Chapter 6: Crawl out through the Fallout
Disclaimer: Still don't own either, still not earning a penny.
POV: Harry Potter, somewhere in the Boston ruins
The gradual and yet inevitable collapse of his shielding charm was marked by the tinkling of breaking glass, the occasional round bypassing his scant cover to deplete his protective barrier.
Piper and Nat huddled behind him, peering through the cratered holes pockmarking the ancient concrete Jersey barrier at the source of their latest dilemma. Backstreet Apparel apparently housed a raider den, for only moments after spotting the old clothing store, they came under fire from a machine gun turret and a brace of excitable marauders. Harry acted quickly and dispatched the turret with some kind of blasting spell but got hit at least twice before he could raise the shield and huddle down behind the Jersey barrier.
Harry grimaced as Piper stabbed the needle of the stimpack into his leg, the sharp sound of the injection matched by his hiss of pain. He could keenly feel the foreign bullets lodged in his leg and arm, a trace of worry marking his sweaty face as he considered the lumps of lead he would be carrying around until they could get to Salem.
He grinned at Nat, trying to ease the clear distress on the young girl's face as he tried to come up with a plan that would see them live through this encounter.
There was a brief seminar during his Muggle Studies class that indicated that in a large scale conflict with the muggle world… wizards would lose. For all their wonder, wands were simply ill-suited to matching the destructive potential of some of the muggle weapons. Looking around at the clear evidence in favor of that argument, Harry began to despair as more voices joined the tumult and the volume of fire increased even more.
He chanced a peek over the concrete, hoping that his shield charm had enough life in it to keep him from losing his head. His frown deepened as he noted the raiders moving towards them, keeping behind barriers and moving under cover from their fellows. There had to have been at least six of them at this point, and it would only be a matter of seconds before the first of them reached their position.
Harry sucked in a deep breath, steeling himself for a reckless last stand when a bright beam of crimson light bisected the nearest raider, felling the screaming man with a mechanical 'sprang' type sound. Bewildered, the raiders paused in their headlong rush, giving the unknown savior enough time to line up another shot and send a second raider into the afterlife with a blast to their face.
With the second shot, the raiders now had his position, and split their fire between the new target and Harry's position. The lessened volume of fire encouraged him and he leapt up and sent a fiery blast at the wooden barrier used by a filthy woman, the force of it sending her flying back and into the river.
Piper joined in with fire from her 10mm pistol, the dull 'tack tack' punctuated by a loud curse from another raider as they fell back clutching their leg. Another searing blast of laser light sent the remaining raiders scrambling back for better cover. One of them raised a bottle with a flaming rag stuffed into it, cocking his arm back for a throw. Reacting quickly, Harry targeted the raider, 'Stupify!'
The raider dropped the Molotov cocktail at his feet, the bottle shattering and spreading flaming liquid all over himself and his partner. The other raider shrieked and dove into the river to extinguish the flames leaving his erstwhile companion to burn.
Harry grimaced despite himself, pity for the stunned man being immolated making his gorge rise. Thankfully, their savior sent a quick blast into the poor man's head, ending his agony.
Losing all heart for the fight, the last raider bolted for the front door of the storefront and slammed it shut behind him. They stayed still long enough to witness the two raiders claw their way out of the polluted waterway and stagger to the same doorway, their retches and heaves slowing their progress. Harry counted to thirty as the door slammed shut behind the sick raiders, only standing up to survey the area when he was sure that the raiders wouldn't return right away. He turned at the sound of footsteps, his face blank at the man walking towards them with an odd kind of laser musket pointed at the ground.
"Roger Wilson, once of the Commonwealth Minutemen, at your service." The man announced, by way of introduction.
"I'm Harry, out of Salem." He greeted, extending his hand.
Roger took it firmly, smiling at Nat and Piper as they joined them.
"I recognize you... you're that reporter right? Publick Occurences or somesuch?"
"See Nat? We're getting famous." Piper smiled, taking his offered hand.
"I think you mean infamous." Nat quipped.
"In any case, thanks for the help there. Thought we were pretty much done for."
"Hey, that's what I'm here for. Or was, before it all went to hell."
"Yeah, I thought the Minutemen were all gone." Piper noted, her tone clearly questioning. "Care to comment on the rumors of the Minutemen's fall?"
Piper and the bulk of the Commonwealth were not initially aware of the minutemen's apparent demise at Quincy until a few weeks prior when the sole survivor took her to Sanctuary. There she had the opportunity to speak to Preston Garvey and the circumstances surrounding the survivors of what he labelled 'The Quincy Massacre'. The story she published based on that interview sold out in an afternoon, and was met with a wide range of reactions. Some were nonchalant about the collapse of the citizen soldiers while others were distraught over the paradigm shift.
"If you're heading our way, we can walk and talk." Harry cut in, not eager to spend time in such close proximity to some very irked raiders.
Not having anything better to do, Roger joined them as they headed north to Salem. Along the way he related his story.
"You heard of Quincy I take it?" He asked.
At their nods, he continued, "After the death of General Becker, my CO took our group to Libertalia. It's a collection of boats and shipwrecks off the coast. For a while there, we kept up with the Minuteman mission, helping settlers in exchange for logistical support, namely food and caps."
"Sounds a bit mercenary." Piper muttered.
"Maybe so. But we only took what was offered. At least at first. We didn't get the call to help Quincy, and as far as it was from us, I can't say that we would have if we had gotten the word. Anyway, a couple of the boys took to raiding some caravans. Our supplies were running dangerously low and the situation was getting desperate. I don't know that it was desperate enough to stoop to raiding…"
He paused, looking around as they crossed over a partially raised bridge.
"Careful here, there is a group of raiders on that barge below."
They crept by in silence until they were certain they had put enough distance between themselves and any lookouts the raiders may have had. When no one started shooting at them, they relaxed and he continued his story.
"Wire, that was my CO, found out about what the boys did; he had them hung. But it wasn't too long before he came around to their way of thinking as caravans repeatedly stiffed us on escort runs. I remember one in particular, odd duck named Cricket, promised us fusion cells, food and a healthy amount of caps to see her past super mutant territory in the downtown area."
