The Paranoid Harry Potter

Thinking rapidly he moved to a small shed that contained his gardening supplies. He picked up a small shovel and swung it a few times experimentally. Then he grabbed a small spray bottle that he normally used for spraying weed killer. He adjusted the nozzle to the setting at which it would disperse a very fine spray. Quickly filling it with water, he went outside where he checked the direction of the wind. Fortunately for him the breeze was almost non existent. Almost being the operative word. The scant wind that was blowing was almost perfect, blowing gently in the direction he needed. He carefully and silently moved to a position directly in line to where he had smelled the tobacco. He adjusted the folds of his cloak around the bottle so that he could poke the nozzle of it out. Slowly, slowly he depressed the handle of the spray bottle. A fine puff of spray left it to be dispersed slowly in the slight breeze. He watched as the minuscule droplets flew away, floating gently in the wind. He waited a few seconds. A few tense long seconds. Had the Death Eater noticed the sudden appearance of a spray of water from what would have appeared to be thin air. Since nothing happened, he moved slightly to his left and sprayed again, and then once more, he let out a final spritz of water.

Dropping the sprayer into the bushes, he moved silently back towards the front of the house. He moved silently. He was almost there, almost at the very spot where he had smelled the tobacco, when he saw it. There suspended in mid air were a few tiny droplets, shining in the afternoon sun.

He moved closer, closer and then he swung the shovel with all his might right at where he could see the infinitesimal drops of water. He connected with a jarring thump that almost tore the shovel from his grasp. The air in front of him rippled suddenly. He swung the shovel again, and the slight distortion in the air went down with a loud thump. He quickly reached out, out towards the rippling air. His fingers found the edges of something, something that felt like cloth. He grabbed it and pulled it aside to find an unconscious man bleeding from the head.

There was a strong smell of mingled drink and stale tobacco filling the air as Harry looked at the squat, unshaven man in a tattered overcoat. He had short bandy legs, long straggly ginger hair and bloodshot baggy eyes that were rolled up in his head. Harry had never met anyone who looked quite so disreputable.

"Definitely a Death Eater," he said to himself, "looks like a low level thug." He quickly covered the smelly man with the silvery folds of the invisibility cloak. He didn't need any of the Dursley's neighbours interfering after all.

"Hope, no one saw the shovel," he thought worriedly. It would have looked quite odd to any observer he thought. A shovel suddenly appearing in mid-air, briefly swinging, before disappearing again.

The next few minutes very extremely nerve wracking, he had to work very carefully. To make sure that both of them were covered by their respective invisibility cloaks as he quickly stripped the man of his wand and coat. He pocketed the wand and then used the coat to tie the man's arms behind his back. He untied the man's belt as well and used that to tie him up as securely as he could. With every passing minute he expected more Death Eaters to come to the rescue of their fallen comrade.

He wondered what he should do with the unconscious man. If the wards around his house were supposed to keep out Death Eaters then he didn't want to drag him inside the house. What would happen if he dragged the man inside and then the man woke up? No, better to keep him outside the house. His hand tightened around the shovel. Could he? Did he want to take that single irrevocable step. It would be the safest solution. A way to make sure that this Death Eater could never attack him. All he needed to do was swing the shovel a few more times. His fingers for starting to ache from his death grip upon the shovel before he dropped it. No, he would not do that. He would not murder someone in cold blood. He had incapacitated and disarmed the man. That would have to do for now. He tucked the folds of the cloak securely around his prisoner and started dragging the man down the street.

Five minutes later, his muscles were screaming from the effort but he had managed to shove the man under the bushes surrounding a property a few houses down from the Dursley's.