Hi all! I am SO sorry it's taken me this long to update. School started and all my energy went into teaching thirteen year olds how to read and write, so I had none left for my own projects except for a little here and there. So I wrote almost the entirety of this chapter in the airport at 1am during Thanksgiving break after I missed my flight. Hopefully, it was worth the wait and I can get a lot of writing done now that it's nearly Christmas break.
For those of you waiting on updates for A Mishap and an Opportunity...I'm sorry. I'm very, very slowly making progress. I'll try to get a new chapter uploaded as a Christmas present to you all. Maybe even finish it off by New Years.
Anyway, enough of my ranting. Here's the next chapter!
Chapter 15 Redfoxed
Harry, Natsu, and Happy returned to Fairy Tail that evening. The job had taken maybe three hours total. Even though they'd put out the fire, they still had to pay for the damages. As promised, Harry took what would have been half of the full reward—roughly 25,000 jewels—leaving Natsu with just over half what he would have gotten—a measly 13,000—to compensate for the damage. He tried to argue the point, but Harry convincingly retorted that all the damage was Natsu's fault; therefore, he should be the one to pay for it.
Predictably, Natsu sulked all the way back to Magnolia. Happy alternated between consoling Natsu and insulting Harry under his breath. It rather reminded Harry of Kreacher—which reminded him of Sirius, which reminded him that his godfather was dead, which put Harry in a bad mood, too.
As a result, they both sulked into the guild, pointedly not looking at each other. Harry took a blank mission report form from behind the bar and sat in his favored corner stool at the bar to fill it out. Natsu sat on the other side of the room.
Cana joined Harry at his corner booth just as he was finishing the report.
"What happened that put the both of you in a bad mood?"
"Natsu burnt down half a block for no good reason and was generally an idiot," Harry grumbled. "That's all."
Cana raised an eyebrow. "Only half a block? I'm kind of impressed it was so little."
"That's only because I got there in time to stop him from burning the other half down, too. And then he sucked up the fire."
Cana laughed out loud at the petulant look of disbelief on Harry's face. "Yeah, he does that. It's a dragon slayer thing, I think. It's really impressive the first few times. Then it just gets obnoxious."
Harry scoffed. "Obnoxious. That's Natsu, all right," he grumbled. He finished off his mission report with his signature, then reluctantly got to his feet. "Time to get the ash-brain to sign it before turning it in. Then I'm heading out."
He swept the paper and pen off the bar, not quite stormed over to Natsu's spot, and only almost slammed the page down in front of him.
"Sign it, then I'll turn it in."
Natsu gave Harry the stink eye as he picked up the pen, scribbled an illegible signature, then tossed it back at Harry. "I'm stronger. I'll prove it one day, I swear."
Harry scoffed. "Sure. I look forward to it." Sarcasm hung heavy on his words. Natsu's eyes narrowed slightly, then he turned away. Harry picked up the paper and handed it over to Mira, then he gave a vague wave at the other occupants of the tap room and left the guild hall.
Harry's bad mood persisted for the next several days. Natsu didn't help. He kept challenging Harry to fight at random moments, swinging his fist toward Harry's face with a ringing cry of "Fight me, scar head!"
After three days of it, Harry had had enough. Glowering, Harry brought his fist up with a concentrated burst of magic on his knuckles. With the force of his entire body, enhanced by his magic, Harry swung and punched Natsu right in the jaw.
The dragon slayer went flying backwards and into the wall, leaving a Natsu-shaped dent as the mage slid to the floor, stunned.
The entire guild hall went silent.
Happy was the first to move, flying toward his partner and blubbering with concern.
Cana whistled in appreciation. "Wow. I haven't seen Natsu go flying like that since he last picked a fight with Laxus."
"And he'll go flying again if he doesn't take a hint and leave me alone," Harry growled, still glaring at the fire mage as he slowly picked himself up off the floor.
"Damn. Remind me again never to get on your bad side," Gray said in amusement.
Loke chuckled. "It's about time someone humbled him properly. Well done."
"We'll see about that," Gray murmured as Natsu stared at Harry, his gaze inscrutable.
"That doesn't count!" Natsu announced loudly. "I wasn't ready!"
Harry scoffed. "You 'weren't ready'? You were flying at me with your fists raised!"
Natsu sputtered. "Well, yeah, but—"
"But nothing." Harry stomped toward Natsu until he was right in his face. "You wanted a fight, and you lost. So knock it off already. Or you'll see what I can really do." Harry had dueled Death Eaters and won. Hell, he'd dueled the freaking Dark Lord Voldemort and came out alive. He could handle an adolescent mage with nothing in his brain but fighting.
