Chapter 12: Butcher Pete – Roy Brown
I've decided to start replying to reviews from the previous chapter here, so here we go!
Frankieu: Thank you for following the story for so long and your consistent encouragement. As to your musing... well, that guy certainly seemed 'familiar'.
Coduss: Doesn't he though? Like I've seen him before, only in different guises
Vampirelord101: Lol, I'll try not to! Thanks!
Aesir21: I smile to myself when I think of someone like Neville with someone like Fingers. I mentally picture the raider as looking like Alissa White-Gluz. You can google her, she is the lead singer for Arch Enemy. Honestly I hadn't gotten that far in my outline to determine if Harry goes to Far Harbor or not.
POV: Hermione
Hermione couldn't help but smile, as despite the late start, the pair were making good time by staying mostly to the roads that her 'boyfriend's' Minutemen had diligently cleared of debris and troublesome raiders and other nuisances. They chatted amiably as they walked, the occasional cool breezes making the somewhat hot day more than bearable. Despite the almost nonchalant ambience of their trip, Jonathan's gaze never seemed to settle in one spot for too long, his head constantly swiveling left to right as he kept careful watch.
His diligent scan took on an aura of longing as they settled on the ancient wreck of some kind of army vehicle, the forlorn shape slowly sinking into the morass to the side of the road.
"It would be nice not to have to walk everywhere." Hermione noted, playing into his musing demeanor.
Jonathan smiled at that, "You technically don't have too. You have your flying ships and your brooms."
Hermione's face twisted sourly, "I'm not big on flying."
He laughed at her discomfort, though it was light hearted.
"There are an awful lot of wrecks, you ever think of fixing one up? In fact, I'm surprised no one had thought to do that."
Jonathan seemed to consider the question, "That's actually a good question… I don't know why no one had ever tried to repair one before. Maybe because the roads are so clogged with debris, it'd be hard to drive more than a few yards in one. Plus, the daily struggle just to be fed probably puts things like transportation on the back burner. And, where would they go? They have their hands full working their farms or scavenging and keeping what they have from raiders and the like."
"It's much safer now. And the roads… at least the ones up here, are in pretty good repair."
"True…" Jonathan seemed to consider her comments seriously, and glanced back at the military vehicle with more than simple longing. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head.
The stopped for a late lunch at Bedford station, sitting inside an old rail car and watching as a small crew of settlers from Tenpines Bluff used cranes and levers to move heavy stone blocks onto a flatbed rail car. The Minuteman contingent watching over them waved cheerfully at the pair, one of them offering a salute to their General. Hermione wondered if she should give them a hand with their hard work, but with a glance at the pride in Jonathan's eyes, decided to let them do their work unfettered with her help.
Hermione saw the happy pride with which the settlers worked, their camaraderie only intensified by the difficulty of the job and the immense satisfaction as they loaded each heavy block was palpable. Merely months before, these men and women would never have conceived of doing something that actually paid future dividends, instead worrying over feeding their families and always looking over their shoulders.
She started when Jonathan handed her a steaming bowl of beans and something that resembled bacon. She appreciated his cooking, though it irked her somewhat that despite all her efforts, she rarely could make anything more appetizing than somewhat burned toast. She sat next to him, blowing gently on the beans to cool them. He pulled some bannock that he had made that morning from his pack and tore the piece in two, handing her a piece with which to scoop out the beans.
"This looks like their last load." Jonathan took a healthy bite and paused to blow around the hot beans burning his mouth.
"Is this for their wall?" Hermione asked.
Recovering enough to answer, he swallowed his mouthful and nodded, "I think so. Though I seem to remember that they are also considering replacing the road and plank bridge with a more sturdy structure."
Changing the subject, "Where are we going from here?" Hermione asked, still prudently waiting for her lunch to cool.
"We'll follow the rails south to the next road close to Starlight. Then we'll swing east past the rotten landfill. There's a settlement near there called Covenant. I've never been there but I hear the people there are friendly and welcoming, though a little eccentric."
"How so?" Hermione asked.
"One of my patrols stopped there and were given an exam before being allowed entrance. Weird questions like, what position you would play if you made the baseball team… as if anyone around here knows what baseball is."
"I wonder what the point of that is."
"I don't know. But as far as I know, they answered the questions right and were allowed in. Nothing odd in the town itself, they traded some of their pure water to replenish their food and ammo and were on their way the next morning without a fuss."
"I guess it'll be nice to see another town of actual people making a living rather than a ruin full of raiders."
"Yeah. Apparently, the buildings in their little town are almost pristine… as if they didn't suffer from the Great War or the intervening years of decay. They maintain their safety with a wall and a number of turrets, and so are freer to maintain a higher standard of living than most other settlements. It'd be interesting to take notes and maybe open a more formal relationship with them."
"You mean offer Minuteman protection?" Hermione asked, her tone lowering slightly as she remembered Harry's reticence at trusting the organization too much.
"No." he laughed, "It doesn't sound like they need it anyway. No, the Minutemen failed before because they lost sight of their purpose. We're here to help, not to dictate or conquer. If they ask for help, we're more than happy to provide. If not, then maybe we can be friendly enough that we have an arrangement. A sort of safe harbor for my teams patrolling the roads."
Their conversation shifted to other topics as they finished their lunch, Hermione reveling in the simple pleasure that so often got overlooked in her previous life. She cast a simple charm to chill the Nuka Cola they were sharing, to Jonathan's delight. His satisfied sigh brought a smile to her lips. He stood up and brushed crumbs from his trousers and extended a hand down to her, helping her to stand. He never failed to offer every courtesy, sometimes treating her as if she were being officially courted. The thought made her blush, was that what he was doing? The idea made her heart race.
"Pitcher." Jonathan answered, his annoyance only noticeable to Hermione.
"Are you sure? The 'gatekeeper' predictably asked.
The man had asked the very same after EVERY single question. Jonathan was more than irked at that, considering he spent more time ogling Hermione than taking note of her answers during her turn.
Jonathan's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Hermione felt some alarm at the way his hands tightened on the armrests of his chair. She laid a hand on his shoulder, nearly gasping at how tense he felt. She was a little confused, as he was normally much more patient than this.
Looking up from his clipboard, the man finally noted the hard look that Jonathan was giving him and visibly blanched. He cleared his throat nervously and smiled, setting his pen down.
"Well, that was the last one. Welcome to Covenant!" He announced, trying to inject a degree of joviality into his tone.
