Chapter 13: Right Behind You Baby – Roy Smith
POV: Hermione
She wiped at the ticklish thread of sweat coursing down her forehead and was dismayed at the realization that she just wiped blood across her face. She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose, the judicious use of charms to filter the air of the overpowering smell of death paying dividends now. She bent at the waist and laid the poor soul alongside the others that they had taken down from the crosses. Though she had used magic to help, she felt it was somehow more respectful to lay them side by side by hand.
Jonathan grunted from nearby, pulling another victim down from his or her cross (some were so badly mauled, it was impossible to know what their gender may have been) and allowing the bloody corpse to fall over his shoulder. He had removed his armor for the task, and his shirt clung to him as it became sticky with gore and sweat. Hermione felt nausea stirring in the pit of her stomach and immediately turned away, looking up at the impassive blue sky.
She looked back in time to see him lay the body carefully by the others, standing up and stretching his back with a groan.
"You don't have to pretend this is hard work for my benefit." Hermione muttered, wondering how someone so talented in so many areas could be such an awful actor.
"Sorry." He murmured in response, "It's a habit I developed to… wait, did you hear that?"
He knew bloody well she didn't hear it and almost snapped at him, but caught herself. She was distraught and out of sorts with what had happened here, and it was clearly affecting her mood. She took a deep breath and kept quiet.
"I thought I heard something from building there… like a cough." He provided, gesturing in the direction of the old pool house.
Taking his concern seriously was always a good idea, so Hermione brandished her wand, "Homenum Revelio."
She gasped, "There are… there are people hiding in the building. To the left, behind some kind of bathroom stall and a mattress."
"They wouldn't be hiding if they were the aggressors… maybe they're survivors?" Jonathan mused, as he moved slowly toward the building.
Hermione jogged to catch up and fell in alongside, "If they are survivors, they'll likely be a bit barmy from whatever happened here. Be sensitive."
Jonathan nodded, and moved ahead of her a little and drew his sidearm, a weathered and heavily modified 10mm pistol. He held it loosely at his side so as to not unduly alarm anyone, and walked softly into what appeared to have once been a shower/restroom, but was now a sort of common billeting area. He looked over at her and nodded when Hermione pointed out the particular stall. She could see the top of a mattress leaning up on its side against the wall inside the stall.
Jonathan knocked on the stall door softly and called out gently, "Hello? Are you alright in there?"
She heard a gasp and the rustling of clothing, "It's alright. My name is Hermione Granger, I'm from Salem. The man with me is the General of the Minutemen, we're here to help."
A harshly whispered and heated argument issued from the stall against the backdrop of a crying child. Finally, one side prevailed over the other and the mattress began to move and a trio of ghouls crawled out from under the stall.
Hermione bent and helped the woman to her feet, the tattered remnants of the rags she wore barely able to maintain her modesty. She seemed in a daze and let herself be led to the side so that Jonathan could help the man that followed.
Though hard to tell, Hermione guessed that the man was 'an older gentleman', from the way he moved and spoke. His voice was just as raspy as any other ghoul she had encountered, but it seemed to have a wispy quality to it, as if his voice was thin from having been used for countless years.
The last to emerge was a child, which Hermione would guess at around 10 years of age. Again, it was difficult to tell with ghouls and with so few children in general, next to nothing was known about how a child developed as a ghoul. Regardless, here was a little girl who needed help.
Hermione took the tentative hand and smiled as kindly as she could, hoping to reassure the young girl. Once she stood up, she remained bashful but didn't let go of Hermione's hand, which gave her hope that maybe the adults shielded her from the atrocities occurring in the settlement.
Whispering under her breath surreptitiously, Hermione conjured a minor charm that helped calm the nerves and lent an aura of peace to those who fell under it. Both adult ghouls visibly relaxed and allowed themselves to be led to the sofas in the main room. Jonathan was considerate enough to make sure that the three survivors' backs were to the worst of the devastation.
Once they settled in, Jonathan announced that he would prepare some food.
"I'll stay with them." Hermione answered, smiling as he passed and squeezing her shoulder affectionately.
Hermione knew that a way to get through to adults who have been traumatized was to entertain their child. Interacting with a child almost always grabbed at parental instincts and there was a magic of its own in making a child laugh. She smiled a little at a tiny voice which sounded suspiciously like Ron teasing her for her famous tagline, 'I read it in a book once.'
Jonathan returned from the cook fire balancing several steaming bowls in his arms. Though it took some doing, Hermione had finally managed to make the girl smile, then giggle. She looked up at Jonathan and grinned at her success. He smiled back down at her and started passing the bowls around.
They ate in companionable silence, though their guests seemed to only pick at their food out of politeness.
"Um, pardon me for asking, but is something wrong with the stew?" Jonathan asked, his concern partly for their condition and partly for his pride at his culinary skill.
"No. It's wonderful." Daisy replied.
"Ghouls don't need to eat as much as you smoothskins do. Plus… well, I just don't have much of an appetite." Arlen admitted, the older male gentleman murmuring into his bowl.
"I think it's great." Candace added, her voice muffled around the mouthfuls of stew she was shoveling into her mouth at a prodigious rate.
"Well, ghoul kids are an exception to the 'not eating much rule'." Daisy added with a smile.
"I hate to broach the subject, but I was wondering if you could tell us what happened here?" Jonathan began hesitantly.
Daisy shared a look with Arlen, who nodded and motioned for her to take Candace from the room.
"Come on, honey. We can finish up over there while they talk."
"But I want to hear!" Candace protested.
But her pleas fell on deaf ears as Daisy gently coaxed the girl from the room. Arlen waited until they were out of earshot before fixing the two of them with a somber expression.
"It was late last night. A caravan guarded by Minutemen came by and picked up some of our produce on their way to Greentop. We traded for a turret and some parts, I even got a few to finish up some toys I had been working on. They'd moved on… maybe two hours? Everyone was getting ready to bed down except for Wiseman. He wanted to get the turret assembled and installed on the roof of this building. He was tinkering with it when we heard the most ungodly screeching."