Natsu stared back defiantly, but the deadly assurance in Harry's unwavering gaze made even him quail.
"Fine. But I'll fight you for real one day, and I swear I'll win!"
"And I swear I'll destroy you every time you try," Harry said coldly. Then he turned and left. The other mages swiftly made room for him, not wanting his ire to turn on them.
Harry stormed out of the guild and veered toward the center of town. For once, he wanted to surround himself with people and thus be anonymous, at least for a little while. He tugged up the hood of his jacket and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his pace slowing to a trudge.
Silently fuming, Harry stalked the streets around the central plaza until he started getting uneasy looks from the people he passed. Realizing he was unconsciously projecting his aura, he made an effort to calm down. Pausing near an alley between the pawn shop and a bakery, Harry made himself take several deep breaths until his aura was once again contained (he really needed to work on controlling it better).
"Hoh. Seems a fairy has wandered away from home."
Harry looked up to see a heavily pierced teenager with a positive mane of wild black hair smirking at him from the entrance to an alleyway. Despite the slight chill in the air, he'd torn off the sleeves of his shirt. But what Harry noticed most was the guild mark on his right shoulder, a symbol vaguely resembling a Venus fly trap snapping closed on a black seed.
"Who are you?" Harry asked rudely.
The teen smirked unpleasantly, showing off sharpened incisors like fangs. "Just a messenger." He pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning on and approached with a frown, looking Harry up and down disapprovingly. "I have to say, I thought you'd be more impressive, what with all the hype about Fairy Tail's new rising star."
Harry glared to conceal how uneasy this stranger made him feel. He was used to being recognized, of course, ever since Sorcerer Weekly ran their piece about "Fairy Tail's New Trickster." (Harry admitted he preferred that nickname to "Jack of All Trades." Cana teased him endlessly about it.) And of course, in Magnolia, most citizens knew the members of Fairy Tail by sight, even without their guild mark visible. But Harry had never seen this person before. And with his hood up and in plain clothes, it was a wonder he was recognized at all.
"Unless you want to tell me what the hell you want, I'll show you just how impressive I am," Harry sneered.
The other scoffed. "You'll show me? I think not. You see, I'm what you call an S-class mage. You, on the other hand, are a bottom feeder who thinks he's all that because he can do a few magic tricks." He shrugged. "Well, at least now I can go back and tell Master Jose that his worries are unfounded."
Suddenly he was in Harry's face, his breath smelling of rusted iron. Or old blood. "You'd better watch your back, little fairy. One wrong move and you'll be crushed beneath my iron boots."
He pulled back and waved jauntily. "I'll be seeing you, Harry, Trickster of Fairy Tail."
Just like that, the teen vanished into the shadows as smoothly as he'd appeared.
Harry's knees went weak. Something about the other boy just screamed "predator!" and his instincts were telling him to run.
Harry didn't run. As he replayed the conversation in his mind, he scowled to himself. He'd stood up to Voldemort, the darkest wizard to ever live! And here he was, intimidated by a black-haired Malfoy. Furious, Harry stalked back to the guild, ignored the surprised exclamations at his return, and went straight to the job request board. Scanning it for a moment, he picked another A-class job and slammed it down on the counter for Mira to sign off.
She blinked. "Are you sure you want to go alone? This quest is dangerous."
"I've faced worse," Harry retorted. "Sign it."
Mira blinked at his sudden aggression. "Did something happen?"
"Nothing."
Mira still looked doubtful, but a glance at Master Makarov encouraged her to sign off on the job.
"Be careful, Harry. Don't do anything reckless."
Harry grunted in reply, then took the signed job form and stalked back out. A sudden rush of whispers followed him out the door.
It was freezing. Harry had never been this cold in his life. He already regretted taking the job on Mt. Hakobe to collect ice, of all things. Magic ice with healing powers, but still. It seemed easy, but monsters infested Mt. Hakobe, and Harry was looking for a challenge.
He just didn't expect a blizzard to be the challenge.
Thank Merlin for warming charms. But even with his magic, even Harry had the common sense to look for shelter to wait out the storm. He'd seen a few blizzards during winters at Hogwarts, but sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room wrapped in warm blankets and sipping a steaming mug of hot cocoa somewhat lessened the impact.
After trudging through snow up to his knees for nearly an hour, he finally spotted a cave in the mountainside. A new burst of energy spurring him on, he quickly made his way to it.
