Good Hunting

Isilarma

Written for Round One of the Through Time Competition, which had to be set before the time of the Hogwarts Founders. This is set in 450 BC.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and am not affiliated with Bloomsbury or Scholastic Inc.

The falcon hovered far above the Egyptian plains. A casual observer might have thought that it was searching for its next meal. They would be partially correct. This falcon was indeed hunting, but it paid no heed to the multitude of creatures beneath it. Its sights were set on bigger prey.

Without warning, the bird launched itself into a steep dive. Suddenly frantic mammals and small birds scattered, but the falcon ignored them. Its wings flared bare inches above the ground, and then the bird was gone. A man dropped to the floor and landed in a crouch.

Falco Aesalon straightened slowly, his hand on his wand as his sharp eyes scanned the surroundings. His heart raced from the thrill of the flight, but one would not have known it to look at him. He was perfectly calm, even as every muscle tensed, ready to return to the air in an instant should danger present itself. After all, those who acted without caution did not live to see their children grow.

But minutes passed and there was no sign of any threat, and Falco finally allowed himself to relax. He searched for his water skin, and a frown touched his face.

"Careless."

He flicked his wand and the skin filled immediately, but the frown remained in place. In this environment, neglecting his most important supply could be a fatal mistake. The hot sun was already giving him a headache, and not even the cool water was enough to lift his spirits. Why exactly had he agreed to this again?

Falco grimaced. For the same reason he always did.

"I need your help."

Falco resisted the urge to sigh. "What is it this time, Perikles?"

His old friend steepled his fingers on the desk in front of him. "Do you recall the matter we spoke of the last time you visited?"

"I assume we are not referring to your plans for the Dragon Dispensary."

Perikles rolled his eyes. "The other matter."

Falco thought back. Most of his visit had involved the Athenian's very enthusiastic explanation of his latest architectural project, but there had been something towards the end...

"Are your referring to the rumours of a Dark wizard?"

Perikles nodded. "At the time I had little reliable information, and so it was agreed that we would continue to observe him."

"What went wrong?" Perikles shifted in his seat, and Falco's eyes narrowed. "Perikles..."

"We may have lost him."

Falco stared at him. "A suspected practitioner of the Dark Arts, and you lost him?"

"No need to belabour the point," Perikles muttered.

"How exactly did you manage that?"

"Unimportant," Perikles snapped. "I assure you that those responsible have been dealt with."

Falco sighed. "All right, but why are you telling me all this?"

"Can you not guess?"

"Yes, but I would like to hear you say it anyway."

Perikles glared at him. "I need your help."

Falco leaned back in his chair. "Go on."

"This is serious, Falco. He disappeared right under the eyes of the guards. No one saw him leave, yet I have searched the entire city, and there has been no trace of him."

"And you think I can help? I am flattered."

"This is no time for games," Perikles growled. "We have no idea what he is capable of. He must be found, and you are the best tracker I know. If anyone can find him, it is you." He ran a hand through his thinning hair. "He must be found."

Falco nodded, all levity fading. "Do you have any idea of where to start?"

"I have heard that he took passage to Egypt. Beyond that, I do not know."

"That is enough." He rose to his feet. "I will leave immediately."

Perikles stood too, his eyes dark with concern. "Be careful. We do not know how dangerous he is."

Falco grinned. "What can catch a hawk? I shall be fine."

Perikles expression clearly betrayed is scepticism, but he nodded. "Very well. May all the gods be with you."

Falco sighed. It had been three months since that meeting, and he was beginning to regret his willingness to help. Egypt was not exactly a small area. To make matters worse, no-one he spoke to seemed able, or willing, to help him. He shook his head and stowed his water skin away. There were still several hours of daylight left, and flying would clear his head. Taking a deep breath, Falco gathered his magic, and took to the skies.

Three hours later, and Falco was tired, hungry, and bored out of his mind. The most exciting thing he had seen all afternoon was a snake. He was just about to give up for the night when his sharp eyes spotted a small hut in the distance.

