Alighting in a grove near the village of Zubrovec, the pair undid their Disillusionment Charms. There hadn't been much to see from above but rows of shingle-roofed houses along an L-shaped street, and the spires of a church adjacent to a graveyard. And sheep, lots of sheep.

The birds were making a racket in the trees overhead, and a cool breeze rustled the leaves. Shivering, Harry stored away his trusty Firebolt and retrieved his trunk. Stooping over it, he muttered, "Ow, bloody thing pricked me."

"Still got that shabby old thing?" Tony asked.

"There's nothing wrong with it." He patted the worn leather fondly before rummaging inside to retrieve robes for himself and Tony. After some deliberation, he also opted for a pointy hat. As foreigners, they were going to stand out anyway, and it would hide his face should they run into a patrol.

"These make me look like a clerk," Tony groused as he donned grey outer robes atop his jacket and jeans.

Harry rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to point out that Tony was one. "I told you I could only fit in one pair. If you wanted to dress up, you should've brought your own luggage."

"Why bother when I have a pack mule?"

Stowing the trunk, Harry flipped him the bird. "C'mon, let's go."

They left the cover of the trees and hiked up a grassy knoll toward a gravel road that would take them to the village. Two colossal mountains loomed to their left, their bases forested and their summits capped with snow. To the right, a flock of sheep grazed in a lush meadow flecked with wildflowers.

Once on the road, it didn't take long to reach the first farmstead: a dilapidated dark brown house beside an ivy-covered barn and a roofed well. A wizened woman wearing a dress and a headscarf sat on a bench under the house's overhanging eaves, her gnarled hands rubbing the handle of her cane, and her lips moving in an unceasing murmur. Harry inadvertently quickened his pace, gravel crunching under his feet.

Cobblestone replaced gravel as they entered the village proper. The twisting street stretching ahead reminded him of Hogsmeade, but there was no bustle of commerce, and the houses were separated by weedy gardens and crooked picket fences. Some homes were built of brick, but wood was more common; the latter tended to have white squiggles painted on them, which Harry eyed wondering if they held any magical meaning.

Rounding a corner, they entered a straighter stretch of the street that led to a square before the church. The homes here were bigger and better-kept, and the pavement was smoother. People tended to their gardens or milled outside the church, and children's laughter rang in the distance.

Harry inhaled deeply. "Ah. Crisp mountain air, beautiful nature, hospitable locals—this is what travel is all about."

"They don't look very friendly to me," Tony murmured, glancing at two women who were glaring openly as they whispered to each other over the fence separating their gardens.

"Nonsense." Harry waved to a little boy, who stopped juggling a football with his knees to gawk at them. "They're not unfriendly, they're just Eastern Europeans."

The door of a nearby building with a sign reading 'Potraviny' flew open, and a harried-looking woman carrying a mesh bag of groceries dashed out. She scowled at Harry and ushered the boy away, muttering under her breath.

"They'll warm up to us, I'm sure," he added with less conviction.

Tony snorted. "And how do we go about accomplishing that?"

"We go to the tavern, obviously."

"The... tavern. Right. And then?"

Harry gave him a pitying look. "I can tell you're new to this. First, we'll ask the barkeep if he heard any rumors. Failing that, we'll find the guy with the longest beard, buy him a drink, and listen to his story. We might need to help the village with their problems before they tell us anything useful."

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. "That's actually not a bad idea. Finding an inn, that is, not the twaddle afterwards. We need to sleep somewhere, and this place looks remote enough not to have a regular Auror presence."

Taking that as approval, Harry walked up to the fence of the nearest home and flagged down the man splitting firewood in his front garden. "Hello there!"

Wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel shirt, the man nodded, his gaze lingering on Harry's hat.

"We're weary travelers seeking shelter and a bracing drink," he continued. "Would you kindly direct us to the nearest inn?"

Behind, Tony made a choking noise.

The man furrowed his brows, then pointed at the church.

Harry stared toward it, then back at the stranger. "I don't think you understand... we want a place to sleep and eat." He pressed his palms together and mimed a pillow under his head.

The man jabbed his finger in the same direction and barked something before thunking his axe into a tree stump, spitting on the ground, and retreating into the house.

"I'm beginning to think you're right," Harry said, facing Tony. "These people are being oddly rude."

Tony gave him a flat stare. "It's your own fault this time, you daft git. This isn't a bloody role-playing game."

"I was just getting into the mood of things," he said sulkily.

Tony sighed. "Well, at least we know where to go."

He frowned. "Isn't it a bit early to start praying?"

Tony raised a hand to point. "The bloke probably meant that."

Taking several steps to the left, Harry shielded his eyes. A two-storey wooden building squatted just right of the low fieldstone wall surrounding the churchyard. A rickety table and a couple of benches perched outside, free of patrons for the moment, but the dingy windows were unshuttered, and the door was ajar.