He only intended to go just inside, but the wind was blowing sideways, and even fifteen feet into the cave he was being buffeted by blown snow and ice. Freezing, he kept going deeper, lighting his fingertips the way he used to do his wand to illuminate the way. Finally, when he could no longer see the pale gray light of the entrance, Harry stopped and settled against the wall to wait out the storm.
Once he stopped moving, though, Harry realized just how cold he was. He wore an appropriate winter coat, hat, and gloves, but even with his warming charms, the cave was absolutely frigid. His breath clouded in the frozen air and the cold burned his throat and nostrils. Shivering, he searched around for anything he could use to light a fire—then he smacked himself on the forehead. Ron's words to Hermione from first year came back to him with startling clarity: Are you a witch or aren't you?
Grumbling to himself and shaking his head at his own foolishness, Harry conjured Hermione's favored bluebell flames in the tin from his mess kit. With an actual source of warmth close at hand, Harry gradually stopped shivering. Then his exhausted body decided it had had enough, and he nodded off against the cold stone wall of the cave.
Harry woke to an angry roar. Startled out of sleep, Harry knocked over his can of flickering blue flames. They promptly went out as Harry stumbled back, tripping over his own feet in the darkness. The cold suddenly intensified, and the same instinct that had kept him alive virtually since childhood sent him dropping to the ground. A blast of frigid, icy air rushed through the spot he'd just been standing. The ends of his over-long hair got caught in the blast and turned into icicles.
Harry shuddered. His warming charms would not hold up against a blast like that. If he got caught in it, he'd be a popsicle. A very frozen, very dead popsicle.
He had to get out of the cave.
The beast behind him roared again and the ground shook as it chased him back toward the entrance. The blizzard was still going strong. Harry could barely see three feet ahead of him. Only a huge looming shadow and his danger sense told him where the creature was.
Another icy blast just missed him, frost forming on the sleeve of his coat. His arm went numb from the cold. Panic rose in his throat; his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest.
Come on, Potter. Think!
Okay. Whatever it was, it clearly was accustomed to ice. So fire attacks would be his best bet, right?
"Incendio!" Harry shouted, aiming vaguely at the shadow that still stalked him.
The snow turned to steam in the air. The orange light from the flames gave him his first good look at the creature.
Harry's first thought was, dragon! It was at least as big as the Ridgeback he'd faced back in fourth year. But no. This creature was different. Instead of four legs and wings, this creature's forelegs were its wings. Its back was ridged with wicked-looking spikes, and its teeth and claws—each one the size of a dagger—were razer sharp. It was also completely white, nearly impossible to see in the raging blizzard, except for the fact that Harry's flames reflected off its scales, sending eerie light and shadows dancing across the piled snow.
He could have run. Running would have been the smart thing to do.
But Harry wasn't known for doing the smart thing.
As soon as Harry saw what he faced, all the anger and frustration that had propelled him to take this mission suddenly erupted. With a wordless shout, Harry sent another incendio at the creature, this time aiming for its face.
His flames managed to scorch its snout, but that only made it angrier.
With a screech of pain and rage, the creature lunged, swiping with its wing claws. Harry hadn't anticipated it being that fast. As he dove to the side, its claws scraped down his back and side, drawing blood and shredding his coat. Instead of a burning pain, though, ice seared his skin. Even his blood felt cold as it ran down his back.
Harry screamed. A blast of uncontrolled magic erupted from him, sending snow flying with just as much force as the blizzard and nearly cleared the ground. But even all his magic was only enough to send the creature staggering back a few steps, then it was rushing at Harry again. Its jaws hinged wide and the cold intensified as it sucked in a huge breath, then unleashed a torrent of frozen air, so cold it turned the snowflakes into tiny darts of ice.
Harry shouted, "Protego!" because he knew he wouldn't be able to move fast enough to dodge. But the shield charm was meant to protect against magical assaults, not physical ones. So while it blocked the blast that would have frozen him solid, it did nothing against the tiny, pointed projectiles flying toward him at hurricane speed.
Their impact left Harry breathless, staggered, and bleeding from dozens of cuts all over his body. The force of the impact knocked him to the snowy ground, flat on his back and helpless.
The creature moved in for the kill.
That last uncontrolled blast had nearly exhausted the last of Harry's reserves, and his shield had drained him further. Struggling to stay conscious, knowing he was bleeding out in the snow and slowly freezing, Harry did the only thing he could:
He squeezed his eyes shut and wished and willed with everything he had to escape!
The last thing he saw were the creature's jaws open wide above him, then he felt a jolt and a twist in his stomach. Then everything went black.