harry said. “Somewhere off the path. Moss, old leaves, barely any people around. It felt… safe.”

“For a few hours, anyway,” Daphne added.

They both fell quiet for a moment. Harry spoke next, voice low.

“We rested. Properly. First time since the kidnapping.”

“I remember lying there,” Daphne said, “thinking how ridiculous it was to be this tired and still alive.”

Hermione blinked. “You slept in a park?”

“In the dirt,” Harry nodded. “Would’ve traded my wand for a pillow.”

“You’re not getting it back,” Daphne said.

“I didn’t actually trade it.”

“You thought about it.”

“I didn’t say it out loud—”

“Are you two always like this?” Ryan asked, his voice dry as sandpaper.

“Yes,” Hermione, Ron, and Luna answered in unison.

“Anyway,” Harry said, clearing his throat, “we dozed off under the trees. Might’ve been two hours. Felt like twenty minutes. I had… dreams.”

Daphne’s hand found his, squeezing it gently.

“Lucius. The graveyard. Cedric,” Harry said, almost to himself. “Same nightmares. Always the same.”

“You woke up thrashing,” Daphne said, quieter now. “But we got through it.”

“We knew we had to keep moving,” Harry said. “So we packed up again, aching, half-dead, still no real plan.”

“We knew we had to contact MACUSA,” Daphne added. “Somehow. But the magical side of America’s about as welcoming as a Blast-Ended Skrewt with back pain.”

“We figured we’d try to find someone who knew how the American wizarding system worked,” Harry said. “Assuming we didn’t get hexed or arrested before that.”

“You two really do wing it,” George muttered.

“We do not,” Daphne said, scandalised. “We improvise with style.”

Fred clapped once. “A noble Slytherin motto.”

“Eventually,” Harry continued, “we emerged from the trees near a highway. Cars everywhere. People moving like nothing was wrong. It was surreal.”

“We were starving again,” Daphne said. “And sore. And ready to collapse. Again.”

“We found a bench,” Harry added. “Sat there, trying to work out what next. Had granola bars. Talked a bit.”

“That’s when I…” Daphne hesitated. “I asked what we’d do if we didn’t make it.”

The room went still.

“I said we’d make it,” Harry said simply.

She looked over at him, and her smirk returned. “You were very heroic. Said it without blinking. Probably would've made Dumbledore proud.”

“I doubt that,” Harry muttered. “But I meant it.”

“Anyway,” Daphne said, straightening, “right about then, a truck pulled up.”

“Big lorry,” Harry clarified for the British audience. “The kind that hauls livestock or groceries or… I dunno, weapons-grade corn.”

“The driver was… well,” Daphne said delicately, “he was a character.”

“Name was Pete,” Harry said. “Big bloke. Moustache like a walrus. Baseball cap that defied all known rules of physics.”

“He asked if we were lost,” Daphne said. “Which was very perceptive, considering we looked like two kids who’d escaped from an abandoned summer camp.”

“We told him we were trying to get to Washington,” Harry said.

“And miraculously, he didn’t call the police,” Daphne added. “Instead, he offered us a lift. As far as Philadelphia.”

“Which was perfect,” Harry said. “We’d cover some serious ground, and it’d buy us time to think.”

“Let me get this straight,” Ron said, slowly. “You accepted a ride from a stranger, in a foreign country, with no idea who he was?”

“Would you rather we walked?” Daphne asked sweetly.

“I mean—”

“Ron,” Hermione hissed, “they were running from Death Eaters. Options were limited.”

“At least they’re not buried in a ditch,” Eric said lightly from the side. “Statistically, it could’ve gone worse.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered.

“Pete was alright,” Daphne said. “Talkative. Friendly. Maybe too friendly.”

“He asked why we were travelling alone,” Harry said. “We lied. Said it was family drama. He seemed to buy it.”

“He gave us snacks,” Daphne added. “I think he was trying to be kind. But you could tell… he was suspicious. Not enough to do anything about it. But he knew something wasn’t right.”

“But he still drove us,” Harry said. “And honestly? I think that’s what got us out of New York.”

Silence followed for a moment.

“And none of that struck you as dangerously lucky?” McGonagall asked, her voice dry as sand.

“Oh, absolutely,” Daphne replied. “But after being kidnapped by a Death Eater, mugging a tourist kitchen, fleeing through Midtown, and stealing someone’s jeans—‘stranger danger’ was about number 57 on the list.”

Tonks let out a low whistle. “You lot really don’t do anything the easy way, do you?”

“No,” Harry said. “But we do it together.”