"The thing of it was, I think we were lucky. We ran into a super mutant hunting party, had to have been five or six of the ugly bastards. Between her regular guards and us, we managed to fight them off, though one of her boys and one of ours bought it. By the time we got to Bunker Hill, the bitch handed over a handful of caps and a small stack of Salisbury steak and called it even. We almost got into a shooting match right then. Kessler got involved and forced us to leave, though she wasn't too happy with Cricket either."
He sighed, his eyes taking on a faraway look.
"Wire changed after that. I guess he just wanted to make sure his people survived. I don't mean to defend him or my former friends, but it ain't like we set out to be raiders. Me and a couple of others couldn't stomach it though, took off on our own. He wished us well, he really did, and I haven't laid eyes on him since."
"So, where is the rest of your group?" Harry asked, almost dreading the answer.
"Dead. Principles are all well and good but they don't feed you. Guess we just weren't ruthless enough. We bled for people and were stiffed in return. Eventually, they just chewed us up and ground us down. I'm the last. I was heading to Diamond City, maybe see if they could use a gun hand when I saw you folks in a bit of a pinch. That's my story."
"You think there are other Minutemen out there? Maybe some who are keeping up the fight?" Harry asked, glancing at Roger. Though his eyes were hard, his voice carried with it a measure of the sympathy he felt for the lone man. He couldn't imagine what he would do if he were the last of his people.
"I hadn't heard of anyone. Except for that group from Quincy anyway. But I heard that they bought it in Lexington. Feral central down there."
"One survived." Piper murmured solemnly.
"Really? You met 'em?"
"I interviewed him for my story. 'The Last Minuteman.'" Piper proclaimed, her arms spread as if to encompass the title in the air. "His name's Preston Garvey."
"Hrmm. Don't know the name. But then, not like I knew everyone in the Minutemen. Still, it's good to hear that I ain't the last. Actually, it's really good." The weight he bore did seem lightened, as if the news did something to restore his faith, even if in some small way.
"He set up in Sanctuary hills with the survivors of Quincy. Maybe once we get back to Salem, we can head over there and you can meet him." Piper turned to Harry with a questioning tilt to her head.
"Sure. Once we get Nat settled there, we pay a visit to Sanctuary." Harry replied, gifting Piper with a lopsided grin.
POV: Susan Bones, just outside of Salem
Susan huffed irritably at the errant lock of reddish brown hair which kept falling into her eyes. Vincent glanced over at her from his perch on the park bench and seeing nothing amiss, went back to his quiet scan of the horizon, idly puffing away on his cigarette.
Vincent was a muggle, handsome in a way, though perhaps a little too fond of hair grease. He affected a pompadour hairstyle, one he constantly fussed over with a pocket comb when he wasn't busy smoking or singing to himself. Often he did all three at once. He towered over her slight 5'2" frame at well over 6', his greaser jacket barely able to contain the impressive musculature he worked hard to maintain. He wore a boiled leather vambrace, pauldron and cuirass, festooned with pockets and ammo pouches. His heavy boots were likewise boiled leather, with tooled strips of metal to reinforce it. Despite being rather idle as Susan poked in the dirt, his hands were never far from his scoped combat rifle and his eyes constantly shifted and drank in every detail of their surroundings.
Susan shifted uncomfortably whenever his gaze fell on her, a blush brightening her cheeks at the unsubtle way his eyes roamed over the contours of her body and the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. She had changed a great deal since her early days at Hogwarts, though still short, she had lost her baby fat and become quite slender. Her dark eyes and red tinged hair seemed to gain more than its fair share of attention, something she had yet to get accustomed to.
It had been Hermione's idea to pair each of them with one of the more combat oriented muggle settlers that had come to live in Salem. Though met with some resistance from the wizards and witches, her logic was hard to deny. There was still so much about this world they were ignorant of, and magic seemed to have changed enough that such caution was warranted. Harry's own experience with apparating was proof enough, though Susan didn't need that minor disaster to deter her. She had accidentally splinched herself during her sixth year at Hogwarts and was not eager to repeat the experience.
Vincent started a song, something about crawling through radiation as Susan went back to her task. Neville had been obtaining good results with the few crop plants he had been able to cultivate, but as the population of Salem grew, there were increasing concerns that food shortages would become a real problem. In the old world, simple duplication charms would solve that issue, but now… it wasn't so simple. Duplication still worked, to some degree, but the more something was duplicated the more it seemed to become untenable.
They had made a vegetable stew the other night and tried duplicating it in order to have extra servings for the next day. The first few pots came out fine, though the second and third iterations seemed a little 'off'. By the fourth pot, the food was inedible and the fifth actually seemed to give off noxious fumes.
There was land just outside their walls, so Susan took it upon herself to test the soil and try out a few charms to cleanse it of the worst of its radiation and perhaps make more arable land available for crops. In the meantime, they may have to open up relationships with other settlements to trade for food.
Vincent had hauled a table and chair out her for her to use, setting up several test tubes and vials for her to contain the samples she was gathering. She stoppered the last vial, the grey dirt not inspiring a great deal of faith in her regarding its fertility. From her studies in herbology, she knew that soil had to have various characteristics to support various plants and fungi, organic composition, mineral composition, PH value, water, air and how much radioactive material was in it. She was no expert, but it confused her how the effects of bombs detonating over 200 years ago could still have the effect they did.
On a whim, she drew her wand and casted a simple cleansing charm on the soil. Normally, cleansing charms would be used on objects to remove soil. So using it directly on soil? The sample in the vial darkened slightly but she temporarily lost focus and had to shake her head to clear her vision. Strange that. She set her sample down and tried again on a different, larger vial, casting the cleansing charm again. A wave of vertigo swept through her, causing her to drop the vial. She grabbed the edge of the table to keep her balance, her eyes widening at the spatter of blood which appeared on its surface. Reaching a shaking hand to her face, she felt wetness beneath her nose. Lifting it to her face, she was shocked to see her fingertips wet with blood. She teetered and almost fell, and would have if Vincent hadn't suddenly appeared to catch her. The last thing she saw, was his face darkening with worry and his mouth moving without sound.