It was nothing special, just a typical peasant's house located by the bank of a stream, but Falco angled himself towards it anyway. Out here, any source of information was valuable. At the very least, it would keep the day from being a complete waste.

Falco was careful to regain human form and approach from a safe distance. He could not tell whether the occupants were magical or not, and while a few Muggles posed little threat, there was no point in wasting energy. He kept his hand on his wand as he walked past a few neat rows of plants, and rapped on the door. There was a soft shuffling noise from inside, and then the door swung open.

Almost immediately, Falco felt himself relax. The man who opened the door was positively ancient. His skin was deeply lined, and he was completely bald but for a few thin strands of white hair. He leaned heavily on a staff, and looked so frail that a breeze would probably be enough to knock him over. He squinted up at Falco.

"How can I help you, young man?"

Falco coughed. "Forgive the interruption sir; I was wondering if you had had any visitors recently."

The man gave a rasping chuckle. "No one visits old Herpo."

"Oh. Well, have you seen any strangers recently?"

Herpo's brow crinkled. "Sensible folk don't come here often."

Well, it had been a long shot. "I see. Thank you for your time." He began to turn away.

"Why the sudden interest in comings and goings hereabouts?"

Falco glanced back. "I am searching for a man, a criminal from Greece. I had heard that he passed this way." He intended to keep his mission a secret, but details like that would do no harm.

"Dangerous work, hunting," Herpo said quietly. "You have courage."

Falco shrugged. "It was the least I could do."

Herpo cocked his head to one side. "I see." His face broke into a smile, revealing a row of yellowed teeth. "In that case, it seems the least I can do is invite you to supper."

"I do not wish to impose," Falco began, but Herpo waved his protests away.

"There is plenty. And there is a sad lack of company out here."

Falco hesitated, but Herpo did seem harmless enough, and he really was hungry. If the worst came to pass, he could always shift forms and fly away. That thought decided the matter, and he nodded.

"Then I would be honoured to accept your invitation."

Herpo smiled, and stepped back to allow him entrance. Falco firmly squashed the last of his misgivings, and followed him inside.

The interior was cramped and dingy. Despite the warmth of the day, a small fire burned in the grate, sending dancing shadows flickering on the walls. The effect was slightly unnerving, but Falco's attention was soon drawn to the shelves that lined the walls. Some held a random assortment of plants and herbs, but others were occupied by scrolls of all shapes and sizes. A small desk sat in the corner of the room, and it too was covered in scrolls, and sheets of papyrus. All in all, it was a remarkable collection.

"Mementoes."

Falco started. "I'm sorry?"

There was a soft chuckle, then the door clicked shut. Falco shifted in the suddenly stifling heat, but Herpo didn't even seem to notice the temperature as he came to stand next to him.

"I travelled a great deal in my youth." He shuffled round to tend to a small pot hanging over the fire. "Take a seat, young man."

Falco did so. "Have you lived here long?"

"No. Just a short time."

A bead of sweat rolled down Falco's face, and he had to force himself not to fidget. How could anyone choose to live like this? He was so preoccupied with his growing discomfort that he almost missed the man's next words.

"Tell me more about this criminal you seek. Where did he come from?"

"I am not sure," Falco admitted. "I was sent by a friend in Athens."

"That is quite some distance. You must wish to catch this man very much."

Falco smirked. "No man escapes me. I will catch him sooner or later."

Maybe it was weariness. Maybe it was just the firelight. It may have been a combination of the two, but for a split-second, Falco could have sworn that Herpo's eyes changed. He blinked, and then Herpo was placing a bowl in front of him.

"There you are."

Falco nodded his thanks, but he couldn't help a brief glance at his host's eyes. Definitely brown.

"Is everything all right?"

Falco rubbed his eyes. It must have been a trick of the light. "Sorry. It has been a long day." He took a quick gulp of his soup and winced as he scalded his throat. He swallowed again, more cautiously this time, and nodded.

