Author's Note: Almost on schedule.

Co-Authored by doenerkint, check out his work, it's really good.

As I said in the AN of the previous chapter, the first half of this chapter will still be very close to the game. It will change though.

'Thoughts'

(Radio when in conversation)

THREE - Wolves

Lara's eyes snapped open just after a crack of thunder echoed into her slumber. Still exhausted and in great pain, she looked around as rain began to pour again. It was cold, the fire was dead, and from what she could see, she was alone.

"Sam?" she searched, confused. "Mathias?"

Nobody responded to her calls, no matter how loud she shouted the names. She tried several times, getting no response other than the sound of wind and rain. Slowly, but surely, Lara began to feel that devastating sense of dread settle again. Where were they and why had she been left behind? Something was very wrong.

"Sam!" she stood and called out frantically now. "Where are you, damn it!? Sam!"

Lara grabbed her bow off the ground and ran out of the little camp checking every direction in the hope of finding some inkling of a hint as to her best friend's whereabouts.

There was no way Sam would have left her behind. She cursed repeatedly under her breath, the cold of the rain dripping down her nose didn't register with her anymore.

She scanned the treeline, deciding on a direction mostly at random. With a near frantic hurry, Lara went down some stone steps that were along the path and screamed as a sudden pain shot through her ankle. In her rush, she'd failed to pay attention to where she was placing her feet. She fell forward to the ground awkwardly and gasped as she quickly found the culprit.

A bear trap had been left there in the open, and she'd been unfortunate enough to step into it. Lara gripped the rusted vice which held her foot as she called out for help. With each jerk and attempt to pull the steel teeth apart, they felt as if they instead deepened their hold, digging into her flesh through he boots.

"HELP!" She panted as she struggled to free her foot and heard a snap of undergrowth, a sound that made her pause.

At first it was the rustling of bushes, shadows dancing behind the hedges. She couldn't be sure she actually was seeing and hearing things. The wind and rain made it impossible to tell. Something or someone was near, she could feel it.

Then a flash of lightning illuminated the shadows and gave the thing away. It was unmistakable. The fur, long snout, the ears, the movements were just as she remembered in old children's stories and those documentaries, she'd binged on TV growing up.

'A Wolf.'

Not a second later after her discovery, as if on cue, the first growl came from behind her. She quickly turned to the sound and saw nothing. Then another growl came from her side, and again she turned to find nothing, only trees and brush.

'Not wolf. Wolves.'

Wolves always hunted in packs. There was never just one.

Truly realising her dire predicament, Lara let go of the trap and grabbed her bow, which had fallen beside her. It was muddy and her fingers slipped, making her heart skip in her chest. She quickly wiped her hand on her pants and managed to notch an arrow, she pulled back on the bowstring and tried to calm her furiously beating heart.

Controlling her breathing, she tried to keep as still and quiet as possible. She didn't have to hold her breath long for the first furry body to break through the bush and rush her.

Her hand relaxed and let go of the arrow.

The yelp and scurrying of paws on dirt was her only confirmation of a hit.

She couldn't rest yet; she didn't know if one arrow was enough and how many of the pack were taking part in this hunt. Lara made a grab for another arrow and felt her heart sink as she found only one, and a broken one at that, snapped halfway through the shaft.

Scanning the ground in desperation, she caught sight of the rest of her arrows. Only, they were just out of reach.

She grabbed the broken arrow and clutched it against her chest. It was her lifeline, and her knuckles were white with how tightly she gripped it.

Not a moment too soon, another wolf rushed her. She could see the light reflected in the yellow eyes of the wild beast of a wolf. She fought the instinct to close her eyes and desperately launched her arm forward, stabbing the animal to death.

Lara gasped as the weight of the wolf landed on her, squeezing the air from her lung. She felt something hot soaking into her as she tried to push the heavy dead wolf off her. A menacing growl approached, and she caught a glimpse of another wolf.

This one was not rushing her but instead trod cautiously. Each step of its paws, one step closer to her fate.