Cracking like a frozen lake in spring, Jonathan's ire seemed to melt away and he stood up with an almost casual air. He grinned, shook the man's hand and got up from his chair as though he hadn't about to unleash hell on the man.
They passed into the gate and were struck by the clean and cozy homes that surrounded the small settlement. There were a small number of crops located next to a workbench to the right, though from the size of the plot, it wasn't enough to feed even a settlement of that meager size.
They walked casually through the place, the few residents pausing their work to smile and offer a kind greeting… it was almost eerie. Hermione wondered if this is how people visiting Salem for the first time felt. Probably more, because as nice as this 'Covenant' was, it was a pale shadow of Salem.
"Try a nice cold glass of Deezer's lemonade!" The Mr. Handy proudly proclaimed.
"Lemonade? Um… what's in it?" Hermione asked skeptically.
"Only the finest ingredients in Deezer's lemonade! Try one for free today!"
"Um, no thanks."
She saw that the hard cast to his eyes hadn't completely abated, Jonathan even seemed to be… skittish.
She murmured a quick charm to envelope them in a bubble of quietude then pulled him gently into the shade between two houses, "What is it? You've been acting dodgy ever since we arrived."
He glanced about, as if to ensure no one was near and hung his head. "I'm not sure. It's this strange feeling I get sometimes. Something is off here. I feel the same way when I know someone is lying to me. It's like that only… it's everywhere, with everything. Like this whole place is a lie."
Hermione didn't quite know what to think. She never gave much credence to divination or auguries, she did trust Jonathan's instincts. She had learned that maybe as a result of genetic manipulation and selective breeding, he had the ability perceive things that she would need magic to detect.
"Talk me through it." She murmured, gripping his arm affectionately.
He nodded, then leaned out from the wall they were standing next to, "That woman, the young one in the green jumpsuit."
Hermione looked and tapped his arm to let him know she saw her.
"Look at the way she acts around strangers. That man that looks like a mercenary? He's here for answers and he's frustrated. He asks her a question and she responds with an unusual amount of nervousness."
"The older man in the patched suit? He's as greasy as a politician… like that McDonough. He pretends that all is well here in Camelot, but his heart rate is unusually elevated."
"You can hear his heart beating?!" Hermione asked, astonished.
"When I'm standing close enough and can focus. I can distinguish different sounds even through the noise from a battle. I guess it's partially genetics and partially from our training."
"Does that mean you can hear it when my heart rate changes?"
"Every time." He spoke with emphasis, his arm drawing her around the waist and pulling her in close. She felt his breath warm against her neck and felt a shiver as his hand trailed down her back. He kissed her lightly on her earlobe and she very nearly gasped at the electricity arcing from his touch.
"That's… really not fair." She breathed.
"Compensates a little for you being a witch." He laughed. He stopped suddenly and looked to his left. She followed his gaze and saw that the mercenary was watching them, a befuddled look twisting his face comically.
"He sees us talking and laughing, but the shield I cast is keeping him from hearing it."
Jonathan caught himself, a bubble of laughter ready to burst in his chest. She giggled as well, imagining what it must look like to see two people's mouths moving without sound.
The man shook his head and moved off, undoubtedly adding the strange sight to the list of things he found wrong about this settlement.
Jonathan rested his head on Hermione's shoulder and murmured in her ear, "I don't want to stay here. I think maybe we should move out. There's a house on the shores of the small lake nearby where the Suttons live. They've let me stay the night and they're nice enough folks."
"Ok." Hermione nodded, giving him a consoling smile.
Though met with odd looks the pair of them moved on, waving goodbye as they walked through the gates of Covenant.
A suspicious Swanson stepped in front of Jonathan, "You've only just gotten here, why are you in such a hurry to leave?"
Jonathan looped an arm easily over Swanson's shoulder and leaned in toward him conspiratorially, "That man… the one that looks like a mercenary? He's been looking at my wife here in a way that makes me… a little upset. I don't want to cause trouble in your fine town, so we're going to go visit some friends down the road."
Swanson nodded understandably, "Yeah, you're not the only one he's making nervous. Can't say that I blame you. Though Penny will be irritated at losing your coin in trade."
"We're heading back this way in a week or so, just visiting the wife's family. You know… in-laws." Jonathan rolled his eyes dramatically. Swanson smiled and nodded and in a few moments was waving them cheerily on their way.
Hermione had to admit to a little thrill when he had referred to her as his wife, though she knew it was merely subterfuge.
"Wife, eh? You should be so lucky." She growled.
"I would." He stated simply, leaving her to wonder if there was any subtext there.
"Do you still have that mirror? The one you use to talk to your people from far away?" Jonathan asked, apropos of nothing.
"Um, actually yes. Though Lilith has the other mirror at the moment. For some reason, Harry doesn't like carrying it around."
Jonathan wisely kept whatever opinion he had on that to himself, "Would you contact Lilith then? I need an owl sent to Sanctuary with some instructions for Preston."
"Is this about Covenant?"
He nodded, "There's something about it that just bothers me. I don't want to further delay our trip though and besides, a very smart person once told me that I can't be everywhere and do everything."
Hermione, dug around in her small knit haversack, handing Jonathan things to hold that couldn't have fit in the small bag. After a moment, she pulled the mirror free and stroked its surface to awaken the magic.
They walked for a time and slowed as they came upon an unsettling scene.
"Hello? Hermione? Is that you?" Lilith's voice came through the mirror.
"Yeah, I'm sorry Lilith. Can you give me a minute? We just found something awful."
"Oh sure, are you alright?"
"Yes, I'll talk to you in a minute."
Jonathan was already kneeling beside the first body, from the green uniform and combat armor, she assumed that she was a Gunner.
"I didn't know this one. She bled out from multiple gunshot wounds."
He moved over to another body, "Trader, he died pretty quickly from a single gunshot to the back of the head."
The poor brahmin had literally been perforated by a large volume of gunfire, the body torn open and its viscera exposed. Hermione had to cover her mouth against the smell.
After examining the last body, Jonathan turned to her, "This caravan was ambushed from the direction of Covenant. The Gunner was likely a guard hired by this trader and managed to return fire before succumbing to her wounds. And then there's this." He held up a canister with 'Deezer's Lemonade' proudly stenciled along its side.
"You were right, there is something dodgy about that place." Hermione turned back to the mirror, "Lilith? Sorry to keep you waiting. Are you there?"