He paused, closing his eyes at the terrible memory replaying in his mind.
"They swept through here, a nightmare of flesh and steel, led by this horrifying creature… a man whose arms and legs had been replaced by robotic limbs. The others were mostly machine, but with the faces of people attached to their heads somehow. They screamed as if in pain even as they tore Wiseman apart. We fought back, but we're not a military, our bullets barely seemed to affect them. Jones… he grabbed Candace and put her in my arms, told me to run, to hide. To my shame… I did."
"You saved her." Hermione stated firmly, placing a hand on his knee.
"You're kind to say so, but Daisy could have taken her. I was just a scared old man." Tears began to run down his face and it nearly broke Hermione's heart to see him so broken.
He collected himself after a moment, "They slaughtered the others quickly and painfully. Once the fighting died down, I could hear them raising our friends up onto those racks. For a while it got very quiet, we were too afraid to come out in case they were waiting for us. We hadn't move from that spot until you folks came along."
"Thank you, Arlen." Jonathan said quietly. "They won't get away with this."
"What are we going to do now?" Arlen wailed.
Jonathan stood up then, every inch the soldier, "We are going to finish taking care of the others," he began, "and then we are going to see you folks safely up to Greentop. Finally, we're going to hunt the bastards that did this and put them down."
He gave Hermione an apologetic look, knowing that this would delay their trip to Salem, but she shook it off with a smile and patted him on the arm. His relief was palpable at her acceptance. For her part, she understood perfectly, but was quietly pleased that he held a measure of distress at the thought of disappointing her. Honestly, it would have disappointed her more had he not suggested helping these people.
Arlen joined Daisy and Candace in packing up what items they needed while Hermione and Jonathan finished up outside. As they worked, Hermione wondered aloud which group could have been responsible for this… musing that perhaps it was the Rust Devils.
"It's different from how we've seen them operate before." Jonathan answered, playing devil's advocate for a moment, "But then again, no other group has shown that same expertise with robotics except the Mechanist, and surely Isabelle wouldn't do this."
"No, Isabelle wanted to help. She is too guilt-ridden over the deaths she's already caused to even dare to create something like this. And if she had, you know she'd have told us about these horrible things."
"Yeah, you're likely correct about the Rust Devils being involved, but why would Jeremiah feel the need to slaughter a group of ghouls way out here? They don't have any technology worth this kind of effort and unless I'm missing something, they aren't a wand waving bunch of magicals."
Hermione huffed, "Does a dark wizard really need a reason?"
He shrugged, "I don't know, but not knowing why is making me nervous beyond belief. I can't help but think there's something more sinister behind his actions than simple cackling malevolence."
With her magic, Hermione dug a row of graves and used loose stones scattered in the area as impromptu grave markers. Jonathan carefully laid each of them inside while Arlen, having finished packing, came out to speak a few words over his friends.
Though it was hard for him, he gave Hermione their names so that she could carve them into the grave markers, then filled in the graves with the mounds of earth her magic had removed. They stood in solemn silence for a moment before Jonathan urged Arlen to go back inside and get some rest. It was too late to get started now and that he imagined a night's rest would do more to help them than even his vaunted cooking skills.
Hermione was quietly relieved, she was exhausted herself, though she was sapped more of emotional energy than physical.
She awoke with a start, fumbling blindly in the oppressive darkness until her hand closed over her wand. It reassured her, though it was not what she had been scrambling for. Sitting up, she let her eyes adjust and began to look around for what she had been reaching for, and saw his silhouette outlined against the moonlight as he sat atop the remains of a wooden barricade looking out over the east.
His posture shifted as she climbed up to join him, sitting closely so as to share his warmth in the unusually chilly predawn air. He put an arm around her and drew her closer still.
"Have you slept?" She murmured, somehow reticent at disturbing the eerie quiet.
"No. But don't worry," he answered quickly, forestalling her budding argument, "I don't need as much sleep and can go far longer without it."
She harrumphed, but fell silent, deciding to let it go this time and just enjoy the quiet moment.
It was subtle, but the sky began to lighten, an aura of brighter blues reaching up to combat the black of night. The tree line began to take shape, blackened fingers reaching up as if to call back the retreating darkness. The sun broke free and let molten gold spill across the horizon, as if once unfettered, it was eager to spread its warmth and light to dispel the shadows.
Hermione welcomed it, and the company, as they watched the glory of a new day unfold before them.
It ended far too soon, for they knew that enough time had passed that decreased their chances of tracking down the butchers who had nearly wiped out an entire settlement. They woke the others and helped them gather up their meager baggage.
Hermione became startled when Jonathan suddenly stiffened ahead of her, the four trailing him nearly walking into his back at his sudden halt. He held up a hand and peered out from the doorway he had been about to exit, bending his head as if trying to focus on some distant sound.
"Arlen, take Daisy and Candace back inside." He hissed, a foreboding sense of alarm surging through all of them like an electrical shock at his terse command.
Candace began to wail as Daisy took her hand and turned to head back inside.
Jonathan, pressed a sawed-off shotgun into Arlen's hand and called out to Daisy. When she stopped to look, he leaned over and presented the hilt of a modified 10mm pistol and nodded grimly when she took it without hesitation.
Hermione finally heard what had so alarmed Jonathan, a raucous echo of guttural voices that could only have come from a one source… super mutants.
She took a deep breath to steel herself and stood resolutely at Jonathan's side. He became even more agitated, if that were possible, and motioned with his chin to the south. Hermione tore her eyes away from the intense look in his blue eyes and looked south, her heart falling as she saw another group heading their way.
From their heavy metal plated armor and the flame weapons they carried, these were clearly Forged from Saugus Ironworks, perhaps coming to investigate the slaughter of the Slog.
"When it rains, it pours." Jonathan muttered, racking the action on his combat rifle.
Hermione gulped and tightened her grip on her wand, wishing that Harry were there.