Alarmed by the creeping animal, she struggled to get the damaged arrow out of the carcass which was still half on top of her, but it was stuck, and her hand was wet with the thick, slippery blood meant she had no grip. The wolf was close when it suddenly stopped moving and paused, its ears perked up.

Afraid to take her eyes off the wolf's form, she barely allowed a glance in the direction it was looking, and boy was she glad to have done so.

Not a moment longer, Reyes came rushing through the tree line with a gun in hand. The ship mechanic raised the gun but before she fired, the wolf dove for the brush, it was apparently familiar with guns, it howled the signal of retreat as it took off, cutting its losses.

"Lara!" Jonah stepped out from behind Reyes and dropped to his knees beside her, he pushed the wolf off her and winced when he caught sight of the trap. His burly form gripped it with both hands and with a grunt, made short work of it as he pried it open.

Once finally free and drawing a breath of relief, Jonah helped her to feet.

"I'm so glad you're here," sighed Lara as she took in the faces of the group which had arrived. Reyes, Jonah, Angus, Whitman, and Alex had all made it.

"Where's Sam?" asked Reyes as she eyed the dead wolves. The assumption was clear in her eyes. "We spoke with her over the radio, she should be around here."

"I don't know," answered Lara with renewed concern. She mentally berated herself for forgetting. "I found her with this stranger, Mathias, a survivor as well. Seemed to be awfully familiar with this place. I– I passed out. When I came to," she glanced between Reyes and Jonah, "they were both gone."

"She mentioned him," frowned Jonah. "I didn't say anything to her when we got in touch over the radio in case he was listening, but I don't know… Got a baaad feeling."

Angus cut in, with his gruff Scottish accent. "We oughta' find her, said she was hurt, couldn't have gotten very far."

"Wait—wait, don't forget, we were on our way to Roth?" interrupted Whitman. "We're supposed to meet him. He's waiting for us."

Reyes paused; Whitman had a point. "We'll have to split up," she suggested. "One group will search for Sam and this Mathias, and the other will go on ahead to Conrad."

"I'll search for Sam," volunteered Lara immediately. She searched each of their faces, willing them not to argue with her. Her worry for her friend's welfare was at the forefront of her mind.

"Someone needs to go with her," Reyes acquiesced to Lara's relief. Before Alex could offer, Dr. Whitman, to everyone's surprise, beat him to it.

Lara glanced at Whitman in confusion, the man was not the volunteering sort. Reyes however didn't seem to put any extra thought into his sudden pro-active attitude and nodded. She handed him a gun. "You know how to use this?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, it's been years, but I've fired one before," he tested the feel of the gun in his hand, and though he claimed experience, the awkward manner in which he handled the pistol screamed the opposite.

Reyes eyed him before choosing not to comment. "Lara and Whitman will search for Sam, while the rest of us move on, but still, keep your eyes peeled for any signs of them."

"We don't have time to waste," added Angus as Reyes motioned for the others to get moving.

Alex clearly was not happy with the turn of events but wasn't going to argue with the group and especially not with Reyes. A simple good luck along with a forced smile was all he offered in the end.

Jonah met Lara's eyes; her large Māori friend offered her an encouraging smile. "Stay safe, Manu iti."

"I'll try."

Once the others were out of sight, Lara took a step and tested the damage to her ankle, finding it a little tender but not injured.

"You going to be alright, you can walk?" asked Whitman as he eyed her foot.

"I'll be fine, it's just a bit sore."

"Uh—I'll uh—check on ahead then." He said stiffly. "Don't be long."

Lara took a seat on the log Sam had occupied prior to her disappearance. She removed her brown leather boot and inspected her ankle. It was a bit bruised and tender where the trap had slammed shut, but thankfully her boots were made of tough stuff. They took the brunt of the snapping force.

She massaged her ankle and rotated it, getting a feel for its range of motion before deciding it was good enough. She'd just finished tying up her boot's laces when she noticed something laying against the log.

'What's this?'