Talking through Hermione, Jonathan relayed instructions for Preston to send word to an old acquaintance of his named McCready. He would meet up with Roger and Codsworth at Taffington, the settlement nearby where they were planning to stay the night. They would then proceed to Covenant and investigate.
"McCready doesn't come cheap, but he is well worth it." He stated after Lilith had agreed to send an owl to Sanctuary right away.
"I thought he was a friend of yours?" Hermione asked, a little confused.
"Oh he is, but the man still has to make a living. He has a son that lives to the south, a place called the Capital Wasteland. He originally came up here to find the cure for an illness that his son contracted. I helped him to get it and now he's staying until he earns enough to retire and go home. Seems that mercenary work is a little dry down there because that's where a chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel is headquartered and they've pretty much pacified that whole area."
"Sounds like you have a little bit of a complicated history with him." Hermione noted.
"I understand him." He stated simply, shrugging. "He worked with the Gunners once, after my time. And like me, didn't like how they operated and left them. They've hounded him for a time until I managed to help him discourage them."
"You think he will be able to solve this mystery?" Hermione wondered aloud, motioning in the general direction of the eerie settlement.
"If anyone can, McCready can. I even… wait, do you hear that?"
Hermione had to stop and listen carefully, even then uncertain if what she thought she heard was what he was referring to.
"A wonky buzzing sound?"
They had come within sight of the Sutton's homestead, Taffington boathouse and the sound that she had thought merely distant background noise had definitely both increased in volume and pitch.
Hermione shivered at the implications. The only other time she had heard that sound before presaged the appearance of monstrously large mosquitos.
"Oh my god. The house is infested." Jonathan gasped, as a number of the hideously massive blood bugs rose from their perch and began to fly toward them.
"Immobilus!" Hermione shouted, raising her wand high and sending a shockwave of paralyzing energy rippling outward toward the incoming terrors.
The buzzing ceased immediately, the hapless insects barely twitching as they floated insensate in front of them. Wasting no time, Jonathan drew a combat knife from his boot and moved forward to end their threat for good.
Hermione gagged at the site of the blue bloated brahmin laying by the boathouse, clearly a victim of the bloodbug's feeding. Her heart hammered in her chest in sympathy to the terrible look in Jonathan's eyes as he called out for the Suttons.
"Mary! Russell! Margie! Is anyone there?!" He rushed inside, his combat rifle held ready as he explored the main house. Hermione followed at a safe distance and extended her magical senses… her heart falling as she sensed no one alive inside. She joined him upstairs in time to hear him groan in sorrow.
"Oh no. Mary." The body of an older woman lay next to a bathtub, a note clutched in her hands and a look of abject terror writ across her pale face. A gaping hole opened bloodlessly in her abdomen, leaving little doubt as to how the poor woman had died.
Jonathan closed her eyes and pried the note from her dead fingers. He scanned it then held it out for Hermione to take.
"Mom,
Russell has been gone over a day now and I'm getting worried. We were going to wait to tell you, but we found an old holotape from before the war in the boat shed. It sounded like someone had stashed some chems in the drainage at the end of the canal. Russell thought we might be able to sell them to one of the traders. Maybe use the caps to buy another brahmin.
I'm sorry we didn't tell you, we just wanted it to be a surprise. But that's the second of those bugs we've seen today and I think something went wrong, so I'm going to have a look for him. Don't worry – I'm just going to take a quick peek and I'll be back soon.
-Margie"
***Work cited
Fallout 4, Bethesda, November 10, 2015***
Hermione let the note fall from nerveless fingers. A handful of settlers had almost no chance against the number of bloodbugs that they had found infesting the settlement.
"Do you think that 'Margie' could still be alive?" Hermione asked quietly, afraid that she already knew the answer.
"There's only one way to find out. In the note she talked about a canal, there's something like that nearby."
The closer to the 'canal' they travelled, the less likely it appeared to the both of them that the Sutton's survived this incident. Swarms of hungry bloodbugs rose from the mud and muck to assail them, though they were easily dispatched through Hermione's magic and Jonathan's methodical coups de grace.
Hermione was not the least bit surprised, though still aggrieved as Jonathan pulled a young woman's body free from the muck just outside an outflow pipe. He wiped the slime from her face, showing a pretty girl whose face was frozen in a rictus of panicked terror. Like her mother, she had suffered a number of stab wounds and had likely been drained of her blood in moments.
They moved into the pipe that she had been about to investigate, ignoring the stinking refuse sloshing around their calves.
The pipe opened into some sort of sewage trap, a somewhat cavernous room with multiple pipes redirecting water flow out into the small lake. Again, the buzzing assailed their ears and yet again, Hermione silenced it with deft wand work.
"Damn it, Russell." Jonathan swore quietly, turning over the bloated corpse of a young man.
He fell onto his haunches and massaged his eyes, heedless of the muddy slime he was smearing onto his face. Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder and let him silently grieve.
"He was a hothead, but he was devoted to his mother and sister. He always tried to come up with ways of making their lives better. He was a good kid and was going to grow up to be a good man. Margie was very pretty and sweet, I always pictured her being the picture perfect mom to a swarm of little ones. Mary… Mary was a tough old gal. She left her abusive addict of a husband to settle here and tried to eke out a new life for her babies. They deserved better than this."
A single tear tracked a clean line down his cheek, though his face was hard with angry frustration. It was one of the things she loved about him most, his passion for people and how he seemed to take it personally when he came across a tragedy like this. And tragedies were an all too common occurrence here in the Commonwealth.
"Let's bury them." Hermione suggested, knowing that Jonathan needed some action in order to help him through the frustration he felt. He nodded, grateful for her understanding and support, and lifted the young man easily in his strong arms.
Hermione levitated Margie's body and guided it gently back to the boathouse next to him. They chose a spot just across the ruined street from the house, the rocky dirt no impediment to Hermione's magic.
Minutes later, 3 fresh mounds of earth were marked by 3 crosses, each of the Sutton's names and today's date painstakingly scratched into the crosspiece by Jonathan.
"Remind me to have Preston send a crew here to secure the site. It's a good place and could make some families a good home. If only I had pushed harder for the Minutemen to expand… they might not have stood alone against these damn things."
"No, don't start blaming yourself. Remember, you can't be everywhere? As much as I would want to, neither can I, even with magic."
POV: Harry
"Bugger me, they're everywhere!"