"Oooh," he said eloquently.

Tony snorted and started walking, Harry following suit. As they neared a small congregation in the square, he was heartened to see some of the locals wearing robes. Everyone else so far had dressed Muggle, and he'd been beginning to suspect the map had lied about this being a wizarding village. Smiling and nodding at the curious glances, he trailed Tony to the pub and through a door weathered by time and the elements.

The inside was nicer than the exterior, with a gleaming walnut counter, shelves lined with assorted bottles, and sturdy oak tables pockmarked through years of use, all arranged across worn hardwood flooring. The cozy, lived-in atmosphere suggested this was the heart of the village, yet for such a place it was oddly deserted. The only people present were a scrawny ginger barkeep and four dark-robed men, who had commandeered the largest table for a game for Dragon Poker.

Harry nudged Tony, who was dithering at the entrance, and headed for the bar. His steps echoed in the silence that had descended upon their entry, and the men in black robes tracked him with their eyes, but he had come to expect such treatment.

The barkeep spared him a glance before pouring a tall glass of beer from the tap. He set it on the counter next to three filled ones, then gathered up the lot to carry to the table, the glasses clinking together. Harry plopped down on a stool to wait.

Catching up, Tony sat beside him and gave him a look. "Let me speak this time."

Harry spread his hands. "Be my guest."

The barkeep dragged his feet on the way back, then busied himself polishing the farther end of the counter with a rag. Frowning, Tony rose and walked up to him.

"Hi. How much for a room, please?"

"No room," the man said, not looking up.

"Er... a single would be fine too," Tony said.

The barkeep raised his head, but rather than look at Tony, his gaze strayed over his shoulder. Harry had the impression the gents seated behind were listening in, for they had gone dead-quiet.

"No room," the barkeep repeated.

Perhaps life as Britain's beloved hero had spoiled him, but Harry at least expected some common decency. "Look, what's the problem here? This place is half-empty, and we can pay." Balling a fist, he materialized a Galleon and tapped it against the counter.

The barkeep strode over to him and leaned closer. "Leave, now."

Harry's retort went unuttered as someone grabbed his shoulder. He swiveled around, throwing off a hairy hand and finding himself face-to-face with its owner: a burly bloke with a goatee and a scar across his cheek.

"Bad hearing, Englishman?" The man sneered, revealing several golden teeth. "You're not wanted here."

"I don't see how that's any of your business, pal."

The man crossed his arms, a gaudy ring glinting on his fingers. "You don't know who you're talking to. It's my business if I say it is."

"Oh yeah?" Harry puffed out his chest. "Do you know who you're talking to?" He glanced sideways to make sure Tony had his back but saw him frozen up and white as a sheet.

The stranger barked a laugh. "A dead man, if you don't fuck off."

"Apologies, gentlemen," Tony stammered, tugging Harry away by the collar. "My friend's an idiot."

He made a few involuntary steps before planting his feet. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Saving your life," Tony hissed. Swiping the coin from Harry's palm, he slapped it on the counter before addressing the burly man who watched on with an amused air. "Please have a drink on us, and sorry about the trouble. We're going to fuck off pronto."

"That was a whole Galleon!" Harry groused as Tony dragged him to the exit. The men at the table jeered at their passing, and it was only the panicked look on his best mate's face that prevented him from responding with a few choice words.

"Be quiet." Shoving the door open, Tony marched him along the wall surrounding the church and away from bystanders before letting go. "Do you have a death wish? Didn't you see the bloke's ring?"

Harry furrowed his brows. "What, the cow looking thing?"

"A Graphorn, it's a bloody Graphorn! The crest of the Moravetz!" Tony groaned at his blank look. "So you haven't gone mad, you're just a moron. I should've known."

"The hell's a Mooravetz?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Tony glanced around before speaking. "Only the biggest crime syndicate this side of the continent. The Prophet ran a story about a massive shipment of illegal potion ingredients that was confiscated at the Hungarian border last year. Everyone knew it was theirs, but they still got off scot-free. They say the family running it has more than one government in their pockets."

"And I thought our Ministry was corrupt," Harry murmured, raking his fingers through his hair. "Thanks for stopping me, mate."

Tony grinned wryly, some color returning to his cheeks. "Anytime... Actually, no, please never do that again."

"The tavern plan is shot, then," he mused, rubbing his chin. "Suppose we'll just have to ask around."

Tony threw his arms up. "Did you listen to a word I said? The Moravetz are bad news! We need to get out of here."

"No, no, no," Harry said, bringing up a finger. "Don't you see? Those guys deal in black market potions, right?"

"Along with larceny, murder, and general savagery," Tony said flatly.

"The golden egg's supposed to be the main ingredient of a mythical youth potion. So if the Mooravetz are here..."

"Moravetz," Tony corrected absently. "For once, your logic is sound, but I'd rather stay as far away from them as possible. Preferably on the other side of those mountains, and even that might not be enough."