It was Sam's journal. Lara picked up the small leatherbound book and paged through it. Some of the pages were wet, but overall, it was readable. She turned to the latest entry and couldn't help but smile at Sam's writings. She was so excited to be on the hunt for Yamatai, to be a part of something that meant so much to her family. Sam had grown up on stories of the island, of her ancestry, of Himiko. So, to be a part of it all, it meant the world to her.

Lara closed the small notebook and pocketed it. She stood and with a bolstered resolve, set out after Dr. Whitman.

Heading in the direction he'd gone; she was surprised to find a stone path with arches in the style of those found in Japanese shrines. The path was lined with more of the stone lanterns she'd seen earlier. She found Dr. Whitman at the end, observing a large door that seemed to lead into the cliffside.

"Lara! Come look at this! These markings…"

Lara stepped closer and couldn't help but feel a hint of trepidation. She recognized those markings or some of them at least.

"I've seen these before on an altar," she said as she touched one of them. "This is fresh."

"A sun? A woman dressed in ceremonial garb. Could this be Himiko?" she reasoned. "But the depiction, this is reverent, and with the altars. Worship?"

"By other survivors no doubt," replied Whitman as he inspected it all with glee. "Remarkable. It's fascinating, they must be like us, people who washed up or had their ship run ashore."

Lara felt her mood sour at being reminded of the inhabitants. "Well, let's try not to lose our minds as well," she said with a bite to her tone. Dr. Whitman's awe of the islanders annoyed her.

He peered at her for a moment, wondering where the sudden hostility was coming from. Deciding against inquiring, he changed the subject. "Come, help me get this open."

Lara let her curiosity get the better of her and grabbed hold of one of the cranks which served to lift the door.

"On three. One, two, three!"

The crank was heavy, hard to turn. The ropes strained as the door lifted slowly with a groan. Once they'd fully opened it and let go, it began to lower slowly. They stepped through and found another stone path with large steps, lined with lit lanterns this time.

"Those drawings on the door," started Lara. "Why would survivors be depicting Himiko, moreso, why would they be worshipping her. Could we really be on Yamatai?"

"Perhaps, and legends do say she had shamanistic powers."

"I never took you for a believer…" remarked Lara. "Besides, a woman in her position, with as much power as she did." She paused. "Sooner or later, it gets called witchcraft."

"The ancient people weren't fools, Miss Croft. We shouldn't just discount what they believed in."

They reached the top of the path and found a stone idol of a woman surrounded by lit red candles, with an offering bowl in her lap.

"Well… that answers that question," said Witman with awe in his question. "This island had to have been a part of Yamatai."

He grew increasingly excited as the weight of the realisation set in. Lara was caught off guard when he suddenly began laughing. "You were right!"

"Yes," replied Lara, unnerved by his behaviour. "But it doesn't answer my other question. Himiko existed thousands of years ago. Why are survivors here in the present, worshipping her?"

"Does it matter?" He shook his head. "We found Yamatai! Don't you understand what that means Lara? We're standing on the find of a century!"

A snap of wood and crunch interrupted Lara's response. She turned quickly in the direction of the sound right as a man stepped out of the treeline. Fully on guard, she moved back, trying to put more space between herself and the new arrival.

"Come," he said in a heavy Slavic accent. "Your friends are hurt."

Whitman had his gun trained on the man, who was far too calm for someone who had a lethal weapon pointed at them. Movement out of the corner of her eye attracted her attention. Glancing around, Lara felt her heart sink when she noticed they were surrounded.

"Look, we don't want any trouble," said Whitman fearfully, the gun shaking in his hand.

"Your friends are hurt," the islander repeated. "They are at camp. You must come quickly."

"Don't trust them!" Lara yelled with panic at the trembling Dr. Whitman.

"We'll come," said the fool of a scholar.

"No, no no, what are you doing!?"

Whitman ignored her protests and lowered the gun. "But I insist that you take us to whoever's in charge."

"Stop! No! Don't trust them!"

"Shut up, Lara!"

He placed the gun on the ground. Lara tried to raise her bow quickly but was tackled from behind.

"No! Get off!" She struggled with her assailant, trying to get loose.