POV: Harry
He couldn't quite control the tremble in his arm as he pointed his wand at the beautiful woman. Morgan Le Fay! It was a name right out of myth, one that he had heard of even when he lived life as an ignorant muggle. His brain didn't quite want to believe it, though his heart told him the inescapable truth did indeed stand before him. What could he do against a creature that had literally stepped from the pages of history? If but a kernel of what he had read and heard about her were true, than facing her would make his conflict with Voldemort seem a walk in the park.
She sighed and looked into his eyes with a sad smile. He didn't know how, but suddenly she was touching him, gently lowering the hand that held his wand until it pointed at the ground. She was real, her hand was warm and the perfume of her scent wafted around him like a promise of dreams fulfilled.
'Is she bewitching me?' He thought, as he fought to regain some sense of himself.
"I'm not quite the villain you seem to believe me to be, Mr. Potter." She whispered, her breath tickling his ear.
Harry cleared his throat and stood tall, stepping back and presenting his wand once more. He had found his courage even through the nearly overwhelming doubt and stood defiant against this woman of darkness.
"Alright. Then tell me who you are, if not the woman written of in stories and myths."
"You are a rare person, Mr. Potter. No one else has ever asked me for my point of view in all the years that I was hunted by the Wizengamot."
He hardened his eyes and indicated with the barest of nods that he was listening.
"I suppose I should begin with Merlin."
Harry found himself fascinated as she began to tell him of her time and of Merlin himself. He had to remind himself to keep his wand raised as he listened.
It was a chaotic time in Britain's history, with competing tribes and invaders from across the seas all fighting among each other for the spoils of land. The Fey, a wild and varied assemblage of creatures watched warily as men fought against each other, for the moment the battles were done, the raping of the land began.
The Sidhe were especially militant in their opposition to the human warlords, contesting them at every turn. Though mighty in their magic, the humans were beyond counting and came again and again with sword and axe and cruel intentions.
Merlin was fascinated by them… intrigued to the point of madness as Morgan believed. She disagreed with him and thought that his energy would be better spent safeguarding the realms of magic from their encroachment.
"I had no qualms about slaying any man who came into our realm, but I never sought them out. I didn't wish to kill them for the sin of simply being. I only wished to keep my family safe."
Merlin's fascination reached its nadir when he met the child Arthur, the misbegotten son of a powerful warlord named Uther Pendragon. He believed that Arthur was the one who could bring peace to the land, to forge law from chaos and enable men and magical to live in harmony.
"There were times that one couldn't tell where Arthur ended and Merlin began, so thick were they in each other's company. After a time though, I too began to see a little of the hope that Merlin carried for the boy. I began to believe that the young man, under Merlin's tutelage, could indeed grow into a just and wise king who could bridge the gap between muggle and magical."
Harry had lost all pretense of keeping his wand pointed at the witch as she continued.
"And for a time, it seems that he would. He united the warring tribes, made peace with theSidhe, he did everything that Merlin believed that he could."
But there were those who did not easily forgive or forget. For Morgan had a sister, who shared a mother with the once and future king, Arthur. Morgause could not let go of her prejudices and did not distinguish between the muggles that despoiled her land and those who sought to end the strife. She blamed Arthur for the theft of her birthright, blamed him for being the son favored by fate to have the shining kingdom she thought was hers by right.
"Merlin. He… was special to me." She whispered, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "I loved him then… I love him still."
But his heart would soon belong to another… the bitch Nimue, a student who would steal his heart but never requite his love.
Despite the tension there was peace, for a time. The land rejoiced in Arthur's kingship and even the fairy realm was a shining reflection of the bright times. But a dark shadow festered in the hearts of some… none more so than Morgause. She bore a child from Arthur's seed and named him Mordred and turned him into the instrument of her vengeance.
She went among the others, many of whom that had not forgotten the sins of muggles just a single generation ago. Morgan did not agree with her, but was not willing to raise a hand against her own blood. She did convince many of the Fey that were uncertain of the trust Merlin had put into Arthur and how his reign had benefited both them and the muggles.
"It was at Camlann that Merlin's heart was broken and the dream of a shared world shattered. Mordred led rebellious nobles and Morgause's followers against Arthur's army. Merlin was delayed by Nimue, who had thrown in with Morgause and conspired to keep the old druid away. And so Merlin arrived too late to save him."
"It was a broken wizard that bore his dear Arthur to us. I was one of the three who received him, and saw that he was likened unto death, for his wound would have slain any mere mortal. We placed him in a barge and sailed with him to Avalon, where he abides still in a healing sleep, waiting for the world to at last be ready for him."
Merlin told the full tale to Taliesin the bard. But the man either forgot that there were two sisters or that the tale needed more of a dramatic turn, for he spread the story of Morgan's betrayal of Arthur. And conveniently made no mention of Morgause.
"Merlin would have set the story straight, he would have stood with me… he should have. But he was gone. To this day I know not where… though I suspect Nimue had a hand in his disappearance."
The surviving knights did not possess Arthur's temperance or wisdom and fought each other and against the magicals, regardless of their allegiance. It was as if all of Arthur's work had been undone in a blink. "Only a handful of the very best of them refrained, Galahad… Percival. But they were mere motes against the sandstorm."
The years that passed were not kind as darkness fell onto Britain. Morgan le Fay went into hiding, sealing off the Fey realm and help others hide from the grief maddened muggles, who blamed them for their king's death.
"Finally, hope again was reborn, this time with the Wizengamot. A conclave of wizards and witches who banded together in secret to keep our world separate from the world of the muggles. I thought that my exile was at last done, that I could return and live with others of our kind."
"I had hopes… we all did, that once those wizards and witches came together and decided to hide our world from the muggles, that I would get a reprieve… but it was not to be. They believed Taliesin's tale and even laid the fate of the missing Merlin at my feet. They hounded me for years. I stayed one step ahead of them until finally fleeing across the sea to the Americas. But after a century of peace, the Magical Congress of America caught up with me and working with the Ministry of Magic, buried me in a timeless cave not far from Ilvermorny."
