Plotting Bunnies
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the obvious, the rest belongs to JK Rowling and the makers of the Riddick-series.
Author's Note: I apologise greatly for the delay in posting in, well, everything, but I am currently on vacation and have shockingly little time to write. Therefore I thought to appease you people with an old thing I once started, and which will never be finished. So please enjoy and don't kill the writer for being insanely late with updating.
Crossover: Harry Potter & The Chronicles of Riddick: Pitch Black.
Pairing: Riddick/Harry
Warnings: Some AU in the HP-verse during the 6th and 7th books and, by extent, a bit of AU in the Pitch Black movie.
Rating: T
This is not beta-ed seeing as my beta isn't fond of slash.
One-shot # 6: Sleeping Sun
Part One:
Harry stared at the crumbling stone arch, almost hypnotized by the fluttering veil and the whispers coming from it. Then he resolutely shook his head and ignored it to the best of his abilities, turning his full attention to Luna Lovegood.
"So, what does this DD1-prject of yours got to do with the Arch?" Hermione asked the Ravenclaw. The two women had reached a sort of truce – agreeing that they would rarely agree on anything – and had become rather good friends over the past years.
"We have recently discovered that this Arch is, in fact, a gateway to travel to different dimensions," Luna replied in a surprisingly non-dreamy tone. "We plot in the coordinates and voila! it opens to a new dimension. It's rather simple, actually. So simple that even the muggles are working on something similar, a secret project of theirs called Stargate, I'm sure you've heard of it, it's been all over the muggle and wizarding news lately."
"Of course. Hard to miss a newsflash like that." Harry said.
"Huh?" Ron's confusion was clear. "When did this news appear?"
"If you ever read anything other than the sports pages, then you'd know." Hermione grumbled.
Harry nodded. "But I still don't understand exactly what the three of us are doing here. You said that you could send us away from all the publicity and craziness of our current lives, and I assume that the Arch has something to do with that?"
Luna nodded. "Correct, Harry. Now that we know that it's safe for people to travel through the Arch, the Minister has decided to start sending exploration-teams out. Shacklebolt and I have pulled in some favours – not that we needed many with you being whom you are – and have managed to get you three clearing to go through the door and start exploring dimensions. This is, of course, all very secret and hush-hush, and you would have to take a few oaths and such never to talk to anyone not in the know about it, but it will keep you out of the public eye for as long as is needed until this whole hype dies down."
"Are you serious?!" Hermione practically squealed happily.
"Perfectly serious. So, what do you say?"
"Of course we'll do it!" the bushy-haired girl replied before Harry or Ron could open their mouths. "All that we can discover! All that knowledge waiting to be found! Oh, Harry, Ron, lets go at once!"
"Easy there!" Harry tried to calm the almost-hyper woman down. "We need to get lots of affairs in order if we are to do this, and we need to alert our friends and family to our departure so that they don't get panic – and of course we won't mention anything about the specifics of it all, Luna, but certain people deserve to know at least that we are leaving."
"I simply can't wait!" Hermione was almost bouncing. "You must excuse me, I need to go research all of this. Dimensional theory, the muggle Stargate-project, travelling through space and time…" she trailed off as she practically ran out of the room, already heading for the closest library.
The former Ravenclaw raised an amused eyebrow. "I guess this is a really good opportunity for her to focus her energy into new research. I haven't seen her like this since before the war."
"This is exactly what she needs." Ron smiled.
Harry nodded. "The war hit her hard. It hit all of us hard. It's time for the survivors to start really living again, I think."
"Either way, I thank you profoundly for giving both us this chance, Luna." The tall redhead was grinning by now.
"Anytime, you two; and may I be the first person to welcome you to the Dimension-Door-project, stage one."
-x-x-x-x-
Harry sighed as he was once again dragged bodily from place to place by a very curious and hyper Hermione Granger. He swore that his shoulder would end up dislocated if this kept up, and quite frankly, he didn't like the possibility that he would have to pop it back into place. However, he held his peace and let the bushy-haired woman do what she wanted. Said peace lasted merely for another five minutes, before Harry couldn't take it anymore and dug his heels into the ground. The dragging stopped – thank god! – and Hermione let go of his arm, allowing him to massage some feeling back into it.
"Hermione, I love you, I really do, and as a friend you're invaluable, but please stop dragging me around like a child." He said to her, though not unkindly.
"But Harry," Hermione counted. "This is a very important mission! We have to get as much information about this dimension as possible before we return to our own! It's a Ministry-issued mission! And we were lucky that they allowed three civilians like us to join this project; why, if it hadn't been for Luna and Shacklebolt pulling some strings we would still be sitting back in the wizarding world, twiddling our thumbs and being chased by journalists, reporters, interviewers, fans, and gods know what else!"
"I know that, Hermione, but we've been on this project for the past six years and they haven't kicked us out yet, and that says something. We're the best team they've got, and they know it! Besides, we checked in with the mother dimension just last week, and now have ten months before we have to check in again. Which means that there is no need to hurry." The twenty-four-year-old man told his companion. "No need to rush at all!"
"Yes there is!" she insisted. "I've booked us on a spaceship on its way to the Tangier System, and it leaves this afternoon."
"And we are going to one of the planets in said system," Harry assumed.
"Not quite right. The ship's supposed to make a pit stop on the planet Helion Prime, in the city of New Mecca, and that's where we're getting off. I'm dying to know exactly how the religions of Christianity and Islam managed to end up as one, as Chrislam. And what better place to find out than the capital city of said religion? Besides, Helion Prime is far away from our current location, and it will take us nearly eight months in space to get there, so we need to leave as soon as possible. Oh! And Ron said he'd meet us in New Mecca as well. Apparently his newly-acquired spaceship needs some minor adjustments."
"I told Ron that becoming a merc wasn't healthy – for him or for his ship." The green-eyed male shook his head fondly, and smiled slightly. "So, when exactly does our ship leave, and what's the name and the dock? I want to go scope it out before we leave."
"You're far too paranoid, Harry. Not everything is a conspiracy, you know. You and Ron are almost turning into Mad-Eye Moody! What happened to simply going to a library to find out what you need?"
"The name, the time and the dock of the ship, please, Hermione." Came the non-relenting reply. "And while you're at it, my ticket as well. If anyone asks, I want to have a valid reason to be there."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but handed the ticket over. "The ship's called the Hunter-Gratzner, it's a passenger-freighter. It may not be the most comfortable way to travel, but we need to save as much money as possible until we can check in with the mother dimension again, or until Ron can bring in another criminal and another pay check. These tickets cost enough as it is!"
"And the dock?"
"Five. Dock Five. We leave at 1800 hours, so we need to get moving. There are still some things I want to check out in the library close to the docks, mostly concerning the ship itself, the route it will take and its history of crew and cargo, and that will take time. We also need to buy some of that space-travel food and water."
"I suppose you want me to check that out while you're in the library?"
"Please, and could you please come get me at the library once it gets close to departure time? You know how I get amongst books."
"Of course I know, your obsession with books is legendary after all. And you know that I'll pick you up no matter what." Harry smiled at her. "Now get going to that library before all that knowledge escapes your grubby little hands. Get!" he gave her a slight push down the street.
"Excuse me?! Grubby little what?!" Hermione mock-glared at him, and stuck her nose into the air. "See if I talk to you again, snake-man!" she headed off down the street, making a rather comical sight.
The green-eyed young man simply chuckled. "I'll see you later Hermione!" he called after her and started heading towards the docks. As he walked he had to wonder to himself how the hell the Boy-Who-Lived and his two best friends ended up in a different dimension, on assignment for the Ministry of Magic.
'I suppose that it started with the discover of just what the veiled Arch in the Department of Mysteries really was.' He mused to himself. 'Or it may have started with the death of Voldemort.'
Yes, the Dark Lord was long gone. Actually, it had only been seven years since the man's defeat, but it felt like a lifetime. It had been surprisingly easy – now that he looked back at it – to find the rest of the horcruxes and destroy them. The uber-wand et all just kind of fell into place on their own due to Dumbledore, so that couldn't really be counted as the trio's work.
'This only proves the fact that anything can be destroyed as long as one really puts one's mind to it.'
And once the damn horcruxes were gone the battle against the Dark Lord himself had gone surprisingly easy. Of course, people still died, and many good wizards and witches had been lost – amongst them Tonks, Mad-Eye, Remus and countless others – but in the end they had won, and there would be peace in the wizarding world again until another person got it into their heads to rule the world. It was a never-ending cycle, and Harry had understood that early on, he simply prayed that the next battle wouldn't be his, that he would be dead, buried and turned to dust before that ever happened.
The British wizarding world had done remarkably well in pulling itself together, and with ample help from other countries it hadn't taken more than sixth months before almost all of the property damage had been taken care of. Rufus Scrimgeour had come through in the end, and had been re-elected twice already, proving himself to be a very good and wise Minister for Magic. Most people simply seemed to wish to forget about the entire war, and had turned their attention to other things – one of which, unfortunately, was their savour Harry Potter. Since the last battle Harry hadn't had a single moment's peace of mind what with constantly being chased by fans, admirers, people who wanted to interview him, take pictures, try to make friends with him, have his autograph, murder him for killing the Dark Lord, the list went ever on. Hermione, the Weasleys and the other war-heroes didn't fare much better. So when Luna Lovegood, of all people, had invited Harry, Ron and Hermione to join the top-secret project DD1 – tempting them with the promise of no more annoying fans and paparazzi – they had eagerly accepted.
The DD1-project had given them a chance to escape the madness of their lives, to not have to be reminded al the time by well-wishing letters of exactly whom they had lost in the war, and thus found the trio being one of the first teams to travel to a different dimension. In the past years the they had explored several worlds, and so far hadn't had any major trouble, and the races they had encountered had been ranging from friendly, to wary, to indifferent, but never outright hostile.
'And what's even better, Hermione and Ron seem to be getting some of that old spark for life back in their eyes. I can almost swear that I've walked in on several snogging feasts – at the very least, both their clothes seemed far too rumbled for a game of Exploding Snap. Yes, this project is some of the best thing that could have happened to us all.' Harry concluded his inner musings as he finally reached dock five and the Hunter-Gratzner.
The ship was shaped like a long tube, and didn't look too shabby. As Harry approached it several compartments – most likely full of cargo – were being connected to the main hull of the ship. The deep-space drives that were going to do most of the work once the ship got on route, would be added last. The name of the ship was proudly written in white on the front of the main hull, and underneath it was the name of the corporation that owned the ship.
"Can I 'elp you with anythin'?" A man with greying hair and beard, and approximately in his fifties, stepped up to Harry.
"Just wanted to see the ship I'll be travelling with in a few hours." The green-eyed man replied smoothly.
"Ah, a passenger, ey? The name's Tom Mitchell, and I'm the cap'n of this 'ere fine ship." He shook Harry's hand. "Nice te meetcha, lass!"
"… likewise." Harry had to keep himself from punching the man. Just because Harry wore his black hair in a braid that almost reached to his knees and wasn't built like a freaking body-builder (seemingly the favoured body-shape of most males in this dimension), and everyone assumed that he was a woman. However, despite this annoyingly-frequent conversation-opener, Harry and the captain stood talking for a good while longer before a cryo-locker was wheeled past the two of them, apparently already with someone inside, making Harry shudder for some strange reason. There was something – someone – dangerous in that cryo-locker. "Would you mind terribly if I asked who that was?"
Captain Mitchell watched as the locker was loaded into the ship, before he turned back to Harry. "Jus' a no-good prisoner bein' transported, ain't nothin' te worry 'bout, lass. Everyone sleeps during cryo-lock, ain't no way the prisoner coul' get out. And 'ere is someone who can gives you more assurances. Johns! Over 'ere, man!"
A blond man around thirty years of age, ceased his watching of the loading of the cryo-locker, and headed towards them. He was wearing a white shirt, with a Kevlar, bullet-proof vest over it. The official badge of a marshall was proudly displayed on his chest. He was carrying a big gun slung around his shoulder, had another equally as big attached to his right thigh, and a large knife attached on his other side along with a baton. Several other weapons were most likely hidden away on his body as well.
'A merc just like Ron. Hunts down convicts and escaped prisoners for pay. For him to have reached marshall-status he must have brought in all of his assignments, which means that he is really good. And that, in turn, indicates that the cryo-locker that just passed contains a very dangerous criminal.' Harry thought to himself. 'I have a really bad feeling about this trip for some strange reason.'
"Mitchell," the blond man nodded once he had reached the other two.