The man sat on her. She tried to claw at his face, but he hit her in the gut. Lara gasped as the air was knocked out of her. He pulled her hands together in front of her and fastened them with rope.

"Stand!" Barked the islander as he pulled her by her hair to her feet.

Lara yelped in pain, as she shakily tried to balance.

"Don't fight, just go along for now. It'll all be alright. Do what they say," yelled Whitman.

Her captor pushed her along. He stopped to pick her up axe and bow, taking them for himself. The first man handed him the gun he'd taken from Whitman. They said something in Russian and began leading them away.

She couldn't believe Whitman. She could believe him to be a coward, a fool even. Did she think he would be stupid enough to just drop his gun and go along with things?

'Do what they say.'

If she got out of this in one piece, she was going to string Whitman up alive.

She smelt smoke and heard commotion. The man led her to a clearing that was surrounded by burning bushes. She couldn't see where Whitman had been taken. Another man was yelling orders to the surrounding islanders.

"Round them up! All of them, kill any who run!"

She stumbled as the one leading her pushed her forward towards a group who were tied and on their knees.

"Lara!" one of the captives, a deckhand from the Endurance, exclaimed, before he was hit over the head with the butt of a gun. He crumpled to the ground and groaned in pain.

"Don't hurt them!"

Her assailant pushed up against a tree. "Quiet!"

He continued speaking, this time in Russian, and with a softer voice. Lara felt sick as he began to caress her shoulder, rubbing his filthy hands along her skin.

His intent was obvious. She fought back, trying to kick him, but he expected her to and had her against the tree again.

"Let go of her!" Yelled another deck hand. He stood and ran up to them, shoulder tackling the man off of Lara. "Run!" he screamed at her before trying to do so himself.

The other captives did the same, scattering in every direction as the man pulled out Whitman's gun.

"No!" Yelled Lara, but it was for naught. The man shot the fleeing deck hand in the back, before hitting Lara. "You stay here!"

He shouted out some orders in Russian to his accomplices and left with them to round up the others. Lara caught sight of him further up the hill barking at another man and pointing in her direction. She wasn't going to sit and wait for the grunt to come and guard her. She dove for the treeline and hid.

She heard the grunt approach. He searched around for her, and after a moment swore before storming off, likely to try and find her. Once he was far enough, she began to sneak. Her hands were still tied, and her bow and axe had been taken from her. There was no way she would get away if spotted. The sounds of gunfire and cracking fire and screaming provided cover, but every pop of a bullet filled her heart with dread.

Making her way slowly past the islanders, she overheard one speak, thankfully in English this time, the message though was something she'd have rather not heard.

"The girl escaped, find her!"

She was about to move again, when she heard the click of a gun and a familiar voice, which sent a chill up her spine.

"There you are, moya Meelaya."

She had been found out. The man grabbed a hold of her throat, his rough hand shifted up to rub her jaw. She kneed him and tried to duck out of his reach, an act made harder with her bound hands. He grunted in pain and kicked out, hitting her against the side which still had her bandaged wound.

She landed in a heap as pain shot through her abdomen.

"-ahui! You are dead!" The man cursed, his face furious. He stormed towards her, she scurried back, nearing the treeline. Before he could reach her, he paused as his eyes widened. He tried to get back as he raised his gun, but it wasn't in time. Lara saw a dark shadow dive over her and grab a hold of his hand, it snarled and growled as it pulled at him, throwing off his balance.

'A wolf!?'

The man screamed in pain and dropped the gun as he tried to free his wrist from the mad animal's vice-like bite.

Lara watched in morbid fascination as the wolf tore through the man's arm, staining his sleeves and its maw in blood. It succeeded in pulling him to the ground. She caught sight of her pry axe on his waist, which he tried to grab a hold of.

"No!" She called out as she dove for the dropped gun. The man had just gotten hold of the axe's grip when three more gunshots joined the cacophony of the surroundings.

The first thing that gave, was the man's strong arm. It dropped like a stone. His body followed soon after. The fall was awkward and ungraceful. Not at all like she'd seen in movies. His body was bent unnaturally.