Somehow the time lock she had been trapped in for centuries failed… and she emerged from her prison to this. Her story ended, she turned away from him and for a moment, Harry could see the weight of centuries weighing on the witch.
Harry's mouth hung open in shock at the story. So much of it made sense, and despite his own experience fighting against the insidiousness of those who practiced the dark arts, he found that he believed her.
"It may have taken the end of the world, but you can come home Morgan." Harry began, his voice gentle and prompting a curious look from the ancient Fey.
"It maybe isn't the wondrous place of Old world England, but you'd be welcome there. There are other magicals and we live in peace working together with muggles to build something worthy in the ruins."
Harry's words seem to lighten the burden she bore, as she stood up straight and was again the creature of legend, the mystical Morgan le Fey.
"I accept your offer, Mr. Potter. I assume that the offer is for my companions as well?"
"Of course! In fact, we had been looking for Cait. We had information that she was one of us and we wanted to invite her to make a home as well."
"Allow me to introduce the others then."
She first introduced the silent mountain of metal, a man she had come to call Tacitus. He was among the first she had met upon exiting her prison, a group of raiders who did not know with whom they were dealing. She obliviated him and inadvertently damaged his mind more than she had intended, but she didn't have a wand at the time and so was less precise than she would have liked.
Harry could understand her pragmatism and assured her that he held no judgement against her for her treatment of the former raider. Besides, he was well-treated now despite the sins of his past.
Next she introduced her driver, a former farmer named Benjamin Walsh.
"I found them at a small farmstead called Somerville, far to the south. They gave me hospitality and for that had my thanks. But I discovered that his children were magicals, despite Mr. Walsh himself being a muggle. He admitted to me that his wife was a witch, though she had disappeared years ago. I asked them to accompany me in seeking out a place for us."
Lastly, she introduced Cait herself, the filthy mouthed and filthy minded red-head. She seemed to take the knowledge that she was a witch with a shrug, apparently not overly caring one way or another. She was unusually aggressive in her demeanor and Harry couldn't help but be soured against the woman for it.
Morgan confided in him that Cait had a weakness for putting poisons in her body; Harry realized that Cait was a drug addict.
"Now, Mr. Potter. If you could assist me please, I think we should set this place right, don't you?"
Harry flashed her his famous grin and together they raised their wands and worked their magic on the devastated farm.
Blake, Connie and Lucy gushed with appreciation at Harry and Morgan's assistance. The farm was fully restored and Harry had even learned some ancient magic that could heal wounds and replenish vitality.
Her magic was somehow different from the magic he knew… it was much wilder and unfettered, much less structured than modern magic. For her part, she seemed fascinated by how much the understanding of magic had grown in her time away, especially by how much modern magicals relied so heavily on wands to bring them an impressive degree of precision. They had used wands a little in her time, but did not rely on them, as they were relatively new.
"You can lead the way, Mr. Potter." She insisted on calling him that, despite his assurance that 'Harry' was good enough.
Harry wrestled with his embarrassment for a moment before bringing forth his shattered broom, sighing with chagrin at being so land-bound.
Morgan smiled at him, "I think I have something you would like, Mr. Potter. Something you'd like very much."
POV: Hermione
It was apparent from the way the super mutants stopped at the edge of the tree line and the dramatic pause from the Forged tromping along the road that the groups had spotted them… and each other. The tension was palpable as each of the three groups looked from one point to another.
Not being known for their forbearance or patience, the super mutants were the first to break the tension with a bellicose roar.
"Kill them! Kill them all!" One shouted, hefting a large piece of metal which had been fashioned into a crude cleaver.
Not to be outdone, the fanatic Forged shouted their own war cries and rushed forward, a power armored titan with a flamer leading the way.
Never one to wait to be told, Jonathan levelled his rifle and fired several rounds into the lead super mutant, the beast's fat lips flapping as he howled and fell clutching his stomach. The other green skinned monstrosities howled in exuberance, delighting that they had stumbled into a good fight. Looking to head them off, Jonathan leapt down from the ruined barricade and ran at them, glancing back at Hermione as he flew.
There was trust in his eyes, and it filled her heart with determination as she turned to face the oncoming Forged. She needed to size them up first, so red bolts of energy began to fly forth from her wand and sent the pack of glorified raiders sprawling.
Reaching the wounded super mutant, Jonathan bent low and grabbed its trailing leg, his own leg muscles protesting as he lifted with every ounce of his strength and bore the massive creature off the ground. He planted his left foot and pivoted on his right, swinging the shrieking creature off his shoulder and letting the centrifugal force throw its arms and upper body out wide. He completed his arc and threw the super mutant directly at the others, sending the entire lot dancing aside with one unfortunate greenskin getting clobbered by his erstwhile brother.
Instead of getting angry or dismayed, the display seemed to incite the remaining super mutants with a sense of barely contained excitement.
"Now we got a real fight!" One of them shouted, while the others agreed with various hoots and howls.
Hermione fell back from the edge of the barricade as it became wreathed in flame. She was caught by surprise at how far the flamer could reach and got neatly singed before raising a shield and taking cover. She was more embarrassed than hurt, however, feeling somewhat abashed that Jonathan's confidence in her led her to become overconfident. She stood up and sought to rectify that shortcoming, throwing her wand out and shoving the flaming wreck of the barricade directly at the power armored raider.
He made as if to turn or leap aside, but was not nearly nimble enough to pull off any kind of fancy dodge before hundreds of pounds of flaming wreckage crashed down onto him. She doubted that it would kill him, but it would certainly keep him occupied for now.
"You really shouldn't play with fire!" She shouted, raising her wand at the others moving around the bonfire now crackling in the middle of the road.
