"Okay, Flock! Welcome to the Scottish countryside!" I yelled above the wind rushing through our ears. Winter was starting to set in, where-ever the hell we were, and soon we were going to have to find a place to bunk down temporarily- or at least until the ferocious cold snap wears out. Our bird DNA doesn't control our thoughts or primary functions or anything, but we still find ourselves storing food we don't need, as though preparing for famine. I, personally, have caught myself trying to stuff an extra thirty or so granola bars into my backpack lately. Swooping down, careful to avoid the pine trees, we settled in a closed off area surrounded by foliage.
"This should keep the wind, and eventually even the snow, off our backs." I announced, hands on hips as the rest of the Flock started setting up. Watching the trees sway and bend under the force of the cold, brutal winter wind, I added a thoughtful, "Well, for tonight."
Fang grunted from somewhere behind me, rummaging through his pack. I rolled my eyes at Mr. Tall-dark-and-only-capable-of-speaking-in-monosyllables. Returning my attention to Iggy and his pile-of-sticks wonder, I contemplated investing in more matches, after the last batch –meant for fire-making, those idiots- was burnt out in a typical Dynamic Duo project.
Plonking down in front of the smoking kindle Iggy had managed to push underneath some heavier firewood, I watched the flames lick up the sides of one bark-encased log. I linked my hands together in front of me, leaning forward with my upper body from my cross-legged position, stretching my wingspan out fully, flexing aching muscles. I caught Fang rubbing his shoulder before doing something similar out of the corner of my eye. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to fly in this harsh, chilling wind, that reminded me somewhat of a higher-temperature, moderate dose of typical Antarctic weather. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around drawn-up knees, before cocooning myself under a feathery third set of limbs.
Itex, or the pitiful excuse for rogue branches of Itex-wannabes, have been getting bolder lately. You'd think finding the remains of their stolen Itex experiments would deter them, but apparently not. Despite the small numbers of Flyboys, Erasers and the like, which somehow manage to remind me of sample groups, there was one unfortunate incident involving an animated lump of steel somewhat resembling an infected Flyboy, and my right wing. The wound was fairly new, but the feathers were already growing like stubble out of the small bald patch. Wrapping my feathery security blanket around me just a little more snugly, I fought a losing battle to keep out the cold. The wind seemed to have shifted slightly in direction, and we were almost directly in its path.
"Anyone volunteering to go fetch some rabbit, or something, and scout out a more stable shelter? No?" I addressed the Flock, not expecting much enthusiasm. I didn't even get any verbal response, just five identical looks that probably relayed something rude, and a barking sort of snort from Total. Hesitantly stretching my wings behind me, warming them a few seconds longer by the fire, I took a running leap, snatching Gazzy's half-eaten chocolate bar as I went. His indignant "Hey!" carried after me on the wind.
I'd given up on finding live food- everything was tucked up safe and warm away from the weather. I had passed over a lake, then a forest, searching for an adequate campsite, preferably unreachable by sleet, snow, hail, rain, or unfriendly mutants. The wind was picking up again, though, making it a constant struggle to keep heading in the right direction. My wings were slowly freezing, feathers encased in a thin layer of ice, and growing stiffer and heavier as the wind beat on me, and the air grew laden with moisture. Flight pattern irregular, I was about ready to mentally flip off the Voice as it invaded my addled mind.
Go with the flow, Max. Struggling, in some situations, is indeed useless.
The Voice's vague-but-occasionally-appropriate advice was hard to hold onto, but the basics eventually got through to me. Deciding to mentally scream some rather choice words to the voice in my head, -which was a sentence that made sense at the time- I angled my wings to match the surge of air, and just glided along with the occasional stiff flap.
A gruesomely familiar burst of white-hot, stinging pain across the base of my skull snapped my eyes closed, along with my wings, and my retinas were aching with their own in-flight movie scrolling across my vision. DNA charts, mutilated Erasers, faceless people, nameless places, and a whole lot of numbers, pulsed through my mind until I was only dimly aware that I was crashing into what felt like a dense forest of trees, and that my wings had gone limp and were spread out behind me. It was a small mercy that I was unconscious by the time I hit the unforgiving ground.
I awoke to a warm sensation tingling in my limbs. I groaned, then stiffened, assessing myself carefully for injuries. Arms, check! Legs, check! Wings, ch-
I finally managed to register the fact that I wasn't alone on the dimly-lit forest floor. Scrambling from my pained position spread-eagle on the roots of a tree, three people's voices invaded my still-throbbing head.