Dead. He was dead.

He was dead because of her. She'd killed a man and not by accident. She'd wanted him dead.

The wolf let go of the now dead man's arm and turned to face her. In a panic she pointed the gun at it, expecting it to go for her next. She waited for the animal to launch at her but then a thought occurred to her, it seemed calm now. She observed it closer this time.

It was smaller, but not by much. Less menacing. And the eyes…a bright 'green?'

It wasn't a wolf; it was a dog.

The animal approached Lara slowly. She tensed but it stopped and sat there. She waited for it to do something, but it didn't, it instead just stared at her, blinking expectantly.

She watched cautiously, expecting it to still attack her. However, the dog seemed unbothered by her hostility. The only thing it did was tilt its head to the side, eyeing her curiously, not a pretty sight when it still had blood staining its fur, at least the rain was washing it out.

She began to relax, once she realised it wasn't going to attack. She lowered the gun and offered her hand, hoping to draw it closer and smell her, letting it get acquainted.

Whatever Lara expected, she did not expect the dog to bite into the rope tied around her hands. After a few seconds of tugging with its teeth, the rope was pulled loose, and she was free.

Lara blinked at her now free hands. The dog sat just in front of her now, much closer than before.

"What an oddball. You're clearly trained. Are you a survivor just like me?" she asked almost silently.

Regardless of the circumstance of the canine, she reached up to scratch behind its ears. "Thanks, boy. You saved my life."

Distant shouts brought her back to where she was. She got up to continue her escape when the dog nudged her leg. She watched in stunned silence as it then rummaged through the dead man's pockets, pulling out bullets, her axe and…

"My radio!" She flicked it on, catching only static unfortunately. She grumbled, before grabbing everything, including her bow which had been strung over the man's shoulders and began moving towards the steps when the dog barked.

She stopped and eyed the dog. "Come on, boy!"

It barked again and turned to head in the direction it had come from. She watched as it stopped, faced her, and barked for a third time.

It clearly wanted her to follow, surprised and curious, she did so and let it lead her into the treeline. They disappeared into the dark woods, and only stopped once they were far enough that the commotion had become a distant echo in the mountains. Lara slumped against a tree as she breathed in and out.

Harry stopped in front of her. He watched as the woman he'd been trying to find since washing up on this accursed island pulled herself together. He knew that with the Statute of Secrecy, he needed to keep magic a secret. But honestly, he planned to stick by her and there was no way he'd do so in dog form all the time. There were rules for extenuating circumstances within the Statute. The thought of her having to be obliviated sickened him, but regardless of consequences, there was no way he'd allow that. That was a battle for another day, though. For now, he'd do what he thought best, and he considered himself a good judge of character and she wouldn't go running to the press.

'There's probably a better way to go about this but fuck it.'

Lara watched the dog come closer when she nearly grabbed her gun out of fright as it startled her. She lowered the gun, but the next moments nearly had her raising it and squeezing the trigger had she not been so blindsided. Its form shifted, growing taller as it stood on two legs. Dark fur gave way to a black raincoat and navy outdoors pants, she recognized the figure.

"…Harry?" she whispered in shock.

He sighed, this wasn't exactly how he'd hoped to meet up again, and he certainly didn't have any plans as to how or even whether or not to spill the beans about the whole magic is real debacle.

He sat on the ground opposite her, with his knees up and his arms rested on them.

"I should probably explain…"

Lara's mouth opened and closed, like a fish. "Ho–How did you? You were a dog! No-N-Now you're Harry!"

"I was, yes."

"How?" she demanded firmly.

He met her eyes. "Every myth is based at least partially on the truth. You said something like that back on the ship."

"I did, yes," replied Lara, wondering where he was going with this.

"Now, all those stories?" he continued. "Myths from around the world. The supernatural, witchcraft, don't you think it's a bit odd that every single civilization has their own stories, their own apparent experiences with them?"

"I– I suppose…" She wavered before leaning forward, her tone gaining a slight accusatory quality to it. "So, what you're saying is, you're what? Some kind of shapeshifter?"