POV: Harry Potter, on the road near Croup manor
"That place looks kinda creepy." Nat remarked, as the four walked along the cratered road up the coast.
"Some kind of manor house. Might actually be worth checking out." Harry glanced sidelong at the suddenly hopeful expression on Nat's face. A little too hopeful.
"Later though, it's getting late and if we don't hurry, we won't make it to Salem before dark."
Fate seemed to have a sense of humor, at least where Potter was concerned. No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, a series of raw throaty rasps burst from the foliage immediately to their right, several misshapen beings lurching forward from the vicinity of the manor.
"Oh Christ." Roger moaned, his hands trembling as he hurriedly turned the crank on his laser musket.
"Get behind me Nat!" Piper shouted, simultaneously pulling at her younger sister and drawing her 10mm pistol.
Harry brandished his wand and sent the first few ghouls flying back with a hurriedly conjured gale force wind. It bought them precious seconds that Piper and Roger put to good use firing into the press of rotting faces.
"How dare you defile the sacred ones?!" A strange voice shouted.
Whipping his head around, Harry spotted a rather dilapidated looking man emerge from a house on the left. He wore threadbare robes and wielding a gun that looked like a small radar dish. The most disconcerting thing about him though, was the madness gleaming in his eyes.
The strange man, joined by two others of his kind, didn't bother to wait for a reply. He raised the strange weapon and sent a glob of green energy at them.
"Get down!" Harry shouted, as he tried to put up a shielding charm.
The energy slammed into him, though strangely didn't seem to have any force to it. A wave of dizzying nausea threatened to overtake him though, and all he could do was to slash the air with his wand and send a zigzagging line of dark energy slashing toward the three madmen.
Their cries of pain couldn't overcome the sudden roar in Harry's ears, his vision swimming as he fought to keep his dinner where it belonged. He blinked away tears in time to notice that the ghouls were almost on top of them again, and without thinking sent a 'confringo' curse at them.
The fiery blast eagerly immolated the 3 ferals, even as the force threw them back into the foliage from whence they arose. They thrashed madly, setting the bushes alight in their pained panic.
"Come on!" Roger's shout was indistinct, like hearing someone scream under water. He grabbed Harry's arm in an iron grip and pulled the stumbling wizard after him.
The four of them raced north, hoping that they could reach Salem before either the crazy people or the
POV: Susan Bones, Salem Medical Clinic
The smell of candles and hair grease came first, followed by the murmurs of voices speaking in hushed tones. She blinked against the darkness and groped blindly above her, a warm hand clasping hers and pulling her into a sitting position. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, a single candle at the far end of the room the lone bulwark against the gloom. She twisted in discomfort at the slight pain in her abdomen, the extremely strong and urgent need to relieve herself almost propelling her off the bed. Her cheeks reddened as she realized that she was almost completely nude, with a bare shift scarcely reaching her upper thighs. Vincent sat on the bed with her and had helped her sit up, his eyes locked firmly on her as she blushed even more furiously.
An older woman, wearing a reddish brown coat and her greying hair pulled into a tight ponytail shooed Vincent aside and took his place on the bed. Vincent turned on one of the lamps, the illumination revealing one of the rooms in the Salem clinic. What was the woman's name? Susan fought through the fog and her overwhelming desire to use the bathroom in order to recall.
Doc Anderson! It came to her suddenly, her relief that her mind still functioned despite the fog almost palpable. It didn't do much for the pressing issue in her bladder though.
"I imagine you probably have to go." Doc Anderson tutted, not unkindly. "Here."
Susan was scandalized at the proffered bed pan, her eyes opening in barely controlled panic at the shadow of Vincent lurking in the small space and the metal pan being offered to her.
Seeming to recognize the source of her distress, Doc Anderson let the pan down and got up, "Come on Vincent, let's give her a moment of privacy. That Rad Away is about to make her bladder burst."
The door closed with a soft click before Susan threw off the thin sheets and made use of the bedpan, nearly groaning aloud at the relief. Her sense of relief faded at the sheer volume of liquid in the bedpan, to say nothing of its odd color and pungent smell. She was saved from further embarrassment when Doc Anderson re-entered the door after a light knock minus the imposing Vincent.
She smiled down at Susan, "I sent him away, he had been here pretty much since you were brought in and was about to pass out himself."
"How long have I been here?" Susan asked.
"Sixteen hours. Vincent brought you in, said you had passed out just outside of the walls. You were suffering from moderate radiation poisoning, dehydration and severe mineral deficiency."
Susan's eyes widened at the diagnosis, surprised at the strain her body had undergone with a few simple charms to cleanse the soil of its radiation.
A light tap on the door drew their attention just before it opened a crack, "Can I come in?"
"Of course, Mrs. Granger." The doctor answered amiably.
Hermione came in, closing the door softly behind her, worry lines etched deep in her face as she looked down on Susan with a wan smile.
"You gave us quite a scare… how are you?" Hermione asked, as Doc Anderson got up and allowed Hermione to take her place at Susan's side.
"More embarrassed than anything. Though I do feel a little peckish. Well… maybe more than a little." Susan clarified, just as her stomach rumbled loudly.
"I'll ask Vincent to bring you something. You missed out on a few meals. Doctor Anderson tells me that you were in pretty bad shape for a bit there. How did it happen? You were only out there for a couple of hours."
"I was trying modified cleansing charms on some soil samples I gathered. I did it twice but felt increasing distress every time."
"Vincent had the foresight to bring your samples back. Two of them do look markedly different from the others. I wish I had read more about herbology and horticulture…" Hermione remarked, her expression becoming wistful as she pondered her now lost precious libraries.
The original Salem settlement had several surviving tomes, though not to the extent that any of them were used to in Hogwarts.
Susan suddenly realized something, "You know, I believe that Ilvermorny is pretty close. Maybe their library is intact? We could certainly use anything that survived there."
Hermione thought it over, "Some of the settlers described the area to us; if I remember correctly, Ilvermorny is located on the tallest mountain in the Commonwealth. If that's true, that puts it squarely in what the muggles call the Glowing Sea."