"Bloody hell! She's awake!"
"Miss, are you okay?"
"What are you doing here?"
The sloppy stance I attempted to lift myself into, ignoring creaking bones and stiff muscles, was definitely not my smartest idea for the day. Head exploding, body wracked with painful tremors, three kids looked on in horror as I again tried to defend myself. They all looked around fifteen, possibly, and thier funny-looking cloaks were identical, and displayed some sort of crest.
"Who are you?! Where am I?! What do you want?!" I shot rapid-fire questions at the odd trio, eventually pausing for a reply. The only girl amongst the three seemed to draw herself up, recovering with a cautious smile.
"I-I'm Hermione Granger, this is Ron Weasley and that's Harry." She stuttered nervously, despite her confidence-relaying stiff posture. Her eyes flashed briefly towards my back, mouth opened to prepare her own interrogation. The Weasel kid beat her to it, bright hair and freckles reminding me of a mix between Gazzy and the Red Haired Wonder.
"That looks like an awesome spell- did you charm them onto your back or transfigure a bird or something and use a sticking charm? Not a permanent one, I hope." His eyebrows drew together briefly, a pause in his rant. Scratch that earlier thought- Nudge, Gazzy, and Miss Perfect's hair.
"Ron, don't harass her." Admonished a scrawny kid with glasses and dishevelled black hair. Bright green eyes rose to hold mine, with a stare that said he acknowledged and respected my secrets. Which was a strange coming from this average-looking kid.
Meanwhile, the girl had acquired a challenging, intellectual glint in her eye that complete threw me off.
"Who… who are you?" she spoke up, pushing bushy hair out of her face. She seemed gifted with an untameable mane of hair that reminded me achingly of Nudge, my Flock, and the fact that I was supposed to be finding my family and not conversing with strangers in a forest. At least two of them could keep their eyes on my face, but that other Weasel kid couldn't stop gawping over my extra set of limbs with moronic, poorly-hidden interest.
Just as I was about to snap back that, who I am is my business, and none of yours, I caught sight of their half-hidden hands from beneath long folds of fabric. They were red, and rubbed raw, and looked pretty painful. Bright patches of pink, missing skin glared back at me. I hesitated.
"Did you..?" I gestured towards my wings, and the girl seemed to get what I was aiming at.
"When we found you, you felt like ice." Concern rippled behind large, doe-brown eyes. "Warming charms didn't seem to do much to bring up your core temperature, so we were rubbing your limbs to try to get some warmth back into them…" she paused, wincing, and I finally drew my eyes to my own skin, which was grazed and bruised from the fall, and pink in places where it had been rubbed over and over again. I wasn't worried about that- if broken bones can heal in a week, broken skin and horrible bruises only take a night or so.
The continuous references to 'charms' and such were confusing, however, but I resolved to investigate that once I'd checked the state of my wings. Warily stretching them, ignoring the trio's shocked gasps, I angled them in front of me and running my finger from base to tip. A bump rested halfway through my right wing, rendering the rest limp and useless. It'd have to be set before it healed any further.
Disregarding watchful, curious gazes, I rested one hand after the knot, the other before, and slipped the bone back into place with a sickening crack that echoed through my body, bitting my lip hard in an effort not to whimper. Now I just had to wait for my Itex-given super-duper healing to kick in. Glancing up with careful eyes, I saw that the red-haired kid's expression was horrified, and the other two seemed to have frozen their faces in the middle of a nasty flinch. Picking a sturdy-looking stick off the ground, and ripping the already-threadbare material of my jeans so that they rested just below my knees, I used the strips to secure the makeshift splint in place.
"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" the loud bellow sounded like it belonged to a giant, and my head snapped up so fast that my neck protested loudly. Who ever owned that voice either had a megaphone shoved down his throat or had the volume capabilities of an opera singer.
"Hagrid! Here!" Red-kid yelled back, twisting to face the trees. I only had enough time to freeze in place as a hulking shadow waddled through the trees with great, shuddering steps that left the forest floor vibrating slightly at impact. He was big- bigger than an Eraser, and when he stepped out from the cover of dense foliage, I saw that he was about as hairy as one, too. At around seven feet tall, his shadow enveloped the trio. The giant walked over to us with hurried, shuddering steps, and dropped a pile of funny-smelling blankets into the girl's arms, who staggered. She passed one to each or her friends and then held one in my direction, too. Cautious, but still freezing, I accepted the coarse-fibred blanket with only minimal suspicion. The giant -Hagrid, I think- leaned towards the two boys to whisper something in undertones, thick accent muffled slightly through his bushy, overgrown beard. I wrapped the material around my shoulders, wings tucked in out of habit. The right one was still broken, though, and poked bulkily through the slits of my jacket.
