Chapter 11: Dear Hearts and Gentle People – Bob Crosby
POV: Harry
A heavy miasma of pain pressed down on him as he fought against the enveloping darkness. His tongue felt thick with thirst and every movement, no matter how slight, seemed to sap him of what little energy he had. A brilliant blast of indistinct gray light seared his eyes and made him mewl in agony, his one free hand questing for some nepenthe from the ill feeling. Warm fingers found his and strangely enough, seemed to assuage the discomfort by relaxing his angry nerves.
"Wha…" the words caught in his throat, choked behind the thick phlegm clogging his mouth.
"Here." Strong hands grasped him and helped him sit up, the agonizing blaze of light dimming as his eyes adjusted. Still, the room was blurry and his head swam from the movement. A cool glass was pressed to his lips and he grasped at it with desperation, greedily drinking the cold water. It ran in rivulets down his throat, soaking his shirt and pooling in his lap. He didn't care, it was the water of life pouring into the desert of his flesh, granting its powers to invigorate and replenish. He coughed and spluttered, and a pair of hands appeared to take the glass and stroked his back to ease his distemper.
Blinking his eyes against the continued blurriness, he cast about with his hands, searching for his glasses. The foreign hands guided his to the metal frames and helped him perch them in place over his eyes. The room finally resolved into the Salem clinic, and he found that he was sitting up in one of the beds next to his sweet Daphne. Doctor Anderson leaned back as he blinked the world back into focus and worked his mouth, reveling in the moisture soothing his parched mouth.
"What happened?" Harry whispered, his throat still raspy so that the words came out in a ragged croak.
"You and Ms. Greengrass were brought in suffering from one of the most extreme cases of radiation poisoning I had ever seen. Honestly, you should be dead right now."
Harry blanched at the almost rancorous pronouncement from the older woman. Doc Anderson was never one to mince words, but she seemed almost angry at the seemingly reckless way Harry and the others constantly did things that required her care afterward.
Her expression softened and she laid a hand on his leg, "You've been asleep for four days now. I had to chemically induce a comatose state and put you on dialysis. Even with Radaway to flush out the radiation, your cells suffered damage… especially your kidneys. Thankfully, there are people in Salem with your blood type. I've gone through twelve units of blood on you alone."
"Cell damage? Is that going to be a problem?"
Harry turned at the nervous question from Daphne and reached out to grasp her hand. Her fingers somehow felt cool and more fragile than he remembered. He worried that he was pushing too hard and that he was dragging her along with him to her detriment. As if reading his thoughts, she turned to him and offered a small smile, shaking her head at the dour look on his face.
"No." Doc Anderson breathed, "Susan happens to have a talent for healing… I've never seen anything like it. She did what she could to reverse the damage, though it seemed to take a lot out of her to do it. She was laid up in here for a full day after she performed her magic on you two."
"Then I owe you both thanks." Harry announced, his tone carrying a small measure of the sincerity he felt.
"You can thank me by stop trying to kill yourself." Doc growled, though her temper seemed defeated by Harry's grin.
Harry knew that the woman cared for them all, and that a large portion of her ire was fueled by her mental and emotional exhaustion as she worked over them both.
The door to the clinic opened on creaking hinges and a grey haired head peered in at them, "Is that Mr. Potter I hear?"
Harry's smile broadened, "Good to see you Barney."
The commander of the Salem Militia let himself in and sat heavily at the foot of Harry's bed, the wave of relief washing over him evident in his beaming expression.
Regarding Harry intently, as if confirming to himself that his friend was truly on the mend, he absently patted Doc Anderson, not even noticing her furious blush as his hands bounced against her backside.
Noticing her expression, Barney looked up and noted that he was goosing the doctor and yanked his hand back as if burned, his face going crimson as he spluttered.
Harry coughed pointedly to save Barney further embarrassment, "Tell me what happened at the quarry."
Barney shot Harry and grateful look and Doc Anderson an apologetic one. He cleared his throat before speaking.
"By the time we got back, the quarry was well on its way to collapsing in on itself. We were rushing to get people clear when someone spotted you and Ms. Daphne here popping up right by the entrance. A couple of our boys managed to reach you and carry you out before the entire place fell apart. There's still plenty of useable stone though and your friend… Sir Nicholas was able to confirm that those chiggies."
"Chindi." Harry corrected.
"Whatever… the 'things' were well and truly gone. We got Adam and Lilith taken care of, some minor wounds that Doc here took care of in no time. Our other patrols took out a group of super mutants, a raider gang heading for coastal cottage and some ferals camped out at Croup Manor. We now have several miles of cleared real estate all around Salem."
Barney nodded at Harry with real pride, obviously crediting the wizard's leadership for their series of resounding victories.
"Thanks Barney, please tell everyone that they all did brilliantly. Very well done."
Barney nodded gratefully at the praise and rose, mindful that Harry and Daphne still needed their rest.
"There are others who are wanting to check in on you now that you're awake. I'll pass on what you said, I know the boys and girls will be glad to hear it. I left detachments of militia at each of the sites… the Minutemen offered to leave some sentries too, but I turned them down. I appreciate their help and they're a good group of fellows, but this is Salem business. I hope I didn't overstep."
"No, no, I agree with you. It's great to have them as friends, but we shouldn't come to rely overmuch on them."
Barney grinned at Harry's agreement and turned to leave, pausing long enough to pinch Doc Anderson's bottom before hurrying through the door before she could wallop him.
"That man…" a blushing Doc fumed, though even Harry could tell that it was mostly bluster.
Not five minutes went by before another head popped in, this one topped with an unruly mop of red hair.
"Harry! Daphne! You ARE awake!" George shouted exuberantly. He was followed in by a much more subdued, but no less pleased Lilith.
He sat on Harry's bed while Lilith perched on Daphne's, both unable to contain their relief at seeing them well.
"Susan and Doc here really pulled out all the stops, Harry. They worked day and night to get you two well."
"I know, seems I'm always needing someone to yank my bum from the fire." Harry quipped.
George laughed, "With you two looking all spry again… sort of, it's official. Resounding win for team Salem!"
"No one else got hurt?" Daphne asked.
