Harry Potter: How I Met Your Mother

Chapter Six: A Small Spanish Village

DISCLAIMER: The world of Harry Potter, its characters, its plot, and its situations are the creations of JK Rowling and belong to JK Rowling, Wizarding World and warner Brothers. I do not own them. I do own the Woodbines and their associated OC's.

This story is written for my amusement and because I do not like the Dramione genre.

-How I Met Your Mother—

As it was, Marilyn's wedding turned out to be one of the social high points of that summer. True, there were some get-togethers and parties among our set, but no great family events. Instead, once Da was satisfied that I'd gained enough familiarity with Muggle transport, he informed me that I'd spend most of my weekdays working at his antiques store. But not before we went off on our own summer holiday, and that was the summer that we went to Spain's Costa Brava.

Da said that he'd heard horrible things about some of the wizarding lodgings in the area, so we went off to stay at a Muggle resort for ten nights. We ended up with two rooms in a Muggle hotel, sharing the hallway with drunken, noisy Muggles.

I don't know what you kids know about Spain's wizarding community during the last years of the previous century, but it had been in a state of flux for decades. Spain, or I suppose I should say Iberia, had actually been a major center of wizardry once—but that went into sharp decline with the coming of the Spanish Inquisition over 500 years ago. Spanish wizards and witches fled to France, to Britain, to North Africa, even to Germany and the Levant then, after Spain had begun to colonize the Americas, to Central and South America. The great Muggle conqueror Napoleon ended the Inquisition, but the Spanish wizarding community didn't begin to regain strength of numbers for over a century. It did begin to do so just before the First Great Muggle War, but that revival halted with the commencement of the Muggle Spanish Civil War.

The Muggle Spanish Civil War was a serious set-back for the Spanish Wizarding community. Despite the fact that most Spanish Wizards and Witches wanted no part of the conflict, they were all too often drawn in by the actions of the warring governments and their Muggle neighbors. Moreover, Spain, an impoverished country even before the Muggle conqueror Napoleon had begun his rampage 130 years prior, had been devastated by the war and was decades getting back on its feet. It had been poor and continued behind the rest of western Europe until a few years ago.

History aside, we were had gone to the resort for rest and relaxation. The resort was not as restful as Da had hoped: it was overrun with noisy, drunken Muggles. Not that I should have been surprised—it was a Muggle resort catering to Muggles and most of its clientele were Muggle. Not that it didn't stop me from taking the floo to explore other places. I used the public floo nearest the resort to floo away several times to Barcelona, to Madrid, and Seville, although I discovered that Seville during the summer could be beastly hot.

I also used the floo to visit a couple of wizarding villages. Yes, there are wizarding villages in Spain; they do exist. I still remember a couple of them with fondness while the other one scared the living daylights out of me.

-How I Met Your Mother—How I Met Your Mother—How I Met Your Mother—

I did not tell the children much of anything about that village. The less they knew about what I saw and experienced there, the better. I may tell them something when they're older: much older. As far as I'm concerned, the story can wait until after they're all fully grown. That one village frightened the living daylights out of me: so much so that I either chose to remain within the grounds of the resort or confine my movements to the surrounding Muggle resort town for the remainder of my stay.

I'd read about Peligroso in some book I'd found in the Room of Requirement a couple of summers ago. I should have known better than to use that reference as a tourist guide: it dated from well before the rise of Gellert Grindelwald. Not knowing any better, I used the Spanish Floos to get from the Muggle area to a small, sun-bleached village set inland someplace. When I stepped out from the small enclosed courtyard concealing the Floo, I sensed that this village might be as safe as I'd hoped and wondered if I might have made a mistake going there.

There did not seem to be any immediate danger nearby. It was mid-afternoon and it was hot thereabouts, far hotter than a typical summer day in our part of Britain. It was also a little boring: the village didn't look all that different from its Muggle counterparts. More than a few of the local inhabitants had succumbed to the blandishments of the Muggle world and had televisions and wireless sets. I wandered up and down its narrow street, looking at the buildings, occasionally looking at the local inhabitants, wondering how people made their living under such circumstances.

It was then that I heard the sounds of what I first thought were Muggle-style firecrackers. A ricochet from a nearby building convinced me that I was woefully mistaken: those weren't the sounds of Muggle firecrackers but Muggle gunshots. The gunshots grew louder and closer. Realizing that I was in danger, I immediately went looking for someplace to hide. Hiding places were few and far between and I realized that I was in greater danger than I had thought: I'd left my wand back at the resort. The locals had also sensed the danger and started slamming doors and closing windows. Since there was no safety within, I'd have to remain without: the most I could hope for was to hide behind a parked car. I hid and hoped that trouble wouldn't notice me.

I did not get my wish. The gunshots drew even closer and I saw a man run out of a side-street carrying what I already knew was a pistol. He was tall, red-haired, broad-shouldered with blue eyes and the feel of an utterly dangerous hunting cat. His eyes flicked at the buildings, the rooftops, around the streets, looking for danger. I know he saw me, my hands were covering my head and I was terrified that he'd shoot me. He ran past me, dismissing me as a threat and I knew that I'd live at least that much longer. His pursuers were hot on his heels and spilled out of the side-street he'd just exited. I briefly wondered if they'd kill me instead, but they ignored me and ran after the red-haired man. I then I realized that my subconscious mind had used accidental magic, most likely the Notice-Me-Not charm, to keep them from tracking my presence. I stood up from my hiding place, walked quickly to the public Floo I'd used to travel to Peligroso, and hastily took the Spanish Floo first to someplace near a Muggle bus stop, and then walked a mile further to another bus stop which took me within seven blocks of the hotel where my family was staying.