Susan was confused, "A sea?"
"Of radiation," Hermione clarified, "apparently, it's where the majority of the bombs struck. They say it is filled with horribly mutated creatures and that the radiation is still strong enough to kill a person in minutes."
"That must be where all those terrible radiation storms blow in from." Susan added, despondently.
Hermione reached out and grasped the young woman's hands, "We'll figure this out yet. At the very least, maybe Sir Nicholas or Lady Ravenclaw can take a look for us."
They sat in companionable silence for a time, though Hermione couldn't stop gnawing her lip in worry at how limited their magic seemed to be. It was almost as if the earth itself resisted it. Apparating was out, duplication barely worked and repair charms could only do so much. They needed to find a way around their shortcomings. If only Harry was back.
POV: Daphne Greengrass, Salem settlement
Daphne sat on a park bench, idly smiling at the passing children as they used their seemingly inexhaustible energy to run everywhere they went. Her mood and her expression darkened as soon as they passed, as the sobering truth haunted her again. People were doomed.
Of the nearly forty people that now called Salem home, three of them were children. She thought little of it at first until a conversation with Fingers made a sense of dread rise up from deep in her gut. The ex-raider had been so nonchalant about it, her words coming out in between bites of a tarberry tart, occasionally nodding at the gushing praise her baking earned.
A raider who knew how to bake…
Fingers told her that few people ever managed to have children. Her former mates, a large group of raiders that hung out at a car manufacturing plant, never had a single case of pregnancy, despite the rampant bouts of sex and alcohol which marked their time in between murdering and thieving. The woman tried counting out the number of lovers she had had, but gave up when she ran out of fingers.
"Many women don't even bleed once a month." She had muttered near the end of their conversation, the apparent doom of her species not phasing the young woman all that much.
She looked up as the door to the clinic opened, a harried looking Hermione coming out and squinting against the mid-morning sun.
"How is Susan?" She asked, as Hermione came over to join her.
"Better. Doc Anderson got the radiation flushed out and is replenishing her minerals and electrolytes. She wants to keep her there for another full day at least while she regains her strength. I think Vincent is showing is hand at how much he is fussing over her."
"Vincent is a little old for her isn't he? Not to mention the size difference. She'd have to get a step stool to snog him."
Hermione snorted, the rare moment of mirth actually releasing some of the tension of the last few days. Harry's absence worried her more than she let on. She regretted the arguments she had with him, but he had always been somewhat foolhardy and reckless and their new paradigm hadn't changed that aspect of his personality one whit.
"I think you got that backwards, considering we're all over 200 years old." Hermione managed.
"Oh, right." Daphne replied off-handedly.
"In any case, we need to take a look at those soil samples she was working on. We need to find out why she got so ill."
Within minutes, they joined George and Lilith in the church's basement, the same table Susan had used set up with the 'cleansed' samples next to the others she had gathered. They immediately noticed the difference in color between them, the charmed samples clearly darker in color than the wan grey silt that the other samples were.
"Well, that's something." George muttered, holding up and peering intently at the cleansed sample. He produced a computer type device, a wrist mounted computer of some sort with a cracked screen.
"One of the muggles brought this in, called it a pip-boy. It's supposed to do quite a lot, but this one is broken. All he managed to fix on it so far is the radiation detector." He pointed out a dial on the device, the needle currently hovering just over the zero.
He waved it fairly close to the cleansed sample and shook it when the 'pip-boy' failed to react. He shrugged and waved it over the unaltered sample, grunting in mild surprise when the device began to emit a crackling noise and the needle began to waver between two and four rads.
"Looks like Susan managed to clean the radiation from the samples."
Lilith seemed to ponder this, and after a moment's thought, reached for the other cleansed sample.
"I wonder…" She murmured, as she pulled her wand.
Hermione started, opening and closing her mouth as if debating herself as to whether she should stop Lilith or not. Her curiosity was piqued when Lilith used Scarpin's revelaspell on the soil. This charm was used to identify the ingredients of a given potion… perhaps it would work to tell her what was in the soil.
"Humus, silt, sand, clay, water." Lilith rattled off.
"No pollutants? No radiation?" Hermione asked.
Lilith shrugged in response, "None that the spell could detect. Though to be fair, it wasn't made to detect radiation. But it would have identified any other chemicals or pollutants if they were present."
"Looks as though Susan succeeded. But the question is, why did she become ill?"
"Only one way to find out." George declared.
"Don't you dare!" Hermione shouted, though it was already too late, as George casted the cleansing charm on an unaltered soil sample.
"I feel a little rough." George whispered, his face pale.
Anything Hermione was about to say was interrupted by the sound of George vomiting violently, his entire body shuddering and driving him to his knees.
"Get the doctor! Hurry!"
POV: Harry Potter, just north of Kingsport Lighthouse
"I think I may lose my dinner after all." Harry gasped, still in Roger's unrelenting grip.
"I don't see any pursuit, we might be in the clear." Roger stated, his eyes scanning the road behind them.
"Oh good." Harry breathed, just before collapsing.
"Harry!" Piper cried, kneeling down next to the stricken wizard.
"I'll be alright, just need a moment."
"Um, you may not have a moment Harry." Roger warned.
Harry looked up and frowned at the raggedy looking people approaching from the crater that he had spotted along the coast during an earlier foray.
"Oh bugger."
"Greetings travelers! Do you come to bask in the glow of Atom's radiance?" One of them asked, his friendly tone edged with steel.
"Stay back." Harry warned, pointing his wand at the interlopers as he struggled to his feet.
The man's face darkened with a cruel sneer, "You are Heretics to deny Atom's glory!"
"Deny this!" Harry shouted, conjuring a curtain of wild billowing flames. He spun his wand around him, forming a shield of flames which he hoped would dissuade the mad radiation worshippers.
The four of them continued north, Harry's fiery shield eventually falling as his strength left him. Looking over his shoulder, he could spy the group of Children standing on the road staring at them… no at HIM.
"We need to hurry," he gasped, "I think we may have visitors soon."