"Johns, this 'ere lady seems te feel anxious 'bout that there prisoner an' needs some calmin'," the captain said pointedly ignoring Harry's wide eyes and angry sputters. "Do an ol' man a favour, an' calm the missy down, aye? You might e'en end up gettin' some afore we depart." The man winked to Johns and to Harry and then walked off to supervise the last checkups of his ship that were to take place before the passengers were allowed on board.
Harry was left standing there looking torn between total and utter indignation, and the want to kill Captain Mitchell with his own bare hands. 'Maybe I could relieve this Johns-character of that large fancy knife. If I throw it at this distance I'm sure to hit the old pervert!'
Johns, on the other hand, shook his head and rolled his eyes, before turning to the other person with him, and checked them out. The insanely long, braided black hair was the first to catch his attention, followed by impossibly green eyes that were shooting sparks at the departing Mitchell. The 'lady' was slim, with a body built for speed rather than strength, and was, in fact, not a lady at all, but a young man. How Mitchell had made such a mistake, Johns wouldn't ever need or want to know. Instead he focused on answering any questions the young man might have.
"I'm sorry. About the old man, that is. I believe he's one of the mechanics aboard the Hunter-Gratzner, harmless really." The blond sighed and stuck out a hand. "William J. Johns."
"Harry Potter," Harry replied and they shook hands. "Mitchell told me he was the captain of the ship."
"Perhaps, but unlikely. I just came from the docking office, and the captain of the Gratzner hadn't signed in yet as far as they knew."
"Maybe he got past them? Or forgot?"
"Maybe." Johns agreed. "Now, the old-timer said you were worried about the prisoner that was just taken aboard. I can assure you that he ain't gettin' out of there. Tripple-max security cryo-locker. Only way he's gettin' out is if someone lets him out, or the power's cut off, and even then he's got chains on hands and feet, and a bit to work through. As said, ain't nothin' to worry about."
Harry raised an eyebrow at the surprising lack of confidence in the man's tone; oh, it was well-disguised, but it was still there. Johns was afraid of the prisoner. And a triple-max security cryo-locker? Now that really did confirm that the person inside said locker was one of the more dangerous and smarter convicts around. "And you find it wise to transport such a person with civilians?"
Johns shrugged. "Unless we crash there is little chance of something going wrong."
"Lets hope you didn't jinx us right now."
-x-x-x-x-
Picking up Hermione and dragging her from the library was harder said than done. Even when the woman knew they were in a hurry the books and papers strewn around her took precedence, but in the end Harry managed to get her to dock five in time. They showed off their tickets to a blonde woman, were led into the cryo-locker-cabin by a friendly man who introduced himself as Owens, and were then pointed to their personal cryo-chambers.
Harry observed the other passengers. Women, men, children, tall, short, fat, thin, dark-skinned, white as snow, you name it. Every sort seemed to have found their way to the Gratzner. There was a mulatto man dressed in Arabic garb and followed by three young boys, that excused himself politely for bumping slightly into Hermione. There was a middle-aged, almost-balding, nervous sort of man, a pair of glasses perched on his nose, who didn't quite seem to know what to do or where to go. A dark-tanned couple passed Harry as well, nodding politely to the green-eyed man. They were followed by a young boy in faded clothes, who couldn't be more than thirteen at most. The teen took the locker next to Harry's, and looked up at the older man.
Harry stared back, and raised an amused eyebrow.
"Your eyes are so green, like snake-eyes. So cool." The boy muttered, the voice having a certain feminine lilt to it, for lack of better word. Or it could be that the teen hadn't gone through the embarrassing voice-change yet.
"Thank you." Harry replied and stuck out a hand. "I'm Harry."
"Jack." The boy replied with a grin.
The rest of the passengers quickly got on, and the captain's voice echoed throughout the entire ship, ordering everyone who wasn't crew or passenger to get the hell out, and for said passengers to get their buts into their cryo-lockers and prepare for a long deep, sleep. Because of the completely metallic-sounding voice on the speakers Harry couldn't figure out if it was a man or a woman speaking, and couldn't confirm whether or not Mitchell really was the captain of the ship, or that there was someone else – as Johns had thought.
Harry first made sure that young Jack was snug within his cryo-locker, before entering his own. Harry leaned back against the cushioned back wall, and secured the straps and belts. Right across from him he could see Hermione doing the same in another cryo-locker, and when she looked up from her work she waved at him and gave him the thumbs-up sign that all was well. A little further down the small corridor Harry could barely make out the cryo-locker with the prisoner inside, and Johns making a quick last-minute check.
He closed his eyes and retreated to a meditative state. 'This is going to be a long voyage.'
Part Two:
Ron and Hermione approached their best friend sitting on one of the beds in Hogwarts' hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was there as well, looking torn between sympathy for the green-eyed teen, and giddiness for some strange reason. The woman clearly didn't know whether to bounce around the room, or to give her condolences. Harry just looked slightly annoyed.
"So, what's the verdict, mate?" Ron asked. "Did you find out what all those weird things were?"
"We did indeed, Mister Weasley," Madam Pomfrey had obviously settled for giddiness, and was eagerly writing something on her clipboard, occasionally sending looks towards the seated Harry. "And it was not, as first suspected, remnants of You-Know-Who's soul."
"What was it, then?" Hermione inquired. "Why did Harry suddenly get slit pupils? How about his sudden ability to seek out heat-sources in near pitch darkness, amazingly avoiding to bump into things? And the slight growth of his canine teeth? Was he bitten by a vampire while he was a sleep? Or perhaps a werewolf?"
"Please calm down, 'Mione, and let the woman answer your questions!" Ron clamped a hand over the girl's mouth.
"I believe I would've known if I was bitten by either of those two," Harry pointed out as well.
Madam Pomfrey simply smiled at the interaction. "For once, Miss Granger, you are remarkably way off the mark, as one would say. It is none of those; in fact, this is something completely new, and I don't think it has ever happened before in recorded history! It's a completely new discovery that opens possibilities-!"
"Madam Pomfrey, please tell us what's wrong with my best mate." Ron pleaded when it seemed like the matron was ready to give them a lecture.
"Oh, well, right. I apologise." She cleared her throat in embarrassment. This was the first chance she had had since the war to do something productive, and it was easy for her to go off on tangent. "Simply put, Mr Weasley, your friend here has gained the attributes of a snake. This is due to the basilisk venom in his body, from that hair-rising adventure of yours a few years back. The phoenix tears that healed the wound and saved Mr Potter's life, also acted as a counterweight to the basilisk venom, and the two components have been trying to gain the upper hand – for lack of better term – for the past five years or so. In the end, Mr Potter's body and magic accepted the two foreign substances, and forced them to work together, giving young Mr Potter slight animal-like attributes."
"But as there were phoenix tears involved as well, I assume that the basilisk venom was more potent?" Hermione said.
"Correct, but I believe this has something to do with Mr Potter's ability to speak parseltongue. Either way, it is nothing much to worry about, it won't affect your life all that much. You will not get the dangerous eyes of a basilisk, nor will you turn into a snake – unless you choose to become an animagus, Mr Potter – but do not be surprised if you suddenly find that those nice fangs of yours can produce a weak venom. Or if you suddenly find yourself eyeing a frog or a mouse, and thinking it a delightful meal."
"I'll just think of it as an animagus form of sort," Harry muttered. "Much easier to get my mind around."
"And will the phoenix tears give him any new cool powers?" Ron asked.
"Since the basilisk venom is the dominant factor here, the tears simply work as a counterbalance to it," Madam Pomfrey replied. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if Mr Potter suddenly gained a wonderful singing voice."
"Excellent mate, you can become one of those muggle opera-singers or something!" the redhead grinned, and clapped the dark-haired teen on the back as they headed for the exit, and Hermione giggled at Harry's disgruntled look.
"One more thing, Mr Potter," the nurse called after them. "Since you are my most frequent and favourite patient, I'll give you a warning. As I already said, this is a completely new phenomenon, and I would keep it to myself if I were you. Savour of the wizarding world or not, Mr Potter, you might just end up as a lab rat if word gets out of your unique condition."
It was an ominous warning, but very true, and Harry, Ron and Hermione never told anyone about it.
-x-x-x-x-
Due to this unique situation, Harry had quickly learned the cryo-sleep didn't work well with him. Unlike other normal people, he simply entered a sort of meditative state for the duration of the voyage; sometimes he would slip into a deeper meditation, almost a sleep of sorts, and stay there for a long time, but he would always return to the light meditative stage he started with, and he always remained aware of what was going on with the rest of the ship. He, Ron and Hermione had read up on cryo-lockers and cryo-sleep in order to see if it couldn't be fixed – it was boring being aware of every single minute of long journeys without being able to talk to someone – and hadn't found one single thing. There hadn't ever been any recorded cases such as Harry's, and therefore there was no information about it.
"It says here that most of one's brain shuts down in cryo-sleep," Hermione had muttered, pointing to a page. "But if it did that, then the rest of the body functions would shut down as well, resulting in death. Which means that there is some small part of the brain that doesn't shut down. Now, seeing as most of the body functions run on automatic and instincts, it means that that this part of the brain is the one that remains awake. If I remember correctly from my discussions with Professor McGonagall, this is also the part where a wizard's animagus animal-form stems from."
"And this means that the primal animal-side of me is keeping me awake?"
"Correct."
"But everyone has a primal side, so why aren't everyone awake?" Ron wondered.
"Because Harry's more in tune with his due to the basilisk venom and phoenix tears in his blood. You've made peace with your animal-side, you've accepted it for what it is, and you make frequent use of it; you don't ignore it like most humans do. If I or Ron were animagi we would probably stay awake as well."
Harry had sighed, and since then had decided that he really, really hated to travel in cryo-lockers. He knew that for the first week after departure that the crew of the ship would be awake in order to get them en route, and he could've amused himself by listening to their conversations, but the cryo-locker rarely let in any noise. So he had to find other methods to amuse himself with. He tried singing to himself, but one could only take so many renditions of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall before one went stir crazy.
Once, during a cryo-sleep-meditation-whatever, he had discovered an ability to connect his minds with the other passengers. He could attach himself to the thoughts of one person – but only during cryo-sleep – and get to know everything about them, all they dreamed during cryo-sleep, all their experiences, all their memories. He didn't know if this was due to the phoenix tears or the basilisk blood, but he felt somewhat grateful for it; it kept him amused between the deep sleep-like meditations he slipped into, and he had quickly gotten past his guilt for intruding into other peoples privacy.
So, about three weeks into the voyage, when the crew of the Hunter-Gratzner finally went into cryo-sleep as well, Harry started his exploration. He first checked up on Hermione, sending warm thoughts and feelings into her – she had often complained about the vast darkness and coldness she experienced while in cryo-sleep – and felt her consciousness give him a grateful nudge in return, before she fell into deep sleep again. Then he checked up on young Jack, only to raise a mental eyebrow in surprise. The young boy was, in fact, a girl. A girl that had run away from her orphanage as soon as she had gotten enough money to buy a ticket. Harry felt a sort of déjà vu then, seeing something of himself in the girl. Both were often mistaken for being of the opposite sex, both had a hard start in life, both were survivors. He couldn't help the brotherly feelings welling up in him, and sent Jack gentle thoughts and feelings of warmth as well.
Most of the other passengers didn't prove to be very interesting, simply people who were travelling somewhere. Some wanted a new start in life, some were visiting relatives, some relocated because of their job, some were thieves, others came from an equally shady side of life, a few thought themselves to be Indiana-Jones-style explorers, there was much variety. But there were also a few interesting cases. Harry got it confirmed that Tom Mitchell really was the captain of the Gratzner. The docking pilot, Carolyn Fry, was considering to quit her job due to dislike of cryo-sleep. There was an entrepreneur, i.e. an antiquities dealer, who dreamed of going to France on Earth. Harry found it very informative to pick the brains of the Arabic-dressed man that had apologised to Hermione for bumping into her, learning a new language was always fun, and he hadn't had the chance to learn Arabian before. The three children travelling with him were all the sons of some sheik, and the four of them were on pilgrimage to New Mecca.
The dark-tanned couple that had passed Harry on their way to their cryo-lockers, weren't married, but they were in a relationship. The woman was the daughter of some rich Australian industrialist, and had shunned said father and his money in order to roam the universe as a free-settler with her aboriginal lover. That happening had really been a complete and utter scandal according to their memories, but Harry couldn't help but find it all very amusing, and silently congratulated the two for breaking the rules and norms, and doing what they wanted, before he moved on to the next person.