"Nothing serious, "Lilith replied, "Aside from you two, Adam and I were the worst off, and we were mended much faster than you."
"How are you doing Lilith?"
Lilith waved away their concern, "Oh it hurt. I won't deny that. But it turned out to not be as bad as all that."
"Oh…" Harry paused, "I'm sorry about your… um, vault boy, George."
The redhead's eyes lost some of their luster as he looked down at his lap, nodding sadly at Harry's condolences.
"Speaking of… he made it too!" He shouted, his head popping up at the same time as the aforementioned vault boy suddenly popped into the room with a macabre giggle.
Harry scooted backward in his bed in alarm, raising his hand to his suddenly racing heart.
"George, I swear if you ever let that thing near me again, I'll…"
George laughed even louder, if that were possible, he waved away Harry's threat with one hand while wiping the tears in his eyes with the other.
"No worries, I'm taking him back to the workshop. He's going to stay there and help us around the shop."
George was still giggling to himself as he picked up his companion and made for the door. They could hear him renew his laughter as he walked down the hall and out the main door.
"Well I for one am relieved that the operation was a success. I want very much to have things get to some kind of normal so I can concentrate on my students." Lilith huffed as soon as George's laughter died off.
Harry offered a weak smile, "Me too, Lilith. As much as I would love to devote our time to rebuilding what was lost, there are threats out there that, if ignored, could very well toss all of our plans."
Lilith patted the air consolingly, "I know, I know. I'm just not made out for this like you are Harry."
"If it makes you feel any better, we are much safer now than we were a few days ago. Now we can make the time to work and make the most of our success. Hopefully give Salem and her people some peace for a change."
"We're all appreciative of the work you've done Harry. We never would have made it without you."
Clearing his throat in embarrassment, Harry tried to change the subject, "How are your students coming along?"
More than happy to talk about a subject she was keenly invested in, Lilith brightened and excitedly told Harry and Daphne about her 'school'.
"Neville's been helping me when he isn't busy with the crops and his herbology studies. We have four students now and are using the main chapel in the church as a classroom. We don't have wands enough to do any more than have them share as they practice. Thankfully, there are a pair of very mellow wands and seems to take to be used as an instructional aid… still, without wands to give them, they'll never advance very far. To say nothing of our lack of books and other materials."
"We had hoped that the Museum of Witchcraft would have some hidden cache." Daphne put in, "Luna and I explored it a while ago and all we found was an irate deathclaw."
"WHAT?!" Harry nearly launched himself from his bed at the news that his Daphne had faced a deathclaw without him, "When did this happen?"
"A couple of weeks ago, you were off flying and contrary to your opinion, you don't have to do EVERYTHING." Daphne stated flatly, her expression daring Harry to make a fuss of it.
Only mildly rebuffed, Harry continued, "Ok, what happened with it?"
"Oh, it massacred a group of Gunners. Apparently, they had stolen its eggs and tried to escape mum's wrath by hiding out in the museum. We retrieved its one remaining egg for it and it went on its way. Luna seems to have a knack for communicating with creatures, without her, I may have had to hurt it."
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply, "At least you're both alright. Plus it does take one place off our list of places to search."
"Too bad it didn't have anything useful." Daphne lamented.
"We'll figure out something." Harry put in, including Lilith in the statement with a meaningful look, "We always do."
POV: Susan Bones
It had only been a few hours after Harry and Daphne finally woke up that Susan led a small group of Salem militia and five families north toward the Coastal Cottage. The settlers and their escort were quiet, which suited her just fine as she reminisced about the last time she had gone to the forlorn house on the low cliff.
Vincent had been with her then, ostensibly as her protector but more as her friend, though the hope ever shined in his eyes that they could have been more. Her heart leapt up into her throat at the thought, of the wasted moments between then and when he died.
She turned up the dirt path without thinking, passing between the two freshly painted brown Mr. Handy robots provided by the reformed Mechanist. They had been hard at work moving what material they could from the fish packing plant to the cottage and had also cleared away some of the rubble. They had been programmed to cease their work when she arrived and to await further instructions. Not in the mood to talk, partly for fear that if she opened her mouth, then the keening heartbreak lingering in her throat would leap up and free, tearing her soul out with it. She motioned down the path, to the waiting settlers, silently thankful that the robots acknowledged her orders and moved gracefully to join the group.
She closed her eyes as she drew her wand from her sleeve sheath and breathed deeply of the salty air, the sharp tangy scent of the ocean tickling her sinuses. Her mind conjured an image of a smiling Vincent, leaning against a restored cottage… only larger, with a plethora of rooms for the multiple families calling the place home. The sun was setting behind him, outlining his figure in golden rays as he strolled toward her, his face cast in shadow.
His warmth enveloped her as she laughed… an ephemeral sound, as if it came from far away in some long lost dream. A breeze carried more of the ocean scent and tousled the fat heads of razorgrain fields, the golden ripples spreading out behind the house like waves. He picked her up and spun her about, the house flashing by her vision and the cold steel gate set into the concrete wall spinning past. The colors seem to run together and her delight was replaced by a deeply nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach. She pushed against his chest, working her mouth to ask him to stop. Her vision went black as she felt her body slam into unyielding cold ground.
"Ms. Bones? Are you alright?"
She blinked her eyes several times and was greeted by twinkling starlight, and the concerned faces of several of the settlers gathered around her. The owner of the voice, a severe looking older woman, helped her to sit up.
"Thank you, yes… I'm alright. Just got a little dizzy."
As her vision returned in full, she couldn't help but feel the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth at the sight before her. The expansive cottage from her vision dominated her field of view, complete with a wrap-around deck and porch swings. It was large yet homey, the completed house big enough to more than accommodate the five families that had accompanied her here. She must have constructed it subconsciously as she dreamt of Vincent, but had poured too much of herself in the magic… which explained why she felt so weak now.
She stood up with assistance on shaky legs, and noticed that the gate and wall were completed as well.
"I've never seen anything like this!" The woman exclaimed, "And I've lived in Salem around you wonderful people for months!"