POV: Neville Longbottom, Salem settlement
"It's not much to look at, but it's somewhat isolated and the people there seem like a good lot."
Neville was regaling George, Luna and Lilith with the tale of his first trip outside of Salem in between mouthfuls of vegetable stew. It was Lilith's turn to cook that night and she used her talent with potions to good effect in making a delicious stew. Unfortunately, it had used up the last of his carrots and corn to make it.
"I know it's pretty far to get them to come here, but maybe we can set up some kind of trade. We can help get them straightened out and they could help us with our crops problem. At least until I can work out a way to increase our yield."
"You should probably talk that over with Hermione until Harry gets back." Luna murmured, "Though I'm sure they'll agree, it's always nice to make new friends after all."
They perked up at some commotion going on outside, with people moving towards the gate with a curiosity lending their step a spring.
"Speak of the devil, I think that may be him now." George announced, standing and looking out through the windows of the diner towards the people streaming towards the gate. "Or one of those traders have come back."
"Oh!" Luna exclaimed. She was excited at the prospect of one of their trading groups coming back, hoping one of them may have found an item on her esoteric list of wants.
The friends abandoned their food and headed out with the crowd, the small crowd parting at their approach.
"It's good to see you on your feet again, young Mr. Weasley." A voice called out.
"Thanks, Sir Nicholas. I do feel better."
They both turned to the gates, which opened to reveal a somewhat haggard Harry leaning against Hermione. Three people trailed after them, a young woman, a man dressed like he was going to a colonial battle re-enactment and a ten maybe eleven year old girl.
"Bloody hell Harry! You look like crap!" A random voice called out. Harry grinned in response, which immediately turned to a grimace as some injury or another made itself known. Hermione chided him quietly and continued to lead him inside, George noted that his clothes were blood stained.
At some point in their journey back, the bullets still lodged in Harry's arm and leg did some damage and made the last few miles nearly unbearably painful. Thankfully, Hermione was on the lookout for his return and had descended on him like an avenging angel. Her ire only dissipated somewhat when she saw the state he was in.
"Hold on, Hermione. I have news."
"That can wait Harry, your hu…"
"No it can't!" He interrupted with more vigor than he felt.
"Listen, everyone."
The murmurs died down and all eyes were on Harry.
"We have to prepare. We're about to be attacked."
POV: Morgan Le Fay, somewhere to the west of the Glowing Sea
Vomit stained the front of her dress and oozed hot and sticky down the front of her chest and into her cleavage. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and confusion at the unpleasant and unfamiliar sensation of being sick. Centuries of life had taught her a great deal, but this sensation was somewhat new to her.
Morgan Le Fay moaned as she crouched on her hands and knees, heedless of the dirt and grime staining her gold brocaded green dress. She managed to stymie her misery for a moment, enough to focus her power inward and delve into the reason for her ailment.
She was confused and intrigued by what she found. The act of apparating from her prison to the surface had flooded her system with a large amount of deadly particles, tiny motes of material that was busily destroying her cells at the tiniest level, attempting to rewrite her very essence. A low growl issued from her throat as her power surged and cleansed the abhorrent material from her body.
Overcome by the sudden need to visit the jakes, she cast her eyes around and for the first time, drank in the sight of the world above. For the second time in as many seconds, she was perplexed. The town she was interred under was a ruin, dead plants leaning forlornly from the cracks in the streets. Detritus wafted through the dust choked ruin while the wind moaned forlornly.
Shock permeated her body as she cast her gaze in every direction, the same devastation meeting her astonished eyes everywhere she looked. When she turned to the south, she was unpleasantly surprised to see a coterie of filthy peasants leering at her, bits of rusted metal decorating their grime coated bodies in a crude pantomime of armor. Their fists clenched strange weapons, like those gunpowder weapons the muggles used.
"Well, looka here! We got us a prime example of grade A meat here boys!" One of the men leered, lust clearly writ upon his face as saliva dribbled from his slack lips.
Her distaste must have been clear, for his expression darkened, "She don't look too friendly, I don't think that pretty little cunt of hers is going to be slick for us boys. We'll have to improvise."
Morgan didn't care for the man's lascivious attitude nor his crude peasant speech. It didn't matter that centuries had passed, she was a lady and expected to be addressed as such.
"You need to take a step back and carefully consider your next actions. I will ask you some questions and being the helpful gentlemen that you are, you will answer me politely. I will thank you for your time and we will each go our separate ways."
Her statement was met with hearty guffaws, the filthy men even going so far as to mock her by bowing to each other, tears of laughter coursing clean lines down their dirty cheeks.
The lead ruffian, the one who spoke earlier, paused his raucous laughter long enough to pick something from his beard before inspecting it briefly, crushing it between his fingers and flicking it away. He fixed her with blood red eyes and leered again, openly licking his lips and revealing several rotten teeth.
"Ah, lass. The only thing I expect to be coming out of your mouth are screams as my boys and I take turns on that luscious body of yours. I don't think I've ever seen a woman so pale and clean, minus the mess you made on your tits there. Now why don't you take that fancy dr…."
She had heard enough and with an indignant shout, sent a wall of force at the man with a wave of her hand. The rippling wall of compressed air struck him midsentence and slammed him backwards with bone crushing force. The others dodged out of the way as he continued flying back, the wall pushing him inexorably towards one of the ruins surrounding them.
He hit the wall hard enough to make dust and plaster rain down and cracks to appear in the aging brick veneer. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth as if to scream as the unforgiving force pressed him against the unyielding wall. With an explosion of blood, his body failed and the wave of force pressed up against the wall, the liquefied remains of the man squirting out along its edges in a macabre spray.
"Fucking bitch!"
The men fired at her with their crude weapons, the pop pop pop of the rounds being fired punctuated by their enraged cries. Their aim was terrible, but nonetheless, Morgan conjured a charm she had used in ages past to deflect arrows and found it just as effective against their weapons. Her power uncoiled within her as if a predator coming awake after a long sleep, its eagerness surging forth and surprising even her.
Two of the men were flung far into the air and allowed to fall back to earth, their bodies shattering on the debris choked ground. A bead of fiery force flew from her flicked hand, impacting on another peasant and blowing him apart in a disgusting crimson rain. The final man, some sense finally making its way into his thick skull, realized the futility of his actions and moved to run.