Johns was not a pleasant mind to go through, and Harry found himself shocked to know that the man had killed two children in order to capture the prisoner he was currently guarding. After this piece of information, Harry quickly retreated from the man's mind, and kept to himself for a week or two of deep, sleep-like meditation. He had meant it to bee a week or two, but in the end he was sure that more than six weeks had passed, meaning that they had been in space for about eighteen weeks, if his inner clock was right.
'Well, bloody hell. We're still not there and I've already gone through most peoples brains. Suppose I could go back to the Arab, and learn more of his language, but…' Harry sighed mentally. 'How utterly boring.'
Green eyes opened for the first time in what seemed like ages, and Harry looked out of his cryo-locker, the little light above him giving him enough illumination to work with. Across from him Hermione seemed to be perfectly fine, the lockers beside her filled up with the three-man crew of the Hunter-Gratzner. Red light out of the corner of his eye brought Harry's attention to the cryo-locker carrying the prisoner, Richard B. Riddick, if the information he got from his very brief picking of Johns' brain was correct.
'I wonder what picking a convict's brain might be like…' Harry mused, his attention fully focused on the figure of a man he could vaguely see in the other locker. He fought with himself a while longer, then decided to go for it. 'I have seen death before, and I have even killed before. I can stomach whatever's inside the guy's head.'
Harry slipped back into the meditative state – he had to be in such a state to read peoples thoughts, and people had to be in cryo-sleep for it to work. He, Ron and Hermione had experimented with it, and that was the simple conclusion of it all, which Harry found rather weird. Then again, he wasn't a trained legilimens at all, and his occlumency shields couldn't keep a baby out, and Hermione had theorized that people needed to be in such a relaxed state to be receptive for Harry's non-professional intrusion, or something similar.
'Either way, here we go.' Harry carefully started to get closer to the convict's unprotected mind, careful not to probe too deep too soon. Almost like a mother's gentle caress he came closer and closer to the other's surface-thoughts. Vague flashes of Riddick's most recent fight with Johns went through his brain, and Harry was about to go in deeper, when something completely unexpected happened.
Harry found himself latched onto by mental hands in a strong grip, caught by the very person whose brain he was trying to pick. Quickly realising that Riddick wasn't as asleep as he had first thought, Harry beat a hasty retreat with a powerful mental push, trying to minimize the damage. Such a sudden retreat would give Riddick a headache and a half, but Harry didn't care at the moment. Never had he met someone who could capture him like that; never had he met another person who stayed awake during cryo-sleep. Unfortunately some of his own memories had slipped through despite the quick retreat, and Harry could only hope that his and Riddick's paths would never cross again, because the convict hadn't given off a very happy feeling right then.
"Bloody hell." Harry muttered to himself, panting as if he had just ran the marathon. His eyes focused on Riddick's cryo-locker, and he could almost swear that the other man was gazing right at him despite the blindfold. 'Right. I've learned my lesson. No more brain-picking on this voyage. From now on I'll stick to the good old classics. 99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer! You take one down, and pass it around! 98 bottles of beer on the wall!'
-x-x-x-x-
The next time Harry came out of his deep sleep-meditation wasn't due to his own devices, but rather something external. The alarms of the ship were going crazy, red light was flashing, the ship shaking, and Harry could see the cryo-lockers of the crew opening, spitting said crew out. Or, rather, two lockers opened, while the third stayed shut, the lights turned off. The female officer, Fry, and the nice Owens looked to be totally shocked for a second, before a violent lurch of the ship got them going again, and they disappeared out of Harry's range of sight.
'Shit.' Harry thought to himself. He could feel the ship gaining speed, the hull heating up slightly. He knew that others of the passengers were coming out of cryo-sleep, could see Hermione's worried face across from him. 'You jinxed us, Johns. You fucking jinxed us!'
All that the passengers in the cryo-lockers could do was to simply stare at whomever was across from them, and pray that everything went well. The alarms were finally turned off by one of the crew, but the danger was far from over. The shaking and the lurching of the ship became wilder and wilder, and Harry could practically feel the heat of the metal as they entered the atmosphere of some planet. Hermione's eyes were closed, her face scrunched up as she pushed her magic through the metal hull of the ship in an attempt to hold it together and give them all a better chance at surviving the landing, and Harry quickly did the same.
It felt like an eternity before the ship finally hit ground, the great impact sending everyone in their cryo-lockers crashing into walls. Some cryo-lockers were detached from their places, flying across the room and hitting other lockers. Sudden light filled the hold as the tail of the cabin was ripped away, screams could be heard along with the clinking and clanking of things hitting each other, and Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to see anymore. His cryo-locker was ripped away from its position and landed on the side, almost giving him a concussion.
The ship finally came to a full stop, and Harry slowly dared to open his eyes again. Another cryo-locker had fallen in front of his own, but he had enough room to open the door and squeeze out. He frantically pushed the emergency-release button, but it seemed to be completely broken. Therefore he manoeuvred around a bit in the tight space, and finally managed to put his booted feet against the door. He kicked again and again, until the glass-panel finally gave away and fell to the floor. Greedily gulping in fresh oxygen, Harry managed to shimmy his way out, and after putting himself together slightly, he looked around.
It was total chaos. Cryo-lockers had been thrown all around, along with whatever else that had been in the passenger-cabin. Wires and cables hung out of the walls or down from the ceiling, and support beams and pillars had been ripped away and were all over the place. The back of the passenger-cabin had been ripped off, yellow dust rising thickly, but enough light came in to see by. Ghostly figures were walking all around the wreckage, coughing, calling, searching for other survivors, and to his great relief Harry spotted Hermione helping someone out of a ruined cryo-locker.
Banging and muffled shouts caught the green-eyed man's attention, and he turned to the cryo-locker that had fallen beside his own. It was lying on its door, and he would have completely forgotten about it if someone inside hadn't woken up.
"Please!" came the vague shouts. "Let me out! Please!! Anybody!!"
'Jack!' Harry recognised the voice, and attempted to turn the heavy locker. He spotted the Arab some ways off and called to him. "Please help me turn this over! Someone's trapped inside!"
The man hurried over along with his three charges, and together they managed to turn the heavy thing. Harry found a piece of a pipe that would work perfectly as a crowbar, and, together with the mulatto man, popped open to the door of the locker. Jack sat up with a gasp, desperately trying to get air back into the lungs again, and Harry crutched down by the disguised girl, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You gonna be alright?"
Jack grabbed onto the hand on her shoulder, holding on for dear life until she had calmed down sufficiently enough to nod. "Y-yeah. 'm awright." When she finally seemed to be breathing somewhat normally again, she looked up at Harry. "Somethin' went wrong, huh?"
Harry simply helps the girl to her feet, and together with the four others they make their way towards where the other survivors seemed to have congregated. They were warmly welcomed by Hermione who gave everyone a hug, and were quickly introduced to the others. Harry remained polite despite the fact that he already knew who was who. Then Johns entered with Fry, and the introductions went around again.
"Has anybody seen Owens?" Fry finally asked, and people looked around wondering who Owens was. "Oh, gods!" the woman exclaimed and hurried off, quickly followed by the rest of the survivors. Jack took an involuntary step back into Harry once they finally found Owens, still trapped to his chair, and with a metal rod piercing his body, far too close to his heart. The three younger pilgrims didn't seem to be fairing much better, and gathered around their older leader. Hermione gasped, one hand clutching Harry's arm, the other covering her mouth. It really wasn't a pretty sight.
Fry slowly inched forwards and stretched out a hand, only to recoil it quickly in surprise when Owens started shouting: "Out, out, out, out! GET IT OUTTA ME!!"
"He's still alive!" Jack seemed horrified.
"You've gotta pull that thing outta him." Zeke said to Fry, indicating the metal rod.
"No, it's too close to his heart." Shezza disagreed.
"Just do it fast," Paris insisted.
Harry shook his head. "Not going to help. Owens will not survive anyway." The rest looked at him in a mix of horror and surprise, and he shrugged. Just because they didn't want to accept the reality of the situation, didn't mean that no one else did. He was simply telling the truth, as brutal as it might be. It was another thing he had picked up over the years, the ability to cut straight to the truth and not try to fool himself with wish-thinking no matter how brutal the truth might be.
"Doncha got some drugs for the poor man?" Zeke demanded.
"Don't touch the handle! Don't you dare touch that handle, Fry!" Owens shouted, clearly delirious, not knowing where he was, who he was with, or what had happened.
"Alright! Alright!" Fry seemed on the verge of a breakdown where she kneeled beside her fallen comrade. "There's some Anestaphine in the med-lock at he back of the cabin. Someone please…"
Johns looked pointedly around the back of the cabin that was missing, then turned back to Fry. "Not anymore there ain't."
Harry shook his head, and firmly grabbed Jack's shoulder. "Lets get out of here. This is not something children should see."
"But-!" Jack tried to protest, but was firmly led out of there by Harry and Hermione, followed by Imam and his three charges. Slowly Zeke and Shezza followed as well, and finally Johns exited the navigational-bay. The latter of the group didn't let them stop to stare at the prisoner chained to a support beam in the wrecked cryo-locker cabin, but pushed them onwards and completely out of the ship.
The second Hermione set foot on the heated sands of the planet they had crashed on, she collapsed to her knees with a gasp. Shezza was quick to help her up again. "You alright?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Hermione replied. "The sun, it's so strong, bit of a shock. Thank you."
"Good." The Australian woman nodded, but kept close just in case.
Hermione looked across the group to Harry, who nodded to her. He had felt the same thing upon stepping out of the wreck of the ship. This world was almost completely dead, not only because it seemed entirely composed of a never-ending desert, but also because it had absolutely no magic core at all. All worlds had one, it was what kept them alive, kept the plants growing, gave water, you name it; but here, in this world, there was almost nothing. It was so starved for magic, that the second Harry and Hermione stepped onto it, it started sucking the magic out of them. To keep from being sucked totally dry before they got off this planet – however long that might take – it would be totally imperative that neither Harry nor Hermione used any kind of magic, and that they closed off their magical channels as much as possible.
Gazing along the long, deep furrow that the ship had made upon impact, and trying to ignore Owens cries of pain, Harry sighed heavily. 'Things are just getting better and better.'
Part Three:
Visiting the Weasleys after Fred's death, was weird. The other boys had done a good job of covering up for the losses, Charlie had taken a sabbatical from his dragon-taming days, and Bill and Fleur were there as well in order to help Mrs Weasley get back onto her feet again.
"A hero shouldn't be so careless with his looks, Harry, dear." The Weasley matriarch said well into the conversation. "Here, I'll cut that atrociously long hair right down into a charming hairstyle for you. And you need to eat more, dear heart. A hero shouldn't be so thin, you need to put muscle on those bones. People expect a hero to be broad-shouldered, well-muscled, person who commands others to follow him with his very presence! I do believe there is a potion that can help with that, or perhaps we can put in some shoulder-pads or something. What do you think, Harry?"
"Thanks, Mrs Weasley, but I think I'll keep the braid for a while longer. I've grown attached to it." Harry replied politely. This wasn't the first time Molly Weasley had insisted for him to cut his hair. She did it every time they talked together. It as her way of coping with the things she had seen and done during the war, Harry supposed.
"As you wish dear. Did you know that Bill and Fleur are going to have a baby soon? It's wonderful! I'll be a grandmother finally!"
"It may have been mentioned in passing," Hermione smiled. In fact it had been the only thing on Mrs Weasley's lips for the past week, but all of them were far too polite to point this out.
Harry loved the woman to bits, but sometimes she really could get a bit too obsessed with certain things. Oh, she didn't mean anything bad with all her nagging, it was simply her way of dealing, and Harry usually managed to handle her nagging with great patience and a smile. And the times that he found himself overwhelmed, one of the others would come to his rescue, most often Ron, and Molly Weasley would be distracted and placated enough in her worrying for a short while. However, once the woman started talking about grandchildren – like she was now – there was no stopping here, and they could only sit and hear her out.
"Whenever are you going to fall in love with a nice witch, Harry? There are many out there simply waiting for a hero to sweep them off their feet, and I would be more than happy to help with any children you might end up having." This was how the conversation would start, then came the not so subtle hinting. "Now that you have defeated the Dark Lord, it really is high time for you to find a good girl, Harry, dear, and the same goes of my little Ginny. Oh, there's a thought! What a handsome couple you two would make! You must do things properly, dear, and date her for a while – Ginny isn't dating anyone right now, so she could probably give you hints on what to do and not to do. You must buy the lucky girl an expensive engagement ring, dear. I'm not sure what other girls like, but my Ginny likes diamonds. Set up a nice, romantic dinner for two and propose to the girl – on one knee, remember that Harry. And then you can settle down somewhere your children can grow up safely – with Charlie, Bill, and Ronald gone to live their own lives, there's lots of room here at the Burrow, so you might as well settle down here!"