Contrary to her appearance, the woman was anything but taciturn… she just had the misfortune to have a kindly soul wrapped up in a distinctly haughty looking exterior… what had Vincent called it? Resting bitch face or something like that. A small giggle escaped her lips at that, causing the others to look at her with renewed concern.
She waved away their worries, "Sorry, I was remembering something Vincent told me once."
They hardly looked mollified by that, "Truly! Let's get settled into the house before it gets cold out. Sergeant?" She added, looking to the senior militia man.
"Yes ma'am?"
"Please set up the guard rotation. We'll work on installing the turrets tomorrow, but for now… I need to rest for a bit."
"No problem ma'am. You get some sleep, the boys and I got it from here."
She nodded vaguely as she turned away, the man hollering for his men and moving toward the steel gate.
She walked slowly up the gate, smiling at a trio of small children who tripped on each other as they happily screamed up the wooden steps to the house. The wooden boards creaked slightly as she settled her weight onto the bottom step, her hand feeling the grain of the rail, the smooth wood tingling with residual warmth from her magic. She sat down on a swing and imagined sitting next to Vincent, his strong arm draped over her shoulder as they swung on a lazy evening. She leaned into him and breathed deeply of his scent, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.
"Welcome to Vincentville." She murmured, as the gray haze of sleep overtook her, oblivious to the quilt the older woman draped over her.
POV: George
"Whew. Those buggers smell awful!" George complained as a pair of militia struggled under the weight of a rather large ghoul corpse.
They heaved the smelly body of the unfortunate soul through the front door of Croup Manor, while George and Mr. Williams wisely stayed back out of the way.
"Why don't you wave that stick of yours and make it easier on the rest of us instead of standing there bitching?" Fingers growled, a collection of ghoul body parts balanced precariously beneath her arm. Her rebuke lost none of its sting despite the muffling effect from the skull bandana she had wrapped around her mouth and nose to ward against the smell.
To further punctuate the point, she dropped her macabre load at his feet, his face twisting with incredulous disgust at the wet slapping sounds the organs made as they plopped on the pavement.
Fingers pulled her bandanna down and grimaced at the pair, "Neville wouldn't complain if he were here."
"Well, I guess you'll just have to make do with us, love!" George flippantly called out, even as she turned her back on the pair to head back into the Manor.
"She's not wrong though, can't you wave your thingie and get rid of these bodies?" Mr. William whispered, careful lest Fingers hear him actually agreeing with her. The former raider enjoyed nothing more than to be proven right… she once regaled them for three days after she won an argument about the merits of using wonderglue to baste mole rat meat.
"It's a wand." George grumbled, knowing that he really should have done something more than stand there and make snide comments.
George moved over to the large fountain in front of the manor and huddled down as if seeking shelter.
"What are you doing?" Mr. William asked, walking over to stand over the wickedly grinning wizard.
"You'll see… though you probably want to get down here with me."
Rolling his eyes dramatically, the old engineer eased himself down, grumbling about his cracking joints.
"Accio, ghoul!" George shouted, jabbing his wand up toward the top of the fountain. He huddled down immediately and Mr. William followed suit, suddenly quite nervous at the nearly maniacal look in the redhead's eyes.
His first clue that George's work was having the intended effect, was the sudden raucous cries that emanated from the house, followed by a series of loud thuds and even louder cursing. He felt something dribble onto his ear and wiped it off with a hand, examining it with curious eyes.
Curiosity turned to revulsion as he realized that he had some kind of orange ichor dripping from his fingers. Looking up at a sudden series of wet impacts, he was astonished and a little nauseated at what appeared to be a veritable storms of ghoul remains spattering against the far side of the fountain, some of the fluid and viscera splashing up and over onto him.
Huddling down as low as he could, he directed a glare at George, "You do know that Fingers is likely to kill you for this."
"To see the look on her face before I go, will make it all worthwhile." George laughed.
George proved to be quite wrong on that, as Fingers and both militiamen, all three spattered from head to toe with ghoul guts, chased him for miles until he got the presence of mind to 'accio' a broom and fly out of their reach.
It was several hours, multiple pleas and apologies later, that George and company finally got back to their task of securing Croup Manor. It helped smooth things over somewhat when George conjured a warm shower for the three people he had accidentally (on purpose) hosed with gore and dried their clothes with a simple charm his mother taught him. Using it made him think of her, and for a moment, his seemingly inexhaustible supply of good cheer was waylaid by the specter of all that was lost.
"The families are coming in the morning. Now that we've wasted most of the afternoon on your antics, can we get on with making this place ready for them?" Mr. William offered, his grandfatherly chide having the intended effect and making the others rather sheepish about their behavior.
Clearing her throat, Fingers tried to abolish the uneasiness, "Well, I think it'd be best to wipe the slate clean." She waved her hand idly at the morose looking manor.
"What? Why? This house looks to be in pretty good shape, all things considered." George protested.
Seemingly in reaction to his pronouncement, an entire section of wall collapsed with a dull roar, throwing up a cloud of dust.
"It's just one wall." George protested, not liking the smug look on Finger's face.
"How about a compromise?" Mr. William cut in with practiced ease, used to being the voice of reason where George was concerned.
"What do you have in mind?" George asked, eager to look somewhere other than at the woman's face.
Walter stood and gestured expansively out toward the other houses, "Use the material from those houses to reinforce and expand Croup Manor. Simply restoring this place won't do as there are at least seven families coming in the morning. But adding in material from the other homes over there, we can build a pretty impressive structure that will more than house everyone coming and leave room for growth."
Looking around at their thoughtful faces, George nodded in agreement as he noted the others doing likewise.
"Well, sounds like that's our plan then. If you guys could cover me while I get to work, we can have this building up before it gets too late."
Having Fingers and the militiamen along proved a boon as the other houses, the bulk of them boarded up, seemed to be infested with an inordinate number of radroaches. One of them even had a trio of child sized feral ghouls… a fact that they all silently decided it best not to dwell on.
Slowed a little by the nearly constant sound of combat, George was exhausted by the time the main house was completed. The restored building was resplendent, looking like a manor house of old from a picture he had seen of the plantation homes of the south. It boasted dozens of rooms and straddled the entire outcropping up to the beach. Though it took every nail and plank of the other houses surrounding it, the benefit was that the land all around was now clear and ready for cultivation, with the old foundations pulled up to provide Croup manor with a thick and strong concrete wall.