The giant man started gesturing towards me, great arms swinging, mumbling about something that sounded suspiciously like 'take her back'. Back where? Where ever it was they wanted to take me, I didn't plan on sticking around anyway. That broken bone could get me up past the tree tops, I was sure, to higher-up place where I could land and rustle together something for my rumbling stomach. Glancing quickly down at the blanket, I admitted mournfully that the added weight of the heavy material would only slow me down. Glancing over at the three quickly, I muttered an unheard thanks before dropping the blanket and making a running leap for a parting in the tree tops. I had misjudged where the broken bone had been however, and spasms of pain did nothing to help the fact that my wing tip was bent and useless, and was sending me spiralling into a tree stump that I'd been lucky to miss during my last Max-meet-ground. Right before impact, someone decided to turn off the lights.
The sound of hushed voices broke me from the pain-free world of sleep. Head throbbing, I raised myself up on my elbows so I could at least attempt a sitting position. The world around me swam, and I was suddenly aware that I had been leaning against a cloud-soft pillow, and that the texture under my fingers was sheets.
But then I registered the antiseptic-like smell that invaded my senses, bringing with it a rush of painful memories. Everything was still only blurred shapes in the distance, and I realized that my movements were much slower than usual, when I slipped and landed flat back on the bed. I've been drugged! a voice somewhere inside me screamed. But I had been sleeping on a bed, felt –for once- thankfully free of needles, and the warm feeling settled across my insides wasn't lifting.
"You ridiculous girl! Jumping like that, with that break! If you so much as think about sitting up without my express permission, young woman, I assure you the next potion you'll be drinking won't taste like pumpkin juice!" Potion? Pumpkin juice? This woman was barking mad, obviously. But I was horrified to find that instead of having something similar to say, a disgusting little girly giggle slipped out.
"Pumpkinsss? Wha' abou' pum'kins…" No, stop! I screamed, but the words only kept flowing, ridiculous little phrases that made no sense.
"Oh dear… It would seem that the Calming Draught I gave our young friend here appears to have reacted quite peculiarly…" that same woman's voice echoed in my ears, and I wondered who she was talking to. Clearing my throat noisily, I struggling back on the mattress to rest against propped up pillows.
"Where… am I in a hospital?" I muttered, feeling like I'd been eating cotton balls.
"Be careful not to strain yourself, dear, or those marvels hanging out of your shoulder blades." I was finally able to put a face to the voice, as the woman stepped closer and her features became sharper and distinguishable. "I'm Madam Promfrey." She continued, fetching a cup from a little table between the rows of beds. There was a squeak of hinges, drawing my attention to a large, heavy door that had swung open to reveal the three kids from before. I winced, still strangely woozy and disorientated, when the woman barked at the trio.
"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger. Why am I not surprised that it's you three attracting trouble again. Not even three days into the year, honestly!" the trio had the good grace to appear a little guilty, at least, and the woman pointed to a glass by the bed filled with a strange green liquid before disappearing into an adjoining room.
"You're finally bloody awake!" 'Mr Weasley' grinned, revealing a piece of chewed chicken between his teeth.
"Ronald!" the girl gasped, sounding scandalised, before shooting me a quick smile. "I'm glad you're okay. That bump to the head looked rather nasty. Don't worry, Madam Promfrey is the school healer, and she's seen worse." Weasel kid rolled his eyes, leaning forward eagerly.
"Oh, come on, Hermione! You're not asking any of the important questions!" he rolled his eyes again, and Hermione stood there with one hand on her hip and an annoyed look on her face.
"Like what, Ron?" the other kid, who'd been pretty quiet, asked with an eye-roll of his own and a patronising tone.
"Like what spell she used! Or how come it ran out, and she crashed into that stump, and why her wings didn't just disappear when they-"
"Er, hey? Still here." I interjected, raising a limp hand for a small wave in his direction.
"Oh, yeah." He blinked.
"Ok, before the interrogation, I've got some questions of my own, here." I settled a little easier into the pillows, enjoying them while I still could, but tensing for a fight.
"Of course." Hermione said, pulling the other two with her and sitting down on the bed across from mine.
"Where the H.E. double-hockey-sticks am I?"
"The school, of course!" Weasel answered before the other two could, throwing his arms up.