Ron leaned over to Harry and whispered dryly into his ear, "I'm gonna go out on a limb here, Harry, dear, but I do believe mum is hinting for you to marry my little sister Ginny."
The group had looked over to the corner where Ginny had been sitting all the time, pretending to read a small book – notably turned upside-down – and had seen the girl's face flush charmingly despite the obstructing book. Ginny had sent them a shy, demure look over the book, had promptly turned ten more shades of red, and had ducked behind said book again. But she hadn't done anything at all to stop her mother's rather embarrassing and not-at-all subtle tirade, in fact, she seemed to encourage it at every possible turn.
It didn't take long before Hermione had figured out what was going on, and had proclaimed to the rest of them that Ginny was suffering from De Clerambault's syndrome, otherwise known erotomania. It was a rare disorder in which a person holds a delusional belief that another person, usually of a higher social status, is in love with them – and every look, every gesture, becomes some sort of imagined signal of love.
Mrs Weasley simply outright refused that her youngest child, her little lovely good girl, could ever suffer from such a muggle disease, and had since then stubbornly refused to believe anything anyone tried to tell her, utterly refusing to even check with a psychologist if it might be true. Needless to say that visits to the Burrow declined in number after this confrontation.
-x-x-x-x-
The terrain around them was stark and unforgiving, worse than anything Harry had encountered before – and that was not counting the way the planet leeched off of his magic. The ground was made of hard-packed dirt and small stones rather than soft sand. There were low hills breaking up the terrain, and to one direction there was a cluster of earthen spires. The worst thing about this world, though, seemed to be the two suns that were scorching down on them all – one sun was red, the other yellow.
"Well." Paris sighed, shielding his eyes. "Our own little slice of heaven."
"Does anyone know where we are?" Shezza asked in a sort of resigned tone, not really expecting a reply.
"I think I know," Hermione spoke up, turning everyone's attention to herself. "Before departure I went to the library to check up on the ship, the crew, the route we would be taking. If…" she licked her lips nervously. "If I am correct in my calculations, then we have ended up on a planet in the M-344/G system. We must've been off course for some strange reason, because the system is usually bypassed by deep-space travellers due to complex celestial dynamics."
"Do you know which planet?" Johns asked. "Maybe if we know exactly where we are, we could make a radio or somethin' and send out an SOS."
Hermione sighed. "Maybe PN-2 – that is, Planet Number Two. It seems to fit what little description there is of it. I also seem to remember skimming over a passage mentioning an expedition to this planet. Geologists I think it was, but I can't remember when this was supposed to be."
"That's more than any o' us have come up with," Zeke sighed. "Bloody hell."
"Those geologists you mentioned," Jack looked at the bushy-haired woman. "Could they still be here?"
It was Harry who replied. "Perhaps, or perhaps they moved on, but they are sure to have left some stuff behind somewhere. You can't bring with you a whole house when you leave a planet. How about we make a small scouting party? There's got to be some other survivors out there." He nodded towards the various pieces – both big and small – that had fallen off the ship, and now laid in its wake.
"No, better wait for the captain." Johns cut in. "She'll know what to do, she has the final word in this situation."
Harry raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't correct the man. These people would need something solid to hang on to, and Fry posing as the captain of the Hunter-Gratzner would do the job he supposed. He brought the long braid over his shoulder and un-braided it, then started to braid it again, making sure to gather all the hair that had escaped during the tumult of the crash. The others stared for a minute at the insanely long and thick rope of hair, but then shrugged it off again, to each their own.
The Arab man spoke up. "Which way to New Mecca? We must know the direction in order to pray."
Johns brought out his compass but it didn't work at all, the needle simply span all over the place. Hermione took it from him, and observed it for a while, before nodding to herself. "I am now sure that this is PN-2. The planet has no north or south pole unlike most other planets, which is why the compass won't work. I am sorry, Mr al-Walid, but I cannot help you find the direction to New Mecca."
"Please, call me Imam," the man sighed. "We shall simply have to pray in every direction then." With that he said something in Arabic to his three charges. The four of them climbed down from the top of the ship's hull where everyone was standing, walking a little ways off, placed themselves back to back, and started praying. In this way they rotated until every one of them had prayed in every single direction.
"Diplomatic solution," Paris muttered with a raised eyebrow.
Fry finally made her way onto the back of the ship, her hands still slightly soiled with blood despite her best efforts to clean it off. "Everyone alright?" she asked in a quiet tone.
"As well as can be expected," Harry replied from his place beside Jack.
"There was talk of a scouting party, but with this…" Shezza nodded towards the long scar left by the ship. "It's unlikely anyone else is alive."
"Is anyone else having trouble breathing?" Paris inquired.
"Like I just ran, or somethin'." Jack muttered.
"Feel one lung short. All of us." Shezza agreed. "Do you know why?" she had turned to Hermione, already establishing the other woman as a valuable know-it-all.
Hermione thought for a moment. "The atmosphere here is thinner and more pressurised than on most other planets, I think, which is why we're all having trouble breathing. It's just like when one climbs a really, really high mountain, like Mt Everest or K2. Above a certain lever the oxygen in the atmosphere will thin out, which can be potentially dangerous. If our brains can't get enough oxygen, they'll simply shut down and send us all into a coma. But with the way things are on this planet I think we will get used to it in mere hours."
"Well, do we have a solution for that?" Paris wondered. "I tend towards the asthmatic, and with all this dust…" he hinted, but was ignored for the moment.
"So what the bloody hell happened, anyways?" Zeke asked Fry.
"If what Hermione thinks is true about our location, then something really knocked us off-lane. Maybe a rogue comet, or maybe we'll never know." Fry replied.
"Well, I for one am thoroughly grateful. This beast wasn't made to land like this, but cripes, you rode it down!" Shezza turned to the rest of them. "Only reason we're alive is a'cuzza her."
There were several expressed thanks from the rest of the group, the four Chrislams having rejoined the group a minute or two earlier.
"Thanks."
"Yeah, thanks for savin' our dicks." Jack said and patted Fry's shoulder.
"No, really, thanks awfully." Paris tried to cover the rude language, and sent a dark look towards the teenager.
Harry kept an eye on things, wondering if Fry would speak up and tell the truth about not being the captain, but the woman kept shut. Either she was realising that these people needed a leader and was taking up the mantle, or she was simply too afraid of their reactions to tell the truth.
"Now that that's out of the way, how's about we all get to work?" the green-eyed man suggested as he started to make his way down the side of the hull. "We can't stay here and simply wait for a rescue team, no one will miss us for at least another week. We need to know what we have and how much we have of it, and we need something to help us with the oxygen intake." He helped Jack and Hermione to the ground, then did the same with the youngest of the pilgrim boys.
"And that geologist-group 'Mione mentioned," Johns said, shortening Hermione's name without asking for permission. "Need to see if we can't find them as well. Probably should also dig a grave for the dead, not good to leave them out. No knowing what kind of critters they might attract."
Fry quickly led the group inside the ship to the main cabin, and went over to a rack of suits. "Pressure suits. There's liquid oxygen canisters inside, start ripping out all you can find out. Quick sips only, try to make them last."
"Are we goin' to die of dehydration or sunstroke or hunger, or maybe even somethin' worse? Will we have to turn into cannibals?" Jack asked as she was handed her canister. "What? You don't have to worry about scarin' me." She said when the other grown-ups simply stared at her.
"I think they're more worried about you scaring them," Harry said with a grin.
Zeke was staring at the canister in his hand, a thoughtful look on his face. "I think I might be able to make this air last us a bit longer, with your permission, 'o course, cap'n."
Fry blinked out of her thoughts, having been staring at the chained-up Riddick and wondering what the hell they were supposed to do with the man, and turned to Zeke. "Wha'? Yeah, sure, go right ahead. Anythin' that can help's welcome."
Harry listened to Fry's conversation with Johns concerning Riddick, but then focused back on the work he was helping Zeke with. Pulling down several tubes that had been used for the ship's water-supply, and were the cleanliest thing on this planet, he handed them off to the other man while Shezza gathered something that could be used as mouthpieces.
"It's unfortunate that the water-tank sprung such a big leak," Harry muttered to his two companions. "I could do with a good drink soon."
"Others are searching the cargo hold," Shezza said. "They're bound to find something to drink."
"Done!" Zeke said as he fixed the last piece. The liquid oxygen canisters were now attached to crude belts, a long white tube with mouthpiece would be used as a straw to suck on. They gathered all of the equipment, and with Fry and Johns exited the main hull of the ship, heading towards the cargo hold. As he was the last one to exit, Harry could feel a pair of eyes following his every movement. He turned back and stared straight at Riddick who was staring back, though with those goggles it was hard to tell.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the convict, then simply turned around and left. He knew that the others were afraid of Riddick, anxious with a convict amongst their midst, but Harry was determined not to let fear rule him; besides, after seeing and duelling against Voldemort, an angry Hungarian Horntail, killing a basilisk and dying before coming back to life again, there was little left that could truly frighten him. And he wasn't completely defenceless, even without magic.
He could still feel eyes boring into his neck, and shuddered despite himself.
-x-x-x-x-
For all his nagging, Paris had turned out to be invaluable. He had rented two of the three cargo-holds on the ship to transport his goods, and there was a wide variety of them. His liquor was passed around and everyone but the Chrislams had a sip. Imam and his charges would've gone thirsty if it hadn't been for Harry and Hermione giving them the water they had brought, while the witch and the wizard settled for the alcohol.
"Thank you, my friends." Imam sounded genuine as always. There didn't seem to be one bad bone in that man's body.
"Nothing to it." Harry smiled. He really liked the Chrislam pilgrims. "Don't drink too much, Jack, your body isn't used to alcohol. Besides, you need to keep your wits about you."
"And alcohol only dehydrates you further, so this, quite frankly, isn't really a good idea." Hermione added her two cents in, then took a swig of her own bottle of alcohol before coughing slightly.
At this point Johns, who had gone out to check on his prisoner, came storming back into the cargo hold, looking like a storm cloud. "Riddick's escaped." He practically growled. That really managed to make a commotion amongst the others, and frightened looks were sent all around as if expecting said escaped convict to suddenly appear out of the shadows and kill them all.
"Oh brother," Harry rubbed his face. "What else can go wrong?"
"Alright, what kind of weapons do we have?" Fry asked.
It took some time as they searched through every locker in the cargo-hold, trying to find something useful to defend themselves with. Harry and Hermione praised themselves lucky that their single locker had survived the crash, and that their own stuff was still there. Both of them had a few Ministry-issued knives of various sizes, and a stun gun each of all things! Shezza and Zeke managed to dig up their own stash from the chaos, pulling out a pickaxe, some digging tools and a hunting boomerang. Imam had his ceremonial knife, but that was it. Once again it was Paris who provided them with most of the stuff, as he pulled out various antique weapons from several different lockers.
After the weapons-hunt was over, the group gathered in the main hull, and looked down at the surprisingly impressive collection.
"Not too bad," Fry said.
"What the hell is this?" Zeke asked, pulling out one of the weapons that Paris had brought in.
"Maratha crow-bill war-picks from Northern India. Very rare." Paris replied and took the weapon away from Zeke.
"An' this?" the other man had pulled out another curio.
"Blow-dart hunting stick from Papua New Guinea. That's very, very rare since the tribe's now extinct."
"Couldn't hunt shit with these things, be my guess." Zeke muttered.
Paris glared at him before turning to Johns. "Look, what's the use anyway? If the man's gone, he's gone. Why should he bother us?"
"He can only live out there for so long," the blond merc pointed out calmly. "He'll need the things that we have. And when he comes back, you can be sure that there'll be killin'. Lets head out."
They had agreed to part into two groups, one of which was going to search for water and the geologists camp, and the other was going to stay back at the crash site to bury the dead, and to break into all the lockers in the cargo hold in hope of finding some food. Hermione, who was going with the group that was heading out, was almost giddy with excitement, and Harry had to remind her to keep as much control as possible over her magic, and to use the liquid oxygen sparingly. The Chrislams, who were also going with this group, had changed into traditional Bedouin head-gear, and Johns had produced two caps, giving one to Fry.
"Harry, Zeke, you two keep guard around here." Johns said to the two. He pulled out a gun, cocked it and handed it to Zeke. "Don't be afraid to use it. Shoot first, ask questions later. And Harry, be careful with all those knives. Riddick's nickname would've been Sir Shiv-a-lot if it were up to me."
"I understand," Harry replied, wondering where such a corny name came from and just how long it had taken Johns to come up with it. "No need to worry, Johns, I'll do a wide perimeter search while Zeke digs the graves, and Paris will be on watch atop the ship."