"Good job, George!" Walter called out, joining George at the fountain that moistened them with pure spray now that the wizard had repaired it.
George smiled his appreciation, too tired to make any quips at the late hour. Clapping him on the back, Walter led George into the house.
"We're in luck… Finger's is making radroach stew." The older man announced eagerly, his hand rubbing his stomach as he guided a suddenly hesitant George.
Weasely felt himself go a little green at the idea of eating giant roaches, but was compelled into motion by Mr. William's insistent hand.
"It's alright, have you ever known Fingers to cook anything that wasn't delicious?"
"As a matter of fact." George alluded, remembering her revenge weeks ago, when living gnats burst up out of the meat pie he had been served.
"Don't worry, it's a stew… she's not going to ruin our dinner just to get back at you." Walter winked at him, "That'll come later!"
George wasn't in the least bit comforted by that.
POV: Neville
He whistled happily as he ran his fingers through the gently waving stalks of corn. He was pleased at how well they were doing in his first field adjacent to the Town Hall. Or church… as it was before they had moved in and decided that the central building would be re-purposed. He inspected the rows of thriving plants, careful to note any indications at how the plants were faring in the radiation free soil.
He smiled as he knelt and dug his hands into the loamy dark earth, reveling in the feel of the slightly moist dirt. The glowing shrooms were doing their job very well, a line of them like sentries growing in the shadow of the town center. They thrived in radiation, and pulled the radioactive material directly from the soil. Soon, he would harvest these shrooms and prepare them for storage in his growing herbology lab. Coupled with simple charms to invigorate crops, the small fields around Salem were all doing remarkably well.
Neville had gathered a multitude of plants and fungi, experimenting on them to determine how well they could serve as an analog to the varieties that had existed prior to the war. Unfortunately, it seemed that a great many fairly common ingredients for potions or other alchemical solutions had no substitute… at least that he could so far. He stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees and peeked in through a window at Lilith, who was holding a class.
An old blackboard stood to her left while she directed one of their students, an older teenager named Clarissa, though the motions of a simpe leviosa charm. The others, a group of 4 children ranging from seven to twelve, sat in desks that had been scavenged from Malden middle school. Jonathan, the Minuteman General, had directed him to that location… though the way his face went blank as he told Neville about it indicated to the wizard that there was more to that place, at least to the General, than a simple place to gather simple school supplies.
He grinned at the look of wonder in Clarissa's eyes as she made the feather duster rise in the air to her command. He noted that the young witch had a sure hand with the wand. She gave the wand back and nearly bounced on her way back to her seat, another student rising to take her place. They only had two spare wands with which to teach the children, the other few spares that they had being remarkably recalcitrant to be used by pretty much anyone. Neville surmised that these two were made from dragon heartstring, as they allowed themselves to be passed to each student with little argument.
Neville picked up his tools and headed back for the gate, stopping to activate his new Mr. Handy from its recharge station.
"Good morning, sir!" The robot greeted him happily.
"Good morning, Frederick."
"Would you like me to get to work on the garden today, sir?"
"Please. The glowing mushrooms are nearly ready to harvest, so keep an eye on them if you would for me. Otherwise tend the corn field the rest of the day."
"Of course, Sir! Happy to be of service."
Neville whistled a jaunty tune as he walked away from the Mr. Handy and toward his own workshop. He was the only herbologist in the settlement… perhaps in the world, come to think of it… and so had the space to himself. He was a tidy man and his workshop reflected that aspect of his personality. Every jar, packet, vial and box was clearly labelled and stored alphabetically.
He checked his stock of crop seeds and was a little dismayed at how depleted his stores were. He had endeavored to save enough seed to replant in order to increase the crop yields for each season, but the population had grown beyond his projections. He had already packaged up seedlings for the families moving north to Coastal cottage, but it appeared that he wouldn't have enough for Croup Manor, to say nothing of Kingston lighthouse.
He sighed and raked a hand through his lengthening dark brown hair, realizing belatedly that there was still chaff and dirt in his hands and now… in his hair.
A little over thirty people left yesterday morning with Susan and another forty were set to leave with Luna tomorrow morning. That left Salem with a little over two hundred men, women, and children. And it fell on his shoulders to feed them all.
He would have to talk to the trade caravans again to get more seed crop from Abernathy or Sanctuary. Though those settlements were more than happy to give him anything he asked for, he felt a little remiss in continuing to rely on their generosity. No, he needed to find something to make the trade equitable. Maybe Harry would have an idea?
Neville sighed again, closing his eyes against the ever increasing pounding headache he was developing.
He had wanted to visit Greygarden, which was nominally considered a settlement but was in reality an experiment of sorts for its original creator. He would be pleased to know that his work lived on, that the robots who inhabited the settlement continued to work and to thrive despite conditions in the wasteland. He had considered asking Fingers to accompany him, he could make it seem that he needed a guide and protection and not because he fancied her. He blushed furiously at the thought, she was wild, uncouth, and wholly the opposite of gentle Neville Longbottom. Try as he might, he could not seem to convince himself to look elsewhere, despite their differences. He found her absolutely captivating.
"Neville!"
His heart leapt up into his throat as he stumbled and knocked half of his tools from his bench. His mouth worked like a fish out of water as he tried to recover, absolutely certain that his thoughts on the former raider were writ plain on his face.
Harry stood in the doorway of his workshop, looking much more hale and hearty than he had in the first few days since they brought him back from Dunwich. Harry grinned at him, and Neville couldn't say he blamed him… he must look a fool.
"I was calling out to you, but you seemed pretty involved with whatever… or whoever, you were thinking about." Harry teased, having guessed from the wistful smile on Neville's face as he approached, what the wizard was thinking about.
"Sorry, Harry. Actually yes, I was thinking about how low my seed stock was. We'll need more for the group at Croup Manor and then more again for the Kingston Lighthouse. I can ask a couple of other settlements for it, but I'd rather make an even trade… I just don't know what."