Summoning up her strength, she cajoled the dark water from the Danvers River nearby, which rose up like a leviathan from the deeps. The Forged halted in their charge and stood slack jawed at the towering water serpent undulating high above them. They took a step back, a meager move made too late for them. Hermione swept down with her wand and the column of roaring water flowed at her command, lashing the Forged with tremendous force. Two of them were knocked up into the sky and fell in a heap several yards away while the rest were slammed into the road where they stood, their resistance pitiful and meaningless against the raging torrent.
Hermione kept up the pressure, her upper body becoming soaked from the errant spray as she directed the thrashing serpent left to right along the road, pummeling the helpless raiders beneath tons of water. Her strength waning, she let go of the water, allowing the water to plunge onto the roadway and washing it clean of centuries' worth of detritus.
As she fought for breath, she eyed the raiders laying insensate in the road with a critical eye, mentally daring them to get up.
Of the eight that had attacked, only two managed to regain their feet. Seeing the waxy complexions of their drowned companions, they chose the better part of valor and hastily fled back in the direction of Saugus.
With a strident bark followed by a drawn out howl of pain, Hermione was reminded that Jonathan was still engaged.
Compelling her legs to move, she ran with all her might up to the tree line opposite the settlement and clambered up the short incline. Her heart pounding, she noted the bodies of super mutants as she moved closer to the sounds of the continuing battle.
Standing on the back of a vanquished super mutant, Jonathan held off the remaining three with nothing but a combat knife and a stern expression. Blood ran freely from numerous wounds all over his body as his foes menaced him with spiked boards. His movements were slow and sluggish, fatigue from blood loss obviously impeding his defense as a board crashed in against his back. It stuck fast only to be jerked free by a gleeful super mutant as Jonathan roared in pain, blood spraying from the numerous holes punched into the flesh of his back.
Hermione nearly came undone at the sight, though the man acquitted himself well by punishing the one who had struck him, jamming his knife hilt deep into the mutants flapping dewlap, the creature standing up onto his toes as Jonathan growled as he forced the knife in deeper. The creature's eyes crossed weirdly and he fell nerveless and nearly clobbered Jonathan as he fell.
Hermione screamed as a board streaked in and clouted him on the head, knocking his head back and sending him reeling. In an odd twist of fate, the way he fell presented Hermione with a perfect line of sight which she used to blast a basketball sized hole into the offending super mutant.
The final super mutant blinked stupidly at her as his companion fell, steam rising from the bloody crater.
"Fun time's over." The mutant lamented, before his head exploded under Hermione's wrath.
Her anger spent, she rushed to a horribly bloody Jonathan and cradled his head in her lap, crying with panic at not knowing which of the many wounds he suffered from to attend to first.
She felt his hand close on hers and looked down into his smiling face.
"My hero." He murmured, before closing his eyes.
POV: Harry
Harry couldn't suppress the childish glee that was plastered over his face as his new broom snatched the breath from him. His face was being lashed by stinging droplets as a gentle autumn rain fell, though it felt wonderful to him. He was skybound yet again, and with a new Firebolt no less! He had been more than merely gobsmacked to enter Morgan's traveling trunk. But to find a menagerie inside tended to by creatures he had only heard of, the irascible pukwudgies! She had liberated an absolute treasure trove of materials, books, potion ingredients, plants, animals and best of all wands and brooms! The crown jewel of the cupboard that held nearly a score of the remarkable collection was the Firebolt that Harry nearly wept to hold again.
She smiled indulgently at his questioning look, assuring him that broom flying was not something she had ever taken to, calling it a modern indulgence. Harry was interested to learn that brooms weren't even invented until sometime in the early 900's, almost 400 years after Morgan took Arthur's body to Avalon.
His mood darkened as he considered the implications of Morgan liberating such treasure from the ruins of Ilvermorny. Surely Hogwarts might have some intact chamber, perhaps buried deep beneath the earth, waiting for some enterprising witch or wizard to discover it? The ghosts had assured him that no such chamber existed, and they had spent some years searching for it. But even so, what if they had missed it? Harry reasoned that ghosts were unable to affect major change in the physical world and were certainly unable to enact magic. Perhaps something still yet remained, hidden behind magical safeguards or a veil of disillusionment?
Logically, he knew he shouldn't accept blame. But it was one of the many things that muggles and magicals had in common, that their passions often overruled their reason. Maybe after everything became settled here, he could lead an expedition back home and sift through the wreckage of their old school? If nothing else, they could bring back some of its stone, use them in the construction of a new Hogwarts. So many dreams… Harry sighed as he spiraled in a gentle glide.
He spotted the coach trundling next to the rail tracks leading south toward Greygarden. They had just passed the towering Corvega factory where watchmen in dark blue overcoats and laser muskets looked out over the Commonwealth. Harry returned the wave from one of the Minutemen.
He smiled a little at that, what had he just been thinking about dreams? Jonathan had thought that the factory could be put to rights, not to build cars as it did during the days before the Great War, but perhaps household goods that people could really use.
He floated downward a little further and flew alongside the coach at a sedate pace, Ben Walsh in the driver's seat offering a smile and a tip of his hat. Harry returned the salute and the smile, thankful that their journey from Abernathy had been uneventful thus far, again, a testament to the surging might of the Minutemen. He felt a stab of worry over that, especially in light of the history that Morgan had provided. He didn't fear Jonathan's intentions, well… perhaps except as they concerned a certain mutual witch friend of theirs, but he was honorable and compassionate. But he wouldn't be in charge forever and muggles always seem to turn the best intentions into horrifying realities.
He frowned in self-reflection, no… not just muggles he corrected, remembering the Ministry under corrupt or ineffective Ministers like Cornelius Fudge, Rufus Scrimgeour and Pius Thicknesse.
Shaking his head of the unproductive thoughts intruding on his concentration, he sped up and left the coach behind as he flew onward to Greygarden. He landed with a flourish and had to grin at the cheerful greetings from the panoply of robots working on the mutfruit orchard.
His grin faded a little when he fell under the shadow of the local muscle, an impressively large and powerful sentry-bot. It trundled up to him, stirring up a cloud of brown dust in its wake and beeped quite rudely at him. He was bathed with a crimson light for a moment when a triumphant ding sounded somewhere from the machine's body. The light flashed green once and the scan terminated.