"We'll steer clear of them. Snoop around a little, then camp out in the woods. If they're really paying off the Aurors, this is the safest place to be right now."

Tony had a strained expression on his face. "Fine. But if those four so much as look at us again, we get the hell out of the country."

"Deal. Now let's ask around while those pricks are wasting time getting drunk." He scowled. "On my money."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop whinging. It was a small price to pay for keeping your internal organs."

After a brief discussion, the two decided to begin with the grocer's they had passed earlier. As they headed back to the main street, Harry took out a bronze gadget and turned it over in his hands. It had the appearance of a coiled ear trumpet with a pair of stylized lips on the opposing end.

"What's that, a blowjob machine?" Tony asked.

He snorted. "A translator. Thing knows like three hundred languages—I figure it should make communicating with the locals easier."

"Sounds useful, so it obviously isn't one of yours," Tony quipped.

Harry gave him a dirty look. "I'll have you know my sandwich maker was a brilliant invention ahead of its time."

"If you got it to work without trying to chop you up, maybe."

"There was that little snag," he admitted, rubbing his left forearm which had fortunately healed without scarring. "But yes, this is a prototype from Patil Expeditions. Padma gave it to me in return for my public endorsement. She's been wanting it for a while, but I rarely travel outside the country."

Tony guffawed. "Or outside your house, for that matter."

"Only because I'm not a wage-slave like some."

Not giving Tony a chance to retort, he marched up to the building sporting the sign 'Potraviny' and pushed open the door, a chime of a bell announcing his arrival. Baskets of vegetables, wheels of cheese stacked atop one another, and smoked meats hanging from the ceiling jostled for space in the dim interior. A stocky, balding shopkeeper behind a counter loaded with assorted knick-knacks raised his gaze off a magazine and did a double-take.

Forcing a smile, Harry approached and stuck out the translator. Its smooth surface lacked anything resembling a button, and he had no clue how one was supposed to operate it, but he had to try it out sooner or later.

"Um, hello," he said.

"Haló," the gadget brayed, its metal lips contorting in a rather creepy manner.

The shopkeeper blinked, then echoed, "Haló."

"Good day to you," the gadget translated, now adopting a posh accent.

Harry gave it a dubious glance but deemed the test a success. "We're taking a trip through your beautiful country, and were wondering what is there to see around here. Famous landmarks, fun events, that sort of thing."

He waited for the gadget to relay his words, then to translate the shopkeeper's reply.

"Oh no, there's nothing of the sort around these parts," it said nasally. "Zubrovec is but a boring, sleepy village, and the most excitement us simple folk get is the yearly sheep shearing competition. You gentlemen would be better served heading down to Poprad."

While the translation was wordier than the grocer's terse answer, Harry had no choice but to trust it. He reined in his frustration. "We're not interested in tourist traps. I'm talking more along the lines of nature, magical creatures... Beings considered legend."

The shopkeeper spoke in clipped tones, and a translation was delivered a second later. "My good fellow, unless you are deeply fascinated by sheep, there are no exotic creatures for you to see in our village."

"Now, that's not entirely true, is it?" Harry dropped his voice to a near whisper. "A harpy was sighted in the skies not thirty miles from here. Surely you've heard about that?"

The shopkeeper braced his hands against the counter, rose from the chair, and growled out a question. The translator's tone remained incongruously composed. "Good sir, are you implying that I am a liar?"

He raised his hands. "Not at all! Look, I can guess what you're worried about, and I swear we're not like that Moravetz lot. We only want to admire the mythical harpies, even if from afar."

There was a silence. Harry frowned at the suddenly lifeless gadget, then shook it vigorously. "Talk, you piece of crap!"

The device obediently brayed out a translation. Splotches of red appeared on the shopkeeper's cheeks, and he sputtered before unleashing a tirade the general meaning of which was obvious even to a foreigner.

"Please, I wasn't talking to you—" Harry pleaded.

"I posit that your mother is of the canine persuasion," the gadget said. "Kindly insert the talking apparatus into your anus and vacate the premises posthaste."

"Oh, shut your gob before I stick something in there," he snapped, muffling the bronze lips with his palm.

In spite of his efforts, the device managed to mumble out a translation. Bellowing, the shopkeeper groped about his waist and brandished his wand.

Ducking under a jinx, Harry decided this was a lost cause and fled, smacking his forehead on a ham on the way out. Despite his haste, Tony was the first out the door, having started inching away as soon as the conversation turned south.

Harry slammed the door, muffling the shopkeeper's imprecations, and stalked off. "Bloody thing's useless," he muttered, clenching the gadget as he fought the urge to hurl it through the grocer's window.

"Dunno, I think it's got potential," Tony said, looking like he was trying very hard not to laugh. "Now what?"