"Breathe, Neville." Harry spoke calmly, coming in at last to place a friendly hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright. As a matter of fact, Preston has asked for more turrets for a place called Oberland. It's a newly liberated settlement just over a bridge from Greygarden. I'm sure that we can get the crops we need in exchange for the turrets."
"Oh! Thanks Harry! That's perfect. I've been wanting to go to Greygarden… do you, uh think Fingers will be back by then? I can ask her to escort me and the caravan to Oberland."
"Oh you want to deliver it yourself? And take Fingers with you?" Harry asked suggestively.
"Well, you know. It's safer and…" Neville stammered.
"Sorry, yeah. It's a good plan Neville. Go ahead. Fingers is still at Croup with George and Walter, but they are supposed to come back tomorrow morning. You can ask her then."
Neville blushed again as his mouth started to twitch uncontrollably into a wide smile. He began rummaging through his things, talking out loud about the things he would need to take. He turned to ask Harry about something, but found that the other wizard used his distraction to escape.
POV: Harry
He breathed deeply in relief at not being dragged into what may have turned into hours of watching Neville debate with himself. He was very fond of the man, but he had the tendency to drag on and on about the most boring of subjects… plants in particular. He shook his head as he walked, trying to imagine the fiery raider, Fingers and Neville Longbottom as a couple. Sipping on tea and chatting about the weather. Something about the scene, ok, everything about that scene seemed utterly ridiculous to Harry and nothing could have stopped the sudden laughter that sprang from him.
That was unfair of him, Neville was a courageous wizard, proven in the fight against Voldemort. He was the first to stand by him even when everyone thought he was dead. Harry resolved then to help Neville as much as he could. Maybe he could talk Daphne about warming Fingers up to Neville? She did love to cook, word of her baking inevitably brought everyone in town to the diner to sample her latest triumph. That woman could make dirt taste good.
Harry smiled and waved at the other settlers as they went about their business. Salem was an industrious settlement, with a safe and contented people going on about their day and working to make the town a better place. Children played in the streets without fear of raiders or mutated creatures suddenly sweeping up from the wastelands to devour them. People went to bed with full stomachs, and woke up full of hope for the new day.
He felt better than he had in days, finally recovered from his time spent having his blood filtered of the enormous radiation he and Daphne had absorbed.
Daphne had wanted to explore the lighthouse, and more specifically, had wanted to do it without him. He remembered the alarm that had spiked through him when she had said that, and the embarrassment that followed when she assured him that she merely wanted to go and take a look around without the great Harry Potter constantly trying to protect her from every little thing. He had to accept that she was a grown woman and a powerful witch, with nothing of the despair that had so clouded her on their journey across the Atlantic.
He knew that she was doing this as much for him as for her, perhaps hinting that he could use some time alone… to get something… for a special someone's birthday.
He didn't know much about how to find something rare in the Commonwealth, but he knew someone who specialized in that: Nick Valentine. The last owl he had received indicated that he was still in Sunshine helping Luna and Soleil there with some Gunner trouble. It was a lovely day, why not fly out there and see how they're getting on?
Happy to have a plan, Harry walked briskly back to his apartment to retrieve his broom, eager as ever to go flying.
A few minutes later
Harry shouted into the wind, exultant in the sensation that flying always seemed to evoke in him. He spun a tight loop around Zimonja Tower, the Minuteman stationed atop it offering him a wave as he swooped past.
Seconds later, he was flying low through Tenpines, his daring nature compelling him to pit himself against the obstacles presented by the copious trees surrounding the settlement. A brahmin lowed in alarm and broke free from its pen, causing its caretaker to shout and shake his fist up at him as he swerved and dived.
Harry made a face and could offer only an exaggerated shrug for an apology before he zoomed off, not eager to test the farmer's patience by lingering.
He wove back and forth atop the trees tops and around the massive satellite dish marking the old listening post, his laughter echoing back from the concave disc.
Picking up speed, his course took him over the Red Rocket station, the modified structure looking only marginally like its original, pre-war configuration. He grinned as he thought he saw Hermione, her light brown hair whipping in the wind his passage was creating.
POV: Hermione
"Was that Harry?" Jonathan asked a somewhat flustered Hermione.
"Was your first clue the man flying like a lunatic or the boyish whooping?" Hermione retorted.
"Actually it was the look of exasperation on your face." He quipped with a grin.
Hermione shook her head at the not-untrue observation and settled herself onto his lap. He had recently completed a deck which wrapped around their flat atop Red Rocket. The wonderfully stained and polished wood porch afforded them a nice view of the small lake just past the lightly wooded hills between them and the settlement of Sanctuary.
Hermione wrapped her arms around Jonathan's neck and wondered what the view would be like at sunset, with the dying rays of sunlight shining golden along the wave crests.
Thinking of it reminded her of the ocean view from her window in Salem, and made her suddenly miss being home.
"I'd like to go home." She murmured, almost to herself.
Jonathan raised an eyebrow quizzically, "You mean Salem? Do you not like it here?"
She chewed her lip in thought, "I love it here… but only because this is where you are. I miss Salem and my friends though, I wonder how they're getting on."
"'Where we love is home – home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.' Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr." Jonathan quoted.
Hermione smiled, relieved and reminded at how he understood her so well.
"Who was that?" She asked.
"He was a poet from Boston. Long before the Great War. He was part of a group called the Fireside Poets. I came across a small journal in a museum once. I think I still have it around here somewhere…"
"You quoted him, so you're alright with us going to Salem?" Hermione wanted to be absolutely sure.
Jonathan's heart swelled to hear her say it like that, as if the question referred to the both of them making the journey. It told him that she considered them an inseparable pair, and would leave only with him or under great duress.
"This is just a place." He indicated the fortress-home with a sweep of his hand, "The only thing holding me here is you."
She beamed at him then, and planted a soft, chaste kiss lightly on his lips.
"Well, aside from it being where I stash all my best armor, my bobblehead collection, my library, my power armor sets, my soda collection…"
She growled in mock indignation and slapped his chest lightly, though she may as well have hit a steel wall for how dense his muscles were.
"I guess I can bear being parted from all my cool stuff for a while." He teased.