He moaned in dismay as he found his legs and arms locked and unable to move. His eyes darted about in fear as the witch turned him around and brought him flying towards her with a simple gesture. He hovered in front of the terrifying woman, her eyes ablaze and dark tresses flying about her head as if stirred by a hurricane. She leaned in close, her dainty nose turning up at the smell coming off the man's body, he smelled worse than the vomit that stained her dress. Speaking of which, with a mere thought, she cleansed herself, the material sloughing off of her to pool on the ground. She turned her attention back on the struggling peasant and smiled as an idea came to her.
"Imperio."
POV: Harry Potter, Salem settlement
"I'm trying very hard to not be angry with you." Hermione lectured, an errant lock of hair falling down as she fussed over Harry, despite the number of times she tucked it back behind her ear.
"Hermione, I know. I promised and I did my best, really. But now's not the time. We really are about to be attacked."
"Who? Why?"
"I… really don't know. We were making our way up the coast and were just hours away. I'd led us around that crater on the coast with those mad cultists, those Children of Atom."
Harry paused to grunt in pain, Hermione noticed that he was sweating despite how cool it was now that the sun was going down. Laying the back of her hand on his forehead, she winced as she felt how hot he was.
"Harry! You're burning up!"
"Oh yeah, I got hit with one of their radiation guns."
"WHAT?!"
"They're small, shooting out a green hued blast of radiation..."
"Not that! When were you going to mention that you had radiation sickness?"
"Well, to be fair, you do keep interrupting me."
Her face was set in stony silence, her lips pressed in a thin line in a look that communicated to Harry that he had very nearly reached the limits of Hermione's patience.
Wafting through like a butterfly on a zephyr, Luna suddenly interposed herself, holding a bag of rad-away.
"There, there Harry. This will fix you up." She breathed, gracing both of them with a small smile.
Hermione deflated as she watched Luna skillfully push the needle in Harry's arm, she looked up at a young woman standing nearby chewing her lip nervously, a ten or eleven year old girl clutching her hand for dear life.
"I'm sorry," Hermione began, standing up, "Are you two alright?"
Her easy smile and kind words had a visible effect on the two, breaking the ice and leading to a hasty set of introductions.
Harry broke up the little circle, sitting up despite Hermione's glare and finally noticed that practically everyone in Salem had formed a circle around him.
"Everybody listen," Harry ignored how redundant he was being, "there is a group of people, from the Children of Atom. I don't really know why, but I don't think they're coming over to borrow pumpkin juice. We need to get ready."
"You heard the man!" Barney suddenly cut in, "Salem Militia! Man the walls!"
At his command, a good dozen men and women grabbed their weapons and climbed up on walkways anchored to the inside of the defensive wall. Barney grinned at the group around Harry and made off to join them, hollering the whole way.
"Well, I guess we should get ready too."
"You aren't going anywhere." Hermione insisted.
"I can't just sit here! We're in the street!" Harry fought back, struggling to his feet while Luna tried to keep the Rad-away bag elevated above his left arm.
"Periculum!" He shouted, raising his wand skyward.
At his command, red flares shot up into the sky, alerting anyone in the settlement that wasn't already aware, that there was danger.
In minutes, the majority of the population of Salem was as prepared as they could be. Neville, Luna, Piper, Nat and a couple of the older settlers guarded the children who huddled on the bottom floor of the clinic with Susan Bones and Doc Anderson. If anyone was wounded during the attack, Lilith and George would grab them and take them to the clinic to get patched up. The rest of them, Daphne, Barney, Harry and Hermione with the dozen members of the Salem Militia were standing guard behind the walls. Harry had asked Sir Nicholas and Lady Helena to patrol the other sections of the walls in case anything or anyone thought to get in some other way.
The sun was a fat molten bulge on the horizon by the time the Children of Atom showed up. They were a particularly ragged looking lot, dressed in little more than rags with corianders hanging from their robes like some kind of armor. They were chanting something about 'embracing the Glow' as they approached, their fanaticism scaring the collected people of Salem more than if they were an equal sized group of raiders.
One of them shrieked as he walked ahead of the rest, calling attention to himself as he gesticulated wildly at the walls.
"Bring forth the wayward child of Atom! We must bless he that has been touched by the Glow!"
He repeated his demands as everyone atop the walls looked at one another in confusion. Harry leaned over the walls and adjusted his glasses before shouting back in reply.
"We don't have anyone here like that. Now get on and no one has to get hurt!"
"THERE HE IS! IMBUED WITH THE RADIANCE OF THE GLOW! RESPLENDENT WITH THE GIFT AND WORTHY OF OUR MESSIAH OF ATOM!"
Harry was taken aback, what in the world was he on about?!
The preacher's voice took on a dangerous edge, "If you will not come, then we will take you."
"I'd like to see you try!"
The Children of Atom didn't need to be told twice, and with a ragged roar, surged forward in a mob.
And became the first casualties of George Weasley's genius.
The first to run afoul of a George classic stumbled in the midst of an explosion of color that erupted at his feet, spraying a riot of rainbow colors over the hapless man. He coughed and sputtered, waving away the errant powdery substance when his nearest companions suddenly changed their charge and tackled him to the ground, planting amorous kisses over the confused cultist.
Bypassing the impromptu lovebirds, a pair of Children took hold of their nuka grenades and prepared to throw them when a noxious green liquid sprayed up at them from the ground. They literally turned green themselves and began to sick up all over the ground, falling to their knees in nauseated misery.
On the other side of the mob, three men found that their running feet no longer contacted the ground, their bodies ballooning up and slowly floating up and away from the battle.
Harry cocked an eyebrow and glanced at a grinning George.
"I always did like that story about the time you blew up your aunt!"
This was followed by a massive cloud of stinging gnats that swarmed over the next four children in line, making them drop their weapons in panic and sending them running in the opposite direction from the Salem wall.
By the suddenly sullen expression on George's face at the remaining cultist's dogged insistence, Harry could tell that he was out of surprises. He yelled in warning as the first nuka grenades sailed over the walls and exploded in brilliant flame behind them.