Harry swerved and dove, avoiding the massive volume of fire that was tracing its way from the treeline directly at him. His shield had long since expired and despite the sheer amount of magic he threw at them, the animal-like raiders seemed to be endless in number.
A squad of Minutemen had come from Sanctuary and joined with the Abernathy Militia along the southern walls, firing into the press with wild abandon. The turrets had long since been blasted to pieces, though they gave a good account of themselves, cutting entire swathes out of the brightly colored press of hooting foes.
It had only seemed like a moment ago when a raucous chorus of animal-like howls rose up from the south as a massive pack of brightly clothed raiders boiled from the woods and headed straight for Abernathy's defensive wall. The turrets lit up, but they were woefully inadequate to stem the tide of bestial wrath coming for them.
These raiders seemed to have an affinity for animals, as they were accompanied into battle by a literal menagerie of mutant creatures. Yao guai stood up on hind legs and beat against the gate with their fearsome strength, the settlers hurriedly reinforcing the disintegrating barrier with everything they could get their hands on. Mole rats burst up from behind the lines, tearing into the hapless farmers as they worked to battle both the enemies at the wall and the fires raging across their beloved fields. Mongrels ran in packs, searching for a way in and slavering with eager anticipation.
Harry was already tired, exhaustion slowing him as he casted shielding charms on the defenders, killing those creatures that burst up from behind the wall and killing as many raiders as he could as an afterthought. A searing pain drew a line of fire on his leg and his broom exploded into splinters.
Harry maintained the presence of mind to arrest his descent, landing in a heap but unhurt.
Lurching to his feet, he looked around at the chaos all around him, the original eight man militia now down to four, Lucy Abernathy crying even as she pulled men and women from harm's way and applied first aid where she could.
The Minutemen were accounting themselves well, and had arrived just in time to keep the settlement from being overwhelmed, but even their added strength was a pittance against the sheer mass of raiders being thrown at them. Harry could almost feel a malevolent force behind the attack, as if a malign will was setting the raiders upon them with a cruel will.
"Daphne's going to kill me." He muttered to himself as he vaulted up the scaffolding and onto the walls. He was disheartened to see that there were still nearly a hundred raiders… and that they were too far spread for him to deal with them in one fell swoop. Hurriedly firing blue flares into the deepening night sky, and hoping that they would be seen and acted upon, he grit his teeth and flashed his wand at the enemy.
Anger fired his gaze and everywhere he looked, death quickly followed. As more and more of the raiders fell to his wrath, more of them directed their attacks to the area of the wall he was defending. Bullets struck the metal reinforced concrete like rain and the shielding charms he had cast were swiftly brought down. A man to his left cried out as he fell off the wall, blood spraying in an arc from the wound in his shoulder.
The old Harry might have been distracted onto ruin by sympathy, but if his struggles in another age against Voldemort taught him anything, it was that focus is what kept any witch or wizard from crossing the line of life and death.
Sadly, even focusing on the battle before him could not keep him free from danger, a fact made all the more poignant by the sudden pain blossoming in his stomach. He grabbed at his stomach in reflex, and nearly swooned when his hand became awash with hot blood.
His momentary lapse proved fatal for the Abernathy militia to either side of him, as a number of raiders ascended the wall under the lessening resistance and swiftly overwhelmed the defenders with sheer ferocity. A strong set of hands reached under his arms and pulled him into a small guard shed where Lucy was waiting with a stimpack and a grim expression darkening her face.
A Minuteman, Lucy's beau by the way he hovered protectively over her, aimed and fired right over her as she worked over Harry's stomach wound, the distinct 'sprang' of his laser musket adding to the visual and auditory din.
He stood suddenly and used his musket to block the wickedly cruel edge of a blade descending on them, the howling raider who wielded it spraying spittle everywhere as he struggled against the young minuteman.
Lucy kept one hand on his stomach wound, protecting the area until the stimpack could start to knit the flesh back together and pulled a weathered 10mm pistol with the other. Not bothering to aim, she jammed the muzzle just beneath a purple teddy bear that the raider had affixed to his chest armor and emptied her magazine into his torso. The man screeched like an inhuman beast as his body shuddered with each round that tore into him. He fell back with a heavy thud and was unceremoniously kicked off the platform by the minuteman.
"They're breaking through!" he shouted, noting the disastrous event as he stepped back from disposing of their unwanted guest.
He fell over on the both of them, shielding them with his body as a massive explosion shook the entire length of the wall. They coughed against the haze of smoke and dust that blanketed them and tried to peer through the miasma to see what was happening.
Nerveless fingers barely clutching his wand, Harry summoned up the strength to summon a wind and cleared away the smoke, the resulting scene making him wish he hadn't.
The bulk of the surviving raiders, still severely outnumbering the defenders, boiled into the settlement through the ruined gate, howling even as they met the line of mixed militia who had formed up to meet them. They fired a volley into the mass, stalling their charge, though only momentarily.
Harry, feeling some of his strength return, stood up on shaky legs and whipped his wand up. He was determined that he was far from defeated. He conjured a wall of fire, the roaring conflagration springing to life in a curved line separating the raiders from the people of Abernathy. Imbuing the heat with a measure of his anger, the fire reached forward with whip like tendrils, ensnaring several raiders around the neck. They screeched in agony as the ropes of flame lifted them up and hurled them back into their own people, tongues of flame reaching out from their flaming bodies to spread like a plague.
Not enough… it's not enough. Harry lamented, seeing that despite his conjuration, the flood of enemies was largely unfettered. The wall of fire died as his strength failed him, his bottom striking the hard floor of the guard shack as he fell.
His shock was complete when a trio of raiders flew away from a wild woman in nothing more than a crimson vest and leather pants twirled between them, her foot lashing out with devastating force. Her hair was short and seemed alight against the fires raging throughout the settlement. She snapped her foot straight up and under the chin of a howling raider, his cries suddenly cutting off as a gout of blood erupted from his mouth.
Another raider lifted into the air as a black blade burst through his torso, an armored fist raising it and his thrashing body and tossing him off the sword like a piece of refuse. A massive figure resplendent in dark plates tromped ahead and swung the sword with supernatural force, bisecting a pair of raiders who failed to get out of the way in time. The pair worked their way to the line of defenders, their brutal assault chewing its way from the back to the front of the enemy mob.
"What are ye all waiting around for? Get to killin!" The woman shouted at the militia, who had almost to a man, stopped to gape at the incredible display. Effectively chided by the angry woman, they lifted their weapons and fired another volley at the raiders, which tipped the balance of their resolve toward the breaking point.