"The day is young, why not start now?" Hermione hopped up, suddenly excited at the thought of seeing Lilith, Luna and the others again. Talking through a mirror just wasn't the same as being with her beloved friends.
Jonathan laughed at her exuberance, "Yes, my love. Let me talk to Preston first. He'd have a conniption if I took off without telling him. Though I swear, if he tells me he got 'word from another settlement' one more time, I'm going to wonderglue his mouth shut."
An hour later, Hermione had already stuffed her few belongings into a backpack that Jonathan had traded for. He had even dyed it red and affixed a Nuka Cola patch to it. She could hear him talking with Preston in his workshop, so she pulled the strap over her shoulder and walked down to the old converted garage.
"Greygarden and Oberland are doing well, we got word that Salem needed more crops and are not only willing to trade more turrets for them, but Mr. Longbottom wants to make the delivery himself." She heard Preston report.
"Must be in a hurry. They did get that little population boom from the Vault and as word of how safe it is there spreads, more people are going to try and immigrate there." Jonathan mused aloud.
Hermione walked in and it seemed as though the room lit up from the smile that blossomed on Jonathan's face. Somehow, just the look on his face when he saw her made her feel like the most cherished person in the world.
He indicated a dark blue backpack, letting her know that he had packed as well. He turned back to Preston, "Anything else before we go?"
"Per your orders, we've been pulling the Minutemen stationed at the other settlements back as they become more established and ready to accept responsibility for their own defense. All of them agreed to a single full-timer to stay on to liaise with their defense and to be able to call on us if needed. It's getting a little crowded at Sanctuary though… now, if we were to retake the castle…"
Jonathan breathed heavily through his nose, very familiar with Preston's earnest desire to retake the Minutemen's traditional headquarters.
"Once we have in place an effective means to supply the Castle in place, we will take it back, Preston."
Preston too, was familiar with the interplay whenever this topic was brought up. He was satisfied though, as the General had never made a promise he hadn't kept. Besides, the Minutemen had come back from the brink of annihilation to become a stronger force than it was under Colonel Hollis. He was confident that another Quincy would not happen again.
"We got word from another settlement..." Preston began.
"Preston, I swear to Zeus, if you tell me another settlement needs help…"
"No, no!" Preston backpedaled hastily, spreading his hands in surrender, "Not this time, I promise."
Jonathan eyed him warily, "Okay. Let's hear it."
"This settlement is called the Slog. It's a community of ghouls that had been driven out of Diamond City. They are doing pretty well for themselves and are friendly to us and to traders. Anyway, they wanted to pass word along that they've been seeing increased Super Mutant and Forged activity lately. They think it might have something to do with rumors of Gunner reinforcements at Hub City Auto Wreckers. It's putting more pressure on the Forged and the Super Mutants, and that in turns makes the area a 'pot fit to boil'."
"Pot fit to boil?" Hermione asked.
"Their words, not mine." Preston replied, looking slightly embarrassed, "Anyway, I just thought you should know, since you are heading up that way."
"Alright Preston, thanks. Can you go ahead and ask Blake to get a crop shipment put together for Salem? Have the provisioner leave from here and we can meet them at the Slog and continue on together from there."
"So, you going to stop and talk to them?" At Jonathan's nod, he continued, "Talk to Wiseman. He's their founder and would know what's going on."
They shook hands in farewell and moments later, Hermione and Jonathan were strolling east through Concord on their way to Salem, an eager Dogmeat frolicking around them.
POV: Harry
He guided the broom with his legs as he leaned back and closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of the wind in his face. This broom was nowhere near as fast as his beloved Firebolt, but as the American's say, beggars can't be choosers. He had flown over Abernathy farms and marveled at the extensive fields of mutfruit, corn, razorgrain and tatos. He imagined that this one settlement produced enough food to feed the entire Northwest Commonwealth.
He flew low over the lake and dipped his fingers in the water, the cool spray misting on his clothes and face. He mentally reminded himself that he'd need to wash it off later… he wasn't eager to relive the pleasure of being heavily irradiated again.
Soon, pristine white walls of fresh concrete soared up into his view, the new defenses shining in the late morning sun. Sunshine, another farming community that produced a large amount of food relative to its size.
As he flew up over the walls and waved a greeting to the sentries, he was struck at how industrious the people were. Especially along the southern wall, where it appeared some damage from a battle had occurred.
"Harry!" Luna greeted him as he landed at the base of the damaged wall.
"Luna! It's good to see you." Harry replied with a smile.
Harry stumbled under the force of a hearty back slap, as the tall Amazonian warrior woman, Soleil, greeted him in her own way.
"Well, if it isn't the elusive Harry Potter." A very noir voice chimed in. Coming out of the shadows nearby, his face lit by the glowing cherry of his ever present cigarette, Nick Valentine nodded at Harry.
"It's good to see you." Harry repeated, "All of you."
"You missed the party here though." Nick commented lightly, smirking a little to show that he meant no ill will.
"Though I suppose you had business of your own." He added after another puff.
"Yeah. We had a little joint venture with the Minutemen, wiped out a cult of raiders hanging out right on our doorstep and a few other menaces besides. I'm glad that you pulled through alright. What happened here anyway? Those Gunners you were telling me about in your letter?"
"Not quite. Those Gunners took over a raider hideout to the south of here, an old federal stockpile. Drove the former residents to desperation to attack a fully-fledged settlement like this one. Showed 'em what a mistake that was." Nick supplied meaningfully.
"So the Gunners are still there?"
Luna exchanged a pensive look with the others before fixing Harry in the most serious expression he had ever seen on the whimsical witch's face.
"No… Susan." Luna stammered a bit.
"Susan what?" Harry prompted.
"She killed them all." Soleil put in, never having been one to mince words.
Harry wasn't sure if he had heard her correctly. It sounded like she was saying that Susan had killed a troop of Gunners… surely not Susan. Sweet, kind and most of all, gentle, Susan.
"It's true. That dame disappeared just before the battle and came back covered in Gunner blood. There's something broken in that one, Mr. Potter."
Harry's astonishment was paralyzing, his mind just seemed to refuse the two very disparate images of who he knew Susan to be.
"You remember how hard she took Vincent's death." Soleil provided, as if sensing Harry's internal crisis.