"We keep going." Giving the translator one last glare, Harry vanished it into his personal dimension. "We can manage a basic conversation, surely."

Contrary to his hopes, the remainder of the day only cemented the sentiment that had been building in his mind: traveling sucked. No one seemed to know more than two or three words of English, and Harry's attempts to imitate harpies by flapping his arms had been met with blank looks or a finger circling at the temple. Worse yet, they were barred from the inn, which meant camping out in the wild come evening.

To be fair, wizards did know how to camp in style, and after banging their heads against the stony contempt of the villagers, the experience was almost pleasant. The cans of food became plates, heated up their meals, and offered unsolicited advice on which bits looked the most delicious. All it took to erect the tent was a sweep of a wand, although unfortunately, it wasn't larger on the inside. Harry wasn't certain if it was because storing something enchanted with an Extension Charm in his malletspace was impossible, or because everything inside counted toward the weight limit too, but he hadn't managed to take in any of the wizarding tents Patil Expeditions had on offer. That meant markedly less comfort than he was used to, and he tossed and turned next to a snoring Tony for hours before finally falling asleep.


The pair woke to a thrum of rain on canvas and a distant rumble of thunder. After breakfast and a brief council, they broke camp and took to the skies on the Firebolt. As dreadful as the weather was, they unanimously preferred scouting the wilderness over another attempt at quizzing the villagers.

It took a couple hours of coasting over muddy foothills for them to call it quits. Ensconced in Impervius Charms as they were, the wind coming off the mountains nipped at every bit of exposed skin, carrying chilly droplets that wormed inside sleeves and leg openings. It didn't help that laden with double the weight it was built for, the Firebolt handled like a wet mop.

Harry steered toward a nearby wood and landed in a relatively dry spot under the canopies. Retrieving a camping tea kettle, he handed it to Tony and untied his shoes with nerveless fingers.

"Ugh, I forgot to charm these," he said, pulling off his waterlogged socks. "I can barely feel my toes."

Busying himself with boiling water, Tony wrinkled his nose. "Shouldn't have worn your fancy brogues, dumbass."

"I reckoned we'd live like kings. So much for Eastern Europe being cheap." He frowned in calculation. While that first night's hotel stay at Poprad had depleted his Muggle cash, he had gold to spare—and nowhere to spend it. "If we don't get anywhere today, let's swing by the nearest wizarding district and exchange some Galleons."

Warmed by the tea, they set course for the location of the harpy sighting. As Harry wrestled with the overloaded broom, he could feel Tony constantly crane his neck, his enthusiasm undamped by the search being fruitless thus far.

"The maps?" Tony asked.

He raised a hand off the slick handle to materialize them. The newspaper cutout soaked up the rain, sticking to the Globetrotter's Map underneath. Pinching them tight, he extended them over his shoulder.

"Er..." Tony said. "A little farther and to the left."

Turning, Harry eked out more speed. The rain lessened with every mile westward, and soon ceased altogether. Sun peeked through the clouds, casting a golden sheen on a glacial lake below.

Tony wriggled, no doubt consulting the map. "We're here."

Halting mid-air, he slowly swiveled the broom a full three hundred and sixty degrees. There was nothing in sight but glimmering meadows and an occasional stand of trees all the way to the looming mountains. He felt silly for getting his hopes up.

"Look!" Tony cried.

Following his extended finger, Harry shielded his eyes. It took him a minute, but once a bank of clouds scudded away, he made out two tiny dots against a patch of clear blue. For one precious moment, he believed their search had come to an end—but then red glinted in a shaft of sunlight, and his stomach plummeted. Glancing around, he dived toward a grove beside the lake.

"What—" Tony yelped.

He landed none-too-gently upon gnarled tree roots. "Aurors!"

Dismounting proved a struggle as his joints had stiffened up during the ride. He rubbed his hands to get some feeling back into them, then hastened to Disillusion himself. Tony aimed a gust of hot air at his soggy hair, making it stick up like a pile of straw, before doing the same.

Huddling behind a tree, they waited in anxious silence as the approaching dots resolved into twin red-robed figures on broomsticks. Harry lifted his wand as they neared, but the precaution was unnecessary: after flying a languid curve over the lake, the Aurors went back the way they came, never glancing at the grove.

He released a pent-up breath. The closest town westward was Štrbské Pleso, their original destination before the whole trouble started. While the patrols might not have been looking for him and Tony specifically, they would have to steer clear of the town's wizarding district. So much for not having to sleep in a tent.

"Shit," Tony's disembodied voice summed up.

Harry busied himself with mounting his invisible Firebolt. His fingers discovered a set of bristles in front, and he impatiently rotated the broom. "Let's get out of here before they come back."

Tony groped around before plopping himself behind him, and up they went. For lack of better ideas, Harry turned back east, with a slant toward the cloud-shrouded mountains to cover new ground.