The several dozen raiders fell back in disarray, only to meet the rest of their kin coming into the gate. Encouraged by the reinforcement, the raiders stopped their flight and formed something resembling a formation… though it was more them standing near their allies than it was any conscious effort on their behalf.
Harry heard the minuteman behind him groan at the number of raiders that remained. Despite the heroic charge of the two stranger and no small effort on his part, there remained the better part of sixty raiders.
The other militia fidgeted, suddenly losing all heart in the face of such odds, a few of them even expressing their dismay in wails of despair.
"Aw pipe doon, you lot. Better yet, noo may be a good time to duck!"
She fell flat onto her stomach, and out of sheer astonishment more than anything, the others fell as well, uncertainty and fear widening their eyes so that the whites nearly glowed like pearls.
The raiders began to hoot and chant, the percussive tempo of their taunting further demoralizing the settlers, many of whom covered their ears to drown out the primitive chorus.
Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and a strange sensation intruding into his thoughts. It was much like when he could feel Voldemort, a sort of pressure building up in part of his mind. He gasped more in the memory of pain than from any real hurt he was experiencing from this new sensation.
It began as a dull roar, like the sound of ocean waves cresting upon a distant shore… like the waves that crashed against the rocks below his bedroom window, the waves that lulled him to sleep on the few occasions he was in his room.
This sound… the rising crescendo, did not lull him like the waves of that distant home, instead it filled him with an electric anticipation.
Blue light reflected from the walls of the guard shack, it rippled like something alive. Again, like the reflection of light from a body of water lit from within. He craned his neck to look over the wall and found his breath stolen from him at the sight of a massive wave of undulating blue energy rushing toward the settlement. What kind of power did this portend? He closed his eyes as the light became too intense for his eyes, fear rising up within him like a suffocating blanket. He heard Lucy and her love mewling beside him, certain in their hearts that the blue fire would be their ruin.
He felt a cool sensation, a strong arctic breeze which did little more than tousle his hair and make him shiver. He dared to open his eyes to find that the wave had passed through the wall as if untroubled by the concrete redoubt and swept in at the mass of bodies milling in confusion.
Confusion rapidly transformed into terror and pain. The raiders were flung up with the energy of the wave and utterly consumed, their bodies disintegrating like sand sculptures effaced beneath a deluge of rain. The settlers braced themselves for the death coming for them and stood trembling for a moment made pregnant with anticipation. A ripple of gasps flowed through the group as the wave passed through them and gifted them with the same cool breeze that Harry had felt.
The silence that followed was palpable. When finally broken, it was by the few remnants of the raider horde that had not yet gained the settlement. Their voices faded into the night, mournful howls echoing up in the night sky like a retreating pack of wolves.
A coach of wrought iron trundled through the gate, pulled by all things, by a pair of mechanical horses which were also black. Harry blinked, those horses looked like upscaled versions of the 'giddyup buttercup' toys he had seen. A simple blonde man dressed as a mere farmer 'drove' the coach, appearing completely nonplussed about driving an obviously magical conveyance.
Both the redhead and the armored man approached the vehicle as it came to a halt just inside the settlement. The driver leapt down and opened the door, greeting the two children who leapt out into his arms. But it was the one who followed out that made Harry nearly pass out. A darkly beautiful woman of almost ethereal grace seemed to flow out of the coach more than step. Her skin was as pale as moonlight and her dress looked no more substantial than wisps of shadow that clung to her curvy shape.
Harry recovered enough to hobble down and approach the odd group, carefully stowing his wand so that he would not be perceived as a threat. A subconscious fear nearly did him in, though in the end curiosity got the better of him.
"Hello." He began, pausing at how inadequate the simple greeting must sound in light of the awesome events.
"Thank you for saving Abernathy. I don't know that we would've lasted another moment if you lot hadn't come along." Harry wiped the sweat from his brow and stood expectantly.
"Yer welcome. And who might you be?" The redhead asked saucily, looking him up and down as if sizing up her next fight… or next meal.
"Right! Harry Potter. Good to meet you." He grinned.
The driver came forward with a smile, both of his children clutching his legs as he held out a hand for Harry to shake.
"Ben Walsh, these rug rats are my pride and joy, Liam and Abigail."
Harry smiled down at the shy children and looked up when the redhead coughed emphatically.
"Cait. This silent heap of walking metal is Tacitus."
Cait. The name resounded in his head like a thunderbolt, "Cait? As in the woman recently in the company of a certain vault dweller named Nora?"
She spat to the side at the mention of the 'Sole Survivor'. Her features twisted in anger as she replied, "Dunnah mention that name to me again unless ye be wanting to dine on yer own teeth."
"But you are her?" Harry pressed, ignoring the threat.
"Unless someone else is wearing me skin, I'm the stupid bitch that followed that skank. If it weren't for her," She indicated the dark woman with a thumb over her shoulder, "I'd be a wet smear on the ground."
Harry took a breath to steady himself, "My friends and I have been looking for you."
"Oh? And why's that? You hear about me fine arse? Well, ye aren't really me type, but I hadn't had a good tumble in awhile, so I'm game if you are."
"Um… not what I meant. We had been led to believe that you are like us…"
"Oh well, if ye change yer mind, I haven't gotten laid in a good while."
Harry sputtered at the salacious attitude of 'Cait'.
"And what kind of person are you, Mr. Harry Potter?" The woman in black cut in, gliding up between the Cait and Tacitus to stand in front of Harry.
"Well…" Harry paused, wondering how best to answer and then decided on honesty, "I'm a wizard. My friends and I are among the few that can perform magic… though I suspect you may already know that. Who are you?"
The woman regarded him quietly, raising a finger to tap idly on her rose red lips as she appeared to consider what Harry had told her. Seemingly making up her mind, she raised her head almost haughtily.
"Yes, I suspected as much. My name, is Morgan Le Fay."
POV: Jeremiah
"Yes… you have done very well." Jeremiah purred, stroking the trembling carapace of his former lieutenant.
Indeed the man had performed admirably in culling the disgusting muggle ghouls from that tiny eyesore of a settlement and had used the special robots he had been provided in very creative ways.
The former lieutenant and failed usurper fairly salivated at the praise, his eyes glowing with hope that his master would find his service satisfactory enough to grant him release from his tormented existence.
Jeremiah stepped back and smiled amiably at the man, even waving goodbye cheerfully before raising his wand.