"Apparently she took it harder than I thought." Harry shook his head, Susan was helping some settlers get started at Salem's first satellite settlement, Coastal Cottage. He felt that he needed to spend some time with her, but it seemed that fate was conspiring against him being there for a friend in need.
"So the raiders attacked here? Was anyone hurt?"
"We took fairly light casualties, all things considered." Another voice added. Harry turned and found that the voice belonged to an attractive woman of middling years whose age had added some weight to her curves.
"Harry, this is Ester Robinson, Mayor of Sunshine." Nick introduced.
"Pleased to meet you." Harry said with a smile, taking her offered hand and keeping a straight face despite her crushing grip.
"The men can handle the rest of the repairs, why don't we take this inside? It's about time for tea isn't it?" Ester offered.
Harry then realized that he hadn't eaten anything yet today and heartily agreed to anything that resembled tea.
Harry settled into the offered seat in Ester's Mayoral residence and office, in reality, just one of the former cabins that had been refurbished for her exclusive use. A soft pink curtain provided a screen which separated her 'bedroom' from her office, which was little more than a few comfortable chairs spread around a low table that she used as a desk.
He was more than pleased when a young woman came in bearing a tray heaped with what appeared to be some kind of biscuit and a teapot. The biscuits were oblong and were a curious orange color. He picked one up and took an experimental bite, the crunchy exterior giving way to a softer inside that tasted faintly of pumpkin. It was mildly sweet and had a pleasant and subtle spice scent.
"These are quite good." Harry mumbled around another mouthful, as he eagerly took another biscuit.
Ester smiled at him over the teapot as she poured them all a cup, "Thank you. My own recipe. We use the gourds that we grow here to make a variety of things, biscuits is really the least of them."
"How do you sweeten it?" Harry asked.
"Ah ah! That's a secret!" Ester chided him, though clearly pleased that he was enjoying them.
Harry moaned in appreciation as he sipped the tea. Though he liked it sweeter, given the lack of tea in the Commonwealth, to have any at all was a delight.
They made small talk for a time, as they all enjoyed the tea until Nick, clearly anxious to talk to Harry, cleared his throat noisily.
"Sorry, Nick. You were going to tell me how the investigation with the missing girl is going." Harry apologized.
"You never said anything about being on a case, Nick!" Ester cut in, scandalized.
Nick sighed in exasperation, "What did you think I was doing all the way out here doll? Anyway, I don't usually discuss open cases with anyone other than the client." He directed the last to Harry meaningfully.
Catching his meaning, Harry waved away his concern, "It's alright, you can talk about it openly."
"Alright. Mr. Potter here hired me to track down a missing dame, a young woman named Cait. He had it on good authority that she's like him, one of those witches or whatever you folks call yourselves. Anyway, I tracked her to Nuka-world, but the trail went cold from there… rumor has it that one or more strong raider gangs have gotten a stranglehold there."
"You don't usually let rumor stop you, Nick." Ester added.
Annoyed at the interruption, "No, but a squad of heavily armed Gunners camped out at the train station certainly do."
Ester settled back and mimed a zipper across her mouth, not wanting to irritate the private dick further.
"Like I was saying, her trail went cold. She and Nora… the survivor from Vault 111, had both walked into that place and as far as I know, haven't come back out. I've stayed here to keep an eye on things, in case she made an appearance, but no luck."
Harry nodded, disappointed but not really surprised. Finding one woman in a wide and hostile Commonwealth had always been a shot in the dark anyway. He pulled a small sack of caps from his backpack and handed it over to Nick, who graciously accepted it and tucked it into an inside pocket of his trench coat.
"I do need to head back to the office. I bet Ellie is worried sick. I'll have to give her a bonus and just hope she doesn't quit on me."
"Well, thanks for everything Nick. You want a lift back to Diamond City?"
Nick eyed him askance, and took a moment to frame his response, "Thanks for the offer, but these old legs are just fine on the ground where they belong. If I had been meant to fly, they'd have welded wings to me when they built me."
"Oh, I meant to ask you. I have a special someone who is having a birthday soon. I need to find something spec…"
Harry pitched forward suddenly, vaulting from his seat and landing unceremoniously on the table, the cups, plates and saucers spinning and scattering away. Shocked, the others could only stare down at the sodden mess of tea and biscuits all over them before it registered that Harry was having some kind of seizure.
Seizing a hold of his shoulders, Luna picked him up off the table and pulled him back down into her lap. She laid a hand on his head and murmured soothingly at him as his body trembled with the pain of his muscles firing.
"What's happening? What's wrong with him?" The others shouted all at once.
Luna ignored them and listened carefully as Harry whispered to her, his eyes closed against the pain but his words coming smooth and unfettered.
As suddenly as it came on, the seizure passed. Harry calmed immediately and took several heavy breaths to settle himself.
"Sorry… Luna, did you hear?"
"Yes. You said the bears were getting onto the train and the golden ocean fallen in flames. Do you know what it means?"
"In the vision, I saw a campground with signs that asked campers not to feed the bears."
"That sounds like Rocky Narrow Park. It's just east of here." Ester supplied.
Harry stood up, "I just had a vision; I think there's trouble at this park. Luna… please come with me, we'll get there faster if we fly."
Not waiting to see if Luna agreed, Harry strode purposefully from the office and in moments was soaring to the east, his wand held ready in his right hand.
Harry slowed as he came upon an old road that ran generally north to south, with a weathered and rocky cliff face rising above it to the east. Atop the cliff, scraggly trees still towered over a small clearing, where Harry could just make out the ruins of a pair of cabins. He slowed further and lazily circled the campsite when he saw them… a menacing trio of horribly mutated bears growling with malice and clawing at the metal skin of a camper.
Harry could faintly make out the panicked cries from within the camper between the bellicose roars of the 'yao guai'. With a mighty screech of tortured metal, a panel weakened by age and corrosion, finally gave way beneath the onslaught.
Harry leapt off the broom and rolled to absorb the impact of the sudden stop. Though no acrobat, he landed precisely where he meant to, in a position to distract the angry bears and direct his magic so that it would not inadvertently harm the people in the trailer. Gulping at the sight of three gaping mouths filled long fangs and dripping hot spittle, he regretted his impulsive act.