"Well, then, we ought to get going. The suns are setting, and it'll be cooler and easier to search for anything." Fry pointed out.
Suddenly one of the younger pilgrim boys, Suleiman if Harry remembered correctly, came running towards them, waving his arms and shouting for Imam in his native tongue. Once he reached them, he pointed excitedly in a direction, babbling eagerly, obviously wanting them all to see something. Harry, Johns, Zeke, Fry and everyone else either climbed up onto the ship, or ran around it, and stared open-mouthed at what they discovered.
"Merlin's beard!" Hermione gasped.
"My bloody oath!" Shezza exclaimed.
"Oh bugger." Harry groaned.
A blue star was flaring into view as the red and the yellow suns were setting. There was absolutely no night on this planet.
"Three suns?!" Jack exclaimed. "This planet has three suns?!"
"So much for your nightfall," Zeke said to Fry.
"So much for my cocktail hour." Paris muttered, almost pouting comically.
Imam, on the other hand, didn't have such a negative view of things. "We take this as a good sign," he said. "A path, a direction from Allah. Blue sun, blue water."
"Very good sign," Johns snorted as he jumped off the top of the ship. "That's Riddick's direction. You do not wanna be caught in the dark with him."
'Didn't we just point out that there was no night or darkness on this planet?' the green-eyed man thought sarcastically.
Fry blinked. "I thought you found his restraints over there, towards sunset?"
"I did, which means he went towards sunrise." Johns nodded. With a sigh the blond merc called out, "Alright! Everyone with my group head out!"
Harry grabbed Hermione's hand. "Be careful, 'Mione."
She smiled at him. "I will. You be careful too." She said, then ran after the rest of the group, falling into step with Imam and his pilgrims.
Green eyes watched the departing group worriedly, until Zeke and Shezza called for his attention. Harry jumped down from his perch on top of the ship, and walked over to the congregated group. Paris had tied a red handkerchief around his head to protect him from the worst of the heat, and to tell the truth he looked rather silly with it. Jack was wearing a pair of sunglasses that Harry had had in his backpack, and Harry himself had wrapped a long shawl around his head like a Muslim woman, his long braid swinging with each step he took. Zeke and Shezza didn't seem too bothered with the heat, but they did come from a warmer climate after all.
"Lets get started," Shezza said. "Jack, you're with me, helping me break through the lockers in the cargo hold. Paris, you'll be on guard duty while Zeke and Harry get the bodies and dig the grave. Everyone understand? Alright, lets get to it."
They parted ways quickly, all of them hurrying to their appointed tasks.
Harry wasn't sure what it was exactly, but his instincts told him something bad would happen, and he slipped into the mindset he had often been in during the war. 'On this harsh world it's obviously kill or be killed,' he thought as he followed Zeke in order to find an appropriate place to bury their dead. 'And I intend to live for another good couple of years, thank you very much.'
Part Four:
"Harry?"
Harry looked up at his two best friends standing in the doorway. "Yes?"
"Can we talk to you for a minute, mate?" Ron asked, anxiousness colouring his voice.
"Is anything wrong?" the green-eyed teen asked as the other two sat down on the sofa opposite him.
Hermione shook her head quickly. "Nothing's wrong, we… we just wanted you to be the first to know."
"Know what?"
Ron took a deep breath, his hand unconsciously grabbing Hermione's. "We, that is, me and 'Mione, we're getting married. Once all this publicity calms down, and once we get some long-term time off from the DD1. And we were wondering if you'd be my best man?"
The black-haired teen blinked, then grinned widely. "That's wonderful! Congratulations to the both of you! And of course I'll be your best man, Ron. Someone has to keep you from getting cold feet."
Hermione laughed while the redhead sputtered and blushed, finally managing to end it with a muttered 'traitor'.
Harry chuckled. "Have you told your parents?"
"As Ron said, we want to wait until everything calms down to give the happy news." Hermione said, smiling like a happy loon.
They spent another while talking before Mrs Weasley called for Ron to help her set the table, and Harry watched as the two left the room, Hermione heading towards the library. For a second he could've sworn he saw a tendril of magic connecting Hermione and Ron, but then the vision, or whatever it was, was gone, and he shook his head. Either he was hallucinating or that had been real.
'Better check it out later just in case.' Harry thought to himself. That tendril of magic connecting his two best friends could've been nothing to worry about, but better be safe than sorry.
-x-x-x-x
"Hermione your girlfriend?" Zeke asked as he and Harry carried the last of the bodies from the main hull of the ship.
Harry blinked. "Not at all, whatever gave you that idea?"
"Two of you're awfully close, just gets a bloke wonderin'."
The braided younger man chuckled. "We're only best friends. She is engaged to Ron, a mutual friend of ours. We were on our way to meet up with him when this all happened."
Zeke puffed his liquid oxygen breather as they lowered the cloth-wrapped corpse beside five others. "On the way to their weddin'?"
"Not quite yet, they decided to wait for a while before tying the knot." Harry replied and stretched.
The two of them had quickly chosen where to bury the dead in a mass grave – a spot that seemed like a natural, surprisingly deep hollow in the ground – and had quickly set to wrapping up the corpses of the dead in whatever they could find, and dragging them there. They had also brought a large piece of cloth and set it up as a tent above said hollow to shield for the sun once they started digging. Paris had made himself quite comfortable atop the ship, having brought out one of the fold-up chairs he had intended to sell, and settling himself quite nicely in it. He had also brought out a fold-up table and a large, exotic-looking umbrella, and had created himself quite the cosy, shady place up there. Shezza had, as agreed, dragged Jack over to the cargo hold – both to help her break into the other lockers, and also in order to keep the young teen from seeing what Harry and Zeke were doing.
"Didn't mean to pry, mate." Zeke apologised.
"It's alright."
The older man picked up their only shovel and got under the makeshift tent. "I'll dig the hole, and you can fill it up again, deal?"
Harry blinked. "If you are sure."
"Yeah, can't stand bein' out in the sun anymore, anyways."
"Alright then. I'll take a walk around the perimeter, so just call if you need anything." The long-haired man started to wander off, absentmindedly heading towards the tall forest of earthen spires. The things had captured his attention ever since he set foot on this planet, and he wanted to know exactly what they were, and why they were there. He didn't bother to run, but instead walked leisurely, reaching the things in about fifteen minutes.
A wind had picked up, and Harry removed the shawl covering his head, allowing the much-wanted breeze to run through his hair. It felt really good, and despite the three suns it actually cooled him off a bit. He tied the shawl around his waist, like a brightly-coloured sash, letting the ends hang down, and approached the closest spire.
"Hard-packed mud?" he muttered to himself. The spires were all made of hard-packed mud, some of them twice as tall as Hagrid – which said something. He brought out one of the three throwing-knives on his person, and drove it as hard as he could into the spire. Turned out he hadn't needed to use all his strength, since the things were hollow. The top of the spire collapsed off to the side, forcing Harry to jump away, trying not to cough his lungs out and shielding his eyes from all the dust.
Once the dust settled again, Harry approached the halved spire and examined it. There were no marks on the mud inside, nothing to indicate exactly how the spires had come to be in the first place. The spire led down into what he supposed was an underground cavern, and it made him wonder whether there were any creatures down there. He stared down into the darkness with narrowed eyes, allowing his animal side to come to the forefront. Staring down into the darkness, and breathing with his mouth in order to see if there really was something down there. Just like a snake, he could taste it in the air, another rather nice side-effect of the basilisk venom.
He stood there for a long while, simply waiting and watching, and slowly he became aware of something moving in the darkness. He didn't know what it was, it was totally unknown to his senses, but it was there and there was more than one. There were many of them, very many, and they were all seemingly moving in the same direction. Dropping down on his stomach, Harry pressed his ear to the ground and concentrated on listening. He could hear slight, muffled noises of something slithering somewhere, and also some strange clicking sounds.
When he was sure that he had the correct direction, Harry looked up wondering if he could see where the underground creatures were headed, and stopped up short. The things were headed straight for the crash site, and Zeke who was still digging the mass grave. Sudden realisation sparked in him, and he jumped to his feet.
"Fucking hell, this is the last thing we need!" he growled to himself and started running for the crash site, taking a few puffs of the liquid oxygen.
Just before he could exit the forest of spires, a flash out of the corner of his eye and instincts to him to hit the deck and keep on rolling. Which is exactly what he did. Quickly getting back to his feet again, Harry's green eyes went here and there, and finally landed on the figure of his assailant.
Tall and muscular, Richard B. Riddick really did make a striking figure.
"Fuck." Harry couldn't stop himself from cursing again. Some god up there really had to hate him for some strange reason. First they made him immune to cryo-sleep, then they put him on a ship with a dangerous convict, then said convict caught him snooping around in his head, the ship crashed on some backwater desert planet, prisoner escaped, some sort of creature underground was heading towards Zeke, and then the previously-mentioned escapee choosing this as the perfect time to pop up again.
"Good instincts," Riddick said. He had a deep, dark voice that matched the rest of him. "Almost got you." He held up the piece of string that Harry had been using to tie off the end of his long braid. In the other hand he held a very sharp knife that seemed to be fashioned out of bone.
"Subtle knife-work," Harry commented back, keeping his eyes focused completely on the other man, ready to move at a moment's notice. It was obvious that Riddick had the advantage when it came to strength, but Harry had speed on his side. All the green-eyed man figured he had to do, was to keep out of Riddick's reach. "Look, I don't suppose you'd be willing to come back and finish this later?"
Riddick simply smirked whilst sliding into a stance, dropping the hair-tie.
"Didn't think so." The green-eyed man muttered.
The first attack was quick and deadly, aimed to kill, but Harry quickly avoided it and drew his own knives. He went on the offensive, trying to find a weak spot in the other man's defence, but it was difficult – especially since he constantly had to stay out of hand-to-hand combat range. Harry threw one of his knives, aiming for a shoulder in an attempt to disable his opponent. Riddick, however, avoided it smoothly, and the knife barely grazed him before embedding in one of the mud spires.
"You didn't succumb to cryo-sleep," Riddick said as he attacked again. "And you took a little trip inside my head. How did you do it?"
"Which one?" Harry asked, sliding slightly on the small rocks under his feet.
Riddick quickly took advantage of the situation, and tackled the smaller male. The two of them rolled down the slight slope, both trying to get away and receiving shallow, insignificant slice-wounds from each other. With a final push Riddick ended up pinning Harry to the ground, one hand tightly gripping the wrist of Harry's right hand, the other holding the bone-knife to the other's throat. However, Harry wasn't one to be outdone, and was holding one of his own knives in his free hand, tapping it gently against the other's inner thigh, dangerously close to a certain important part of the male anatomy.
"Make a move if you dare." Harry hissed, glaring defiantly up at the bigger man, practically goading the other into making said move.
"Sassy," came the appreciative mutter from the other, lips twitching upwards. "How did you do it?" he continued, meaning his earlier two questions, the bone-knife being pressed just a little more into pale skin. When no answer came after a few minutes, Riddick pressed the knife closer. "How?" he growled, demanding the answer.
The growl sent shivers up and down Harry's spine, in fact this entire situation did. His entire body was hyper aware of the larger body pinning him to the ground, the dark and dangerous aura that he had started to associate with this man only, enveloped them both completely, shutting off all other senses, demanding that he give in to a more superior hunter. When the bone-knife pressed a bit too much for Harry's comfort, he finally gave in with a glare, pressing his own knife closer in warning. "I don't repress my inner animal." He hissed, his eyes practically shooting sparks.
"Interesting…" Riddick trailed off as he stared at the slit pupils.
A sudden shot coming from the direction of the crash site, made them both look in that direction, a healthy survival instinct making them both wary when there was shooting that they had no control over. Harry used the distraction and with all his might pushed at the heavier body atop of his. Unexpected as it was, Riddick was thrown off, and Harry scrambled quickly to his feet, heading as fast as he could towards the ship. He could hear Riddick following him, and for some strange reason it felt like he was in a more dangerous, more deadly, much more primal and animal-like game of Harry Hunting.
As they zigzagged, swung at each other and tried to trip each other up, they heard a series of shots coming from the mass grave. Upon finally reaching the white cloth covering the grave, Harry threw himself down and slid like a snake into the surprisingly deep grave, giving his pursuer no chance to grab him. He looked around wildly, but Zeke was nowhere to be found. However, there was a new hole in one of the walls of the grave, the edge of it smeared with blood. Harry quickly ducked down onto all fours, looking into the hole where Zeke obviously had disappeared into, only to be tugged back when someone grabbed his hair. Looking up Harry found himself in yet another stare-down match with Riddick, the convict having tried to grab Harry's liquid oxygen breather but ending up with the surprisingly intact braid instead.