"Mhm," he pondered. "I guess you could say that technically. I'm a bit more than just a shapeshifter. Think a bit broader of a term, think magic."

Lara appeared thoughtful. "Native American shamans were believed to be able to take the form of animals?"

Harry grinned. "Close, but I'm not a Native American, think more Arthurian."

"Arthurian? Like what?" she frowned at him. He raised his brow, urging her to think about it, contemplate what the word really meant.

So, she did. He clearly referred to the Legend of King Arthur, the myth of the long past Ruler of Britain. And the most famous person alongside the knight king - Merlin.

"Are you…are you saying what I think you're saying?"

His grin grew wider. "Continue."

"Merlin, Morgan Le Fay, were they real? Actual wizards and witches? Hats and brooms and all?"

"As real as I am, yes. Except for the robes, never really took to those."

Lara looked as if her reality had come crumbling down. "I don't know what to think anymore…"

Harry blinked. "You did just see me change back from being a dog, right?"

She slumped. Her eyes were troubled. "So, everything, magic, dragons, spells, and curses. They're all real?"

"Well, those are at least."

She didn't say anything for a while, and Harry began to grow worried. Eventually, she looked up and met his eyes. "What about…immortality?"

Harry stared at her, confused at the choice of question. It wasn't exactly a generic inquiry. He expected her to ask something, but not that, though he humoured her, nonetheless. He knew she wasn't the sort of person who would seek it, there was likely a different reason to her asking, so he decided to answer truthfully. He'd already given her half-truths and lies before. He was coming clean now, and it was best not to spoil that opportunity by not being sincere.

"It's not exactly something that is pursued. It goes against the laws of magic, of life. Many have tried to achieve it; some have come pretty close. The further along the path one treads, the heftier the price often becomes." He gripped his wrist and clenched his jaw. His thoughts went to the monster who ruined the lives of so many people. "It's not easy, and it should never be done. But… it can be."

Lara heard every bad thought she'd ever had about her father in her mind. She remembered the whispered gossip, the mocking glances thrown at the man she once looked up to more than any else.

Harry barely heard her words, and were he not listening for them, he might have missed it. "My father was right all along…"

She met his gaze again and spoke more forcefully. "How is it nobody knows?"

"About us?"

She nodded.

"It's not that much of a secret, actually. We went into hiding around the sixteenth century. I'm sure you can figure out why."

"The sixteenth…the Witch Trials."

Harry nodded. "Wizardkind had been teetering for a while at that point. The Witch Trials, they rarely, if ever, caught any actual witches, but the hatred, the fervour that they adopted in their 'hunt' was enough to force the decision to separate from the general public."

Of course, she heard of the infamous trials. They were a dark part of history. A time when superstition lorded over reason and rationality. She would have pushed for more information on his peoples' history, but Lara paused, pinning the discussion of the history of wizards for another time.

"So, as a wizard," she tested for the first time on her tongue, "Is shapeshifting your…speciality? Can all of you do it?"

Harry chuckled and slowly shook his head. "Shapeshifting is not exactly a common skill among my kind. Only some can do it, and mostly into one specific animal. The ability to wilfully morph into anything and everything is even rarer, and not something I can do. But otherwise, wizards and witches can do a lot more than just turn into animals."

Lara leaned forward in an attempt to shift her position and yelped. Her hand shot to her side where the wound from her cave fall was.

His gaze turned serious. "You're hurt."

Now that she was conscious of it, she felt the side where she'd gotten injured was warmer than the rest. The man had kicked her there, and now she was bleeding. Lara lifted her tank top and winced at the blood-soaked covering. Harry was at her side in an instant.

"What happened?" he asked as he immediately began removing the shabby dressing, without asking.

"Piece of metal, I fell on it." She winced as the cloth which had gotten stuck to her wound, pulled on it as he removed it.

"How long ago?"

Lara tried to recall just how long she'd been on the island, everything had sort of blurred together. "A day at least."

Lara watched as he flicked his wrist, a wooden stick appearing in his hand.

