TW: explicit language, graphic content, violent scenes.
Two entire days—it had taken two whole fucking days to travel from London to Scotland. After a day of apparating as far as they could, Arla, Harry, Ron, and Hermione encountered trouble near Manchester. Ambushed by two Death Eaters in a narrow underpass by the train station, Arla swiftly probed their minds and discovered that Harry's magical trace had been detected. Consequently, they decided to complete their journey to the Scottish Highlands on foot, entering the wizarding world from there. Muggle transportation significantly slowed their progress, Arla had never experienced such a boring journey in her life!
By the time they crossed the border from the muggle world to the magical one, it was nightfall. Tensions were high, and everyone was exhausted. Traveling from one end of the country to the other was challenging enough, but having to stay hidden and restrict magic use made it infinitely worse. They set up camp on the edge of a rocky cliff, which offered a quick escape route, if they needed it. Arla and Hermione began erecting protective wards, while Harry and Ron ventured into the nearest forest to gather firewood before setting up camp for the evening. This division of labour had become their routine—Arla and Harry knew better than to send Ron and Hermione off on a task together, so they always split up and stuck to their respective roles on missions like these, and it worked — for the most part.
As the pair finished up the protective spells around their small camp, Arla noticed that Hermione's mind seemed elsewhere. Standing with her arms crossed, Hermione gazed over the cliff's edge, her unbound curls swaying in the evening breeze. "Spit it out, what's wrong?" Arla asked, coming to stand beside her, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Hermione didn't look at her as she spoke. "We're behind schedule. We need to make up the time we lost, or we'll be summoned back before we even get inside Gringotts."
Arla patted her friend on the back. "Don't worry, we planned for this. Once we're set up, we can go over our other options."
Hermione offered her a weak smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "They're all so risky—"
"Granger," Arla interrupted sternly, turning to face her with an arched eyebrow.
Hermione held her hands up in surrender. "I know, I know. I'm just stressed and tired."
"I know," Arla said, smiling. "We all are. We'll make a pros and cons list for the other routes and decide from there."
"Sounds like a plan," Hermione sighed, turning away from the cliff's edge.
"Making plans without us?" Harry's voice cut through the quiet. Both girls spun around to see him and Ron approaching with their arms full of firewood.
Arla shook her head with a grin. "Of course, our best ones always are." She joked, running over to help them.
.
Dinner was silent that evening, the only sounds being the clinking of metal utensils and the occasional crack of the small fire as the group ate their bread, cheese, and a modest array of cold meats. Hermione and Ron hadn't spoken a word to each other in the two days they had been traveling, and Arla and Harry found it difficult to keep conversations flowing. They all silently agreed that awkward silence was better.
As the moon shone brighter than the stars above them, what felt like an eternity had passed. Arla's mind was racing faster than she could manage, causing her head to ache. She needed to do something. Her knee bounced frantically as she absentmindedly stared into the dancing flames, chewing on her bottom lip as she fell deep into thought.
"Merlin's beard, Arla. Would you stop that?" Ron snapped, snarling at her.
Her head jerked up, and she blinked a few times before looking down at her knee. Colour flushed onto her cheeks. "Sorry..." she said sheepishly.
Sensing another argument brewing, Harry collected everyone's tin containers. "Right, I think now is a good time to go over those plans of yours, don't you?" He looked down at Arla with a smile, and she simply nodded in response. Harry turned to his best friend. "Fancy taking the first watch?"
"Gladly," Ron replied, bitterness coating his tongue as he stood up and walked towards the edge of the wards without so much as a look in their direction.
The three of them watched as he stormed away. "Right," Hermione chimed in, clapping her hands together. "Shall I put the kettle on?"
The three of them headed inside the tent, the warmth and dim light creating a small oasis of comfort amid the strangely cold summer's night. Hermione placed three mugs of tea on the table as Arla spread out their maps and books and they huddled around, each lost in thought.
"Alright," Hermione said, breaking the silence after a few moments, "let's look at alternative routes that could save us time, even if they're a bit more risky."
Harry pointed to a path on the map. "What about this route through the woods? It cuts directly across, bypassing the longer path we were taking. But it's known Snatcher territory."
Arla leaned in closer, examining the map. "The Snatchers might patrol there, but they aren't smart enough to figure out the wards. If we move quickly and stay hidden, we should be able to make up the two days we lost traveling—and then some."
Harry frowned, his finger tracing the path through the woods. "It's a risk. If they catch even a hint of us, it could mean trouble."
"But it's a calculated risk," Hermione interjected, her eyes scanning the potential escape routes. "If we set up detection spells and keep our disguises ready, we can avoid them."
Arla nodded, her resolve firm. "We've planned for this. We're not reckless, and we know how to cover our tracks. Death Eaters would have been notified of our crossing from muggle to wizard worlds anyway, the longer we stay here the more likely we are to be caught."
Harry sighed, glancing between his two friends. "Alright, we'll take the woods. But we need to be extra cautious. No unnecessary risks. We stay together and move as silently as possible."
"Agreed," Hermione said with a firm nod.
"Then it's a plan," Arla smiled. Swinging her legs over the bench of the table, she strode towards her bag that lay on her cot and pulled out a small brown bottle of whiskey that she snatched from the cupboard at Grimmauld Place along with her packet of cigarettes.
Turning to face them, she grinned like a Cheshire Cat, holding both items up for Harry and Hermione to see "let's celebrate with something stronger shall we?"
The pair shook their heads as they laughed, downing the remaining contents of their tea to allow Arla to fill it with whiskey. Holding their mugs up Arla toasted "to a new plan that Shacklebolt doesn't know about and actually being close to another Horcrux!" They clinked their metal mugs and cheered, their laughter and idle chatter filling the small confined space. However, the celebrations were short-lived when their heads snapped towards the tent entrance to find Ron standing there with his hand firmly clutched in his hands and a face of fury.
"Oh, don't stop on my account," he said in an icy tone.
Arla rolled her eyes. "Calm down, Weasley. Harry was just coming out to take you off watch and fill you in."
"Oh, save it," he snapped, making Arla's nose flare with irritation.
Harry stood up, ready to take his shift on guard, but Hermione stepped in, raising a hand towards him. "I'll go. You stay here and get him up to date with the plan," she said, jutting her chin at the ginger-haired boy.