"Avada Kedavra!" He shouted, the green bolt of killing energy streaking out and instantly snuffing out the life of his servant. He glided over and peered into his dead eyes, noting that the man wore a slight smile on his face. Jeremiah was glad that he could reward loyal service thus, it motivated others to do their very best in fulfilling his mandate.
He straightened and peered over at his daughter, sitting in a silent heap on the ground as tiny rivulets of blood streamed from the multiple wounds the barbed penitent engine had inflicted on her. He had released her in a moment of sympathy, a weakness he allowed himself on rare occasions.
"Ivey. Please look at me when I'm speaking to you, it's only polite."
The young woman raised her head with difficulty, her weakness from the torture and blood loss quite apparent in her sluggish response.
Jeremiah strode forward and knelt in front of her, so that she did not have to raise her head any further. He liked to show that he could be considerate of others, he just usually chose not to.
He tenderly stroked her cheek and raised his wand beyond her line of sight… he didn't want to frighten her further after all.
"Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur." He quietly chanted, waving the wand over her body. Her wounds closed up, leaving no trace that they had ever been. Her exhaustion would have to be treated with more mundane means, specifically, ample food and rest.
He laid a wand in her hands, her fist tightening around the smooth wood and for the first time, her eyes took on a look of something other than abject misery. Confusion warred with hope in her face, the disparate feelings contorting her features weirdly. It nearly made Jeremiah laugh aloud.
"I have a task for you daughter, once you've rested and eaten." He rose slowly, raising her up with him.
He looked her evenly in the eyes, "If you are up for it."
"Yes father." She breathed hurriedly, grasping on the thread of hope he offered.
"Excellent! I knew your time spent in the penitent engine would reinvigorate your enthusiasm! Some of our men have reported receiving an automated emergency signal that indicates the presence of a heretofore unknown vault! How exciting! They've tracked it to the southeast Commonwealth and they say that the message indicates that it's called Vault 88."
"You wish for me to investigate it father?"
"Yes! Exactly that! Well put. Take as many people as you feel you need and some of the new robots that had performed so admirably at cleansing the ghoul infestation. I think you will find them quite adept at mayhem!"
"I will begin right away." Ivey stated, though she seemed slightly out of breath.
"Tomorrow or the next day is fine, my dear. Get some rest first. You need to be in top shape to do your best!"
Taking that as a dismissal, Ivey left her father's audience chamber, stepping gingerly around the dead lieutenant and somehow summoning up the strength to move with a degree of alacrity.
Jeremiah giggled at that, oh how people seemed to scurry around him!
He gathered up the loose material of his robes before shuffling off to the prison block, idly humming as he noted that he had lost some weight recently and would likely need to eat soon himself. With so many plans in motion and so much to do, he often forgot to do the simple things necessary to keep his biology functioning. It was a necessary nuisance, one that he hoped would eventually become unnecessary.
The rust devils flanking the large vault like door hurried to open it at his approach, the heavy blast door squealing with protest as they struggled against its weight.
Hardly slowing his stride, he stepped over the threshold into the large cavern where a group of the vault dwellers sat in despondency. Two of the guards who stood watch inside joined him as he walked up to the prisoners. One of them readied a clipboard while the other held the keys to their manacles.
Jeremiah inspected the rusted chains that held them to the ground. They fit tightly around their necks and were bolted directly onto the concrete floor, leaving only a couple of feet of slack for them to move around. Hence, most of them lay on their side or sat hunched in what had to be a remarkably uncomfortable position.
He hums to himself as he works, testing each and every person for the magical gene with a touch of his wand. He stops and stretches for a moment, looking up and down the line of prisoners and noting with a touch of dismay that he had already tested a little over a third of them and had found none with the gene.
The men beside him noted his brief scowl and stepped timidly back, perhaps wondering if they had annoyed him somehow. Jeremiah shook his head, surely he wasn't that unreasonable and prone to lashing out in frustration? No, wait… yes he was.
Breathing heavily through his nose, he let the stink of humanity suffuse him, replacing the edgy feeling of failure with the pungent aroma of humanity at its most honest… when it suffered. He moved on, tapping his wand with greater and greater force against the prisoners as each one failed to relinquish that which he desired. Fate was being unkind to him, he decided, surely he worked hard enough to deserve some measure of success? The prisoners began to cry out as he jabbed them mercilessly, snarling at each failure. Each one was an obstacle in his path to immortality. Each one was a personal affront to all he had worked for and this was simply unacceptable!
An older mother, an attractive if dirty woman of perhaps 40 years, was clutching a small child in her arms protectively. He frowned at that, then noted that the child was far too small to be collared, being barely a toddler. He wondered at that, a woman of her age having a child at all spoke well of her health and fertility. She shied away from his probe but could not pull away far enough to keep the wand from tapping the child, the ecstasy which flowed through him when the tip glowed nearly made him weep with relief.
"Take the boy." He commanded, his voice betraying his jubilation at the discovery. With a speed that surprised even him, the woman surged to her feet, the links from the chain glowing hot as they sparked and tinkled onto the ground. He found a wand pointed at his face and nearly danced at the unexpected bonus.
She wasted no time, lashing out with her power and nearly bisecting him before he could hurriedly raise a shield to protect himself. He cackled as her power contended with his own, the spitting lash of blue energy from her wand tangling with the purple from his. The other prisoners cried out at the display and tried to shy away from the sparks which erupted into the air and singed flesh.
Holding his own against her motherly fury, he gestured with his free hand and felt the comforting cold metal of a pistol being placed in his palm. Still laughing, he casually shot the woman's leg out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground in a howl of agony.
"Expelliarmus!" He cried, snatching the wand from midair as it flew from her fingers. Her hands now unfettered, she clutched her leg with both hands while tears streamed down her face, her pain likely augmented by the despair at being discovered by the dark wizard.
"Ssshhh…Hush now! I'm not going to hurt you. Or your precious child. Indeed, we are the same! We need to look out for one another in this cruel world!"
Jeremiah stepped back and directed his men to see to her, they stepped forward and treated with her gently, careful lest they further hurt the woman. They cared little for causing pain, they merely wished to avoid Jeremiah's ire. Magicals were precious commodities to him and he had made it abundantly clear that he looked dimly on any 'clumsiness'.
The woman sobbed as they lifted her between them, her tear streaked face turned plaintively toward her little boy as he struggled in the burly arms of another Rust Devil. Jeremiah motioned for the man to give the child back to her and watched as they were taken away to be cleaned up and placed in secure quarters more befitting their worth.