A couple minutes passed in silence. It began to drizzle again, and Harry fumbled for his collar to flip it up against the wind, scowling at the dreary landscape stretching out below. This was turning into a disaster.

Tony sighed loudly. "Where should we look next?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Hey, you're flying this thing. And, if you recall, I wasn't the one who proclaimed himself a master adventurer."

Harry opened his mouth, but a squall buffeted the broom, and his palms clamped on the handle to steady it. The weather was getting worse the closer they got to the mountains, the sky over the peaks almost black with roiling clouds.

"Well, we're certainly not going there," he said, pivoting east and leaving the mountains to their left.

Tony hummed. "The picture was snapped during a rainstorm..."

"That has to be a coincidence. No one sane would fly in that weather!"

"What if it isn't?" Tony's wand tapped Harry's shoulder, and the oncoming droplets started sloughing off his robes. Unfortunately, the belated Impervius Charm did nothing about the moisture already permeating the fabric.

Harry eyed the storm warily before swerving to meet it head-on. The gale crashed against them, reducing their speed and making it hard to breathe. "You want to scout the mountains, fine, but we do it when it's cleared up. It's pointless trying to spot anything now!"

Tony leaned to speak into his ear. "If some shutterbug spotted her, so can we!"

Water ran off Harry's robes in rivulets and trickled under his collar. Magic or not, he was getting drenched to the bone. He made a mental note to pack a raincoat the next time he decided to cruise through a storm, then scratched it out and wrote 'Stay home, moron'.

"I'm turning around!" he yelled.

Tony's arm tightened around his waist. "A bit longer!"

Gritting his teeth, he lowered his head against the gale. Icy slaps battered his face, the water splashing against his glasses rendering the Darksight enchantment useless. The Firebolt juddered against the headwinds, and every sideward gust made them veer wildly.

There was a dazzling flash straight ahead, followed by a rumble of a thunder three seconds later.

Enough was enough. "We're getting the hell out!"

The broom creaked as he swiveled it around, shaking water off his face. There wasn't much feeling left in his nose, and he lifted a hand to rub it, regretting the action when another flurry nearly made him slide off the slippery shaft.

"Hang on! Can you hear that?" Tony squirmed, heedless of the danger of plunging to his death.

"Hear what?"

"It's... it's like a song!"

Forgetting for a moment that they were both invisible, he craned his neck to stare at Tony. "Have you gone mental?"

"I really hear something—that way, go!" Tony twisted, making the broom list to one side. "Your ten o'clock!"

"Mate, I swear—" The words died in Harry's throat as he lifted his head in wonder, listening to a primitive melody that wasn't so much audible over the howling winds, but more a part of them. Navigating entirely by hearing, he pulled slightly to the left.

A streak of lightning raced toward the ground, illuminating the clouds in stark detail, and as his eyes reflexively squeezed shut, an ear-splitting thunderclap followed. Barely a second separated the two, which didn't bode well for their survival.

"I saw something!" Tony bellowed. "There—Lumos Maxima!"

Brilliant white light radiated across the sky, and Harry tried to blink out the afterimage of the lightning arc as he looked around. His gaze passed over a small shape outlined against the leaden sky before snapping back to it. His jaw dropped open, and devoid of his conscious control, the Firebolt started drifting with the wind.

Far in the distance, toward the very center of the thunderstorm, soared a winged feminine figure. She was in constant motion, twirling and somersaulting, folding her feathered arms, then spreading them out again. It looked as though she was being tossed around by the gale, yet miraculously staying airborne.

"Is she in trouble?" he murmured.

Tony couldn't have possibly heard him, but he must've been thinking along the same lines. "She's dancing!"

The melody grew more discernible, and Harry realized with a start that it came from the winged woman's throat. While he stared, the gale buffeting them petered out even as the chant steadily built to a crescendo. His skin erupted in goosebumps, and his scalp tingled; he opened his mouth to shout a warning.

Light blazed from everywhere at once, followed by a boom that rattled his bones. His ears rang, and when he dared open his eyes again, he couldn't see anything; either he was blinded, or Tony's light was gone. At least he could still feel the arm clutching his waist.

"Alright, mate?" he shouted, his own voice sounding strangely far away.

"Don't lose her!" Tony's fist thumped his back. "Lumos Maxima!"

The spell returned a measure of visibility, and Harry craned his neck in search of their quarry. He could no longer distinguish the chant amid the howling gale, and chalked it up to his ears being shot; then, his heart skipped a beat as he discovered the true reason it had gone silent.

The harpy was much closer than before, her angular features expressing her shock as she stared in their direction. Every vigorous beat of her wing-arms made her bounce up and down, sending water spraying off her gleaming dark feathers. The deluge didn't seem to trouble her, streaming down her bare skin, the modest curves of her breasts and hips, and all the way to her bird-like feet.

Then Harry blinked, and she was gone.