"Subject identified: Harry Potter, visiting dignitary. Full VIP access. Welcome, sir. Please enjoy your visit."
Without waiting for a reply, it turned 180 degrees and moved off to continue its patrol. Harry let out a breath and adjusted his glasses, grateful that he didn't have to turn the Minutemen's nice big toy into a paperweight.
"Don't mind him, it's the basic programming package Ms. Cruz puts on them. She is a bit paranoid about robots going haywire, so she has them check everyone before they are authorized to engage."
Harry looked up at the garrison building built adjacent to the overpass and saw the speaker, a middle-aged man in Minuteman regalia standing one floor up on a ledge overlooking the orchard.
"Thanks. Any chance I could borrow one of your owls? I have a message I need sent back to Salem."
The man didn't hesitate for moment, "Of course! Anything for the famous Harry Potter! It's no secret that you and your magical folks are a big part of how life is getting a little bit better every day! Come on in and take the lift up to the 4th floor. That's where the rookery is."
Harry waved in thanks and walked into the garrison, pausing to exchange greetings with another pair of militia who hailed him with genuine affection. Harry felt good, if somewhat confused, by the good will from these men and women. His people and Jonathan's had worked well together, that much was true.
He thought it over while he rode the lift to the 4th floor, the ride surprisingly smooth. He stepped off to the man who had greeted him earlier, a wide smile on his lined face.
"Let me say, it is a true pleasure to meet you sir, a true pleasure indeed!" Harry thought the man was going to pump his arm right out of his shoulder.
"Um… thanks?"
The man shook his head, "I'll have to tell my wife about this when I rotate back to Starlight. She'll be thrilled. Just thrilled. Maybe not too thrilled with me though… she'll insist I didn't do enough to thank you. If only I could…"
"Wait." Harry was thoroughly confused at this point and was beginning to lose his patience, "What are you talking about?"
The man blinked at him as if Harry was the one who was bonkers, "You saved my boy. Back at Starlight. You and the others, swooped in like avenging angels on those brooms of yours. Blasted those Gunners right out of the sky! He had been hit and was laying in that field all alone, bleeding and scared. He told me that you had stood over him, flashing that wand of yours to keep the Gunners down while the other Minutemen could get to him and get him help. Then he tells me that he's in love with a silvery angel, the one who healed him in the infirmary. Luna, I think he said her name was."
Harry wracked his brain. That fight was a blur to him now, his mind actually partitioning off parts of it due to the pain from losing Vincent and how much that had affected Susan. He honestly didn't remember doing what the man was telling him, but he couldn't confess that to him, it'd surely upset or offend him to think that his son wasn't important enough to remember.
"Sorry. I didn't know what your connection to it was. Seems like forever ago." Harry apologized, though the man merely smiled and waved away his concern.
"No worries, Mr. Potter sir! It was a crazy day at that. But it taught us three important lessons. That we have magnificent friends in you lot from Salem, that the Gunners aren't as unbeatable as we thought, and that our General would charge in guns blazing for any of us. My god, I still shiver thinking about seeing that man in action. I've never seen the like. Anyway, listen to me carrying on when you got things to do! Here are the owls."
He walked Harry over to a small section along the wall with a series of cupboards within which each owl rested. Though they were mechanical devices empowered by magic, they had a bit of personality, and were seemingly treated as such, from the comforts the garrison had provided them with. Each owl had its own bedding and a number of trinkets decorated each stall.
"The pretty yellow one here." The man indicated, the aforementioned owl preening at the flattery, "She's the one which makes the Salem run. Gotten good at it too, makes the flight in record time!"
"Thanks, could I?" Harry nodded in the direction of the desk, his gestures hopefully implying strongly enough that he would appreciate some privacy.
"Say no more!" The man replied, his hands held up as if in surrender, "I'll leave you to it."
He pointed to a non-descript wooden door in the wall adjacent to the coop, "Just through that door there is a walkway that leads over onto the overpass. There's an old bus there that's been turned into a private room that we keep for important visitors such as yourself. It's yours for as long as you're here."
The man left before Harry could offer any protest over the VIP treatment he was getting, Harry's sputtered objections only reaching the top of the man's head as he rode the lift down.
He shrugged after a moment, after all, he would need a quiet place for what he was going to do after sending this message.
He greeted the owl and invited her to hop onto his arm. She seemed pleased and cooed softly at him. He sat at the desk and quickly found a stack of paper and a pen. He wrote a quick message for Lilith, asking her to please send him the two way mirror. He really needed to get over any misgivings he had carrying the device and use it for what it was intended for. He paused for a moment, considering what else to say regarding the amazing things that had happened in the last few hours and decided on simply saying that he was bringing some very important people with him when he returned.
He carefully rolled the paper into a tube and let the owl take hold of it. The paper shimmered for a moment and disappeared (Harry knew that the owl carried the paper deep inside its own body, and that if captured, the paper would be destroyed along with the owl.) It flapped exuberantly, as if overjoyed to have a job to do before hooting loudly and shooting out of the large balcony window, taking wing to the northeast.
Harry watched it for a time, until it was a mere speck against the blue sky. He rode the lift back down to the ground floor and walked through the settlement until he reached the rail tracks. His timing was impeccable, as the Morgan's coach clattered to a stop right next to him, the driver even pulling back on the reigns dramatically, as if the magical beasts needed anything more than a verbal command to halt.
Harry peered inside the carriage and first laid eyes on the droopy eyed youngsters, the children sedated by the gentle rocking of the coach and by the likely extremely boring time of it they were having sitting quietly with nothing to do. They stirred a little at the stop and looked up at him, to which he effected the goofiest face he could conjure.