Thinking quickly, Luna brandished her wand and caught a few of the grenades in mid-air, flicking her wrist dramatically, she sent them sailing back over the wall and grinned happily at the dismayed shouts that erupted from the Children of Atom as their own grenades exploded in their midst.
Barney tapped the buttons on the terminal controlling the turrets and after a few chirps, the machines acknowledged their targeting instructions and began to rain light machine gun fire into the mass below. Harry stuck his head over the wall and quickly stunned a woman before she could throw a grenade, the device landing at her feet but thankfully not exploding.
Several of the incendiary devices exploded at the gates themselves, but thanks to the strengthening charms cast on them by Hermione, they held without so much as a scratch. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the turrets, as two of them were already smoking ruins.
Green globs flew up at the defenders at the wall as they attempted to fire down at the press below. The wall was only ten feet tall, so the children would not be hard pressed to get over it as they only had to boost one another up to gain access. Harry swept his section of the wall with a mighty blast of wind, knocking a trio of cultists who had that very idea off their feet.
He winced at the loud thud of a body rolling off his side of the wall and looked down in horror at Vincent's body lying motionless at the bottom. Thankfully, Neville was on the spot and quickly levitated the stricken man and rushed him to the clinic.
Looking along the walls, Harry began to despair as he noted fully half of the defenders were already missing, casualties of this senseless conflict. It was small consolation that the Children were much worse off, with only a dozen of the initial forty remaining.
The preacher must have realized it to, for he called his people back and glared up at Harry as they streamed past him, carrying their incapacitated fellows.
"THIS IS NOT THE END! YOU CANNOT DENY THE BLESSINGS OF THE GLOW! ATOM WILLS IT!"
With that, and some fist shaking for good measure, the madman turned and followed his people back to their crater.
POV: Jonathan, Old North Bridge
Not for the first time, Jonathan wondered if he had made a mistake. The dark skinned fellow in minuteman regalia was both terse and nervous, a bad combination for a man with a weapon pointed at your back. He tried to calm himself as he heard the man approach him across the bridge, his arms held far enough away from his body to communicate clearly that he wasn't going for any of his weapons.
"Who are you and what do you want?" The man growled.
"My name's Jon. I'm just helping some people out, looking for a good place for them to settle. Thought this corner of the 'Wealth was a good spot."
"You have people with you? Where are they?"
Jon could sense the rising tension rolling off the man, as if the he expected the group to pop out any moment.
"I had them wait at the Red Rocket station down the road. There's four of them, two of 'em are kids."
"Alright, call them over. No surprises, I got backup."
Jon risked lowering one of his arms, bringing his fingers to his lips and whistling the agreed upon signal. At a nudge from the minuteman, he raised his arm again and waited.
A few tense minutes later, the group he was escorting came up the road, pausing for a moment and looking at each other when they spotted the minuteman pointing a laser musket at their escort's back.
Jon heard the minuteman step slightly to the side to get a good look at the group.
A young blonde woman clutched her two children, both no more than ten while a man who appeared to be the mother's father stood in front of them. The grizzled man was missing his left arm below the elbow and had so many scars it was a wonder how he survived all the wounds that they portended.
"That's old man Richard Frost," The older man bristled a little at the introduction, "his daughter Eva and her children Michael and Sophia. They were just folks looking for a place after their home was overrun by super mutants. I came across them in the aftermath still being pursued near Malden. We managed to take down the muties chasing them and I offered to help them find a place to settle."
"And what are you getting out of this, Jon?" The minuteman asked, his tone softening slightly at the sight of the beleaguered family.
"Getting out of this? They aren't paying me or anything if that's what you are getting at. It was the right thing to do, so I did it."
"Really? Sorry, most people these days are just out for themselves. Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen."
"Can I put my hands down now Preston?"
"Sure. Welcome to Sanctuary."
The family breathed a sigh of relief as Jon put his hands down and turned to face Preston. He smiled and offered his hand, which the minuteman took and gave him a firm and welcoming shake.
"It'll be nice to have more folks here. Come on, I'll introduce you to the others."
The walk over the bridge and into Sanctuary was amiable, with the children erupting in questions for the Minuteman.
"Why are you dressed like that?"
"Can I have your hat?'
"Why is your gun sparkling?"
"Do you have any gumdrops?"
"Children! Behave please." Their mother pleaded, throwing Garvey an apologetic look.
Preston laughed, "It's alright ma'am. It's nice to see kids again."
Jun came down from the guard tower and lowered his double-barreled shotgun, Marcy joined him, her omnipresent scowl softening at the sight of the precocious youngsters at Preston's feet.
The family joined the residents of Sanctuary for a communal meal, their eyes wide in wonder at the nearly pristine house situated in the middle of the ruins that dotted the rest of the island. The children took an instant shine to Mama Murphy, who regaled them with tales of her youth, in particular a battle with a fearsome deathclaw. Marcy and Jun served out portions of a hearty radstag stew, the meat fresh from a lone creature that Preston spotted across the river during his patrols.
The food was excellent and the company agreeable, and for the first time in weeks, the Frosts felt at ease. Jon and Preston spoke long into the night, sharing their stories.
"You did a hell of a thing getting these people all the way here from Quincy."
Preston waved away his praise, "It wasn't just me, and we lost more coming here than we started with. I don't deserve any thanks."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. You pulled a victory from the worst the wasteland could throw at you. These people wouldn't be here if not for you." Jon pressed.
"I could say the same for you."
"I guess we're just two of a kind." Jon smiled.
Though cramped, everyone stayed in the one fixed up house that night, with plans to refurbish the house across from it, the one which previously belonged to Nora and Nate. Codsworth was still hovering by the long dead plants along the front of the house, using an ancient looking rag to wipe away grime from the outer walls.
Jonathan walked over after dinner to inspect the house, pausing to take a look at the Mr. Handy.
It whirred and turned to face him, the irises on its eye pods opening wide, a gesture that on a human would have indicated surprise.
"Oh my word! Mr. Nate! Is it really you?"