Dimly registering Tony urging him on, he sought her out and gave chase. She had flattened her arms to her sides and dived at a speed that put his best Wronski Feint to shame, her dark hair billowing behind her. The distance between them grew rapidly, and he leaned forward, pushing the acceleration to the limit.

Wind howled in his ears as they plunged toward the unseen ground, and her lead began to shrink; then she rotated around her axis, cast her gaze in their direction, and spread her wings wide, soaring as they continued to plummet.

Swearing, Harry yanked the broom up, feeling it vibrate as its enchantments labored to brake. The overpowered Lumos wavered as Tony struggled to hold his wand aloft.

"The light!" Harry tilted his head back trying to locate the harpy as he continued pulling up. "Snuff it out and she won't see us!" In these conditions, even their imperfect Disillusionment Charms were as good as the finest invisibility cloak.

"We won't see her either!" Tony shouted.

Grunting, Harry flew straight ahead as he kept his eyes on the harpy above. Where the two of them powered through the gale, she moved with it, darting to and fro in an erratic, irregular pattern. It was taking every ounce of his skill just to not fall behind. He hoped they weren't about to crash into a mountain, for focused entirely on her murky silhouette, he had lost any sense of direction.

"Wait!" Tony yelled. "We won't hurt you!"

Twirling her wings, the harpy spun to fix them with a wild stare. Harry felt Tony shift and saw his lit wand extend over his shoulder.

"Don't!" he exclaimed, not daring to raise his hands off the handle.

The surroundings went dark as Tony extinguished the Lumos before a jet of blue streaked toward the harpy, reflecting in the raindrops. As she twisted to avoid it, the light threw her furious face into sharp relief.

Everything went black again. The rain that had been pelting them abated, and the gale subsided so abruptly that Harry overcompensated in steering. A hum resonated in the air, and every hair on his body stood on end.

Materializing his wand, he swept it broadly. "Protego!"

The hum built up in an instant and burst in an explosion of retina-scorching white. A god's hand slapped them out of the sky, sending them hurtling to their deaths. Harry couldn't see, and no sound but the thumping of his pulse penetrated the buzzing in his skull. His left hand tugged on the broomstick to correct the tailspin it had gone into, while his right desperately cast Feather-light Charms at himself and Tony, whose weight he could still feel behind him.

A sudden impact jarred the broom, and he yelped as his fingers slipped off the handle. He managed to scream "Arresto Momentum!" before his world dissolved into pain.

Curling into a ball, he tumbled down, getting walloped by tree branches over and over until his journey ended with a face-plant into soggy moss. He took a second to appreciate that he was alive, then lifted his head to wheeze in a breath.

Coughing, he rose to all fours. His enchanted spectacles had dug into the bridge of his nose painfully, but remained intact, as did the wand he had the presence of mind to clutch to his chest during the fall. He created a light and squinted around until his sight recovered enough to make out the Firebolt stuck in the branches high above. So the essentials had survived; he could now check on the baggage.

"Tony?" he called, lifting the light higher.

A groan came in response, and he crawled around a tree to find Tony slumped against its trunk. He was scratched all over, but at first glance had no serious injuries.

"You alright?"

Tony gingerly patted himself down. "Ugh... I'm in one piece, at least."

Harry raised his left hand and slapped him.

"Ow," Tony said, blinking.

"Yeowch!" Harry contorted as agony lanced through his palm. Dropping his wand, he squeezed his left wrist as if to stifle the pain signals, but it was for naught.

Tony muttered a Lumos, and Harry raised his shaking hand. Two of his fingers were bent at an angle. He stared at them dumbly, then scrabbled for his wand.

"Ferula." Splints and bandages appeared out of thin air, forcibly setting his fingers straight with an audible crunch before immobilizing them. "Motherfucker!"

"Why did you slap me?" Tony demanded, pale-faced.

He blinked the tears away. "Because I hadn't noticed my fingers were broken, you twat!"

Tony threw his arms up. "Why hit me at all?"

He took a breather to apply a Numbing Charm on his hand. In retrospect, he should've done that before setting the bones, but one lived and learned. "We nearly died because you had the bright idea to attack her!"

"Attack? I'd—I'd never, to someone that beautiful..." At Harry's unamused stare, he cleared his throat and straightened up. "That is to say, it was only a Ventriloquism Charm. I wanted to tell her we were friends."

Exhaling, he sank to the ground. "Doesn't matter now, I guess. We have no idea where she went, and I doubt she'll be so careless as to show herself again."

"You mean you didn't see?" Giving him a bloodied grin, Tony cocked his chin to the side. "I happened to be looking in that direction when the lightning struck. The village is not a mile from here."

"Zubrovec again? Why would she fly there?"

"I don't know," Tony said, "but we're going to find out. One way or another, I'm going to make those tight-lipped peasants talk."