It certainly didn't lack the hospital smell- but the walls were all made of stone, I wasn't tied to the bed, and the cup by the desk hadn't been forced upon me via a needle of the sharp variety.
"No, I'm not." I answered, taking another look around.
"Yes, you are." He said slowly, like talking to a small child. "You're at Hogwarts- where else? That was the Forbidden Forest you crashed into, you know." He crossed his arms and gave me an incredulous look that I suppose he thought made him look superior. Actually, it just made him look constipated. I considered relaying that fact to him, but decided to play nice for now.
"Ron, I don't think she knows where she is at all, you git." The black haired kid said- Potty, or something. He ignored the red-haired kid's –Ron, I guess- mumble of "Thanks, Harry," and continued.
"You're at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He answered promptly, looking at me expectantly, like that explained everything.
"Right…" I drawled, and suddenly remembered that forest and my injured wing. I slipped off my blood-stained hoodie, sitting there in just my tank top and jeans, and threw it at the foot of the bed. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Ron had frozen, mouth open, face stained darker than a tomato. The messy-haired kid –Harry, was it?- had averted his eyes politely, and Hermione was glaring at Ron. I ignored them, shifting to bring my right wing into my line of sight, and prodding at it experimentally. Hermione's eyebrows drew together, and she looked like she wanted to argue, but wisely closed her mouth. I unravelled the end of the bandage just as the nurse came walking back in.
"Young lady! Do not fiddle with my work-" she lunged forward while fishing a pointy stick out of her pocket.
"It's fine." I cut in, letting the bandage fall away completely, revealing completely healed skin and small tufts of re-forming feathers. The kink had disappeared from my wing, and it was almost completely healed. A little stiff as I stretched my full wingspan out on either side, but healing nicely.
Normally I'd never think of ever exposing my wings to strangers like this… but these people had done nothing but help me. And it helped that they already had some sort of logical conclusion drawn about my wings that meant they barely batted an eyelash. These people obviously don't read the news that often, either, out here in the middle of the Scottish country side.
My view of these kids having no access to the outside world was shattered when Hermione opened her mouth, a stunned look pasted across her features.
"You're her, aren't you? I mean- you're Maximum Ride? Really?" her eyes were wide, and I winced when I realized I'd once again made a mistake. But then the other two piped up.
"Who's Maximum Ride?" they asked almost simultaneously, confusion lacing their words. Hermione looked like she was about to answer, but I caught her eye determinedly and shook my head. She hesitated.
"Oh, it's nothing really. I made a mistake, that's all." She said to the boys, her tone a little choked and almost hesitant. I felt a little bad about making her lie to her friends. They still looked suspicious, especially Ron, and she added, "It's a muggle thing." Which made him roll his eyes and look back at me. Harry's eyes narrowed, stare still trained on a nervous-looking Hermione.
"So, you've really never heard of Hogwarts?" Ron asked, breaking the stare off between his friends unknowingly. I shook my head, glancing around, and wondering when that nurse had slipped off.
"I've heard of hogs, I've heard of warts, and I've got no idea why someone would want to name a school after either, let alone both." Harry nodded at me, looking thoughtful.
"But the wards should have repelled you if you're a muggle!" Ron piped up, looking over at Hermione, who nodded, biting her lip.
"You're not a witch?" Harry asked, and I looked at him strangely. A witch, really!
"Wow. You've got no idea about magic." Ron sat back, expression stunned.
"Magic? What're you dribbling about now?"
"People born of magical descent- from a family of wizards and witches, who can perform magic using a wand." He held up a piece of wood, identical to the twigs the other two were fishing out of their clothes. "You're in Hogwarts, a boarding school where kids learn how to use magic, make potions, and stuff like that." He finished, storing his 'wand' away god-knows-where. Hermione must have seen the doubt in my eyes and the sceptical look on my face, because before I knew it she said something in a loud, clear voice, that sounded something like, "Wingardium Leviosa," and the bed started hovering a few inches off the floor. Wait, what?
The three looked at me expectantly. I sighed, watching the bed continue to float. I finally looked up at them.
"I think you'd better restart- from the beginning this time."
__________
OK, that's the first part of my re-do of MF. If you see any mistakes- point 'em out, please! I'm pretty sure I got most of the errors, though…
I've decided to set this in tGoF, so the Triwizard tournament will make an appearance.
Does anyone know exactly when (and how far into the year it is) when Dumbledore makes the speech about the Triwizard tournament? Please let me know, along with details I might have missed, as I have yet to relocate my copy of the book.
Opinions greatly appreciated- is this version better than the last?