"Zeke! Zeke!" Shezza's voice made them both freeze for a second, and then the covering over the grave was pulled aside, revealing the woman herself. She stopped dead in her tracks.
Harry supposed that the current picture presented to the Australian woman was not a good one. Him kneeling down by a bloodied hole, one arm stuck into it slightly, his braid being tightly held onto by none other than Riddick, and both of them holding blood-covered knives from their fight earlier. 'It's like being caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie jar.'
The arrival of Jack and Paris snapped Shezza, Harry and Riddick out of their rather comical freeze. Riddick dropped the braid and ran off, Harry jumped to his feet and opened his mouth to explain things. However, Shezza seemed only to have eyes for the bloodied knife, and without preamble kicked at Harry's head with a furious scream. The kick luckily didn't connect fully, but simply grazed his temple, otherwise Harry was sure that he would have ended up with a concussion. As it was he ended up very dizzy, his head aching and spinning, and he vaguely heard Shezza ordering Paris and Jack to keep their weapons trained at him, before she grabbed Harry's own knife and set off after Riddick.
Harry found himself on the verge of unconsciousness, sometimes being more lucid and hearing a furious argument somewhere close to him, and other times being so much out of it that he didn't even notice when Johns hand-cuffed him to a support-beam in the ceiling of the main hull, simply allowing him to hang there despite Hermione's passionate arguments.
When he regained complete consciousness, no more than half an hour could've passed, and he groaned as he took the weight off his shoulders and stood up properly, testing the shackles with a few tugs. Looking around the room, he found Riddick chained up completely to the wall to his right, the man's head resting on his chest. Riddick was still clearly out of it, which made Harry wonder just how hard he had been hit.
"Bloody hell," he muttered as he leaned against the wall. "You try to play the good Samaritan and save a guy, and this is what you get."
Riddick woke up about ten minutes later, and smirked in amusement at Harry's predicament. "Your braid's undone." Was the only comment that came from him.
"Since you're the one who ruined it, it's your job to fix it." Harry sniffed, having no idea where this weird conversation came from or where it was going. Never had he bantered like this with Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters, but Riddick seemed to draw out that side of him, and Harry found himself getting addicted to the taste of flirting with danger. 'This day is getting weirder and weirder.'
The next couple of minutes Harry and Riddick simply spent in a surprisingly comfortable stare-down contest. Harry observing the other's face, wondering what kind of eyes were hidden behind those ever-present goggles. Their contest was interrupted when Johns entered the hull, and Harry looked over at the merc. He could feel Riddick's gaze on his form for a moment longer, a slight feeling of triumph entering the room, before the convict looked over at the blond man as well.
"What happened?" Johns demanded in a harsh tone, glaring at them both.
"I would like to know that as well," Harry demanded right back, pulling on his chained arms for emphasis. "Why the hell am I chained up?"
"I ask the questions and you answer them!" Johns growled and gripped Harry's chin harshly. "Now, what happened?"
Harry's eyes narrowed, but he answered anyway. "Zeke and I found the perfect spot to dig a grave, and dragged the corpses there. Zeke said he'd dig the hole and that I'd fill it back up, so I decided to do a wide perimeter search. Headed towards those earthen spires to the right of the ship, examined them as best I could. Heard some noises from one of said spires, found the direction the noises were going in, and headed back to the ship two warn Zeke. Had a little confrontation with Riddick. We heard gunshots, but came a bit too late to save Zeke. Blood was smeared around the opening as you've probably seen."
"And why was he gripping your braid?"
"Wanted the breather, got a hold of the wrong thing." Riddick growled out.
Johns retreated as step or two, and then sneered before delivering a hard punch to both of them. "You really think I'll believe that? C'mon you two, tell me a better lie!"
"Johns!" Fry's commanding voice came from the opening of the hull. "Get your ass out here, now!"
Luckily Johns left, and Harry glared after the man. "I really want to kill that man." He muttered and carefully licked the new cut on his lip.
It didn't take long before Fry herself entered the cabin, and spent a minute staring at the two chained up men. "So, where is he?" she asked.
Riddick and Harry shared a quick, slightly amused look at this. They were trying to play good-cop-bad-cop with them, and both found it amusing. Sure, the two might have tried to kill each other no less than an hour ago, but right now they were comrades in chains, and that had almost automatically forged a sort of shaky temporary alliance between them.
"Tell me about the sounds, then. You told Johns that your heard some sounds before the gunshots…" Fry continued, but trailed off when it was clear that neither of the two men were about to talk. "If you don't talk to me, then Johns'll simply come back in here and take another crack at it, and your skulls."
"Mean the whispers?" Riddick finally spoke up from his dark corner, in an equally dark voice.
Fry blinked. "What whispers?"
"The ones tellin' me to go for the sweet spot, just left of the spine, fourth lumbar down. The abdominal aorta. Metallic taste to it, human blood. Coppery. But if you cut it with peppermint schnapps, that goes away-"
"Why don't we try shocking me with the truth now?" Fry demanded despite the fact that she was clearly uncomfortable.
"All of you people are so scared of me – except, perhaps, the sassy little snake here," Riddick sounded thoroughly amused as he nodded towards Harry. "Most days I'd take that as a compliment. But it ain't me you gotta worry about now."
Harry glared. "Call me that one more time, and I will cut off your family jewels." He hissed.
The woman gathered her courage, and stepped forwards. "Show me your eyes, Riddick."
'What an abrupt change in topic.' The green-eyed man mused as he watched the other two interact. 'And what's the deal with the eyes anyway? If he doesn't want to show them, then he doesn't want to show them, end of story. It's not like it's the end of the world if everyone doesn't know exactly what colour they are. What can be so special about them? Is one eye blue and the other black, or something?'
Fry had reached out, and had removed the goggles, but Riddick's eyes stayed shut. She had asked again, and the man had told her to come closer, and closer. And suddenly Riddick shot out of his chair, as if attacking, but the chains held him back. Fry jumped backwards a bit, her eyes wide and mouth open as she stared at what had been revealed. Riddick's eyes had no irises, just a pair of huge black-pool pupils. There was a silver-ish, jewel-like eye-shine that seemed to come from deep within the man, giving him the dangerous and yet beautiful look of a starved jaguar.
"Where the hell can I get eyes like that?"
The three of them turned towards the stairs leading out, finding Jack standing beside one of the fallen bulkheads.
'I thought she thought my eyes were cool.' The green-eyed man almost pouted.
"You've gotta kill a few people," Riddick told the girl.
Jack was almost bouncing. "That's alright, I can do it!"
'That sounds so wrong coming from a thirteen-year-old girl's mouth.'
"Then you gotta be sent to a slam where they'll tell you that you'll never see daylight again. And you dig up a doctor, and pay him twenty menthol cools to do a surgical shine-job on your eyeballs."
The teen was grinning as she understood the meaning. "So that you can see who's sneaking up on you in the dark."
"Exactly."
"Jack! Get out of here! Now!" Fry's voice cut into the conversation, ordering the youngest person away. After spending a minute looking like she wanted to argue, Jack finally disappeared.
"Cute kid." Riddick commented.
'The convict calmly commenting on the cuteness of a kid, now that's cute.' Harry snickered to himself.
"Did I kill a few people? Sure. But did I kill Zeke? No. You've got the wrong killer."
"Then where is he? He's not in the hole, we've looked."
"Look deeper." Was Riddick's reply to that.
Harry almost winced at that, knowing that Hermione would down right insist on going down there. He had to at least try to stop them from doing something so stupid. "I would advise you not to go into that hole. There's something down there, and it's gotten a taste for human flesh. You'd be walking into a death trap for sure."
She looked at him, in a mix between disappointment and distrust. "Duly noted," she finally replied before walking away.
"Hermione better not die down there, Fry!" Harry called after her, his voice threatening. Then leaned heavily against the wall, grumbling about stupid situations, fucking idiots not listening to good advice, and idiotic know-it-all women who simply had to know everything about anything, and couldn't leave well enough alone. He growled. 'Damn!'
Part Five:
The blue-eyed devil had shot two kids to get to him this time, kids that hadn't done anything wrong in their entire lives. Children were the only thing worthwhile in this fucked up universe, and they were the only thing that could be counted as a weakness when it came to him. Riddick had wanted to rip off the devil's fucking blond head at that moment, but he'd held back, biding his time. Hell of a lot good that had led to, being recaptured and having Johns gloat in his face again. But this time the merc had chosen a ghost lane back to slam, and things often went wrong on those.
Being transported with civilians had been something of an insult, but Johns had probably used up most of the money the merc-guild had given him to get high. Riddick had resigned himself to a long, boring trip. Using his senses to examine the other travellers. Women, men, even a few children. The crew, free-settlers, hoodoo holy pilgrims, opportunists, there was every kind. Then he'd come across them. The young man and the young woman who held a different sort of energy than the rest, a controlled yet wild energy, ready for use. Powerful. Something he had never stumbled across before. The sense of danger had lied hidden around them, but he'd easily picked up on it. They had both killed before, and would do so again if forced to. They were interesting. The feel of that energy almost addictive. Had to watch out for that, didn't want to make the same mistake as Johns.
Far out into the trip someone had suddenly, carefully started to poke around in his brain. Didn't like that one bit. Had tried to capture them, but the little snake had escaped. Had left some clues though. An image of long black, braided hair, and green eyes. The feel of the foreign energy told him it was one of them, the young man. There had been something different about the feel of the energy, unlike the woman's this was something… primal, animal-like. Nothing as strong as his own animal-side, but it told him that someone else was awake during cryo-sleep. First time that had happened as well. It'd made Riddick doubly curious.
The crash had been almost expected. He'd tried to escape, of course, but the blue-eyed devil stopped him. Again. Really was going to kill Johns at some point, couldn't take much more of the man. Annoying as hell. As the survivors had left the main hull, he'd finally gotten a good look at them. The woman wasn't much, ordinary looking with a mane of bushy hair. The man, on the other hand, caught Riddick's attention at once. Body was built for speed, endurance. Was no stranger to situations out of the ordinary, kept calm where everyone else felt anxious. The very long braid, messed up during the crash, swung with every step. Wanted to run his hands through that curtain of hair for some reason. Found it fascinating. Hadn't managed to catch sight of the green eyes he knew were there.
Owens' screams had been annoyingly loud, and Fry had used up what was left of the ship's water-supply to wash off the blood. Her movements had been quick, hurried, nervous, her eyes flickering around in the half-darkness of the cabin. Riddick had listened carefully to the conversation going on outside, deciding that the bushy-haired woman was highly knowledgeable and valuable. The green-eyed snooping snake turned out to be brutally honest, hindering the survivors from falling into a false sense of security. He was an experienced fighter, a hunter, but Johns seemed to not take much notice of it.
He wanted one of those liquid oxygen breathers. He may not have gotten one, but he did get a stare-down with green-eyed man. Riddick glared from behind his goggles, challenging the other man, wanting to smell fear colouring the other's scent. What he got in return was a simple dismissal. First time someone had to such a degree ignored the threat he represented, having absolutely no fear of him at all. There was no submission to be found in the act, even though the other looked away first. Riddick's curiosity for that pair seemed to grow in leaps and bounds. He'd also admit that Green-Eyes was very pleasing to the eye, certainly much better to stare at than Johns all the time, or even Fry.
His next escape-attempt went much better. He waited for the group searching for the geologist camp in the graveyard, hidden between the enormous bones. Heard a very interesting conversation between Fry and Johns. What a pair those two made. The bushy-haired woman had almost found him as she wandered between and inside the large skeletons, making notes in a book, trying to find out what had killed the beasts, but she had been called away by the oldest pilgrim. Riddick had waited for a while longer, before heading back to the crash site. He wanted to talk to the green-eyed snake, and he wanted one of those breathers.
Riddick found the green-eyed man amongst the earthen spires, and observed as the other examined them carefully, putting his ear to the ground and listening for the excited clicking noises that Riddick could vaguely hear. Smart man. The position also gave Riddick a good look at the smaller man's ass, planting dangerous ideas. Then the other had started running for the crash site, and he had attacked. As expected the little snake had avoided the attack, but Riddick had gotten a feel of that long braid and found that he liked the texture and thickness of it. The following scuffle had been informative; the smaller man was agile, quick, and very bold, Riddick decided upon feeling a blade pressing into his inner thigh. Then the green-eyed snake had challenged him instead of submitting to the stronger hunter, and he had added 'deliciously sassy' to the list of attributes.