Rain pattered on the slate roof of a walkway connecting the church to a smaller chapel at the periphery of the graveyard. With Tony insisting on staying away from the pub, it was the only place in the village they could find shelter. Harry still wasn't sure whether the locals were cowed into silence, or if they believed him and Tony to be poachers, but no one gave them the time of the day.

Leaning against a stone balustrade, Tony sighed. "They're hiding something, I know they do."

"No shit," Harry said, scratching his bandaged fingers.

"It's been what, three days?" Tony asked. "There might be an owl making its way across the continent to deliver my marching orders."

He grunted noncommittally.

"What I'm getting at is, I've got nothing to lose at this point. I won't return empty-handed."

"You mean dry-dicked?"

Tony snorted. "Honestly, I'd settle for her using her feathers to tickle my—"

"Spare me the details," Harry said, grinning despite himself.

"I'm just saying, she was one fine bird."

He swatted Tony on the shoulder, then winced at the twinge in his hand. Still sore, although not to the point where he would need Numbing Charms.

"Speaking of birds..." Tony trailed off.

Harry followed his gaze to a young woman crossing the churchyard. She wore drab knee-length robes with coattails that swished as she skipped over the puddles. Her collar was buttoned up, presumably to protect from the elements, yet her head was bare, and her chestnut hair hung limp to her slender shoulders.

She stopped just outside the roofed area, and her hazel, almost yellow eyes peered at them from under a fringe matted to her forehead.

"Er, hi," Harry said.

Her gaze flicked to him. "You ask about harpies."

"Yeah," Tony said, perking up. "Can you tell us anything?"

She crossed her arms. "Why you look? You want steal their unborn? Sell to old and rich for make medicine?"

"No way!" Tony sounded horrified. "We just wanted... We were hoping to... Well, meet them, I suppose."

Her eyelids fluttered. "Meet?"

Tony bobbed his head. "To see how they live, speak to them, behold their wonderful forms up close—" He cleared his throat. "Yeah, all that... And to help them."

"Help," she echoed, her brows pinching together.

Tony flourished his wand and said seriously, "To protect their smiles."

She glanced at Harry for clarification, but he just shrugged and smiled.

"I meet men who want money," she said slowly. "Men who want powerful magic. Sometimes men who make photographs. But I never meet men like you." She shook her head. "If you not lie, then you leave. Harpies live in mountains for many many years. They not need help. You want help them, you go home, and say to others you see nothing."

"So they do live in the Tatras?" Tony stepped closer. "How come no one ever sees them? It's an enchantment of some type, isn't it?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she stood her ground despite barely reaching up to his shoulder. "You not leave? You stay and snoop like rats?"

Tony nodded before belatedly pulling a face. "Not the way I would've put it, but yes."

Her jaw clenched as she looked them in the eye. "Then I take you." Pivoting, she bounded off over the soggy grass.

Harry and Tony exchanged a long look.

"Follow," she said over her shoulder.

Shrugging, Tony hastened after her. Harry materialized his pointy hat before catching up, the raindrops drumming against the brim and sluicing off its edges. While suspicious, this was their only lead.

"So, what's your name?" Tony asked, drawing level with her. "I'm Anthony, and this dapper chap is Harry." He outstretched his hand.

"Lenka." Not sparing him a glance, she pranced toward the fieldstone wall encircling the church.

Tony sheepishly stuck his hand back into his pocket. "Nice to meet you. Where are you taking us?"

With a flutter of her coattails, she vaulted over the wall. Pausing, she extended a finger toward the closer of the two looming mountains.

Harry pressed his lips together as he gauged the distance. "Couldn't we Apparate?"

She shook her head and started moving again. The men clambered over the wall with less grace and fell in step.

"Er, why?" Harry asked when it became apparent she wasn't going to elaborate.

She scowled. "I need... remember way. Quiet."

Harry and Tony exchanged another uneasy glance yet stayed silent. They trudged across the meadow that bordered the village, the dewy grass soaking their trouser legs, then entered a winding, muddy path through the woods. The path sloped down, evened out, then started rising again. The trees became sparser, and out of their cover, the drizzle fell on their heads again.

Harry watched Lenka's wet locks swing in rhythm with her sprightly steps. "Doesn't the rain bother you?"

He almost expected her to snap at him, but instead, a smile flitted across her lips, making her look pretty in a wild sort of way.

"No," she said, her voice tinged with amusement. Then, as if catching herself, she faced forward and quickened her steps.

As they neared the base of the mountain, stunted shrubs gradually replaced the trees, thinning out the higher they went. Harry tilted his head back; the peak was hidden beyond steely clouds.

"Hope we aren't going to climb all the way there," he murmured.

Silent, Lenka continued ahead. The incline steepened so much they struggled to keep up, but before Harry could ask her to slow down, she abruptly turned right. There was no visible trail, but her feet skipped over the lichen-covered rocks without slowing. Harry's every other step sent small avalanches of pebbles down the slope, and after slipping and nearly following them, he fixed his gaze down to watch his footing.