'A wand?'

"May I?" he asked, holding the wand hesitantly.

She nodded, trusting him not to hurt her, and to be honest, she wanted to see more magic.

"I need to clean it. This is going to sting a bit," he warned before pointing his wand at her wound. "Aguamenti."

It did sting, but Lara was caught up in watching the thin stream of water pour out of his wand. It was cool against her skin.

With the excess blood washed away, Harry got a better look at her injury. It was a good thing he'd arrived when he did. Had it been any later, infection would have set in, and even with healing, that's not a pleasant experience.

Under Lara's curious gaze, he reached into his mokeskin and pulled out a glass bottle.

"Essence of Dittany," he said as Lara eyed it. "It's a restorative, it'll heal the wound and stop any infections. If it were sooner, I'd just use a spell."

Lara's eyes widened in amazement as the drops of liquid sizzled at contact, the wispy green smoke produced smelt a bit like burnt grass. Within seconds, the skin had regrown. Harry motioned for her to lean forward so he could repeat the process with the exit wound.

Once he'd finished, he fished in his bag a bit more and pulled out a cup and bottle which were far too large for the bag. "It's bigger on the inside," he explained.

He poured about a half cup worth of whatever was in the bottle into the cup and handed it to her. She took a cautious sniff, and found it smelt spicy.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A potion," he answered to her interest. "Pepperup, you've been going around soaked to the bone in this cold, it'll make sure you don't get ill."

Lara shrugged and downed the cup. She felt the strangest sensation of air coming out of her ears as her body warmed considerably.

"I see where the name comes from. It definitely tastes peppery," she mused.

He chuckled. "Let's get you out of those—" he indicated her ruined and soaked top, "—and into something warmer."

Realising what his words could be misconstrued as, he fumbled an attempt to backtrack.

"I know what you meant." She said with amusement, to his relief. "But are you telling me you have women's clothing in that bag of yours? Should I be concerned?"

"No woman's clothing," he laughed. "I'll shrink some of mine for you."

"Wish I could get clean first though…"

"Uhm, it's not a shower, but I could hit you with a cleaning charm. It'll feel as if you've been rubbed down with a dry bath sponge. But you'll be clean."

Lara didn't hesitate for a second. "Do it."

Harry raised his wand and pointed it towards her. "Scourgify."

The grime which had settled on her skin and fused with her clothing disappeared in an instant. She definitely felt clean, but Harry had undersold the sensation. It felt as if someone very roughly rubbed every inch of her with a coarse brush."

"That was not a pleasant experience…"

"Tell me about it," he chuckled ruefully. "You'd think we have a better spell for this…"

"By the way, why are you here?" asked Lara as he resumed rummaging in his bag.

He handed her a bundle of clothes. "Hmm, what do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, here, with us," elaborated Lara as she inspected the clothing. It was pretty simple, black tank top, brown pants, and a jacket. "You're certainly not here to protect any investor interests."

Facing the other way as she got changed. "I'm sure you felt it," he began. "This island? That feeling, nagging at the back of your mind that something is off?"

She opened her mouth to deny it but couldn't. The island did give her that feeling.

Harry nodded, taking her silence as affirmation.

"Those stories about Himiko? Most of them are true. Yamatai has been an object of interest for a while now."

"To the wizards?" asked Lara, as she slipped on the jacket. "You can turn around now."

"Sort of," he confirmed as he got his wand out. "My employers, to be specific. I'm what's known as a curse-breaker."

"We get into tombs, ancient places, and find what's there," he explained. "They're often pretty well protected, that's why you need us."

Lara watched curiously as he waved the wand over her, she felt the clothing shrink slowly until they were a perfect fit. She noticed something though.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Did you make it tighter around my ass?"

He blushed. "Sorry, mistake. I'll fix it."

Lara surprised herself by giggling. It all felt so casual that for a moment, she forgot their situation. "It's alright, leave it. We ought to get moving anyway."

END CHAPTER THREE

Manu Iti - Little bird (Māori)

Moy Meelaya - Term of endearment (Russian)