Wanting answers to his questions Riddick had pressed on, getting an answer that only raised more questions. The green eyes with the slit pupils were almost hypnotic, catching his gaze easily. The sudden shot had surprised them both, ending up with the sassy little snake managing to escape his hold. It had been… fun chasing the other around, his animal-side rejoicing more in that one short chase than any of the others. Rejoicing that he had found someone alike him. They had quickly reached the newly-dug mass-grave, the other man easily sliding under the shading before he could catch him. Riddick had reached after the other's breather lying in easy reach on the unprotected back, but the wind had blown the pitched cloth in his way, and he had instead grabbed the long braid. Another staring-contest had ensued. Shezza's appearance along with the other two, had pulled him out of his freeze. He had ran, but the fucking blue-eyed devil had shown up, had taken his goggles. Shortly after that everything had gone black.
He'd woken up chained up again – his goggles covering his eyes again – but now with the green-eyed snake in the room as well. He was amused at the other's dishevelled look, the braid dusty, half the hair escaping it. To his surprise, Riddick enjoyed the way the other gave as good as he got. Usually something like that would annoy him, but not with the sassy little snake. The man looked good chained up like that, gave Riddick several interesting and very lust-filled ideas. Johns entrance had put a stop to those. He really was going to kill the man soon. Green-Eyes was the first to look away from their staring contest this time, and he'd felt triumphant, his animal-side rejoicing at the unconscious submission. Before Johns could do much damage he had been called away by Fry, Riddick paying more attention to the way the green-eyed snake licked his newly-split lip than the blond devil's departure. Sassy and seductive – doubly so since he wasn't trying to be either.
Could feel the great amusement from the smaller man when Fry entered and tried to interrogate them. She wasn't good at the good-cop-bad-cop routine. Young Jack's entrance was interesting, gave him the opportunity to freak out Fry even more. Especially when she demanded to see his eyes. The feel of the green-eyed snake's interested and curious gaze, had brought back all those ideas that Johns had chased away. Told them to look deeper. Fry had left then, the two of them lapsing into silence. All they could do now was wait.
Ideas and thoughts continued to run through his head as he observed the long-haired man. He quickly came to the conclusion that he wouldn't mind fucking the green-eyed snake, wouldn't mind at all. Especially if the other growled like that during it. First he had to get out of these chains, though he had to admit he wouldn't mind if the other stayed chained up.
-x-x-x-x-
Harry was only vaguely aware of those silver-ish eyes observing him, most of his thoughts were with Hermione. He was truly worried for her safety for the first time in years. Whatever creature lived underground, whatever it was that had gotten a hold of Zeke, it was an unknown factor that they had no idea how to deal with. He would've been happy to just leave it like that, satisfied with the knowledge that whatever those creatures were they were deadly, but Hermione was different. She needed to know everything about anything, even those things that humanity wasn't ready to know about yet. 'She doesn't have to know every bloody detail of creation!'
The wait couldn't have been much more than 45 minutes, perhaps an hour, but it seemed like eternity. At one point Harry could've sworn that Riddick twitched a couple of times, but he ignored it after sending the other man a look. A few minutes after this odd, little episode, Harry could hear the return of the other survivors, their voices sounding both excited and worried. Hermione entered the ship almost at a run, and hurried over to Harry.
"It was completely unbelievable, Harry!" was the first thing out of her mouth. "There seems to be an entire ecosystem of sorts down there! And these creatures! Wow! Never could get a good look at them, they stuck to the shadows and the darkness and were quick as snakes, but they definitely used echolocation to move about. That means that they're more or less completely blind! Oh, how I would love to examine these creatures closer in a safe environment! But the good thing is that me and Fry – she went down there with me – we found Zeke's flashlight and his foot!"
"His foot?" Harry asked, wondering just how something like that could be a good thing.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, his foot. From the ankle down, still in its shoe. Anyway, now that we have proof that there is something down there, and that it ate Zeke – as sad as his fate was – the two of you don't need to be chained up anymore. Besides, we've decided to head out to the abandoned geologist camp."
"You found it? Abandoned?"
"Yes, it's even got a water-pump of sort, and Imam thinks that he can get it working again. Haven't had the chance to explore the camp fully, so I have no idea exactly how long it has been abandoned. But you should've seen the graveyard of large bones we passed through before reaching the camp! They're humongous! I think the creatures were some sort of whales when alive, seemed like it from the shape of the skeletons. Could mean that at one point this entire planet was covered with water! Isn't this exciting?!" she was practically bouncing in front of him.
"Yes, wonderful, fascinating, now please open the sesame." the green-eyed man tugged pointedly on his chains.
Hermione blinked in surprise. "But I don't have the key, Johns does. He'll be here soon. I just wanted to tell you what we discovered."
Harry was this close to banging his head against the closest hard surface. Hermione, for all her smarts, could sometimes forget the most important of things. "Wonderful." He muttered dryly.
"Isn't it? Oh, I'll go and see what's keeping Johns. Be right back, so don't go anywhere." And with that she ran out again.
Riddick's amusement was almost touchable, a deep rumble passing for laughter welling up in him.
"One word out of you, and I'll cut off your pride and joy." Harry hissed at the bigger man.
"You're very interested in my cock." Riddick commented with a smirk.
Harry froze, his eyes grew wide, and then he promptly managed to splutter out, "Th-there's no need to feel honoured, I assure you. I just figure that with the life I assume you've lived, normal threats on said life won't cut it."
Johns stalked into the main hull of the ship, walking straight over to them, a large, black, fancy-looking shotgun on a harness slung over one shoulder. He stared at them both for a minute, then stepped forwards towards Riddick. "If it were up to me, you'd stay chained like a dog."
Riddick smirked. "Finally found something worse than me, huh?"
"Just wonderin' if I shouldn't lighten the load right now and spare us all for a lot of trouble." Johns visibly pulled himself together. "Here's the deal: you work without the chains, without the bit, and without the shivs. You do what I say when I say it, and you help us get off this rock."
"For what?" the convict growled. "The honour of going back to some asshole of a cell? Fuck you!"
"The truth is, Riddick, that I'm tired of this head-huntin' shit. I wanna be free of you as much as you wanna be free of me." Johns sighed tiredly.
"Are you saying you'd cut me loose?"
"I'm thinkin' you could've died in the crash – but only if the both of us get outta this alive."
Harry, who had been silent so far, raised an eyebrow at this. Somehow he simply couldn't believe that Johns, a top-class merc, could be doing this out of the goodness of his heart. And while the given excuse could be believable, Harry quickly discarded it. They were talking about a man who had been analysed by a professional psychologist, and had been diagnosed as obsessive. That much he had managed to glean from the man's thoughts before the crash, and Ron's various jobs as a merc had taught the trio a few hard lessons about that particular lifestyle as well; so Harry snorted at the proposal. Johns glared at him.
Riddick had apparently reached the same conclusion as Harry, and growled. "My recommendation: do me. Don't take the chance that I'll get shiv-happy on your wanna-be ass. Ghost me, fucker, that's what I would do to you."
Without warning the blond merc brought up his shotgun, pointing it point-blank at Riddick's face. He held it there for a moment longer, before starting to speak. "If you were me, I'd kill us both." He ratcheted the gun, and pulled the trigger. "I want you to remember this moment. The way it could've gone, but didn't." Johns slowly lowered the gun, then held out his hand both to help Riddick up and to give the convict back the dark goggles that Fry had run off with.
There was an almost visible tension in the air as the two stared at each other, and Harry wished that he could disappear. There was some serious shit between Riddick and Johns, that much would be clear to anyone with eyes. The line of hunter and hunted blurred when it came to them, and it really didn't make for a comfortable atmosphere to be in. Finally Riddick reached for the goggles, only to grab the shotgun with his other hand in a move that was far too fast to follow with the naked eye if one wasn't expecting it. Now Johns found himself staring down the barrel of his own shotgun, and raised his hands into the air.
"Fuck you!" Riddick growled angrily.
"Easy, easy. You wanna sit at the grown-up table, or what?"
Riddick ratcheted the shotgun, pushing it against Johns' temple. "I want you to remember this moment." He echoed the blond man's words, and pumped the shotgun, blue shells falling around his feet. Dropping the emptied gun, Riddick grabbed his goggles, put them on, and walked away.
Harry relaxed with a sigh, grateful for the sudden change of the tense atmosphere. "You think you can get me out of these chains now, Johns?"
When the merc turned towards Harry, his face was set in an angry scowl. He quickly crossed the short distance between them, grabbed hold of the long, black hair just under Harry's neck, and pulled harshly forcing the younger man to wince and bend over backwards. "You might've been proven innocent, Harry, but I want you to know that your leash is as short as Riddick's." Johns jerked Harry's head back up again, and unlocked the cuffs. "Get out there."
Green eyes with slit pupils glared at the merc as Harry rubbed his wrists and exited the main hull. 'Johns is starting to get really annoying.'
-x-x-x-x-
The first part of the trip to the abandoned camp, Harry spent trying to work out the tangles and most of the dirt from his hair. It was made a bit more difficult by the constant, but very appreciated wind. It blew his hair around him like a veil, and more than one person seemed fascinated, almost hypnotized, by the thick, dark curtain. Jack and Ali – the youngest boy of the four pilgrims – had become quick friends despite the large language-barrier, and had both come up to him to run their hands through the long hair, not being able to stop themselves. Harry had therefore left his hair free for longer than he'd wanted to, before he finally braided it again.
"How can you stand it so long?" Jack had asked finally. She seemed to be completely fascinated by the long braid, probably never having seen something so long before.
"A lot of patience, amongst other things," Harry replied, and then grinned. "And the knowledge that its length annoys and pisses off several people of my acquaintance may have something to do with it."
"Does it ever!" Hermione sighed, but was smiling as well. "Last time we spoke Luna told me that Mrs Weasley's two most frequent messages – that she wanted Luna to give to us – was A) for Harry to cut his hair, and B) for Harry to marry a nice girl, preferably her own daughter."
Jack laughed at Harry's grimace. "And let me guess, you're gay, right?"
"Not yet," the green-eyed man replied. "I know I started out as bi, but with the way things are going I'm sure I'll end up bent as a circle before everything's said and done."
The teen continued laughing, before trying to explain the conversation to a curious Ali. Imam finally decided to step in and told his youngest charge everything with an amused glint in his eye, which in turn sent the three pilgrim boys into snickers. It may not have been the most polite thing to do, but in this situation – crashed on a largely-unknown planet in a system that was usually avoided by most spacecraft, and with some sort of unknown, dangerous creatures lurking underground – they all needed to relax and laugh a bit.
Paris, who was walking just behind them, made a sort of disgusted chocked sound, making his feelings clear on that particular matter, but no one paid him much mind. Ahead of them, Shezza turned around again. She had been doing this rather frequently, her eyes settling on Harry, clearly wanting to apologise, but she hadn't said anything yet. Fry and Johns were leading their little group, walking about ten paces ahead of the rest of them, discussing something or other. And Riddick was bringing up the rear, dragging a heavy quickly-made sled with one power-cell from the ship and some food and other knickknacks that people had wanted to take along, but hadn't been able to fit into their knapsacks or satchels. And since they weren't the ones who had to carry their own stuff, they had brought along a heck of a lot more than they otherwise would, and Fry had also insisted on bringing along many pieces of scrap metal from the crash ship, meaning to use it to fix a small skiff they had found at the abandoned settlement. This made for an incredibly heavy drag-sled for Riddick to tow.
'Don't know whether I should feel sorry for the man for ending up as the pack mule, or to feel awed by the fact that he's kept up with us so far, dragging that heavy load in this heat and without a liquid-oxygen breather.' Harry mused as he cast a look over his shoulders at Riddick. 'Most definitely the latter, he'd probably kill me if I choose the former.'
Harry and Hermione had both only taken with them the stuff they could fit into their own knapsacks – a lesson that had been quickly learned during their hunt for the horcruxes and the following war – and only useful stuff, like food and water, and a cutting torch they had found in one of the lockers in the cargo hold. Granted, Hermione did have several books and notebooks with her, but she never went anywhere without those, and she never complained about their weight.
"So, you click your fingers and he's suddenly one of us now?" Shezza, who had hurried ahead to walk with Fry and Johns, said to the blond man.
"I didn't say that," the merc replied. "But at least this way I don't have to worry about you all fallin' asleep and not wakin' up."
Harry really wanted to comment on that, wanted to point out to everyone that Johns hadn't made any mention of himself dying in his sleep, but he didn't – it would only bring trouble upon them if the group was split up into factions – and therefore settled for a soft, disbelieving snort. The blond merc really could give both Bellatrix and Voldemort a run for their money, the bloody bastard that he was.