He giggled in embarrassment as he noted that the brief magical duel had so excited him that it had made his manhood stand out erect and pushed at the fabric of his robes like a tent pole. The woman wasn't bad to look at, with healthy hips and ample bosom. Despite her age, she could surely bear one or two more children. He grinned at the prospect, now much more eager to finish his work so he could attend to one of the more pleasurable of his 'duties'.
He fairly skipped down the line, the lack of any more magicals in the group bothering him not at all, now that he had found those two treasures. Tapping the last lightly and shrugging against the negative indication, he turned to his two assistants.
"Ok, see that the rest here are put to some use. Some of them look healthy enough to be put to work. Check and see if any are Rust Devil material, after all… Evil is a growth industry." He laughed. His men grinned with him, looking over the assemblance with undisguised avarice. There were more than a few here for which the men could conjure all sorts of use for.
Jeremiah snapped his fingers as a thought occurred to him, "That reminds me, the vault still has some residents in it, yes?"
"Yes. We sealed the vault behind us, there were perhaps a little over two hundred when we left."
"Good… good. Assemble a team and retrieve the rest. Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky enough to find another magical in the group."
…later that day
POV: Susan
From the discomfort in her head and neck, Susan suspected that she had been laying on the swing all night and well into the next day… judging by how the sun was slowly sinking to the west. Small wonder, she had performed quite a bit of magic in one go to build up the large manor house.
"We were nervous about waking you up, though had you slept any longer, we would have had to send for help from Salem." A voice spoke up.
Susan rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked for the origin of voice. The older woman who had helped her before was sitting across from her in a burnished wood rocking chair, the gentle creak as she rocked back and forth a soothing sound to her ears.
She noted the warm quilt wrapped around her and offered a small smile to the woman, "Thank you."
Despite the severity of her features, the woman's smiling nod seemed sincere enough. Susan felt herself warming to the woman.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know your name." Susan demurely stated.
"Vivian. Vivian Lancaster. I was a teacher in the vault. It was decided that I would be the 'Mayor' of Coastal Cottage."
"It's Vincentville actually." Susan put in, emphatically.
"Oh good, Coastal Cottage seemed a rather silly name for a settlement and I've heard good things about this fellow. I'm sorry I never got to meet him."
"He was a good man." Susan murmured, not trusting her voice beyond a whisper.
"Well, Ms. Bones, you got up just in time for dinner. We'll make a feast of it, a celebration of the founding of Vincentville." Vivian announced loudly enough for several others around her to hear.
Several children whooped with delight, as a feast usually meant sweets and what child didn't cheer at the idea of sweets?
Any further thought was effaced by the strident warbling tones that issued from the siren atop the walls. A militiaman was furiously turning the crank with one hand, while gesturing to the north with the other.
Susan joined the rushing mass of men and women taking up arms and hurrying up the walls to take their positions. Though they had only a small number of actual militiamen, every adult was willing and able to defend their new home. Vivian had apparently prioritized the installation of several machinegun turrets with nearly a half dozen of the devices with a clear line of sight to the advancing unknowns.
She could understand why the man had hauled so desperately on the siren's handle, as the group that approached from the northern road were not a pleasant looking group. From the heavy metal plates and cruel spikes, she could guess that these were Rust Devils. That they were accompanied by a motley collection of robots, including a massive tank-like sentry bot confirmed her thoughts.
"This is bad." Vivian muttered next to her, shrugging on a bandolier loaded with .308 rounds for her hunting rifle.
POV: Rust Devils
Ben had cursed his luck when he and his 'Devils had come upon the vault and found the door ajar and the place hauntingly empty. Worse yet, the damned vault dwellers had overloaded their reactor and flooded the place with lethal amounts of radiation, rendering the place worthless even as scrap. Jeremiah would not be pleased at this… at all.
He counted it a small blessing when his men reported tracks heading south. Examining them himself, he felt a palpable relief when his eyes revealed that a goodly number of people had passed this way. That they didn't seem to cover their tracks at all seemed to verify their identity as clueless vault dwellers. They knew nothing of life on the surface… the thought raised a measure of alarm in him. It was likely that the survivors would stumble onto some danger and rob him of Jeremiah's spoils.
He worried over the imagined scenarios… a swarm of bloodbugs, a ravenous deathclaw or worse… another raider gang.
He hurried his men down the road that the dwellers clearly traversed, the occasional detritus from their exodus like silent witnesses pointing out the way for the stressed Rust Devils.
They began to find the remnants of those who didn't survive the trek several hours down the road. Though it was difficult to tell, it appeared the oldest resident seemed to have fallen in numbers as they journeyed. At first, the others made an attempt to bury their dead, but as the road of corpses continued, the bodies were left with less and less care given to their final rest.
Ben almost walked into the outstretched arm of Martha, the woman scowling at his distraction. He snarled back at her and nearly struck her before he noticed what had made them all stop. A new settlement surrounded by a concrete wall sat atop a bluff just west of the road.
"Hrmmm. The tracks continue past the settlement." He noted aloud, "But surely these people would know something about a mass of people streaming past their walls."
"You planning to walk up and ask them? I doubt they would be open to it." Martha noted, as the echoes of their siren reached them and settlers began manning the walls.
He scratched at his neck, "Nah, let's play with them a little and see what's what. If we have to, we can just move around it for now and keep following the tracks."
POV: Susan
The raiders had apparently made up their mind, because bullets began to ping off the crenellated walls, making the defenders duck down for protection. Susan dared a peek and noted that they spread out a little, but didn't seem all that… energetic about it. She frowned at that, they seemed almost nonchalant.
The settlers returned fire sporadically, only interested in driving the aggressors away than actually killing anyone. The raiders weren't exactly putting their all into it either, as they hunkered down from the sides of the roads and only occasionally fired up at them. Even their robots were idle, though they appeared to not have any ranged weapons on them.
"What are they doing? Are they bored with this or something?" Vivian asked aloud, to no one in particular.
"I don't know." One of the militiamen responded, as he stared hard over the walls at the raiders, "Maybe they… oh shit!"
"What?!"
"They're bringing up one mean ass looking sentry bot! That thing looked brutal."
The faces of everyone visibly blanched as if their doom had been pronounced with the sighting of the sentry bot. Susan knew little of them, but if its sheer size was any indication, it was capable of a dealing a great deal of devastation. It was clearly a weapon of war and beyond the capability of most settlements to resist.