"This is excellent, thank you." There were a few flavours that he couldn't quite place, but it was so good to have hot food that he did not care.

"I am glad to hear it," Herpo murmured. He had seated himself opposite, and his gaze was locked on Falco's. Falco shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"So, what do you do out here?"

"I read. Write. I keep myself occupied. And what of yourself? Do you make a habit of hunting down criminals?"

Falco swallowed again and shrugged. "Not really. This is a favour for a friend." He was about to continue, when a soft rustling noise met his ears. Herpo caught his eye.

"It is probably a snake. They do like my garden."

That did nothing to allay Falco's wariness. "And you don't mind?"

"Why should I? They never do my any harm."

Falco bit his lip. There was nothing wrong with that, plenty of people liked snakes, but he couldn't help feeling uneasy. He gave himself a mental shake; the heat and the shifting firelight must be getting to him.

"Tell me, what do you intend to do with your prey once you catch him?"

"Ideally, I will take him back to answer for his crimes," Falco answered. "But somehow I doubt he will come quietly, so..." He trailed off with a shrug. "As long as he's no longer a threat, I don't really care what happens to him."

Herpo's eyes narrowed. "I see."

Falco frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Herpo gave a thin smile. "Not at all, my friend."

Falco's unease was growing stronger. He couldn't put a name to it, but something was definitely wrong. He pushed the bowl away.

"Thank you for your hospitality, but I think I must be on my way." He rose to his feet, only to stagger as his vision suddenly blurred. A hand rested on his arm.

"Oh dear. Feeling a little unsteady, are we?"

Falco shook his head, but his nausea only increased. "I... What's happening?"

"I think you might need a little sit down." There was a distinctly self-satisfied edge to the words, and Falco felt a dull flush of anger.

"No!"

With a huge effort, Falco wrenched his arm away, only to fall to his knees as he found his legs unable to bear his weight. His head spun, and his skin felt like it was on fire. Fear exploded within him.

"What-?"

Through a haze of pain, he heard footsteps shuffle closer. "Poor little falcon. Flew too high, hunted too hard."

"You... How..."

"The wise serpent watches and waits, and is not taken by surprise. I knew they would come."

Falco forced his head up. "Who...are you?"

Burning deep ruby eyes met his. "I am Herpo. And I hunted you." A cruel smirk spread across his face, and Falco could only wonder how he had ever thought that this man was a friend.

"They...will find you."

"You found me. Look what happened to you."

Falco slumped back to the floor, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. He heard the rustling noise again and tried to turn, but all his strength had drained from him. Then came the hisses, and his worst fears were confirmed.

"No..."

Herpo's blurred face swam into view. "Fly away now, little bird," he said softly. "Before the predator becomes the prey."

But the transformation that had once been as easy as breathing simply would not come.

"You..."

"A simple concoction. I do dislike wasting food."

Not that, anything but that. Raw terror overtook him as the hisses drew closer. "Please..."

But even as he spoke, he knew it was no use. There was a low chuckle, a cruel hiss, and then everything was lost in a pair of vivid yellow eyes.

Herpo turned from the still twitching form, paying no heed to the Basilisk that swept over the corpse. No trace would remain once his creations were finished.

"They will come for him," his familiar whispered, from its perch around his wrist. "They will come for us."

Herpo shrugged. "Let them," he hissed. "They will find nothing, and even if they do..." His gaze flickered to the long green form and a smirk touched his lips. Nothing could touch him.

He dismissed the matter from his mind and returned his attention to the scrolls on the desk. The Basilisk had been a triumph beyond all expectations, but his greatest work had yet to come. It was nearly complete; all that remained was to determine the runes necessary to preserve the container. He drew another scroll towards him and began to formulate the first sequence.

Let them come. Let them burn. He would survive.

Well, that was an interesting experiment. Thanks for reading!