"Well, I feel we owe Mr Riddick amends," Imam said calmly, earning himself unhappy looks from both Johns and Shezza. Most of them had already apologised privately, quickly and quietly to Harry.
Hermione, on the other hand, looked up from the notes she had been making while walking – a skill she had developed over the years – and nodded, with a determined look suddenly entering her eyes. "You are absolutely right," she declared to the mulatto man, turned around on the spot, walked back to Riddick, and with all seriousness sketched a small bow. "I apologise." She said simply, stayed bowed for a few seconds more, straightened, sent a good-natured smile at the very surprised convict, and walked back to where the rest of the group were watching in a mix of surprise, shock and approval.
"Did she just…?" Paris' stuttered and spluttered question trailed off, his eyes wide in shock.
Imam seemed to take courage from Hermione's actions, and – though he didn't approach Riddick – nodded his head deeply to the other man. "I beg forgiveness for accusing you unrightfully of something you did not do." He said.
"Alright! Alright! Time to break up this little guilt-trip and move on!" Johns called out in a thoroughly annoyed voice before anyone else could Imam's and Hermione's examples. Riddick's sudden jump from 'pack animal' to 'human' didn't sit well with him, not at all.
"So…" Jack spoke up in the ensuing tense silence. "Can I talk to him now?"
Part Six:
Despite the fact that he currently found himself in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, Harry wasn't afraid of the dark night. He had the stars and the moon to help him get by, making it easy to find his way back to Hogwarts or to Hogsmeade. And he had his newly-discovered heat-sensor thanks to the basilisk venom. He couldn't see things outright, per se, but he could sense them in a way. Everything gave off some heat – living things because they were living, and dead objects had been heated up by the sun during the day, and now slowly cooled off.
At least it was so in the clearing that Harry currently found himself in. He wasn't too sure about the rest of the forest though, especially not the places where the sun never reached anymore.
He stood there waiting for another couple of minutes, before rustling in the bushes alerted him to the approaching presence of the one he had been waiting for. He turned in the direction he could feel the most heat, and shuddered when the warmth washed over him as the other came closer. "Were the rest of the centaurs willing to talk to you, Firenze?"
The centaur sighed. "Both yes and no, young Harry. They will not join the upcoming political battles unless it the forest is at stake, but they did give me a message to pass on to you."
An eyebrow was raised as the two walked side by side, Firenze easily picking his way through the brush, his eyes used to the darkness after living his life in this very forest, and Harry easily following the practically-glowing heat-source on his left side. "A message for me?"
"Indeed," replied the centaur. "But I do not understand it. It was only one word, and I have never heard of it before in any tongue I know of."
"I doubt I will understand it either, but lets have it if you please."
"They said the word: Furya."
"… And that's all?"
"That is all."
"The centaurs have gone barmy. No offence."
"None taken."
-x-x-x-x-
"So…" Jack spoke up in the ensuing tense silence. "Can I talk to him now?" she asked, obviously meaning Riddick.
"NO!" both Johns and Shezza bit out angrily.
Harry couldn't help the snicker that escaped him at the duo's in-tandem performance, but quickly (and rather poorly) masked it as a cough. "Sorry, sorry, the sand and the dust around here got into my lungs. Might be starting to become asthmatic like our dear Paris here."
Paris jumped nervously at the word 'dear', and quickly went to hurry ahead of the group to Shezza, Fry and Johns. However, in his nervousness he knocked a bottle of liquor out of his bulging satchel, and cursed as he kneeled down to get it only to stop as another hand picked it up. He looked upwards and then scrambled to his feet when he found himself staring at the resident convict and pack mule. "P-Paris B. Ogilvie. Antiquities dealer. Entrepreneur," he nervously introduced himself.
"Richard B. Riddick. Escaped convict. Murderer." Came the reply, Riddick shaking the other's hand and thoroughly enjoyed Paris' jumpy nervousness. Then he uncorked the bottle and started drinking.
'Nice neck. Actually, the entire package is nice. Very nice, in fact.' Harry couldn't help but think, but then he quickly shook his head. 'Such things will have to remain simple thoughts. First got to worry about getting off this damn planet, and pray to any gods out there that those creatures do not come topside while we are here. That'd just suck… hmmmmm, wouldn't mind sucking on some- NO MORE, DAMMIT!!'
Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry's odd behaviour. "What's up with you?"
"Nothing at all. Sunstroke."
"If it were a sunstroke you wouldn't be all that conscious anymore, Harry," the bushy-haired women pointed out dryly. "Come on, tell me what's wrong?"
"You don't need to know everything, Hermione. Trust me on this one."
"If it concerns the welfare of my best friend, then I do need to know!"
Harry's eyebrow twitched. He loved the woman like a sister, he really did, but sometimes she really could get on his last nerves. "Hermione, one day that insatiable curiosity of yours will get you into trouble that you can't get out of. Please just let it lie."
The bushy-haired woman sent him a narrow-eyed look, clearly promising that the conversation would be continued at a later time, but gave up for now. Instead she held her notebook out to Harry, pointing to a roughly-sketched outline of a creature. "These are the things that live underground."
"I thought you said you couldn't see them very well?" the green-eyed man muttered while examining the drawing.
"I couldn't. But from what I did see, and some simple logical guesswork, well, this is the conclusion. The creatures probably look something like this, or very close to this."
Imam had come closer and was now examining the drawing himself. He pointed to the head of the creature. "This hammer-shaped head with the horn. That must be what they use for echolocation. Destroy it and the creatures would be as blind as we are."
"Can't be that easy to break it. Those things must be made out of solid bone, otherwise they would break easily during fights." Harry shook his head, and let the notebook take a round so that all the survivors could see what they were up against. Paris, instead of handing the book to Riddick as he was supposed to do, simply gave it back to Harry and hurried up ahead again to walk with Johns and Fry and Shezza. Harry rolled his eyes, then slowed down until he and Riddick were walking side-by-side. "Here. Check it out."
Riddick stopped up and dropped the ropes of the makeshift sled, then accepted the notebook. His examination of the rough sketch was interrupted when Hermione walked over to them, gently taking the notebook back, and pointing to various parts of the drawing as she explained. "They have these two spindly legs that can grip and climb rock walls, and they probably use them to grip their prey as well. They have no hands from what I could figure out, but they do have a set of leathery wings, not unlike those of a bat. And with the head being so large and heavy, it means that they must have a long tail to balance it out. They can probably use said tail for defence or something, as well. These things seem to be perfectly adapted to living and hunting in the dark."
"You mentioned large whale-like skeletons, 'Mione," Harry said. "Could these critters be the ones to have killed off said whale-creatures?"
Hermione thought about it. "They could be, but that would imply that at some point or another there is night – or some form of covering darkness – on this planet. And with three suns, I just don't see how that is possible."
"Solar eclipse." Riddick stated as he picked up the reins of the sled. "All planets have a solar eclipse at one point or another."
"But... but…!" Hermione tried to protest. There were three suns! For a total solar eclipse to happen, then all three of said suns had to be positioned in a straight line, and then had to be blocked out by a larger planet. Something like that didn't, couldn't happen once a year! Could it? In the end she simply settled for a worried, "Oh dear!"
"And with our bloody luck the solar eclipse will happen whilst we are here." Harry grumbled as the three of them started walking again. "Wonderful. Simply wonderful. Say, you didn't explore that geologist-settlement much, did you, Hermione? There could be some clues there that can tell us when the solar eclipse will happen."
"No, we didn't have the time. We did discover a skiff, though, but I doubt that it will is large enough to take us all off this planet." Hermione shook her head, then started to hurry ahead to the rest of the group. "I'll tell the others to be wary of a possibly-approaching solar eclipse, and this time Johns can't brush me off about exploring the camp."
"A skiff won't take more than six people tops," Riddick commented, dark amusement in his deep voice. "Someone will be left behind."
Harry shuddered. He really didn't want to think about something like that, especially knowing that there could be a solar eclipse around the corner and exactly what came out during said eclipse. "Bloody hell."
Paris, who had been walking just ahead of them, now stopped and looked around the sunburnt wasteland they were traversing. "You know, if I owned Hell and this planet, I'd live in Hell and rent this place out."
The group had by now reached the canyon they had to pass through to get to the abandoned settlement. There were several of the earthen spires spread around in the minimal shade that the large rocks of the canyon provided, and as they passed the entire group swore they could hear excited clicking noises coming from below. Harry's hand automatically landed on one of his knives as they passed the spires, and he didn't relax until they were almost through the canyon. At this point their way out was halfway blocked by one of the large whale-skeletons, though there were certain openings that they could slip through, and Johns making several more with a few blasts from his fancy gun. Harry couldn't help but run his fingers gently over some of the bone as he passed underneath the skeleton, feeling the ridges and small but deep furrows left behind by numberless sharp teeth.
"Not good." The long-haired young man muttered. "Definitely not good."
"Not afraid of the dark, are you?" Riddick's voice came from just behind him.
"I'm not afraid of the dark. I'm afraid of what comes with the dark in this particular situation." Harry sent a narrow-eyed glare towards the convict, then calmly walked after the rest of the group, leaving the bigger man to follow and determinately ignoring the weird feeling in his gut which told him that Riddick was staring at his arse.
The group of survivors soon reached the abandoned camp, and headed straight towards the abandoned skiff. Fry had Johns and Riddick bring the power-cell inside so that she could do a sys-check, then ordered Johns and Paris to start examining the outside of the skiff and start patching it up. Imam and his two oldest charges were set to getting the moisture-recovering unit working again, while Ali and Jack were told to walk around and see what they could find. Shezza had found an old jeep, a solar-powered sand-cat, just around the corner from the skiff and eagerly attacked it in an attempt to make it work and to get her mind off of Zeke's death.
"What about you two?" Johns asked Harry and Hermione.
"I intend to explore the settlement," Hermione replied. "See if I can't figure out just how long it's been abandoned, and when that solar eclipse is to occur."
Harry stared thoughtfully at a heap of scrap metal, solar-powered batteries and other things. "I may be able to make a radio with some of those things."
Everyone stopped what they were doing, and turned to him with hopeful eyes.
"You could?" Shezza breathed.
"That's so cool!" Jack exclaimed happily.
"There is a good chance, yes, but I'm not a hundred percent sure. It won't be a powerful radio, though."
"Doesn't need to be powerful," Riddick spoke up from the shadows, making half the group jump in surprise. "It only has to reach the Sol-Track Shipping Lanes. Someone'll receive it, and by the time you're off this planet they will be there to pick you up."
'Now, how the hell did a convict like him know something like that?' Fry mused suspiciously, sending a questioning glare towards the blond merc, but was ignored completely.
Johns sighed. "Right, lets get to work, people. Those of you without any specific tasks, spread out and help 'Mione figure out exactly what happened here."
-x-x-x-x-
Harry worked on the radio for the next couple of hours, occasionally having Jack and Ali help hold something, or search for something. Then he climbed up on the roof of the one building that had the highest spire in order to make an antennae. The cables and wires were connected to the antennae, then were threaded through the newly-made hole in the roof and into the building. Afterwards, Harry had Johns help him to carry the lumpy, heavy and very basic radio into the building and onto the table closest to the dangling wires.
"How's it going with the sys-check?" the green-eyed man inquired.
Johns twitched. "We… we need more power-cells. Five total to launch." The man's hand shook as he readjusted his cap.
"Four thirty-five kilo power-cells…" Harry shook his head. "Damn."
"Will need the sand-cat for that one." Johns twitched again as he headed towards the exit. "I'll see if Shezza's got anywhere with the damn thing."
Harry's eyes narrowed at the blond man's twitching and shaking hands, but didn't mention it. "Sure. I'll connect this, then we can try it out after everyone's gotten something to drink. Imam and his boys did a bang-up job with that moisture-recovering unit, huh?"
"Wha-? Oh, yeah." With that Johns exited the building.
Muttering to himself, the green-eyed man went back to trying to hook up the primitive radio to the equally-primitive antennae. "That's the last thing we need. A freakin' junkie! Next thing you know those damn underground-livin' critters will ask us over for crumpets and tea."
-x-x-x-x-
There you go, please tell me what you think.
As I already mentioned, this story will never be finished, but I thought it would do well here. Hopefully it wasn't too bad.
Thanks to:
hermione494, Shinigami's Shadow and SilverPantsSven, dm, Honor, The Sleeping Creature, koldy, ladylookslikeadude, Firehedgehog, lildevil425, Wizardshirosenshi and Von.