From the giggles, clearly his face was hilarious. He grinned at the minor victory and pulled out his wand, the children's eyes glowing in anticipation as he showed it to them. He waved it and murmured under his breath, channeling some of the whimsy his mother was known for and conjured a pair of tiny dragons. The children held their breath as he passed one each to them, the tiny ephemeral creatures clinging to their little hands with tiny claws. His smile grew at their wonder, and as he looked up into Morgan's face, he found its mirror in her own expression. Even Cait looked intrigued, though once she noticed Harry's gaze, she quickly replaced her expression with one of tired annoyance.
"This settlement is called Graygarden. It was an experiment by a roboticist named Edward Gray. He thought that he could program robots well enough so that they could operate by themselves for a long period of time. I guess you could say that he was rather brilliant, two centuries later and these bots are still working." Harry explained.
"Impressive what muggles can accomplish, isn't it?" Morgan replied, though he could tell that it was more out of politeness.
"Anyway, there is a road ahead, we'll be heading north into Cambridge. It is heavily infested by feral ghouls." At her blank look, he explained further, "Some people, when exposed to enormous amounts of radiation, suffered change for it, becoming something resembling a walking corpse. Many of the ones I've met were, aside from their condition, completely normal and rational beings. But some, for a reason I never discovered, turn feral and violent. They will assuredly assault us."
"What do you suggest?" Morgan asked.
"A disillusionment charm on the coach should do the trick." Harry mused aloud, "As long as we're quiet and move through it quickly, we can avoid any nastiness."
"A place like that does sound dangerous, why has this state been allowed to continue? Is there no local constabulary?"
"Jonathan is the General of the Minutemen. They are a volunteer militia who protect settlements and patrol the roads in the Northwest. He had promised to look into the Cambridge situation but clearly hasn't found the time to do so."
"Jonathan? Sounds like you know him personally."
Harry nodded, "I do. He's a muggle, but one of most extraordinary men I've ever known. He's a good friend, honorable and humble. Not to mention one heck of a soldier." He refrained from going into it any further, as Jonathan's past as a specifically bred super soldier was not his to share.
"Hast thou returned at last, Galahad?" She whispered.
"I'm sorry, what?" Harry asked, unsure if he had heard her correctly.
"It's nothing." She waved away the question. She looked away, her gaze going out the window on the other side of the carriage, looking out into her past perhaps.
"Is he good-looking? He sounds like the sort of man I wouldn't mind wrestling with, if you take me meaning." Cait put in lasciviously.
Harry gaped at the audacious woman and mumbled noncommittedly. She laughed and Harry blushed when he realized that she was having him on. He shook his head at the temperamental (and perhaps a little crazy) Irish woman and stood up, turning to address Benjamin.
"Turn right up the road here, but stop when you reach Cambridge. You'll know it from the brick buildings. Morgan and I will have to use magic to hide the coach before we go in. The place is pretty heavily infested by ferals… so I need you to keep your head and drive carefully."
The man gulped, turning a little pale, but nodded at Harry's instructions. Waiting to see if anything else was forthcoming, he took up the reigns and got the carriage moving again while Harry stepped off and took up his broom.
He watched for a moment and considered the coaches pace and how long it would take for him to fly to the edge of the township. Yeah, he nodded to himself, he has time.
He flew up to the overpass and spotted the bus turned apartment that the Minuteman had told him of. He landed softly and walked up to the bus, which had a small fence placed around it like a picture out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
Harry chuckled at the sight and walked up the stairs into the bus, and did a double take at the state of the place. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought that a witch or wizard had done this place over, the pre-war furnishings were in perfect repair and most astonishingly… clean. That everything matched was a further surprise, though Harry thought the 'Nuka-Cola' theme was pushing things a bit far.
He sighed as he sat on the bed, reveling in the firm but comfortable mattress, grinning back at the smiling face of Nuka Girl smirking at him from the comforter. He tucked his legs under himself into something like a lotus position. He laid his hands in his lap and closed his eyes, breathing evenly and deeply as he sought to barricade his mind from outside distractions and to focus in on his inner serenity. Unbidden, images of his lessons with Professor Snape intruded, the sharp faced man gritting his teeth in frustration and urgency as he tried to get Harry to comprehend.
He shook away the memory and replaced the dark visage of Severus with the much more pleasant image of his Daphne. Her hair framed her face like a golden aura, her gentle smile and sparkling eyes promising a deep love with a hint of mischief. He fell into his feelings for her, surrounding himself in the sensation as if bathing in golden radiance.
He called to her, his voice traversing the ether, reaching out for the young witch somewhere to the northeast…
POV: Daphne
"Oh… save that one." Daphne called out, her attention on one of the settlers that had accompanied her to Kingston lighthouse. It was a replacement bulb for the massive light at the top and was surprisingly intact for a large glass globe. She took it from him and grunted from the unexpected weight. She huffed as she carefully and awkwardly set it back down, whipping a glare at the chuckling men working around her.
She was about to give the men a piece of her mind when a warm sensation suddenly washed over her, like a summer breeze with a hint of honey tickling her tongue. She smiled even as she shivered, her eyes closing as she reveled in Harry's touch, even if it was from a distance and only through magic.
"Leave this here please, I'll come back for it." She murmured, barely loud enough for anyone to hear her. She glided into the lone house, the building enduring the pounding hammers of a small army of carpenters who were completing the repairs to the structure.
She had used the repair charm on it, but too much material had been lost over time and holes still perforated the walls and roof. It came down to muggle ingenuity to finish what her magic had begun, the two women and one man who were busily fitting wooden planks to complete the last wall.
"Could I have the house for a moment please?" She called out sweetly, knowing that she was interrupting them at their work but more than eager to talk to Harry.
They looked to each other and shrugged, setting down their tools before walking out for a brief break.
Daphne settled onto the cloth covered sofa, ignoring the sawdust which rose up around her and tickled her nose as she sat. She closed her eyes and reached out for Harry's questing touch, their magic meeting each other in the astral plane.
'Hello love.' He grinned foppishly, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. Daphne felt her heart about to burst as she reached out for him, their spirits comingling within the silvery eddies of the plane of thought. Despite only being apart for a short time, the absence seem to only augment her affection for the wizard.