A memory suddenly flashed through his mind and with it, a certain impish delight that chased away the specter of fear looming over him.
"Hey you! Don't you want a piece of juicy wizard?" He shouted saucily, holding his hands wide as if in invitation. Harry reasoned that these horrid creatures would rather not have to dig through the metal camper to get at their next meal when one was readily available nearby.
The bears snuffled in confusion for a moment, but as he had hoped, redirected their furious hunger onto him.
The trio of bears came around the trailer, which groaned in protest as it settled back down after having been thoroughly wrecked by the hungry predators. Harry smiled as he waited for the bears to clear the trailer then lifted his wand with a wide smile.
"Diminuendo!"
The white flash from his wand was accompanied by panicked squealing from the rapidly shrinking yao guai. In mere moments, the three massive creatures were reduced to the size of a yorkie. Indulging his very rarely invoked rancor, he swooped ahead in a rush and scooped the three up and jammed the protesting creatures into a sack. They struggled a bit, until he smacked the bag against the side of the trailer with just enough force to let them know who was boss.
"Alright you lot, you're safe now. You can come out if you like."
A bald man with mirrored sunglasses and dressed in travelling clothes stepped warily from the trailer, a young redheaded woman in flannel shirt and jeans peeking out from behind him. Both clutched ratty looking pipe pistols in their trembling hands but in their shock, seemed to have forgotten all about them.
"It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm Harry. What's your name?"
The older man cleared his throat and blinked, "Sorry, we were literally inches from being lunch to those yao guai and then you show up flying on a broom and… sorry, I'm Ryan. This one is Sophia. I was taking her away from a bad situation, heard that the northwest was safer and that Minutemen were active up here again."
The man stiffened and lifted his pistol slightly, Harry raised his hands in alarm then noted that the man's gaze was fixed behind him. Harry turned and saw that Nick and several Sunshine militia and Minutemen were rushing up from the south, having skirted the rocky cliff and looped around to climb an easier grade. They halted when they saw Harry and satisfied themselves with sitting to catch their breath. Nick merely cocked his head at the scene and lit up a cigarette.
"I see you got this well in hand, Harry."
He was about to answer when Luna landed nearby, her flying technique lending itself more to the adage of slow and steady. She frowned when she saw that he had already taken care of whatever had happened.
Harry motioned for Luna to come over and handed her the bag, smiling and motioning for her to open it. Luna's eyes opened wide and she oooh'd in delight at the tiny bears morosely laying within.
Curious, Nick wandered over to peer in the bag as well, while Harry comforted the two rescues and told them that the armed men who had ran up were from a nearby settlement and had come to help.
It didn't take long to get everything sorted out, and soon the troupe was heading back to Sunshine minus Nick. Seeing the situation was well in hand, he figured he might as well say his goodbyes now and save himself from a potentially melodramatic farewell with Ester.
"I'll come up with something to tell her." Harry promised, shaking the synths hand. He noticed the intense look that the man… Ryan, was giving him as he sent Nick off and couldn't help but think he was being measured in some way.
"Hope to see you again someday, Potter. Maybe in better circumstances."
"You too, Nick. Thanks again for everything."
"Oh yeah, about your predicament… you might try Jamaica Plains. Rumor has it there's buried treasure there." Nick called out.
Harry waved and joined the others.
As they walked back, Harry moved to pace himself with the bald man, looking at him sideways as they made their way back to Sunshine.
"Do you know Nick Valentine? I noticed you staring." Harry began, playing it easy.
"Oh no… in fact, I've never even seen a synth before." The man lied easily, like oil on glass. Likely that he didn't know that Harry had surreptitiously casted a charm that would allow him to better gauge this man's intentions. That he would lie about something like that… frankly confounded him.
"Oh? Well, not many have I suppose." Harry replied, playing the part of buying into the man's story.
"What do you think of them?" The man asked, adjusting his sunglasses. He pulled a pack of Grey Tortoises from a breast pocket and offered one to Harry. When Harry shook his head, he lit it and contentedly blew rings as they walked.
Harry considered the question, wondering if there was some ulterior motive. Something in his gut warned him that there was something off about this man… not exactly an ominous feeling, but still… pensive.
"I've only really dealt with Nick, haven't met any others that I know of. He's a good sort. I suppose if I met one, I'd do what I always do."
"And what's that?"
"Judge a person on who they are, not what they are."
"So, you consider them people?" The man pressed, though his approach was remarkably nonchalant, as if merely passing the time with an interesting debate.
"I consider Nick a person. I imagine that judging someone as 'not a person' would put you in danger of underestimating them. I've long since learned not to underestimate anyone." Harry emphasized the 'anyone' while eyeing him pointedly.
The man smiled and nodded, taking the hint and giving him a token of understanding and respect.
Harry left the pair at the Sunshine clinic, the terse doctor gruffly taking them in and shooing him away. That suited him just fine, as he accomplished what he had set out to do, stretch his legs and get a small taste of adventure before going back to work at Salem.
"Hey Luna. Are you and Soleil ready to come back?"
Luna grudgingly pulled her attention from the tiny yao guai that she had been playing with, rewarding them with scraps of molerat meat.
"Oh yes, I think the people here are good enough on their own now. I do so want to see Susan and see how she's doing. I hope she's alright."
"She is up at the coastal cottage north of Salem helping some people settle down there. I think doing something constructive will do her a world of good."
Luna nodded with a wistful smile, "That's nice. We'll leave in the morning, Soleil hates to fly, so we'll be walking."
Harry gave her a quick hug in farewell and flew off back to the north, judging from the rapidly descending sun that he'd make it back just in time for dinner with Daphne.
All thoughts of dinner flew from his head as he flew over Abernathy Farms, and saw that the very same fields which glowed golden in the noonday sun were now ablaze with an angry orange light. His heart seemed to stop at the awesome sight of the fields aflame. Abernathy was burning!
A/N: Thank you for the patience everyone. This chapter took a little time to complete due to some reworking I had to do on the outline. Hope you enjoyed this and as always, please review.