'Except ours.' Susan thought fiercely. She stood tall, heedless of the occasion sharp retort of rifle fire or the ping of a bullet striking the concrete near her. The other's hissed at her to get down, but she paid them no mind, trusting in her skills.
With a quick circular motion, Susan refreshed her shielding charm then focused her attention on the tank-like robot trundling up the road toward them, its gatling gun arms spooling up as it prepared to fire.
With a fierce cry, she jabbed her wand in the robot's direction and lifted the massive construct of steel and plastic with no more effort than lifting a glass of water. With a snarl that seemed so out of place on her pretty face, she slammed the robot down into the asphalt, the grey road cratering beneath the impact.
The robot seemed to shriek and groan as it attempted to right itself, its treaded feet whirring helplessly as they jutted out from its body in contorted angles. She lifted it again and again, slammed it into the road, deepening the crater and further damaging the massive machine. Sweat broke out on her pale brow as the robot was repeatedly lifted and slammed down until it was nothing more than a sparking mass of twisted metal. Something must have breached one of its fusion cores, because it erupted in a massive explosion before Susan finally stopped 'toying' with it.
The other settlers were wide-eyed in astonishment at the impressive display, looking back and forth between the slight, redheaded woman to the ruin she had made of the war machine.
POV: Rust Devils
"Fuck me." Martha breathed, whistling low in appreciation.
"Later." Ben replied, deadpan. He was impressed too, but for a completely different reason. This event was clearly magical, and he knew that a report of magical activity from this settlement, especially so close to where other sightings had occurred, would spare him and his team from Jeremiah's wrath.
More than that, it was likely that the dark wizard may even reward them, for he prized information about his precious magicals more than anything else. He nodded to himself with satisfaction, motioning for his Rust Devils to pull back.
Martha looked at him quizzically, "We're not going to attack? What about the vault dwellers."
"Fuck them. Jeremiah will want to know that a wizard or witch is in the settlement as soon as possible. He will forgive the loss of the dwellers for information about a confirmed sighting."
Martha nodded, finding herself agreeing with the Lieutenant. She shrugged at the loss of potential spoils, but at least they'd be back early and there were always other ways to be amused.
POV: Vincentville
The settlers breathed a collective sigh of relief as the raiders inexplicably… well, perhaps understandably, melted into the trees and abandoned any further thoughts of attacking their settlement.
A lookout called out, directing their attention to a converted fishing trolley filled to bursting with Salem Militia gliding through the air toward them. It was a curious looking contraption, with metal plates bolted onto the old fiberglass hull and raised in the front like an armored prow. It landed just outside the gates (there's was no room for it to land inside the settlement) and uniformed Salem militia boiled out with Barney Rook and Lilith in the lead.
Susan met them at the gate, answering their confused looks with a self-satisfied smile.
"What's up lass? We got the alert and headed here straight away."
Susan threw a thumb back over her shoulder at the still flaming wreck of the sentry bot, "A group of Rust Devils is my guess. They came down the road from the north and set their big boy here to attack. I put an end to that plan!"
"I can see that." Lilith replied, astonished that the shy, gentle girl she had known had changed so much. Some of the others had said that she was taking Vincent's death hard, but to have hardened so much in so short a time…
"Then what?" Barney pressed, sure that there had to have been more to this.
"Then they left." Susan shrugged, as if the fact they had just been attacked was barely worth talking about.
Barney's look of suspicion said enough, "I've heard of these Rust Devils from both Harry and the General of the Minutemen. Their far more than your typical raider gang. They're cruel, intelligent and most of all, fanatic. There's more to this than it appears, mark my words."
POV: Hermione
Hermione blinked at the sunlight streaming through the open window on the second floor of Taffington. After burying the Suttons, she and Jonathan had gotten a message to Preston via Lilith… though she cut off their talk rather abruptly, to get a team here to secure the site. Jonathan had actually prepared them a surprisingly tasty dinner of 'bloodbug steak', the fact that Hermione even entertained the idea of eating those disgusting things said much of her trust for him.
Her sleep was fitful, filled with images of how the Sutton's had suffered in their final moments. Only the reassuring presence of Jonathan had helped to waylay her nightmare fueled sleep. His arms went around her protectively as she awoke for the third time and she was immediately assuaged from the scenes that had so plagued her. She slept for the rest of the night, though she still woke groggy and a little cross.
Still, the sun rose bright and promised a clear day, so it placated her foul mood somewhat. They continued on their way to visit the Slog on a somewhat meandering course as he led them around the dangers he knew about.
At midday, Jonathan nodded up the road to indicate that they were nearing their destination, and a hopeful skip came into Hermione's step. She empathized with need to gain information from the settlers here, and to pitch and help if they needed it, but she was eager to be back home among her friends.
She smelled smoke and something else… something she couldn't quite identify. She paused to ask Jonathan about it, but the words died in her throat at the intense look in his eyes. He seemed nervous, unsettled, as though some premonition of danger was waving invisibly at him but he couldn't quite grasp it.
At the same moment, they both broke into a light jog and ate up the last few yards beneath their feet toward the settlement. As soon as it came into view, Hermione knew that they were too late to get any information from the people here.
She eased herself between a break in the chain link fence surrounding it and gagged at the almost physical smell which assailed her. She turned away with a faint cry and buried her face in Jonathan's chest, his face stony as he surveyed the horror before them.
With no particular rhyme or reason, the flayed bodies of nearly a dozen people hung, crucified, on black metal crosses. Ravens had descended on black wings to feast on the grotesque meal laid out for them, the raucous cawing of the birds piercing her ears with such volume that it nearly plucked at her pain threshold.
She didn't even jerk when she heard the weapon fire, Jonathan's pistol smoking as he fired several shots to frighten away the harbingers of death. They protested the interruption of their feast with angry caws, seemingly resistant to the notion of leaving. He began to shift his fire, raven bodies exploding into black billowing clouds of feathers before they finally heeded the need to flee.
"Who could have done this?" He muttered as silence finally fell, his voice sounding small and terribly mortal.
A/N: And another cliffhanger! It's almost as if I plan these chapters to end like this! Oh, wait. I do. Thank you guys for reviewing the last chapter, hopefully you enjoy this one as much as you did the last one. I realize I didn't have as much Harry in this section as I have in previous ones, but don't worry, we'll definitely be getting back to him in the next Chapter.