Bumping into Lenka's back, he muttered an apology and lifted his head. At first, he couldn't understand why she had stopped, but then he followed her gaze up the rock face. There were crumbling, uneven steps—whether shaped by man or nature, he couldn't tell—that led to a pitch-black cave.

"The harpies live there?" He didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't something quite so... unromantic.

She gave him a derisive look. "Secret passage."

Tony bounced in place. "Where does it lead?"

She waved her hand vaguely at the peak, then worried her lip. "They angry and they hurt you if you go in their home. I give last chance, you leave and forget."

Harry eyed the jagged edges of the cave mouth. He doubted their pint-sized guide was capable of overpowering him and Tony, but anything could happen in a dark cave that led god knew how deep under the mountain. The whole thing smelled fishy.

"I'm sure we'll be able to talk it out," Tony said, grinning. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

She squared her jaw and nodded before scaling the uneven stairs. Harry grasped Tony by the arm, making him halt mid-step.

"Be careful in there," he hissed, watching Lenka climb without a backward glance.

"Relax, I'll have my wand pointed at her back," Tony said, his eyes glinting. "We're close, I can feel it. New frontiers, mate!" Yanking his sleeve out of Harry's grasp, he took off.

Harry followed at a more sedate pace. "Make sure it's the right wand you're pointing."

Lenka slipped through the narrow entrance first, and the two squeezed in after her. The patter of rain that had accompanied them for the better part of the day ceased, and only the shrill whine of the wind remained. The cave broadened past the entrance, enough that all of them could've walked abreast, but by unspoken agreement, Harry and Tony let their reticent guide go first.

Tony lit his wand, waving it around as he peered at the craggy passage. Harry didn't emulate him, preferring to hold on to the wall as he inched down the scree-strewn slope. His splinted left hand rose to brush a stalactite as he ducked underneath.

The floor gradually evened out, and the whistle of the wind died down, leaving only the echo of their footsteps and the occasional drip of moisture. Straightening up, Harry squinted ahead, but with Tony's Lumos nearby, the enchantments on his spectacles were ineffectual. Lenka advanced briskly; it was obvious this wasn't the first time she came this way, and he furrowed his brow as he pondered the implications.

The cave widened, the ceiling still hanging claustrophobically low, but the walls stretching out until they vanished in the gloom. The sound of dripping water came more frequently. Lenka looked around before prancing onward, and Tony's wand soon cast light upon an alcove about the size of Harry's old bedroom at Privet Drive. It appeared to be a dead-end, yet Lenka stepped in and began running her palms over the half-circular wall.

"What are you looking for?" Harry asked, wrinkling his nose at a whiff of something rotten.

"Hidden..." Making a frustrated noise, she slapped the rock. "Push, open passage."

"So a button or a lever." Staying put, he cast his gaze about.

"We'll help you look," Tony said, holding his wand higher.

Perhaps it was Tony's enthusiasm infecting him, but as Harry scanned the rough walls, his wariness receded, and before he knew it, he stepped into the alcove for a closer look. When his gaze landed on a reddish smudge not a minute later, he grinned victoriously. It was some kind of a glyph, too faded to make out; the stone around it protruded slightly.

"Reckon I found it," he said proudly, making Tony bring the light over. He glanced at Lenka. "Is this it?"

"Yes. Push very very strong." She raised her small hands and shrugged apologetically.

"But of course." He gave the stone knob a good shove; a hairline crack appeared around it as it sunk in a couple of millimeters before jamming.

Tony planted a hand beside his. "Let me."

"I got this," Harry said, eager to show off his manly strength. Kneeling down, he placed both palms over the knob and pushed hard, driving it into the rock with a grinding noise. His arms shook with the strain. "Anything... happen yet?"

"No," Tony said, "you must not be doing it right—"

There was a crash of shattering glass, and it wasn't immediately that Harry realized it had nothing to do with the passage they were attempting to open. Letting go of the knob, he whirled around to find shards of a bottle scattered in a puddle of purplish liquid on the floor. A cloying herbal smell filled his nostrils: valerian, asphodel, and nastier stuff he vaguely recalled from Potions.

"Hey, you dropped a... something," Tony mumbled, sinking to his knees.

"Don't b-breathe it," Harry stammered, his tongue numb and his head spinning. Lifting his gaze, he saw Lenka at the entrance of the alcove with her sleeve pressed over her nose.

He lunged at her, his angry shout coming out as a wheeze, but his muscles gave out and he slumped prone. Lenka's eyes glinted yellow in Tony's dying wandlight, watching him scrabble closer. When he extended a hand toward her, a gust of wind swept past her impassive form, thrashing her robes before slamming into him with inexplicable strength. He felt himself hurtle backward until the back of his head hit stone.