"No, I'm sorry. My name is Jonathan."
At this, the robot butler visibly sagged as if disheartened, "My apologies Mr. Jonathan. You look so much like my old master."
"Oh it's alright. Is this your master's home then?"
"Oh yes, wonderful family. I do so miss them so! Mrs. Nora had gone off to look for young Shaun. She seemed different, but what with all she had gone through, one could hardly blame her."
"I see. Do you think they would mind if we used their house to house another family? They have young children as well. Twins in fact."
"Oh! I'm sure that they'd be pleased to host guests! They were that kind of family, let me tell you! I'm afraid it's not in a fit state though, especially for children. It's been very hard keeping up with the cleaning over the centuries!"
"That's quite alright, Codsworth is it?"
"Oh where are my manners!? Yes, Mr. Jonathan, I name is Codsworth, the pride of General Dynamics!"
Jon inspected Codsworth with a critical eye, "Yeah, you seem to have weathered the years quite well. Even your programming doesn't seem to have much corruption."
The butler seemed to beam with pride and bobbed up and down as if to bow.
"I aim to please!"
"In that case, let's take a look at what needs to be done to get this house ready for the Frosts."
POV: Harry Potter, Salem Settlement, the morning after the attack
Hermione reached over and gently shut Harry's gaping mouth, the shock at the scene in front of him actually stealing his senses for a moment. For their part, George and an older gentleman were all smiles as they proudly displayed their project.
The 'owl' hooted and looked around at the quartet, its polished silvery wings reflecting sunlight in a dazzling display. It ticked and whirred as it adjusted its position on George's arm, bobbing its head almost comically as if preening under the attention.
"What… is it?" Harry finally managed.
George puffed himself up, "I was toying with a Giddyup Buttercup, a robot toy of sorts, and this helpful chap, "he clasped a hand on the older man's shoulder, "pipes in and tells me that he knows how they work. In fact, Mr. William here happens to be absolutely brilliant when it comes to things like this. We salvaged as many parts as we could and built a robotic owl to carry messages for us."
"It's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, setting his arm forward and grinning in delight when the owl hopped over from George's arm to his. It cooed as he stroked its soft metal feathers, marveling at how lifelike it was despite being made mostly of metal and plastic.
"We've only tested it on short flights so far." Mr. William added, "Really just a quick circuit around the workshop. But it flies well, just need to make some adjustments to its ability to sense and adjust to obstacles."
"Yeah, it's a bit like Errol in that way, but to be fair to the old bird, he had trouble just from being so ancient… for an owl."
"Neville is talking about going back to that settlement, Sanctuary. I think a good test would be to send the owl there just ahead of Neville's group. That way, if anything goes wrong, they'll be on hand to scoop him up."
"Sounds good." George smiled.
"I'll get on those adjustments." Mr. William added, whistling for the owl who happily hopped up onto the old man's shoulder.
As the pair of inventors moved off, chatting away excitedly, Harry's own grin faded as he turned back to Hermione.
"I wish all the news today was cheery like that."
Hermione knew what Harry was referring to, "We'll have the funeral for Bob and Mary this afternoon. You should say a few words. They were very brave on the wall, Barney has no shortage of good things to say about them."
"Of course. Speaking of Barney, how's he coming on repairing those turrets?"
"Lilith is helping him, but for some reason, a simple reparo doesn't quite fix them completely, so Barney has to dig into each one to see what didn't get fixed right. She's going to try some more runes to harden their exterior shells, those runes she used to replenish their ammo actually worked pretty well."
"We could use more." Harry mused.
"When we try duplicating an entire turret, it doesn't work at all. Barney says that some of the finer components, gears and circuits, break or burn up when they turn them on. They may just be too delicate and complicated to duplicate the entire thing. Maybe if we only tried to duplicate the parts individually then assemble them afterwards?"
"It's worth a go."
"Neville talked about a mechanic at that settlement he visited. Sturges I think his name was? He had actually built a couple of turrets out of scrap. If he made us a template, we could use the scrap from that yard he flew over and make as many as we need."
"Maybe I should go meet with them."
Hermione frowned at him, "Maybe you need to get some rest. You still haven't recovered from your trip."
Harry had to concede the point, Dr. Anderson had pulled the bullets out and flushed the remaining radiation from his system, but he was feeling fatigued and in no fit state to go flying around anywhere.
Hermione placed a comforting hand on his arm, "You have to trust that other people can do things too, Harry. You don't have to do it all yourself."
His face screwed up incredulously, "Hello Pot! I'm Kettle!"
Hermione actually chuckled softly, "I know, I know."
"Speaking of which, we have to raise our wall. Two Hermione's tall didn't stop them from tossing grenades inside."
Harry paused, not wanting to say more, as it was a grenade that had detonated inside the walls that had killed Bob and Mary. He didn't want Hermione to feel responsible for that, because if it hadn't been for her wall, none of them may have survived.
Hermione went quiet and Harry regretted bringing it up.
"You're right," She said suddenly, "but there isn't enough stone nearby to use. We made it as tall as we could with what was close by."
He smiled in sympathy at the war of emotion that darkened her features.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"
"It's fine." She said too quickly, "It's a problem we have to fix."
Harry thought for a moment, gnawing on his lip as he considered. He did know a place with plenty of good stone, but…
"You're thinking something. What is it?"
Damn. Hermione knew him too well.
"There is a place, but its bad news. I'd rather range further out to find what we need."
"What?" She pressed.
"There is a quarry not far from here, a few minutes by broom really. Sir Nicholas and I spotted it when we first checked out the surrounding area."
"But?"
"It's swarming with raiders… and there's a chindi there."
"A chindi!"
"Yeah, I think we may be better off looking elsewhere."
"We'll have to address it at some point. Not to mention having an army of raiders less than a day's march from here… once they hear about us, they'll be on our doorstep."
"I know. But what can we do?"
"We need allies."
A/N: The fist 2K words of Chapter 3 will be the remnants of the previously posted story that didn't fit in Chapter 2. The rest of the 8K or so will be new content. Stand by and thanks for your patience. If you have any. If not then bleep you. JK.