"My Harry." She smiled, "I was a little worried when you didn't come back from your little joyride. Much longer and I would have had to hunt you down and give you an earful." She teased.
Harry had the courtesy to look chagrinned, "I know I was only going to ride for a time and maybe find something for a certain someone's birthday." He replied, emphasizing the last point as if to mollify any trepidation on her part.
She shook her head, "But?"
"Well, it's a bit of a story that is better told in person." He reluctantly admitted.
She raised an eyebrow at that, but trusted him implicitly, so decided to let it pass… for now.
"So what have you been up to?" Harry asked, adroitly changing the subject.
"I took a group of settlers over to Kingston lighthouse, we're here now doing a little surveying and repair work. Nothing major. Susan is doing well up at Vincentville… she renamed coastal cottage, by the way. Neville is the same as ever, spends his days talking to his plants and Lilith is busy working with the children."
"Has Luna or Soleil returned yet?"
"I haven't heard, they were coming back from that settlement to the south…Sunlight?"
"Sunshine." Harry corrected, "They helped the settlers there fend off some raiders and had stuck around with Nick Valentine to help them get sorted out. They were getting to leave shortly after I did yesterday."
"Oh, how is Nick? Did he find anything out about Cait or Nora?"
Harry hesitated, "Well, not really. The trail went cold near there. But I sent him back to Diamond City."
"What aren't you telling me Harry?"
Harry sighed, why did the women in his life seem to all be able to read him so well? Did they compare notes or something?
"Well, it's part of what I wanted to wait to tell you, but I guess you may as well know."
Daphne waited patiently for Harry to finish, his astral projection actually seemingly fidgeting as his thoughts sought to sort themselves out.
"Ok," He said at last, "Long story short. I found Cait… or rather, she found me. Abernathy was under attack by a very large force of raiders… a type I haven't seen before. It looked like we were going to be overrun when SHE appeared."
"She? You mean Cait?"
Harry's face contorted oddly, "No. Well, yes, sort of. Cait was there and she helped… but the she I'm talking about… is Morgan Le Fey."
…
"I'm sorry, who?" Daphne asked.
"Seriously. THE Morgan le Fey. Arthur and Merlin and all that. THAT Morgan Le Fey."
…
"What?" She whispered, her mind refusing to comprehend what he was saying.
"That's pretty much what I thought also. She's on her way to Salem with a few others, Cait included."
"HARRY!"
He groaned at the mental onslaught of her panicked cry.
"She's the most notorious dark witch in… well, ever! Even the muggles know that name! She makes Grindelwald and Voldemort look like first years!"
"She helped us. She saved the settlement. She's a bit overwhelming, larger than life in a way. A bit aloof, but she is no dark witch. I wouldn't be talking to you now if she was."
Daphne didn't know what to think. It was all too much to process.
"I promise you, she's not who the stories says she is. And she is coming to Salem and she is bringing everything she salvaged from Ilvermorny."
"Ilvermorny? The American school or witchcraft and wizardry? That Ilvermorny?"
He nodded and Daphne's head swam with the implications of that affirmation.
"You're the only one that knows for now. I need you to prepare the others so that no one panics or starts something… barmy."
"I'm not sure I'm not going to go barmy." Daphne breathed, astounded by the news. "Still, I'll see what I can do."
"I'm almost out of time, the others should be getting close to Cambridge by now. I need to meet with them and get them ready to pass through there."
"Cambridge huh?" Daphne said softly, a conniving tone to her words.
"Oh no, don't come out here. I need you to go to Salem and…"
"Sorry, my love. I can't quite make out what you're saying. I'll see you on the other side of Cambridge! Love you!"
POV: Harry
Harry sputtered and cursed when he realized that she had cut the link between them. He peeked out through the curtains inside the bus and saw that only a few minutes had passed. One lucky break at least, it meant that the coach probably hadn't even reached the road to Cambridge yet.
He groaned, but that meant that Daphne had the jump on him. If she flew fast, she'd make it to Cambridge before his group could safely navigate through it, and for all her power and knowledge, there was a lot about the Commonwealth that Morgan didn't know. He gritted his teeth in frustration.
POV: Valentine
If he were human, he would have sighed long and hard in relief broken heart glowing in the drizzly overcast, shining a pleasant shade of red into the alley just outside his home and office.
He wasn't human, but he decided to sigh anyway and plastered what passed as an affable grin on his face. He paused at the door, shaking off the droplets that had accumulated on his overcoat and steeled himself.
"Well, there's nothing for it."
He walked in, an apology ready on his lips when his voice failed him at the scene before him.
A real beauty was lounging in his chair, her shapely legs ending in heavy combat boots propped up on his desk. Her alabaster skin was so pure, as if it had somehow survived completely untouched by the ravages of the wastes. Her luxuriously long brown hair fell in a waterfall of dark honey and framed an ageless face of exceptional loveliness. She wore the tattered remnants of a vault suit, the flimsy material doing more to betray her modesty than to safeguard it. Heavy plates of gunmetal gray were strapped to her body in a criss-cross fashion that somehow heightened her allure, as if gently demurring that what lie beneath them was a heavenly prize.
Her smile was dazzling and her gaze full of unspoken promise, the soft hazel orbs regarding him with hints of curiosity and amusement. Her ruby lips pouted thoughtfully as she rose from the chair, her body seeming to uncoil with the grace of a serpent.
An insistent cough broke him from his reverie, making him aware of an extremely nervous Ellie standing quietly in a corner.
"Nick, this is Mrs. Nora… She's here to put you on a case, for her missing baby."
A/N: Harry finally meets Morgan, Hermione and Jonathan have the mystery of the attack on the Slog to contend with, and now Daphne is heading to Cambridge to meet up with Harry. Fans of the game will remember just how many ghouls were infesting the place and the other group of people who happened to be making their refuge there... I wonder how they will react to all this? See you next time and please review!